#word to the motherfucking street yo
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Honestly, if it makes you happy it doesn't have to make sense to anyone else.
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INITIATION - Muzan x y/n reader
Muzan x y/n reader smut one shot
Synopsis: Y/N has woken up and has no memory of who she is. Muzan is there to remind her.
Warning: SMUT 18+!!, MDNI, rough sex, oral, monster kink, size kink, masochism, degradation kink, praise kink. Slapping, choking, tentacles, Kidnapping, detailed murder, blood, slight dub con, kidnapping, a little manipulative, penetration, anal sex, double penetration, gagging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie. Just so much filthy things because Muzan is a sick motherfucker so this one shot is probably just as twisted so proceed with caution!
word count: 4k+
Your eyes flutter open, and the first thing you feel is utter confusion. For you have no memory of where you were or who you were. Your mind was completely blank and you no memory of anything. The next thing you notice is, you're lying down on what seems to be a table.
The first thing that you see, is a pair of scarlet red eyes boring in your eyes. They were so bright and unnerving at the same time. As the source of these eyes came into focus, you could see he was a man, with inky, curly, black hair, which was tied back into a pony tail and had pale skin. He wore a black dress button down shirt with a white tie. He was striking.
"Oh good," the man speaks content tone, as he notices that you're finally awake. "You're finally awake."
"W-who who are you? And where am I?" You ask, in a voice so soft, you weren't sure if he heard you cause you could barely hear yourself.
"My name is Muzan and you are in my home," he replies cryptically. "This is the Infinity Castle."
His name and the place sounded familiar but nothing came to mind as to why.
"And why am I here?"
He just smiles, and there's something about it that makes your skin tingle. You weren't sure if it was out of fear or something else.
"You are here because I found you on the brink of death, you were on the street and you needed a home."
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion , "But how come I don't remember anything? I don't even know my name."
"That's because I turned you into a demon, and sometimes the process can erase all traces of your past life. Call it a new slate if you will," he reaches for what looks like a vial of red liquid from a shelf and shakes it. "Here drink this, this will cure the sudden hunger you're feeling."
As if on cue, your stomach grumbles, "w- what, did you say demon? Demons exist?" You ask in wonder. "So is that blood in that vial?"
That grin turns prideful, "we exist and we are the most powerful beings to walk this planet. And yes this is blood, because this is what helps you stay strong and the more you consume the more powerful you'll become. But only human blood works. Animal blood cannot keep you healthy."
An unsettling feeling settles in your stomach, "so I have to kill in order to survive?"
"Only if you choose to go through this transformation, if you don't I'll have to kill you as I won't have any use for you otherwise."
this man was much more sinister and cunning than he appeared. You're sure a normal human would have been afraid or dying to get out of this situation. But you were intrigued. Despite the fact that he was probably a terrible man and a murderer- you were fascinated by him. Perhaps it was the fact that he saved you from whatever life you had lived before.
"So why did you choose me to turn into a demon?"
"Because I saw something in you that seemed valuable to have," he replies. "Would you like to know of your past? I can show you."
"Sure."
"Drink this," he holds me a vial of clear liquid.
You take it, study it before gulping it down in one go.
At first nothing happens, but suddenly your eyes drift shut and images begin flying through your mind.
Images of your parents and them dying, you being taken in by a man. A man that had looked kind by the smile he wore and the warmth of his hands. But that smile had been a mask for the monster he really was. And those hands ended up being the source of all your nightmares as he did things to you that you didn't dare think about. Finally, the vision ended with your hands covered in blood, as he lay in a pool of blood, lifeless. You dropped the knife and ran.
You had vowed to had never trust a man with a smile or warm hands again.
"She's a murderer!" An onlooker had shouted.
"a monster!" Another had yelled.
But you had ignored them, walking by all of them in silence.
Eventually night had come and the streets had died down, all the people had gone to their homes and you were left alone on the streets in the dark of night. After what you had done. Nobody would take you in. Nobody wanted a murderer.
You held the knife that you had killed your captor to your neck. All this pain would end if you ended it here. But wait. Why did you have to stop living? Why give up your life ? They're the ones who deserved to die. They all ruined your life.
The first house you had reached was a family you knew well. They were the ones responsible for your torment. It made you sick how they could live happily and comfortably after condemning you to a life of hell.
You didn't waste a second as you slit their throats in the dead of night. And the second time in your life, you felt powerful. For you finally had control of your own life.
You didn't stop at the one house. You went to 12 more. Murdering those who had mocked and tortured you. The ones that had stood while your captor had abused and violated you and did nothing to stop him. They all just stood by and watched and then had the audacity to point fingers at you. To call you the monster.
At the 13th one, you found someone had already beaten you to it. You saw him devouring the arm of the man. Part of you was disgusted. But part of you was relieved. The being turned to you after finishing his meal.
"Thought I'd help you out," the man said. This was him. This was Muzan.
"Are you one of those demons? The ones I've heard about?"
"I'm not just any one of those demons. I am the Demon King and I've come to recruit you into my Army. Make you become one of us."
"And why would I trust you?" You ask.
"You don't have to trust me or anyone, just help me rid of the world of people like them," he nods to the ground, his eyes burn with hatred.
"What do I have to do?"
He holds out a hand, "come with me".
You study it warily, "just as long as you let me do whatever I want. I want full control of my life and who I'll get to kill and-"
"There's certain humans I'll task you to kill, but as long as you follow my orders and remain useful, freedom is yours."
You look into his eyes and see a shared look of hate and anger, that's all you needed before taking his hand."
You come back from the vision, who you are and what you how you had gotten here- was suddenly clear. You grab the vial of blood from his hands. He smirks in amusement as you drink it without hesitation.
"Good girl."
That phrase alone has you locking eyes with his and something in you awakens in those scarlet orbs.
"What else do I need to do to be one of you."
Something akin to relief flashes in those cold scarlet eyes, a smirk graces those devilish lips.
He turns a finger down your collarbone that's exposed from the flimsy gown you wore. A shiver ignites from his touch. For a demon's usually cold touch. His was scorching and setting you ablaze.
"First, pledge your life and your soul to me?" His hand comes back up to your face, brushing along your lower lip, causing you to suck in a breath.
"What do I need to do?" You swallow thickly. You said you'd never trust a man again. But this here was no man, he was a devil. A sensible person would run away. But you - you felt the desire to follow him anywhere. Perhaps it was the fact that he saved you. Or that he a really good manipulation tactics and that he just wanted to use you. But you found yourself wanting to be used.
"Let me show you," is all he says.
In a blur, your clothes are ripped off of your body. Leaving every bit of you exposed. Something in the devil's eyes made your nipples harden and yours thighs clenched. Maybe it was the fact that he was completely dressed and you were completely naked. Or he was the Demon King and you were completely and utterly defenseless about what he was about to do.
He leans over you and begins running a hand down your chest, brushing along your tits in a teasing manner down to the apex of your thighs. Every where his hand touched, a trail of electricity was left it in it's wake. Heightening all of your senses.
"Gotta make sure you're in pristine condition, and that you're exactly what I need," with his veiny large hands he forces your legs apart. His thumb grazing your clit, lightly. Which was already throbbing and aching with need. "That fucker that violated you, how did you kill him?"
You inhale a strained breath, before exhaling, the slightest of his touch was enough to have you needy for more. "I cut off his dick and shoved it up his ass, before slitting his throat."
His gaze never leaves your as his thumb begins to rub your sensitive bud with his thumb, "and did you enjoy it?"
You smirk, "I did."
He hummed, "good. I'm going to erase every memory of his touch from your skin and replace it with mine. From here on out, you will belong to me. Understood?"
You nod your head eagerly, "Yes, Master."
His teasing touch on your clit speeds up, "your pussy is already mine. Look at how quick it responds to me and I've barely done a thing to it."
"Please do whatever you'd like, Master. I want to exceed your expectations."
Without needing any further permission, he sinks in a finger, you let out a moan and he lets out a growl. You had never been touched like this. So the touch was foreign odd at first, but when he began to prod his finger between your tight walls, the more adjusted you became.
"Fuck, Dollface, you are tight as fuck," he closes his eyes as if to revel in the feeling of you around his finger, and when he opens eyes again, the red in his irises has been blown away by his black pupils, stealing your breath away. You cry out when he adds a second finger, scissoring open even wider. Not long after, he's got your pussy wrapped around his three fingers. They slam into with a wicked force. Your juices are soaking his fingers in seconds, but he doesn't stop his attack. His grin becomes feral. "You just came from that alone ? Fuck, you are a real gem."
You arch and quiver as he continues to jab his long fingers in and out of you. Any logical thoughts are forgotten as his mouth finally adds to the fray. Sucking your clit and biting it with his teeth, you shamelessly grind yourself on his tongue as he ravishes you thoroughly.
"F-f-fuck," you whimper, "Muzan, don't stop." Tears escaped your eyes, and you pressed grabbed his head and pushed in closer into you, wanting him as deep as he could go. You moaned at how soft and silky his hair felt in your hands. It was so soft compared to this beast of a man. You were so overcome with overwhelming pleasure, it was hard for you to think straight. The only thing that you know for sure, was that you wanted more.
"How could I when you taste so goddamn sweet, so much better than any of the humans I've devoured, baby, you are my own five course meal. So fucking delicious."
His words are so filthy, the way he continues you to wreck you with his mouth has your stomach turning in knots. And white hot pleasure takes over. You watch in amazement as your arousal sprays his face, yet he gleams in pure delight.
He detaches his mouth from your pussy and stands up, grabs you from your neck and pulls you in for a hot and hungry kiss. His lips are demanding and possessive of yours- there's no question for who's in control. He dominates you in seconds and you submit without hesitation. It was almost scary with how you vowed to never trust a man or let one ever control you again, yet you were throwing all that away for the Demon King himself. But you didn't care anymore. You wanted to submit to him in any and every way. Call you insane or call you weak, but you knew the minute you saw him that first night, you were already gone.
You yank him closer to you, tearing his shirt off, your newly awakened demon powers must include sharp claws, because you rake your nails down his back causing him to moan. And it makes you feral as he moans because of you. You grow more feral with that knowledge.
"You are perfect for me, Angel," he praises against your lips. His mouth leaves yours and begins leaving kisses along your neck, alternating between kisses and bites, which would leave a purplish hue when he was done. You grind yourself on him even harder. You reach down and rub his clothed cock.
"Please Muzan," you beg, "I need you."
He drops you onto the ground, "so needy for me, but I need to finish examining you first. And if you pass this test, I'll reward you. Now kneel like the perfect whore you are and open your mouth."
