#(in a rude manner*** keep forgetting words) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherry-leclerc · 8 months ago

Text

cherry cola ☆ op81

genre: smut, humor, yearning, tiny bit of fluff, virgin!reader, innocent!reader, experienced!oscar, sub!reader (for a while!), dom!oscar (for a while!)

word count: 8.5k

After a painful break up, Oscar finds himself head-to-head with an enticing girl, filled with pure innocence. Also known as, his parents secret weapon, and his worst temptation.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...f!receiving, fingering, brief mentions of masturbation, face riding, missionary sex, doggy style

inspired by this !

cherry here!... hellooo anons, long time, no see haha sorry for the lack of posts, but hopefully this makes up for it, somehow? formal apology for my last post too while we're at it. though this fic is inspired by cola by lana del rey, it will not have a sour ending like past fics (iykyk). missed u all, so here ya go! enjoy :)

There is an apprehensive sensation that towers over him as soon as she walks in; shy mannered, tall, and firm with a hint of hesitation—it’s something he adores about her, but also something that has him feeling jittery. Oftentimes, her lips are his most prized possession, enjoying the way they move. All except at this very moment.

Everyone notices his bitter, broken, and quiet mood despite always laying low. He’s never been one to share his problems with others, and he most definitely was not going to start now. It should be the best moment of the season—his first win—but he doesn’t have the joy to celebrate it with anyone.

Oscar’s brown eyes are low and dull; empty. He’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t see any of this coming. If he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt and misery. Should he have been more attentive, a better boyfriend, then he wouldn’t be regretting his life choices. Dramatic, but true.

“How are you spending your summer break? Are you and Lily traveling?”

The Australian tries to scoff at the innocent inquiry beaming from his teammate, but he settles with a wince, not being able to hide it. “She, um…we broke up, actually.” He’s never been a religious individual—has never even set foot inside a church—but for the first time in his life, he prayed no more questions would be asked.

Lando raises his thick brows, clearly surprised by the sudden confession. Sure, they were a private couple—likely the most in the entire paddock—but he never saw this coming from Oscar and Lily. Though he only met her a couple of times, simply exchanging a kind greeting, he would’ve bet his entire Rolex collection that the couple were smitten with one another. “Ah, I’m sorry, mate.”

The rude sound of his race suit being zipped up harshly makes the Brit flinch in the slightest. “Don’t worry about it. That’s life, no?”

Costa Rica—they were supposed to go to Costa Rica. Instead, now, he sits alone on a flight back to his home country. He’s ecstatic to be sleeping in his childhood room with outdated posters hung of all his favorite drivers, but the feeling lingers.

Sprawled like a koala, humid t-shirt pressed against his skin, he tosses and turns for an estimate of five whole minutes. He should be enjoying the beach, sipping on highly sweetened margaritas, getting the worst tan of his life, but he’s here. The hot summer air in Melbourne makes him spit out a string of dirty curses that would send his mum into a coma.

The brunette might as well be an only child since not a single one of his three sisters were here to keep him company, ditching him with his parents. He loved them, of course he did, but a full house was his ideal way to spend his break. His home gym isn’t even enough to help him forget, even for a second.

“Dinner is ready, honey,” Nicole announces, peeking carefully through the crack of the door. She grins widely. “There’s even pavlova—your favorite.”

He forces a polite nod, shaggy hair dangling just above his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll be out in a bit.” It actually takes a sum of thirty-minutes for him to jog down the stairs, a strong scent of apple expanding from his now washed hair. His dad hums as soon as he spots the McLaren driver.

“It’s rude to leave guests waiting, Oscar,” he warns with a deep voice.

The twenty-three year old assumes it’s a lame dad joke, perhaps, so runs along with it, taking a good look around the dining room. “Won’t happen again. I showered—”

“Where would you like to place the dessert, Mrs. Piastri?” a soft voice echoes down the hallway as he turns at the unfamiliar tone. You halt, caught off guard by the new presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you would be here.”