You instantly do what he says, you kneel on the hard floor and open your mouth. He finishes stripping out of his clothes. Your mouth waters in awe. For he was breathtaking. So beautifully chiseled in every way. There was no flaw. He was pure muscle and sinewy. His cock stood proud and tall against his abdomen. It was massive, girthy and long, with a slight curve. He was demon but he was built as a god. No- he was a god.
He closes the distance between you, stroking his cock in his hand. He rubs the crown along your lips, before pressing his head past your lips. His precum coating your tongue.
"Suck," he commands and you do, you suck on his tip slowly, unsure of what to do. You begin to swirl your tongue around his head and the underside. You tentatively lick a stripe down his shaft. Soon, he loses patience and thrusts the whole length into your mouth in one go. If you had still been a human, your mouth would have been torn to shreds but your demon mouth gave you better strength to handle the harsh action. Your throat was forced open wide as he slammed into your mouth. Spit and precum drooling out of your mouth. You try your best to hollow your cheeks you can take him in better. But he gives you barely anytime to adjust and uses your mouth as he pleases. He grabs your hair and pulls out of the way, making it easier for you to take him. He forces you down on his cock, causing you to choke slightly.
"What a perfect cocksleeve for my cock," he laughs darkly, "so fucking perfect," his laughs turns to grunts as his thrusts get more harsher. You sob around his cock in pleasure. His hips begins to stutter, his cock begins pulsing in your mouth. It becomes heavier and you feel something hot and salty shooting down your throat.
Before you can take a breath, he's picking you up and throwing you onto the table. Your back hits the table harshly and you yelp. He yanks you towards him, spreading your legs apart. He runs the length along my aching, in slow, tortuous strokes. Making you whine.
"You did so well, you've passed all of my expectations so far. Now I need to you beg for me."
"Please, Muzan."
He growls, "please what?"
"I- y-your-"
He slaps your clit and you scream, "use your fucking words!"
"Please, Master," you beg. "Fuck me. Please."
He chuckles, "now there's a good little slut."
Finally, he's aligning his tip with your entrance. He slowly pushes the tip in. You can't keep your eyes away from the sight of him entering you. You feel every vein and every crevice as he pushes past your slick walls. The stretch burned and you struggled to accommodate his size. You instinctively clamp around him.
"If you fucking do that, I'm going to cum before I can even start. So relax," he demands, softly rubbing your tummy with his hands.
You take a deep breath and feel yourself relax. Soon he's all the way in and you moan at how full you are of him, at how much he stretched you out by just settling inside you.
He pulls out before slamming right back in. He grips your hips tightly as he begins ramming into you at full speed. The sudden action, causing you grip onto his shoulders for purchase. Creaking sounds and slaps of skin, fill the room as you get fucked by the Demon King. Every inch of his cock plunging into you deeper and deeper with each thrust, and it's not long before he finds the spot that once he hits it you turn into mush. Completely in a state of bliss as he abuses the spot over and over.
"More more more," you chant.
"Look at you so compliant and submissive for my cock," his growls. His red eyes flashing bright with contempt. "I knew when I saw you, you'd be a perfect fit for me and my cock. That's the main reason I recruited you. Was to have your pussy as my personal fuck toy."
You're so out of it. Every thrust and every inch of his cock scraping your walls is paradise. You didn't want him to stop. Suddenly the table breaks, but he catches you at inhuman speed before you can fall. You wrap your legs around his middle, as thrusts up into you, this new position made it hard to tell where he ended and where you begin. His chest was against yours, he took your one of your tits in your mouth and began sucking on it, causing you to arch your back. You grip his hair and drag your nails down his back. He seemed to be able to reach new places from this angle and you could feel the wave building up inside you and you shuddered as you clamped down around his throbbing cock. The coil in your stomach as it snaps and you can feel yourself coming undone.
“Fuck,” you sob in pure bliss from your high.
“You make such a pretty mess around my cock,” he cooes, he grips his hands around your neck. Not relenting from his consistent assault. He squeezes and instantly cum again from just the way he seemed to cut off air making you senses even more overwhelmed. “Like the pretty little slut you are, designed to take my cock like champ. Like that’s your only purpose in life is to satisfy my needs.”
Not long after you feel him growing within you, his thrusts become a little more erratic, but they still powerful to make you shake. He lets out a roar as hot white ropes of cum shoot into you. Your cunt flutters around him, hungry for every drop.
“Yess, my perfect little cum dump,” he slowly pulls out groaning at the sight of the white liquid oozing out of you. He gathers it in his fingers and pushes it all back into you, a hoarse cry escaping your lips. Because you were so sensitive. “But I’m not done with you yet.“ He picks you up and carries you to another table. He manhandles you so you’re flipped onto your stomach and your legs are hanging over the edge. He grabs some restraints and takes your wrists and binds then behind your back. Something covers you eyes taking away your eyesight. He was rendering you completely useless for whatever he had planned next and you could do nothing but take it. All of your senses were being limited and heightened at the same.
You could feel his hands grabbing your waist, pulling your ass to rub against his cock which was still rock hard. Your pussy lips are being pulled and pinched by his fingers. you feel sharp sting on your sensitive clit causing you to jolt at the sudden force.
“Such a pretty little pussy,”is all he says before slapping it again, then without warning,his cock is spears into you again. He feels even bigger than before, as your pussy struggles to take him. You have nothing to grip onto just your front being pressed into the table and his hands on your hips to anchor you as he plows into full force once again. Suddenly you feel something on your leg, it feels wet and hard. It creeped along your thigh. Another thing like it wraps around your other leg, stretching you out even further. Something prods against your other entrance, your ring of muscle is being prodded by it. Something like a tongue flicks against it but that’s impossible because Muzan is still fûcking you with his cock. It pushes past your ring of muscle, a new burning stretch takes over and your tight hole is being stretched by whatever this thing was. It didn’t matter what was teasing to your little hole you were spasming around his cock. You shake and fall apart at the overstimulation.
And it seemed Muzan was getting off of it because he was laughing and praising you.“ now you really look like a fuck doll, a perfect little toy for me to fuck. You should see yourself,” Suddenly your blindfold is being ripped off, while still being pounding into. Your head is being forced by something wrapping around it. It’s the same wet thing that is wrapped around your leg and attacking and fucking your asshole at the same time. Everything was too much. You had no sense of time or anything. You couldn’t tell if what too were seeing was real. But tentacles seemed to wrap around your throat and leg. Another one is pounding into your hole, while being split by Muzan’s cock which looked bigger. His hair was now a snowy white and fell into waves to his shoulders. His chest was the same but ribbons of red laced around his arms, mouths with sharp teeth dotted his skin in strange places and tentacles sprouted from his back.
“This is my true demon form, are you scared little one?”
But before you can speak, tentacles are being shoved into your mouth. Rendering you speechless, as you gagged around them. Saliva drooled down from your mouth and your eyes watered everything was too much. You were in a mix of pain and pleasure. Your body was not yours anymore. It was his. His plaything, his experiment. You should have been begging for him to stop. Begging for him to let you breath and trying to escape this beast. But you could only feel yourself getting more nd more turned on.
“What was that?” He taunts, “I can’t hear you.”
You babble or try to around his appendage, it leaves your throat for a moment, “no,” your voice is barely a sound, “I am not scared of you, I want more,” you wheeze out.
His eyes widen in shock for a moment, before darkening and sick, twisted grin takes over his features, “you should be. You should be trembling under my feet. I don’t think you understand the power I have over your now. For this body no longer belongs to you. It belongs to me and I’ll use it whenever please. Every vein, every moan, every curve and hole of your body, is MINE. Your only use to me is that of a perfect little fuckdoll for me to bend and break however I please. To use whenever and however please. You only exist to only please me. Understand?”
“Yes!” You scream, you’re a sobbing, trembling mess. “Please use me whenever and however you want.”
Your mind is broken, your body is spasming out of control. You are completely lost but yet your are mended by this devil.
“I’m yours, Master.”
“That’s right whore,” he seethes, “YOU. ARE. FUCKING. MINE!”
You cry in pure ecstasy, everything after that becomes a blur. All that you can understand is that his cock and appendage are pounding into both of your holes. You’re being split apart. Every inch of you is on fire. His claws rip into your skin at your hips, blood sprays out. But you keep taking it. You reveled in the pain. It made you feel alive. And if you were human, you’d be long dead but as a demon you could take any of it and you loved it. You loved how brutal and twisted this was. His tentacles wrap around your throat once more. Fingers forcing their way down your throat. You gag and choke from being denied of air and all sanity. He pulls his fingers out and smears saliva on your face.
He roars in delight, “what a filthy little bitch. You’re still so willing to take everything I give you. I love it. You are so fucking perfect for me.”
Suddenly one of his mouths latch onto both nipples your clit at the same time as if every inch of your soul ls being sucked out of you. You lose all feeling in your body. It writhes and falls apart over and over. You lose count of on how many times you cum in those minutes or how many positions he changes to wreck you in. You just take it. Your mindset slipping further and further away from any sanity or clarity. You were only aware of him and inch of you he broke and mended over and over again.
Finally, what seems like eternity, he’s shooting into you again, until you’re completely filled and covered in his cum. “You look so perfect covered and filled with my cum.”
He pulls out. All appendages and mouths detach from you and you’re falling into a heap but he holds on you. Not caring if you’re completely drenched in cum. You’re completely fucked and incoherent but his soft kisses bring you back slowly.
“So did I pass your initiation and requirements?” You ask sleepily. He chuckles.
“You met every single one of them and more. You’re nothing but perfect for me and I want you more than just my recruit. I want you as a my queen and you are perfect for that role. It’s why I was watching you for all these years waiting for the perfect time to claim you.”
“How long have you been watching me?”
He grins, “that night, when you murdered that monster, the both of you were supposed to be my victims. But you surprised me with how brutal you were. How cold and relentless you became and from then on, I knew I needed to have you.”
You’re at a loss for words, his scarlet eyes bore into yours with something like adoration and love. But that’s impossible because he’s a demon you’re sure he can’t really feel any of that.
“Well thank you for saving me,” you say, reaching up to pull his face down to yours. You claim his lips in a needy kiss. He hums in content. “I would love to be your Queen. I am yours, forever.”
“Yes, mine.”
#demon slayer#muzan smut#muzan kibutsuji#muzan x y/n#muzan x reader#Muzan one shot#kny muzan#demon king muzan#kimetsu no yaiba muzan#smut
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Dr. Dre - The Next Episode Lyrics (side note: I'm white so I will be censoring the n word)
Da, da, da, da, da
It's the motherfuckin' D-O-double-G (Snoop Dogg!)
Da, da, da, da, da
You know I'm mobbin' with the D.R.E. (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
You know who's back up in this motherfucker! (What, what, what, what?)
So blaze the weed up then! (Blaze it up, blaze it up!)
Blaze that shit up, n*.. yeah 'Sup Snoop?
Top Dogg, bite 'em all, n*, burn that shit up
D-P-G-C, my n*, turn that shit up
C-P-T, L-B-C, yeah, we hookin' back up
And when they bang this in the club, baby, you got to get up
Thug n*s, drug dealers, yeah, they givin' it up
Lowlife, yo' life, boy, we livin' it up
Takin' chances while we dancin' in the party fo' sho'
Slip my hoe a 44 when she got in the back do'
Bitches lookin' at me strange but you know I don't care
Step up in this motherfucker just a-swingin' my hair
Bitch quit talkin', crip-walk if you're down with the set
Take a bullet with some dick and take this dope on this jet
Out o' town, put it down for the Father of Rap
And if yo' ass get cracked, bitch, shut your trap
Come back, get back, that's the part of success
If you believe in the S, you'll be relievin' your stress
Da, da, da, da, da
It's the motherfuckin' D.R.E. (Dr. Dre, motherfucker!)
Da, da, da, da, da
You know I'm robbin' you of P-O-O-P!
Straight off the fuckin' streets of C-P-T
King of the beans— you know my gas ain't clean (Poop Gang!)
Wood Coupe DeVille rollin' on dubs
How you feel—whoopty-whoop—n* what?
Dre and Snoop lactose intolerant ass (got the 'lac!)
We are farting in paper bags, yeah we sniffing gas (Yeah)
Clip in the strap, we holding out turds(What turds?)
Long shit, paper bag, got the GERDS
South Central out to the Westside (Westside)
It's California Love, this California bud got a n* gang o' pub
I'm on one, I might bail up in the Century Club
With my jeans on and my team strong
Get my drink on and my smoke on
Then go home wit' somethin' to poke on (Wha'sup bitch?)
Loc', it's on for the two-triple-oh
Comin' real, it's the next episode
Hold up, hey
For my n*s who be thinkin' we soft
We don't play
We gon' rock it 'til the wheels fall off
Hold up, hey
For my n*s who be actin' too bold
Take a seat
Hope you ready for the next episode—
Hey
Smoke weed everday
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Lost & Found - Chapter Four.
Thanks so much for your continued engagement, my lovely, lovely people of the tumblr! :)
Previous chapters - One Two Three
Words - 3,114
Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse in the coming chapters.
They peeled off in a different direction from the four bikes that had led the way through the scrapyard again, the journey through the desolate streets taking only ten minutes. The sun was just beginning to rise when they entered a long road lined with modest bungalow properties, broken down cars and debris littering the driveways of many. The small driveway they pulled into was free of such, but the lawn hugely overgrown, a large tree providing a shaded canopy over the front of the house.
He noticed her taking in the unkempt grass, feeling a smidgen of shame at the state of it. “Um, don’t judge me too much on my lack of yard work,” he began, tucking his chin a little as he cleared his throat. “Don’t get much time for it.” She was just about to tell him that it was fine, when an opening window and a shout through it from the adjoining property halted her reply.
“Hey yo! Loud assed, Harley riding fuckboy!”
Guero rolled his eyes. “’Sup, Tyrone?”
The thin curtains were haphazardly swatted away, a large man sticking his head up into view from the front room. “Yo’ bitch ass disturbing my sleep is what’s up, homie!”
He began to chuckle quietly, sighing hard. “Tyrone, you stay awake jerking off to Porn Hub and playing video games until 6am. Ain’t nobody disturbing your sleep.”
He lifted his chin in defiance, resting the curtains behind his large, bald head. “I couldda bin’ sleeping.” He paused, eyes flitting to Emma. “Morning, boo. What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ with him?”
She folded her arms, dropping her head as she shuffled her foot over a loose stone on the driveway, Guero fishing for his house keys. “None of your business, bro. Get back to C.O.D.”
“Blow me!”
“Not without dinner and a movie,” he muttered.
“You get pizza and a Prime rental, bougie assed motherfucker!”
He snorted laughing, opening up his front door, suddenly pausing. “Um, you alright with big dogs? ‘Cuz I got a pitbull in there. He’s friendly as hell, but huge.”
Emma could hear the clattering of claws and whimpering become audible, a long, high-pitched whine following. “Yeah, all good.” Opening the door, he received the gigantic, brown and white dog leaping into his arms, his tail wagging in frenzy, Guero lifting his chin and scrunching his face as he had doggie kisses rained upon him.
“How’s my boy, huh? How you doing?” he spoke warmly, eventually putting him down, the dog wiggling his way to Emma, giving her a good sniff. Her hands reached for his huge head, stroking the soft crinkles, his green eyes looking up at her with all the purity dogs reserved for humans who gave them the simple joy of scratches. “His name’s Axl, by the way. Used to belong to my dad.”
“Used to?” she inquired.
His eyes saddened, his smile thinning as placing his keys down on the coffee table. “Yeah, he died about a year and a half ago, so I inherited him.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she offered, Guero drawing his shoulders up slightly.
“Thanks.” He paused, gesturing around. “Sorry it ain’t much. Let me go change my bed linen for you, I’ll take the couch. I’m guessing you might wanna shower, right? Bathroom is through there, there’s a clean towel in the cupboard.”
She set her backpack down, immediately feel uneasy with him going to the effort, just for her. “You don’t have to go to any trouble.”
He crinkled his nose, shrugging his kutte off. “Yeah, I do. Had a girl in there last night. I’m not letting a guest sleep in my funky sex sheets. I might not be domesticated much, but I got basic manners.”
A little tide of panic rose in her. “Oh, I, I didn’t realise you h-had a girlfriend. I can go somewhere, go stay someplace else if it-it's going to upset her?”
He smiled, shaking his head. “I said a girl, not girlfriend. Haven’t got one of those.”
That information relieved her, sent a tiny spark flaring in her belly, looking at her feet as they shared a few moments of awkward silence, Guero clearing his throat. “Alright, I’ll go sort that linen.”
“Okay. I’ll um, be in the bathroom. Oh, I h-hate to ask but c-can I borrow some clothes?”
“Sure,” he nodded, “I’ll go find some sweats and a t shirt.” He turned, walking around the couch to the door directly behind, opening his bedroom and quickly grabbing the clean grey sweats and a white t shirt. They’d both bury her, but it was the best he could do. He was just thankful he actually had clean clothes for once, although a big enough pile that needed washing had mounted up in the corner of the room.
He’d meant what he’d said about not being domesticated, even though his rental home did come with a washer dryer within the tiny utility room off the kitchen. His clothes only ever found their way into there when he’d all but run out of clean items.
He passed them to her through the bathroom door, leaving her in peace, Emma taking a look around. It was decorated nicely, white tiles halfway up the walls and dark ecru painted up to the ceiling, which was also white. It really needed a good clean, though, but she wasn’t about to judge Guero for his lack of housekeeping, simply glad she had a home to be in.
Drawing the curtain around the bathtub, she switched the shower on, the jet spluttering into life, Emma beginning to strip her dirty, foul-smelling clothes off. God, those were some tolerant guys, not complaining once about how bad she’d stunk while having to share confined space with her in the van.
Turning to view herself in the mirror, she let out a soft gasp. Was that really her? Turning sideways on, she examined her reflection closer, her appearance a shock. She’d always been slight, but the sight of her ribs jutting out beneath her skin made her feel a little queasy. She estimated a loss of around fifteen pounds, maybe more on her two-protein-bar-a-day diet.
With her emotions a little stirred, she stepped into the bathtub, the feel of hot water hitting her skin the most sublime sensation after almost a month of being unable to wash. Oh, it was bliss. After shampooing her hair three times, she carefully finger combed all of the knots out, taking the bottle of shower gel and lathering herself down, enjoying the familiar smell. Safe person scent.
Standing there beneath the water, she felt further cleansed as the minutes ticked by, clean skin and hair restored, but the water sadly couldn’t do anything for the way she felt upon the inside. Choking a sob, she attempted to hold it in, her chest quivering as she began to cry. All the anxiety, the fear, the trauma of her ordeal, the years of fight, flight or freeze, it began to pour out of her in waves now that she was almost two and a half thousand miles away from it.
Her body was wracked with the force of her sobs, falling to her knees, hugging her arms around her head, the water pelting against her protruding spine as she gasped and choked on her relief. Her past wouldn’t leave her quite as easily as her tears, it would cling to her bones like a residual resin, but for that moment the emotional release was sufficient.
Pushing up to her feet, she turned the lever to cold, the sudden shock acting as a calming agent upon her, standing for as long as she could manage, turning the faucet off and wringing her hair out. After drying off and rubbing her hair to damp, she hung the towel on the rail before rinsing out her mouth with a cup of mouthwash, exiting the bathroom to find Guero on the couch, Axl snoring on the armchair in the corner.
He noted that looked a little less haunted as she sat down, curling her knees up to her chest. “Better?”
“Much, thank you,” she replied, reaching into her backpack for the bottle of cherry Coke. “How long have you lived here for, then?” Her question was coupled with a small nod towards a pile of boxes across the living room, figuring him to have fairly recently moved in. “I take it from the boxes, not too long?”
He took a moment, the difference in her palpable. Although she still sat curled into herself, there was one notable change, his smile beginning to dimple his cheeks. It made him look even more attractive, but also caused Emma to feel a little self-conscious suddenly. “What?”
“Nothing,” he sniffed casually, “nothing bad. It’s just that you’ve stopped stammering when you talk. It’s good to see you chill. And I moved in here eleven months ago, back when I transferred from Tuscon.”
“So that’s where you’re originally from?”
More words, still no stammers. It was a stark contrast to the quiet girl who had been so frightened still back at the clubhouse, still so blanketed in her trauma. He wagered that if it wasn’t just he and his dog she was in the company of, though, she likely still would be. “Nope, just outside of it. I grew up in a small town called Marana.”
He only got a few minutes into telling her about his hometown when he looked up and realised she’d fallen asleep. To be expected, after the time she’d had of late. He debated moving her to the bedroom, but didn’t want to potentially scare her, so instead went into his bedroom and took a spare blanket, covering her with it. His couch was comfy as hell, she’d be fine. After a quick shower, he happily flopped down into a fresh bed, not waking until 11am the following morning.
Checking on his guest, he found her still sleeping, Axl heaving his bulk from the armchair and following him into the kitchen, waiting on his breakfast. A package of raw food was taken from the fridge and emptied into his bowl, a raw egg cracked atop it.
His dad had insisted on only the best for his beloved canine friend, something Guero followed to the letter after collecting the dog from the clutches of his bitch of a stepmother, who was all for sending him to the pound. He and Ramona did not have the best of relationships; in fact, it would be fair to say he couldn’t stand the woman. Ibarra had deserved way better, if you’d asked him. About the only things she had going for her was a pretty face and nice tits.
He made himself some toast and coffee, eating in the kitchen while browsing his phone, checking on Emma every so often. He felt in somewhat of a quandary about leaving, not wanting to wake her since she was so exhausted, but uneasy about leaving her alone. Club duties were always null and void the day following a San Diego run, just a couple of guys in on rotation to oversee the legitimate side of life at the yard. Today was not his day in, but he had planned on hitting the gym at some point. Or he could just work out from home. He had a jump rope and kettle bells for a reason.
While he heaved the large weights outside so he could partake of his fitness under the bright sun, Emma stirred, coming into consciousness slowly, her eyes suddenly widening. Where was she? Tension roared up her spine as she sat up with a start, her eyes wide, still feeling half asleep. Each vertebra then began to slacken as the previous early morning came back to her, breathing a sigh of relief.
It felt strange not to wake up in total darkness, the three weeks within the container not just damaging to her psyche, but also hampering her circadian rhythms. It was light outside, but she felt as if she should still be sleeping, her tired body heavy, the weight of everything that had led to her ending up on that couch pulling upon her bones.
She felt out of tempo, there in a brand-new place, free of her normal routines, her daily grind that had not faltered in so many years. What could she do now? Should she thank Guero for his hospitality and move on, should she stay longer? What did he expect, going forward? Speaking of her host, where was he?
Sitting up a little more, she looked around, her attention suddenly caught by the sight from the kitchen window, of which she could just about see from her spot on the couch through the living room door. She glimpsed at a rope swinging, feeling settled to know he was still close by, wondering if she should go out to him. If she did, would he likely tell her to leave? What if he did, where would she go?
She’d planned on a cheap motel someplace before figuring out what the hell to do next, sitting there on the couch not knowing truly how to take the first step into this new existence she’d finally managed to secure. With her head buzzing in anxiousness, she settled back down, hugging the blanket around herself. It smelled like him.
Falling asleep, the next time she woke up it was dark, rubbing her eyes as she sat up, Guero over in the armchair, watching the TV on mute, subtitles flickering across the bottom of the screen.
“Hey sleepy, ’sup?” His smile was warm, comforting. “Didn’t wanna wake you up, you’ve been out all day.”
“What time is it?” she muffled, yawning against her arm.
“Just gone eleven.”
Her eyes widened at that revelation. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’ve probably been in your way all day. Unless you went out? I woke up earlier and you were in the backyard, though. I haven’t ruined any plans you had, have I?”
Laughing softly, he shook his head at her flustered words. “Nah, day off. You haven’t gotten in my way either. How’d you feel?”
“Better,” she admitted, stretching her arms above her head. “But like I really, really need to brush my teeth.”
He nodded in the direction of the bathroom. “There’s a spare toothbrush in a packet under the sink. Help yourself. You hungry?”
“Thanks, and yeah, a little bit.”
“Toast? That’s about all I got in, and even if I did have better stuff, I wouldn’t trust my cooking. I burn water. I’d probably give you food poisoning just from trying to make pasta.”
She snorted softly, stifling another yawn. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
“It is with me. Trust my level of disaster in the kitchen, because it’s off the damned scale!” Getting up, he headed for the kitchen, Emma going to make use of the bathroom, taking a shower while she was there, too.
“Clean clothes, and toast is done.” He called through the small gap in the door he’d stuck his arm through, putting down another pair of sweats and a vest for her. She called her thanks, getting out and dressing, placing the clothes she’d had on in the very overstuffed laundry hamper in the corner.
“So, when do you want me out of here?” she asked tentatively as she sat down, picking up the plate of perfectly golden toast. He was perhaps less of a disaster than he made out, she thought, biting into the first slice.
“There’s no expiration date on it. Until you find your feet, I don’t mind. Kinda like having company, and I think my dog likes you, too. Not just ‘cuz you have toast either.” Nodding down at Axl, Emma followed his line of vision, the dog looking hopeful for a small mouthful of what she was eating.
He would have added that having a girl so damned pretty in his home was never unwelcome, but he knew she really didn’t need his unsubtle flirting at that moment. This was not an occasion where he’d let his mouth run away with itself. She seemed to settle to the idea that her time there wasn’t limited, both making small talk as she ate, Guero excusing himself to let Axl out when he began to whine.
When he arrived back, he found her asleep again. It didn’t surprise him. God knows how much proper rest a person got in a shipping container. He pulled the blanket up over her, this thumb skimming her slender shoulder softly, going back to watching TV with the subtitles on.
While sitting there quietly chastising the choices various serial killers had made in body and evidence disposal, such mistakes inevitably leading to them getting caught (‘should have buried the body deeper!’ ‘Use bleach to clean blood stains!’ ‘Fucking dumbass was asking to get caught!’) he continued to look over at his sleeping guest every so often.
She was a complete enigma to him, but he felt so compelled to try and help her. Maybe he was a sucker for the whole damsel in distress thing, maybe it was because he felt a swell of pride at being the person who she seemed to be most comfortable with, perhaps a little of both.
“Just don’t freak the poor chick out by trying to get on top of her.” He muttered to himself, laughing at his own idiocy for even letting it cross his mind. As if she needed that right now. A further half hour and he decided to call it a night, stripping off and crawling into bed. While he slept soundly, the same couldn’t be said for Emma.
A hand grasped her throat, her windpipe bending with the indentation from a large thumb, a fist meeting her skull.
“This is not good enough, you hear me? I said do you fucking hear me?”
The voice was so booming and loud in her brain, it catapulted her from slumber, sitting up with a start, gasping. She then jumped again at the small woof from beside her, turning to see Axl lying on the floor next to the couch, the dog on high alert.
“Sorry for waking you, handsome boy,” she cooed, her hand finding his head. He rose to his feet, jumping up on the couch to curl against her, licking her cheek before he got comfortable. “Aww, look at you. My protector.” Feeling herself calm, she wrapped an arm around her furry new friend, her hand idly stroking at a swirl on his chest before it stilled, sleep pulling her in once more.
Thankfully, it was dreamless.
#guero mayans mc#guero mayans mc fanfiction#guero fanfiction#guero fanfic#guero smut#guero x ofc#mayans mc#mayans mc fanfiction#mayans mc fanfic#mayans mc imagine#mayans mc smut#mayans mc fic
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Fluff #1
I may keep sending requests til you’ve written all the prompts. 😊 Love these one shots!
Please do!! Thrilled you’re enjoying them 🥰
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Prompt: “Is that my shirt?”
Word Count: 1k
Warnings: Language, Mention of Substance Abuse
Timeline: Set between C25 and C26 of “Perfect Storm.”
“Yo, I don’t think tha’s a good ide-”
Slamming her eyes closed, Kate tilted her face skywards and silently begged whatever deity that might be listening to please give her a motherfucking break! She stood stock-still, sweat trickling uncomfortably down her spine as she tried not to inhale through her nose but, despite her best efforts, the putrid stench of vomit was already making her stomach roil.
The mercury had been rising steadily all week and, while most of the city’s inhabitants had wisely chosen to keep out of the blazing sun, the gacked-out tweaker who appeared to have ingested a lethal dose of badly-cut dope that the Unit had been tracking for the last few weeks clearly wasn’t as switched on.
The skin on his face and arms was a tinged an unsightly shade of salmon, indicating that he had likely been in the sun for a good few hours before patrol found him but, as Kate valiantly tried to tug him towards a patch of shade, his face had drained of all colour and he promptly emptied the contents of his stomach all over her shirt.
“I told y’all not-”
“Kevin. I swear to God if you say another word, I’ll kill you my damn self.”
She lowered her chin and opened her eyes, sending a death glare in the direction of her partner who was standing a few feet in front of her, his lower lip tugged between his teeth in an effort to stifle his grin of amusement. By the time an ambulance arrived to take the almost-comatose man to Chicago Med, Kate’s shirt was saturated with congealed chunks of curdled vomit but, if Kevin’s retching was any indicator, it seemed like olfactory fatigue had finally set in as they headed back to the district because she couldn’t smell a thing!
"That stink’ll never come outta the upholstery!” Kevin moaned, tossing his keys onto his desk and dropping his weight down into his chair with a huff.
“Yeah, because I really wanted some strung-out crackhead to barf all over me Kev.” Kate hissed in response, rooting around in the drawers of her desk for a clean shirt and coming up empty. Slamming the drawer shut with a huff, she marched out of the bullpen and into the locker room, carefully drawing her soiled shirt over her head and tossing it straight into the garbage.
“I liked that shirt.” She muttered petulantly before yanking open the door of her locker in search of clean clothes but, to her horror, every little alcove inside was empty.
'What the fu-’
“Oh no.”
The reason her locker was empty was because she had taken the little black duffle bag she always kept at the district to Hank’s place a few nights ago when they had decided not to trek across town to her apartment after closing a particularly rough case. While she had a few things at his house, they spent most nights at Kate’s apartment and she was pretty certain that her most comfortable, tatty leggings and an oversized Harvard t-shirt wasn’t appropriate work attire so she had taken the bag with her.
“Please let this day be over soon.” She groaned, stepping a few paces to the right to root around in Hank’s locker, snatching the forest green t-shirt from the hanger and tossing it over a nearby bench before taking a quick shower.
When she eventually made it back to the bullpen, the rest of the unit had returned and Kevin was in the process of giving them an update. She had sidled up behind Alvin who greeted her with a quiet ‘Hey Kid’, his eyes taking in her unusual attire with a raised eyebrow but otherwise he remained silent.
The t-shirt hung loose on her frame but the soft, worn fabric was like a soothing balm on her frayed temper, simply because it smelled like him.
“...wasn’t much help. We found him bakin’ in the street so he’s at Med gettin’ his stomach pumped and bein’ treated for dehydration.”
Hank nodded, folding his arms across his chest as he turned away from the whiteboard to cast a glance over his team but, as his eyes settled on Kate, he found himself doing a double take when he realised she was no longer wearing the heather-grey shirt he had seen her in earlier that morning. He wasn’t sure if she knew the effect her wearing his clothes had on him but he could already feel his jeans tightening at the thought of her spending the rest of the day smelling like him. He was well aware that he had the tendency to be a possessive bastard when it came to her but who knew that seeing your woman wearing your clothes was such a potent aphrodisiac!?
“What next, Sarg?” He was snapped from his salacious inner monologue by Kim’s question, his newest officer evidently keen to put in a good showing.
“Al, take Burgess and get over to Med. I wanna know where this guy got his dope from. Might give us a clue to whoever thinks they can cook this crap in my city. Rest of you, keep digging.”
A ripple of nods followed his order as the unit began to disperse but, before Kate could take a seat at her desk, Hank had stepped forward and blocked her path so swiftly that she almost walked headlong into his chest.
He simply peered down at her for a few long moments, his tongue running over his teeth in a telltale sign that he was carefully considering something.
“Is that my shirt?” He eventually asked quietly, his eyes slowly roaming over her torso before they paused for a beat on the v-neck where she had left all three buttons undone, exposing a sliver of slightly damp, golden flesh.
“Yeah, sorry. Asshole puked all over me and I took the bag with my stuff in it to your place the other night.” She replied raking her hands through her hair, suddenly nervous that he might have a problem with her parading around the bullpen in his clothes.
But she needn’t have worried.
There was no mistaking the flash of heat in his beautiful russet orbs or the sexy smirk that tugged at his lips as he inched infinitesimally closer, leaning in so that his lips brushed against the shell of her ear when he spoke.
“Don’t be sorry, looks much better on you anyway.”
#hank voight#hank voight one shot#hank voight imagine#hank voight fluff#hank voight fanfiction#one chicago#chicago pd#chicago pd fanfiction#prompt#writer#request#fan fiction#kevin atwater#alvin olinsky
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“jerome…” Kilo mutters.
“Whazzat, man?”
“you know why I called my Stand… SATURN BARZ…?”
“No. How the hell would I? You never told me shit about it, and I never asked…!”
“he’s a god, you know? saturn was a roman god… of time, and change, and the harvest…”
“If you got the energy to talk about weird shit right now, carry yo’ own damn self!”
But Kilo seems not to hear him, continuing to speak as if halfway in a dream. “saturn ruled over the golden age… but a prophecy said that he’d be overthrown by his own children… so he ate them all…”
A voice answers, but it’s not Jerome’s. “That’s fucked, mayn…”
“yeah… he swallowed 11 of his kids… until his wife had another baby, and she hid it away… That baby was-”
“Wait, new baby? What? He kept even having kids, even though he knew they was gonna kill him? Why don't he just wear a condom or something?”
“it’s not his nature… he’s a debaser…” Kilo explains. “all he does is wait for the world to get fat and juicy, then consumes it all, leaving empty winter… anything good he makes is just so he can destroy it later…”
The voice takes human form. It calls out from beyond time and memory, and suddenly, Kilo is sixteen years old again. Kish carries him away, bloodied and bruised from a vicious fight. With both eyes clear, he watches Kish’s face crease in disgust.
“You gotta stop that Classical shit, man. It’s bad for your mind!” the boy chides. “How the hell you can through it anyhow? It’s all just, like, words words words, and it’s all goddamn depressing!”
“You can learn a lot… About life, and the world…”
Kish sucks his teeth. “What is some thousand-years dead Greek motherfucker gonna tell ya about life now?”
“Italian… the Romans were Italian…”
“Whatever! You know what, Kilo? You need to get yourself a more positive mindset.”
“Positive… sure, man, whatever…”
“I'm serious!” Kish cries. He stands Kilo up and has him lean against a wall for support, so that Kish can step back and address him head-on. “Fuck man… it's like you just, decide you're gonna be miserable all the time. You read creepy old shit, you get into fights… And you blame yourself for what happened to your momma…
Kilo shudders. “What did you say…?”
“I get it, alright? It’s hard… Your momma dying givin’ birth to you, that’s…! That’s fucked. But it ain’t your fault. You were just a baby!”
“What n-no, this isn’t… you never said this… this isn’t how this went…!”
“Yeah, well…” Kish says, crossing his arms, “We got another shot at it, so I’m saying what I wanted to say. While we at it, yo’ dad trying to kill you ain’t on you neither! I don’t care how broke up he was about his wife dying, this is a dude who tried to kill a baby in his fuckin’ crib. You didn’t deserve that!”
“You don't understand… You never understood…! You never got the chance! You died because of me!”
Kilo’s grievous scars return. Kish’s face is impassive as his body begins to boil, the blood bubbling beneath his flesh.
“No, I didn’t, man…” he says. “Tarantula was crazy. You ain’t responsible-”
“Yes I am!” Kilo yells. “I should have stopped him, but I was too weak! He humiliated me! That’s the real reason I wanted revenge! Not to avenge you, but to avenge my pride! That’s why I’m here! The only reason I’m here is to take my anger out on someone!”
The scenery changes, morphing like wet paint. The dimly lit night streets become a sunny day over the Chinese Theatre. The building is distorted and towering. Kilo is surrounded on all sides by people moving to and fro. Moya stands before him now, taking Kish’s place. “So that’s why?” she says. “You’re dragging yourself up a hill after blowing yourself up to feel… tough? What about Shizuka?”
Kilo stares at his shaking hands. “...I failed you. I couldn’t save you or Kish! I don’t want to fail her too! I… I didn’t want things to be like this! I’m sick of ruining everything I touch!”
Before his eyes, Moya's form shifts to that of WITCH MOUNTAIN, and speaks with her voice. He senses his own body change, becoming SATURN BARZ. Stripped of the disguises of flesh, their souls are laid bare.
In Moya’s voice, WITCH MOUNTAIN says “You are... a dishonest person.You can’t think that that’s all you are, after everything…”
“What are you talking about?” SATURN BARZ asks.
“You are the power to destroy, but also to heal. That's who you've always been, but your obsession with the negative had you neglect the positive. When we first met, there was no doubt your heart was tarnished. But after all that you've seen and done…? You stopped being that man a long time ago.”
As it speaks, black oil runs down the Stand’s body and reaches upward to form a canopy of darkness. Within that darkness, lights appear, flickering into life and dancing around Kilo’s feet like fireflies of silver and gold.
Restored to his human form, Kilo looks back at SATURN BARZ at his side. The steam from the Stand’s hands is painted gold by the appearance of a new light. Ahead of him, yellow hair streaked with pink blows in a brief wind. Then the golden glare envelopes all and Kilo must shield his eyes…
#jjba#jojo's bizarre adventure#jojo no kimyou na bouken#achtung attitude#kilo staples#saturn barz#witch mountain#ch77
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Just rhymes
There’s a whole lotta hatin goin on out there. A whole lotta stress polluting the air, a whole lotta ego, a whole lotta fear, a whole lotta fighting and blame everywhere.
There’s a whole lotta war and not enough peace. A whole lotta law, yet murders increase. People dying in the streets, gun men rollin with police. There’s a whole lotta spies, and blinkered eyes, a whole lotta toxins, some coke with your fries?
A whole lotta fake shit on repeat, a whole lotta hate in just one tweet. There's a war on climate, a war on meat, a war on breathing & speaking & heat. There’s a whole lotta rhythm, a whole lot of beat, a whole lotta truth that shall defeat, a light in the darkness, revealing the lies, shining upon us, Jah lions must rise
People getting busy, heads down in the sand, land grab, fuckin money grab, this shit is outta hand. Billions sent to corporate accounts, trillions given to banks. Get up, stand up it’s time to denounce, the corrupt the crooks & the cranks, the motherfuckers bringing us down, the banking cartel running this town.
You preach about equality then hate on me for my POV. Your talk is cheap, it’s hypocrisy. You live in a cage but think you’re free. It makes me laugh, superiority, I’m better than you, my genealogy, my looks, my brains, my no apologies. My cars, my chains, my known felonies. My boat, my jet, my house in Belize, my bank accounts full, no tax bitch, please.
I’m super fly when the stakes are high, got stocks to sell and crypto to buy, got cash piling up, I don’t even try, my rocks are blinding, they’ll make you cry and when you see it ain’t no lie, watch me wave my last goodbye, I’ll live it up to the day I die, with no regrets and no reply.
This is the now, let it go. This is the future, let it flow. This is the present, own the show. Blazing in the afterglow, now you get it, now you know. Only love, reap & sow, only realness, feel me bro? Only music, flights and blow, only good times, up and go, only high, never low, only sky, not down below, sometimes fire, sometimes snow, sometimes fast & sometimes slow.
Get me in the studio. Drop the bass, new audio, words are dollars, values grow. Always winning, never owe. This is my scenario, new pad, new car, new barrio, new watch, new shades, new deals and so, new dealers name is Mario. Sometimes yes, sometimes no, see ya down in Mexico. Never mind the status quo, get the cheddar, get the dough. It’s all about the balance yo, roll the dice, you’re on death row.
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White Boy Street Survivor
Nawwww, you know what it do. Yeah bruh don’ be pressin’ me on my shit breh yarredy know what the fuck I got on. Shieeet, just copped this new piece last week from the jewelry display at Khol’s awwww yeah. I grinded all month sellin’ fake addies to kids who’s parents made ‘em play piano and violin ‘n shit. Yup, I grabbed my stack and went down there. Said, “Bitch gimme yo finest chain, I’m tryna be blessed up right neow.” So I got this bitch right here, sum’n light. I can’t be wearing it too much tho which sucks because I’m tryna let the hoes know what’s up but it makes my skin a lil green and irritated after like 45 minutes, so that’s kinda bummin’ me out. But we up tho. Lowkey been needing something to cheer me up like lowkey ya boy been goin through it, type shit. Like my therapist says that like, I got GAD and allat so ion really know what that shit means but like apparently it comes from the stress of adapting to that private boarding school my parents made me go to. Yeah, breh so lowkey it’s been hard on a motherfucker forreal. Naw and I can’t even be myself around my friends no-more, type shit. They been bitchin’ on me, tal’m ‘bout, “Dude you can’t say the N-word, you’re white and went to the Hotchkiss preperatory school in Salisbury, Connecticut.” talkin’ all this shit about, “You’re whiter than Woody Allen, stop tryna say that shit, it ain’t cool and frankly, it’s incredibly racist and insensitive.” Yeah whatever bruh. On the low, if I can be honest with y’all, I think I’m like destined for greatness but nobody really ever believed in me. Like, I really ain’t come from nothin. Like before this shit I’m doin right now I had to like, grind bro. I was forced to work to survive, like my dad made me take this job at his work and I only got paid like 40 dollars an hour so I had to quit, type shit. Told my old man, “Pops, I ain’t tryna do this shit. Why do I wanna learn how to manage your software company, I’m a creative, I needa do my own shit.” He ain’t see the vision. Yeah, like, nobody in my life supported me or nothin’ but at least I got this new shit from the Kohl’s so hey, it’s aight forreal.
#gang shit#comedian#stand up comedy#comedy#writerscommunity#writerblr#humor#personal essay#shitpost#shitposting#literature
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Hi! I hope you're doing well, for the astrology ask game how about 3H, 10H and Neptune ?
Have a nice day, and take care ! 😊
hi dude. i’m hanging in there eh.
3H ⇢ what are some of the topics you like to talk about the most?
y’know, i like to explain stuff, whatever i read or heard or got interested in at the moment, and let me say, i’m constantly inhaling knowledge like i’m about to die tomorrow or something, so we’re talking exuberant range of studies, mostly humanities of course. i love the process of sharing knowledge and people say i have a somehow engaging ability to explain complicated things. in the past month my main interest became world history and every other day i recount the events, connections and conclusions i studied to my friends.
10H ⇢ how do you want people to remember you?
word to the motherfucking street, yo: WHY would i be so sure that people are going to remember me?
i don’t care to be honest, because they’ll remember me in their preferred fashion and i will never find out how they imagined me exactly. this is how people work eh, they do not only remember you in the colors that might be unbeknownst to yourself, they also think whatever they want about you, no matter what you do or what you try to convey or which image you try to create. sometimes people even think instead of you, for you.
i could even go as far as saying i want gents to forget me because when it comes to other people the only period of time and thinking space actually worth contemplating is while we’re both around, when they don’t have to remember me, but are able to see and recognize me.
after all, if people are reminiscing about me it means we split apart, and it’s always sad to say goodbye to people with whom you have a connection meaningful enough to share memories however shallow.
there is a line in one of Brodsky’s poems, “You won’t be loved and won’t be forgotten” and indeed, man, if they love you they would just be there for you, not entertain your eidos-like umbrella-term silhouette in their head while you’re left behind or booking your ass ahead, wrapped in whatever lonely dao you’ve chosen.
i wanna be loved and then forgotten.
neptune ⇢ are you a rational or intuitive person?
when it comes to personal matters i’m a hopeful rationalist: when i make complicated decisions i cannot explain the choice right away but i know that soon after i make it i’ll understand why exactly i did so, there will always be a well-defined reason and motivation.
in terms of understanding the world, especially the society - pure rationalist, deadass, and i take pride is witnessing the magic of order and admiring the integrity of unknown
i hope you’re doing well too!!! sending love
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You know what I hate even more than working in retail, costumers and all that... people who actually, genuinely LOVE WORKING RETAIL.
I just don't get those people. They must be psychopaths.
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Yo I am obsessed with this record. It’s so fucking good. It’s like next level. It really got me thinking about my favourite rappers and like revelling in the magic that their words make.
Okay quick top 5 is always going to include Thought of course. This album completely highlights why. I’ve spun this a couple times and honestly I’m always enamoured.
I wanted to check what the word on the street was about this record on MusicBoard, but you know how you know something is good — it’s when you don’t even wanna hear what no one else has to say about it because you know it LIVES! It’s ALIVE! The record is ALIVE AND BREATHING. There’s a heart beat on that. That’s how you know when something kicks like a motherfucker.
Anyway, I’m completely in love and enamoured. This record is making me feel things that I haven’t felt in the longest time.
youtube
Also, sidebar — can we talk about how Russ holds his own alongside!!! Whatttt!! Listen, Russ didn’t need any co-signs from anyone, he just needed to keep getting better and advancing. I’m specifically talking about Joe Budden. Fuck that guy.
#Black Thought#danger mouse#cheat codes#chantel’s sound diary#music journal#music diary#music nerds#music nerd#currently listening#chantel's sound diary#Youtube
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some of the iconic quotes from HBO War shows
i don’t know what this is but i was bored and made reaction gifs to use against @hsinlvegas and i thought why not post them
#hbowaredit#tpedit#gkedit#ray person#the pacific#generation kill#snafu shelton#eugene sledge#also i realise the 'more like trombley' gif can't really be used in any context#but fuck it#i fucking lvoe that scene and i don't care#i'm dying sledge#word to the motherfucking street yo#yeah homes we pimpin#tp: part eight#gk: multiple#mine#gifs*#tp gifs*#gk gifs*
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ring pop superiority - rowaelin month day one.
ao3 || masterlist || rowaelin month '21 masterlist
prompt: i just realised that i'm in love with you.
word count: 2981
trigger warnings: language, heavy drinking, mentions of child abuse.
las vegas, just past midnight.
The hot air is a burden on Aelin’s shoulders, pushing them down as she prays for the colder temperatures of her hometown. Or even just colder temperatures. She’s not fussy. She closes her eyes, even, and wishes upon every God she can conjure in her drunken mind for colder temperatures.
Anything but the forty-five degree (Celsius) heat of Las Vegas in August.
When she opens her eyes, she is still stood where she had been, still feeling the same heat.
She gazes at the hotel to her left, a replica of a castle with a fucking rollercoaster running around the outside. She takes a step and looks to her right, and there were the fucking Bellagio Fountains, spraying water into the air in a feat of mass engineering and physics, she imagines. Or maybe just a feat of sheer dumb luck.
Dumb luck.
Just the same luck she has: to be freshly twenty-one, just about drunk enough to be an easy anything targets despite her martial arts training, and without her friends, her bodyguard look-a-like cousin, and his similar looking friends.
The trip to Las Vegas is a joint twenty-first birthday celebration for Aelin, Lysandra, and Elide. Who all turned twenty-one in the past year. It had taken two years of hardcore saving to get the funds to sustain a two-week-long trip to Sin City with ten borderline alcoholics, seven of them being male thrill-seekers.
She glimpses at her phone, the device on seven per cent battery after hours of snapchatting, Instagramming and all-around number collecting. It’s past midnight now, and she doesn’t have a hotel room key because she’d given hers to Lysandra as an incentive to not to get lost. Because who in the fuck wants to sleep on the streets in Las fucking Vegas.
Aelin had thought, not me, but here she is. Still stranded alone, lost.
She stumbles over to the stone wall surrounding fountains and sits herself down on it, sending an SOS, 999, emergency text to the only person in the group who would still be relatively sober, or at least have enough phone charge and common sense to check in on her.
Pulling up her text thread with Rowan motherfucking Whitehorn, she reads the last text she sent him, a calm and cool; fuck off, you bastard buzzard. Nothing says, I don’t have feelings for you like telling them to go away, cursing them out, and calling them names.
Now she sends him a text reading; sve mey, at tyhe belyago fnts oon wal. Drunk texting has never been her preferred flavour of drunk mistake, hence the shitty grammar. She much prefers confessing her undying love whilst the object of her undying love is stone-cold asleep and then proceeding to plant a sloppy, beer-breath kiss on their cheek. Forehead. Eyebrows. Nose.
She isn’t picky.
She hadn’t done that to Rowan last time she had got blackout drunk, no siree. Nor had she done it the three previous times she’d got drunk.
She would never.
A faint ding sounds, and she pulls her phone from her bra, her most sacred hiding place; be there in ten, hang tight fireheart.
She texts back, lve ya rora, lowe yo lodstt.
Hopefully, Rowan won’t see the texts for what they are through her drunk texting spelling, punctuation, and grammar. She tucks her phone back into her dress, hoping no creeps come up to her and try to steal it. She slips over the wall, so that she faces into the fountains, with a leg on either side of the smooth, cool marble wall. She has her shoes tied around her neck, thankful she wore tie-at-the-ankle espadrille wedges, so she didn’t have to drunk stumble through Las Vegas in heels or risk losing said heels.
Dipping a toe into the fountain, she finds the water cold, and she wants more of the sensation on her body. She slides on the wall again, so both her feet can dip into the cool water.
She allows herself to relax in a drunken stupor, her shoulders falling and her eyes closing. She opens her ears to the thumping of the clubs and casinos and strip clubs around her. She smells the humidity in the air, along with the definite scent of weed, but it’s Las fucking Vegas, it’s the motherfucking city of sin, who’s Aelin to judge if someone wants to get high while everyone else is sticking dollar bills into G-strings of strippers.
That’s what Rowan was doing before he answered her text, she decides, putting one-dollar, ten-dollar, twenty-dollar, fifty-dollar and even one-hundred-dollar bills into strippers’ G-strings, because they are sexy and feminine creatures who have curves and hips and are short and delicate just like women are supposed to be.
A tear slides down her cheek, and another follows suit on the opposite side and soon she’s full-on bawling as she swings her dirty, Las-Vegas-Strip-stained feet in the water of the Bellagio. She rubs her eyes, uncaring of the panda eyes she’s bound to be graced with as a result.
She tugs her arms around herself as her carefully created walls begin to crumble as old insecurities creep further and further into her mind.
Women are supposed to have meat to grab, women aren’t supposed to be sticks.
Women are supposed to have tits worth dying for, you’ve barely got tits worth smiling for.
Women are supposed to have manners, not sarcasm and the language of a sailor.
Women are supposed to…
Women are supposed to…
Women are supposed to… not be like me.
It’s been years since anyone has said such comments to her, her old foster father a long since distant memory, that’s what she tells herself.
Then why aren’t his words long gone, why aren’t his criticisms long forgotten, why aren’t his abuses long dead.
She sinks further and further into this hole until she can barely see the lights of Las Vegas. The only thing visible is a cracked mirror she peers into as she picks apart her appearance.
Her blonde hair is scraggly because she hasn’t washed it in a few days.
Her nose is too small for her eyes, and her eyes are too far apart.
Her top lip is too small for how big her bottom lips is.
Her arms are too skinny for how not skinny her legs are.
“Fireheart.” It’s distant and hard to hear.
“Fireheart?” Clearer now but where is it?
“Fireheart!” Even closer now, almost over her shoulder.
“Aelin!?” A hand lands on her shoulder, and she jumps back into it, recognising the scent that surrounds her and overwhelms her senses.
“Rowan.” Aelin gasps, she twists and buries her head into the crook of his neck, tears wetting the smooth, hot skin there.
“Oh, Fireheart. Love, why are you crying?” Rowan questions, she makes up a quick and believable lie for him and mumbles it into the soft cotton of his shirt.
“I’m not drunk enough yet, Roro.”
He makes a disbelieving noise in his throat that she feels more than hears but seems to accept that he can’t do anything for her except oblige her. “Let’s see what we can do about that then, Fireheart.”
las vegas, several hours later.
Two hours, seven shots, and two almost love confessions later, Aelin and Rowan are relying on each other for support and also for comedy given no one in the city is quite as hilarious as they are right now
“I’ve always wanted to get married, y'know?”
“Yeah, I know the feeling, dawg.”
“Oh, for real, dawg?”
“Yeah, for real for real, dawg.”
“Word?”
“Word.”
Spotting an Elvis Presley look-a-like across the road from them, Aelin yanks on the large hand belonging to Rowan.
“So,” she hedges to him, “you want to get married. I want to get married. Elvis Presley who can marry people is two feet away. And you can marry whoever the fuck you want, whenever the fuck you want in this city. I think my point is obvious here.”
“That Las Vegas needs to regulate marriage more thoroughly than they do right now. Yeah, I agree.” Drunk Rowan is the only Rowan who’ll discuss politics with you.
“No, we should get married.”
“Yeah, for sure. Let’s do it.”
The next thing they do is head to a candy store two blocks down where Rowan picks a ring pop up and slides it onto Aelin’s finger before they sneak out without paying because… broke college students.
Then they head back to the chapel and walk into it with confidence they have no right having. Stumbling up to the desk, Rowan announces, “Rowan Whitehorn and Aelin Ashryver Galathynius here to get hitched, motherfuckers.”
The receptionist just murmurs, “Sure, just fill out this paperwork and hand it back, then y'all can head-on into the chapel room.”
“Word.” They respond together.
Another ten minutes later, and they’ve both finished the paperwork necessary and are handing it in to the lady at the rosewood desk. “To reach you tomorrow regarding a Yelp review, could we please have a number.”
Rowan pulls out his phone and finds Aelin’s contact before allowing the receptionist to take a photo of his phone screen. “Have a happy marriage, you two.” The lady deadpans.
Bursting through the doors, they both march down the aisle, ready to get the fuck married.
Stood before Elvis Presley but with a beer belly, they hold hands, Rowan’s thumb stroking the back of hers drunkenly and clumsily. “Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today to witness the holy union of Rovan and Alien… neat names guys.”
“Can we get to the vows please?” Aelin asks.
“Sure, sure, sure. Repeat after me, I, Rowan Whitehorn…
"I, Rowan Whitehorn…”
“Take, thee, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius…”
“Take, thee, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius…”
“To lo—”
“Holy fuck. Holy fucking fuck. Rowan, Rowan, Rowan! I just realised…” Aelin bounds towards Rowan, tugging on his shirtsleeves as she jumps up and down and side to side, and forwards and backwards.
“Realised what?”
“I just realised that I fucking love you and your arse because… damn.”
“I figured that out for myself after four drunken confessions and four sloppy cheek kisses and four slammed doors whilst you were trying to be quiet. And also, after your texts today, very legible, Fireheart.”
“Uh, fuck? But the wrong answer, mister.”
“Oh, you want me to confess my love for you?”
“Yes… obviously.”
Rowan clears his throat before spreading his arms and looking Aelin dead in the eyes. "Aelin, since the day I met you, you have bewitched me in the most amazingly ridiculous ways. From the way you scrunch your forehead when people call you out and you want to fight them to the way your lips look after you’ve licked them clean of gloss. I have loved you since you punched me in our junior year for checking out some girl’s arse because it was a dick thing to do, and you had raised me to do better. You’ve also challenged me to be better, every single day you exist in my life because, fucking hell, because you’re you Aelin Ashryver Galathynius and who am I to not be spectacular when around you.”
“Neat vows.” Intones the officiant. “Your turn now, lil lady.”
“Okay, here goes everything, Rowan Whitehorn, I never imagined being able to love anyone after my parents died. I never imagined my heart would grow and that its walls would crumble the second I met your buzzard arse. But the longer I’ve known you, I’ve come to realise that you are everything I never thought I could have. You’re love, kindness, and compassion, and patience, and attention to detail, and care, and power, and no-nonsense and just about every other thing possible and I love you for that. For proving to me that I’m worth it, even if you did it without kissing me and ravaging me. I’ve never been so grateful to have another person in my life than I am to have you.”
“Damn, a highlight of the night, for sure, you two. Uhh, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride.”
Aelin lunges for Rowan, burying thin and nimble fingers in his silver strands and matching her mouth to his. Their lips meet and meet and meet for a hell of a lot more time. Teeth clash as lips part and tongues meet and tastes mix in an explosion of perfection.
Rowan’s hand come to rest on Aelin’s waist and it’s the perfect first kiss to ever be had. She scratches down the side of his head and kisses the living shit out of her as no man has ever kissed the living shit out of her before, ever.
And it’s everything she had ever imagined her wedding would be.
las vegas, mid-morning, the next day.
Aelin’s head throbs as she lifts her fuzzy head from the pillow, shaking hair out of her face and attempting to rub the stickiness from her cheek.
She opens her eyes to search for what on earth woke her and finds the blinds closed but the door to her hotel room shaking with the force someone is putting into knocking on it.
The next thing she takes note of is the warm body behind her and the feeling of their breath against the back of her neck and their skin against hers and the weight of their arm over her waist–which pins her in place.
She struggles to turn around to face the person behind her, ranking their importance over whoever is at the door.
She physically jumps back when she sees the silver hair belonging to Rowan Whitehorn and that wicked tattoo of his down the arm across her waist and the fucking naked torso that is more cut than she’d ever imagined.
“Holy fuck,” she mumbles as she recalls the night before and the way Rowan had made her wedding the best night of her life.
“AELIN!” Says whoever the fuck is behind the door. Then the voice registers. Aedion.
Shit.
Double shit.
Triple shit.
Stumbling from the king-size hotel bed, she shucks on a dressing gown hanging in the closet and makes her way to the door. Taking a calming breath, she pulls the door open a sliver.
“Yes, Aedion. What is it?”
“You fucking married Rowan Whitehorn last night. That’s what the fuck it is, Aelin.” He mocks, never calming down.
“Give me a minute and you can come in, but stay comfy out here, cuz.” She closes the door lightly and races to Rowan’s side of the bed—entirely ignoring the soreness between her legs from the sheer size of Rowan.
Planting her hands on Rowan’s shoulders, she shakes him viciously until he startles awake and yelps. He opens his eyes, they appear feral as she first inspects them, but they calm dramatically when he spots the person who woke him is only Aelin.
“So, Rowan. We got married, huh?”
“Yep, seems so given the rings on both our fingers. Nice ring pop stain on your cheek, Fireheart.” Rowan is cool as a cucumber until Aelin tells him about Aedion.
“And Aedion knows. How the fuck does my cousin—who wasn’t at the ceremony mind you—know we got married, Rowan Whitehorn?!”
“Fuck if I know, Ae, I just woke up three seconds ago. When you shook me awake, that is.” Rowan getting frustrated has to be one of the hottest things she’s seen all her life, the way his arms cross and his muscles bulge, the way his green eyes become hooded in same the fashion they do when he’s turned the fuck on. It is all fuck hot and it’s not the first time she’s noticed.
Hence marrying him.
“Well somehow he found out, and it sure as shit wasn’t me who told him. Given I didn’t want him to know, Rowan whatever the fuck your middle name is Whitehorn!” Aelin growing frustrated was not hot, her eyes got wide and feral, and her mouth grew tight while her arms and hands did most of the talking for her.
“Listen, either someone posted it on their social, or somehow he got called about it or some shit, yeah?” Rowan, always the voice of reason and logic and somewhat sanity. Except, you know, the moment during which they got fucking married in Vegas.
The door bangs open, slamming against the dresser and a furious Aedion enters the room, a meek-looking hotel assistant following behind him. “You married my fucking cousin, Whitehorn. In fucking Vegas.” He pauses, his anger fading out like water to the sea. “Tell me you confessed to her, man. Tell me you at least did it before you got married., I’m dying over here.”
Rowan pulls the covers further up his body, and a giant smile overcomes his face too. “Does halfway through the ceremony count? Because if so, then yes. Yes, I did confess my love for Aelin before we got married in Las Vegas whilst stupidly drunk, Aedion.”
“Fuck yeah, man. Nice one.” He reaches to high five Rowan.
“Anyway, how did you find out we’d got married in the first place, Aed. Because we sure as shit didn’t broadcast our wedding to anyone.” Rowan queries.
“Uh, you sure as shit broadcasted my number to the receptionist at Rock King Chapel, Las Vegas. Who called, this morning, at seven, to question me on how I found their marriage services last night.” Aedion answers, looking mildly put off by their lack of clothing and realising why they might lack clothing.
“Did you fuck my cousin last night, Whitehorn?” Then he turns to Aelin, “Did you fuck my best friend last night, Aelin?”
“Yeah, dawg.”
“Word, dawg.”
They respond simultaneously.
“Also, is that, is that the remainder of a ring pop on my cousin’s left ring finger, Rowan?”
#rowaelin month#rowaelin#tog#throne of glass#tog fic#my fic#my writing#rowan whitethorn#aelin galathynius#llyncooljones' writing
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Miraculous: Tales of Kick-Ass
requested by a lovely anon 💕
Dave Lizewski x fem!reader (miraculous au)
warnings: cursing.
word count: 1814
a/n: Dave has a kwami!! Cause if we are going with Miraculous au, we are doing it properly.
“I am here again, live ,with New York’s favourite superhero battling against his archnemesis in the background. But do not worry! I just saw Hit Girl arrive at the scene and they seem to have everything under control.” the reporter, Lizzie Blonde, says through the tv in Atomic Comics. You are not sure when all of this has started, when New York turned into a battlefield for superheros and supervillains. New York used to be normal. Alright, scratch that, New York was always one crazy place.
Not that you mind particularly, you were always a fan of superheroes and comics and to see them, in your city? That was beyond exciting. Not to mention your major crush on kick-Ass.
You took a sip from your milkshake and looked around the comic store. Dave should be here by now. Not that you are surprised he is not here. He is always late nowadays. Marty and Todd fanboyed next to you about hit Girl as you kept looking at your phone and the door, waiting for your best friend to give any sign of him.
In the tv the superhero pair just took out the Motherfucker’s minions. You sigh a bit worried. What if Dave got in trouble? What if he is in that part of the city where the fight is going on? It’s only a few blocks away and if he got hurt it would explain why he is not responding to your messages..
You hesitantly stood up and walked outside the shop. You heard a loud crash in the distance. You bit your lip, debating whether you should go and look for Dave or not. You heard a loud cheer coming from outside, the heros probably won. Again.
You finally decided to go and look for Dave, so you started speed walking toward the street you saw in the news. Maybe you will not only find Dave but see Kick-Ass too!
Of course Dave is more important but.. You saw a green figure flash from one of the rooftops. You gasped, Kick-Ass jumped on a building, only a few meters away from you.
The hero seemed to notice you and waved his hand at you.
You almost fainted, but went to grab your phone to take a picture of him but by the time you looked up he was long gone. You looked around confused but quickly remembered why you came. You started running again, when from an alleyway someone ran into you.
“AAA”
“AAAA”
“Oh my god y/n!”
“Dave! What are you doing here?” you grasp your chest, hoping your heart won’t fall out of its place.
“I could ask the same!”
“I was worried about you! So I came looking and..Are you alright?” you carefully touch his cheek where a small cut is, slightly bleeding. The boy slightly brushes your hand away and tries to hide the light pink flash on his cheek.
“I’m fine, I was on my way to Atomic’s when the fight started and I figured I would be safer here.” he lied effortlessly. You nodded.
“I’m glad you are okay.” you say, before remembering what happened a few seconds ago. “Oh my gosh, Dave! I was walking on the street looking for you and you will never believe what happened! Kick-Ass, The Kick-Ass saw me and waved! Ahh! It was so awesome!”
Dave laughed softly, “I bet it was. Let’s go back to Atomic’s, okay?”
You guys spend most of your afternoon there, talking about the fight and the superhero duo.
“..so in conclusion, I love Hit Girl and she is so awesome. But Kick-Ass? Gosh, he is so hot!” you gesture with your hands. Dave clears his throat and lifts his drink to his lips. Marty rolls his eyes at you.
“You can’t even see his face!” he throws his hand in the air. Dave and Todd start laughing.
“Hey, man, leave the girl alone.” Dave says, slightly nudging your side. “But really y/n, Kick-Ass could be a nerd like me, for all you know.”
“That would be some Peter Parker shit.” you say grabbing a french fry. “But, I don’t really care for his looks, like.. The idea of him? You know? Like he is a motherducking hero for Stan Lee's sake!"
" That's kinda.. I don't know. Shallow? Having a crush on someone you don't even know? " Dave says and barely noticeably tucks a small piece of pizza in his pocket. Before you can say anything Todd beats you to it.
"Well that's rich coming from the guy who was practically drooling over Scarlet Witch in The Ultimates."
"That's a completely different thing."
Todd opens his mouth to respond when the harsh sound of the news channel floods the comic shop. You all turn to the tv and see that New York is once again under attack. Dave furrows his eyebrows.
"Twice?" he asks himself. Before he jumps up from the booth you all are sitting at.
"I just uhm… I just remembered I have to rush home to help my dad!"
"Yo dude, what the heck?" yells Todd after your best friend.
"Sorry, guys I have to run!" and with that Dave is out the door, leaving all his friends including you, confused and kinda upset. He finds the first alleyway and soon his kwami flies out of his pocket.
"Dave? What's going on? We never have to fight twice a day." the little kwami, Kai says. His name is not actually Kai but as he is a lost kwami he never learned what his name is so Dave was the one to give him the name Kai.
"I don't know, little dude but we better check it out."
There wasn't anything big, Chris Damico just couldn't take the fact that he lost again and angrily tried to strike at the innocent citizens of New York in hopes of destroying Kick-Ass too. Instead he ended up getting his.. Well getting his ass kicked.
Dave didn't change back just yet, instead he jumped from rooftop to rooftop to get home. It got pretty late so it would be stupid to go back to Atomic Comics as you guys probably left. He felt bad for bailing on you again. He hated leaving you. Even if he could play superhero and save people. The look on your face every time he rushed away to a fight? Ugh, he hates it.
Dave jumps down to an alleyway to transform back when a girl turns into the alley. Wait. It's not just a girl, it's you!
Dave tries to jump behind trash bags to hide but you already saw him.
"Kick-Ass?" he hears your voice. He sighs and comes out of his impromptu hiding spot.
"Haha, guilty as charged."
"Oh my gosh, we met earlier! You waved at me, do you remember? Ah, of course you don't, you meet so many people every day." you would have kept on rambling if it wasn't for Dave. He tried his hardest not to giggle at your fangirling, that he knows oh so well and said.
" I actually do remember you y/-, random citizen! "
Fuck! Dave curses himself. He almost said your name! Stupid, stupid, stupid!
You did seem to hear anything but the fact that your superhero crush remembered you from earlier. You felt your cheeks heating up a bit.
"You.. You do? Gosh, really? That's so awesome, you are like… ahgh you are so awesome."
"You think so?" Kick-Ass asks, smiling. "Well, you seem like a pretty awesome girl, too. What is a pretty, awesome girl like you doing out this late?"
Dave feels weird talking to you like this, cause you don't know he is actually your best friend but… Dave also finds that a bit helpful? He could never compliment you as Dave, not like this. He would end up blushing and dying from embarrassment. But Kick-Ass? He is a cool dude, who has no problem flirting with the ladies.
"Oh, well I was hanging with my friends at Atomic Comics."
"So you like superheros?" he asks, leaning against a wall in a 'cool way'.
"Oh, yeah."you nod, gulping."I love them."
You slowly mingled in conversation. Dave softly flirted with you every once in a while and you always responded with a sweet smile and some nice comeback. Both of you were so in the conversation, you didn't even bother to pay attention to your surroundings. Dave for example, didn't even hear the beeping, the warning that he would transfer back from Kick-Ass to Dave Lizewski. When he realized what was going on it was already too late. His kwami fell tiredly into his hands.
"Oh shit, oh no, oh shit, shit.. Aah." Dave looked around for help, any help but it was worthless. You already saw him transform. You know.
Dave slowly, terrified of your reaction, gazed over to you.
But you just stared at him.
"Look, n/n-"
"This is some Peter Parker shit." you whispered,still starring. But then you snapped out of it. "What the actual fuck, Dave?"
"I know, I know, I am so sorry y/n! I couldn't tell you and fuck! I am so sorry for flirting with you, it's just I could never have the confidence to do that as Dave and- Ah, I just ruined our friendship and I think I should just leave.." he turned around and tried to walk away but you grabbed his hand and pulled him back. You quickly pressed your lips against his. Dave barely had time to react, he froze. Was this really happening? Is this a dream?
" You are a real asshole, Dave. "you say after pulling away." You are lucky I love you. "
"You what?" Dave asks with his eyes wide open. "I thought you had a 'major crush' on Kick-Ass."
"Well, yeah, but I like you better." you say with a small smile. Before Dave can say anything you spot the tired kwami in his hand. "Dave, what the fuck is that?"
"Oh shit." he pulls out a small snack from his pocket and gives it to Kai who starts munching on it immediately. "He is Kai. He is my kwami, he is basically the source of my powers."
"Uhm, hi." you wave at the small creature.
The kwami looks up at you and then at Dave.
"This is wrooong."
"Shut up, little dude." he turns to you, scratching his back with his free hand. "So, uhm can I walk you home… as not your best friend?"
You shake your head with a laugh.
"I want nothing more." you take his hand and you two walk with huge smiles on both of your faces.
Maybe this was an accident, but at the end of the day Kick-Ass defeated his enemy, saved New York twice, but it was Dave Lizewski who ended up getting the girl.
Here's how I imagined Kai, his kwami (i am no digital artist, i know it look horrible 😂😂) :
taglist: @sethcohenluvr @your-hispanichufflepuff
#dave lizewski one shot#dave lizewski x reader#Dave Lizewski x fem reader#kick ass imagine#kick ass x reader#kick ass imagines#miraculous au#kick-ass miraculous au#gif not mine#aaron taylor johnson#alias imagines
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Yea, (another gutter...) you know we had to do it this time baby! Nah-mean?
My nigga D, we walk through the motherfucking' doors
Of the industry together baby! Nah-mean? (Gots to tell the truth)
You gave that shit dog, Ya know what I'm sayin?
Me like yo, go hard on these niggas baby, Nah-mean? (Gots to tell the truth)
Go hard just let niggas know
What the fuck is really going on
Now that's what the fuck I did! Aight!
Arf, Arf. What!
The industry; man its not the same
The industry; its not a fucking game
The industry; real niggas is dying to get in
The industry; just define they don't fit in
The industry; ain't what it used to be
The industry; trying to control the way you MC
They want you to dress like that this and talk like that
But I'm gon' dress like this and talk with the gat
The industry; got y'all word meaning nothing
The industry; fuck what you heard cause he's bluffing
The industry; money, bitches, hate
But I dare you to try to take a fucking thing off my plate
The industry like "Wait!", but in the streets we like "Get 'em"
Set 'em teed up in that thing, catch 'em sleeping and hit 'em
And Ima pop whoever with 'em, the coroner is coming to get 'em
Industry niggas, so that's how I did 'em
The industry; mad niggas is full of shit
The industry; mad niggas is sucking dick
The industry; bitches keep thinking its a game
The industry; don't mention my fucking name
The industry; mad niggas is full of shit
The industry; mad niggas is sucking dick
The industry; bitches keep thinking its a game
The industry; don't mention my fucking name, nigga
The Industry; if you ain't got a strong mind
The industry; you ain't get down its a matter of time
The industry; vultures with nothing to feast on
The industry; see me I'm getting my beast on
The industry; staying in the dirt, playing in the dirt
Touch the wrong one in the industry and you will get hurt
I'm not an industry artist, I'm an artist in the industry
That's why you what the fuck I want, cause nobody can finish me
The industry; wanted dead or alive
New artist to sell they souls, the way they survive
The industry don't give a fuck about you
But the industry couldn't make a dime without you
The industry; I'm sick of this industry shit
The industry; playing you like a industry bitch
They try to finish me quick but I am on, so I stand strong
Fuck the beat, listen to the words of the damn song
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh (2X)
Shit is crazy yo
They loaning you money to make a album
You pay 'em back the money, they still on the album
What part of the game is that? (I tell you the truth, I don't lie)
You write your own shit, but they hold on to your shit
What part of the game is that?
(I don't try to hurt nobody, I mind my business)
You know what, the average nigga makes like
(All these industry niggas could suck a fucking dick!!)
Twenty-six cents over a motherfucking record
We need a motherfucking union baby!!!
Often, my words fall on deaf ears
Motherfuckers be listenin' but don't hear
Talkin' to 'em and they be sittin' right here
I be like "Where you goin'!?", nigga be like "Yeah"
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