“In my own home?” he finds himself squeaking involuntarily. The stern look that dances across his parents faces is enough for him to bite down on his tongue. He doesn’t even know why he said any of that—especially to a stranger.

They introduce you two quickly, though you’re just as fast as to say that you obviously knew about his existence. Do you follow my races? You shake your head, glossy hair shining. “I work for your parents, so…I sort of know. Plus, your sisters always talk highly about you when you’re gone.”

He blinks. “You work here?” Brown eyes flicker to his parents, confusion written all over. “What could she possibly do?”

“Oscar,” Nicole scolds. “I thought you left all the unnecessary questions back in junior high.”

Chris slides a large hand over her smaller one, calming her down just a tad bit. The older man sighs. “You know your mum, always looking for something new to do—”

“I wanted to grow a garden!” she squeals, delighted. “Like in all those magazines you get me for my birthday—oh, so lovely, honey. Only I realized, I don’t know anything about gardening.”

“And this lovely girl standing right here is a total natural. Her hands must be magic.” Oscar blushes hard at his dads choice of words. “She’s helping us out for the time being. Until we get back.”

The Australian's mouth opens, then snaps back shut, swallowing. “Get back from where?”

“Costa Rica!”

He gapes. “You’re using my tickets?”

Nicole winces. “Can’t let them go to waste, honey…”

His father butts in. “How is Lily by the way?”

The brunette groans, running his hands through his waves. “How should I know? Come on, you guys can’t be serious.” The tickets weren’t the problem; the fact that they were leaving was. He spots you awkwardly placing the pastry down onto the table. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Yes, of course,” you quip, glad to have a reason to flee far enough away from the premises. You turn to the Piastri’s who smile fondly at your understanding. “I’ll be out in the garden.”

As soon as you rush out, the twenty-three year old turns swiftly. “I guess I’m leaving too.”

“Don’t you dare, Oscar Jack Piastri—” He fumes. “Why not? You’re all going to be gone!”

“She won’t—you are keeping her company.” She’s not asking; she’s demanding. Staring back in shock, the McLaren driver avoids eye contact, fidgeting like a kid at their first day of school. His mum stands up, makes her way over, and pecks his soft cheek. “She’s a sweet girl. She won’t be a bother—she’s just down the hallway.”

That’s where Lily would always stay back when they first started their relationship; too afraid of making a bad impression on his parents. He found it adorable. He rolls his eyes and releases a heavy breath. “Fine.” He stares out the glass window, focusing on where you patiently sit on the wooden bench, delicate hands pressing your dress down against your thighs. “Fine...”

The following morning, his parents wake him up at the crack of dawn, bidding goodbye. It comes as a total surprise, thinking he had a few more days left with them, but no. He’s barely registering any of it before they whisper inaudible nonsense and scurry out of his bedroom.

After some debating, he changes and decides to go on a quick run. The sight of Ms. Alleck watering her burnt grass makes him smile as he sets off. It would have been easier to not get as tired if it were a slight bit chilly, but it’s blazing hot. He cuts it short, dashing back home and immediately serving himself a glass of cold water.

“You’re up early.”

The brown eyed boy jumps in sudden surprise. Standing in a pastel yellow sleeping gown, you grin brightly. Long lashes lay flat, nose pinching rosy pink, and breath minty. “Yeah, my folks sort of woke me up. Couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Oh.” You pout. “They left already?”

“You knew?”

“Yup. They mentioned it last night before bed.” A beat. “I hope me staying here isn’t making you uncomfortable…it’s just that they offered, and—”

“It’s not.” Lie. “Make yourself at home.”

Not much is seen or heard from him for the majority of the day; occasional glaces coming here and there. They put you in an uncomfortable spot yesterday—you had been working on the garden for a year now, damn it—but their son's demeanor took you by surprise. The pictures and stories were something you relied on as the only source of getting to know him: polite, tall, and swanky—boyish.

That was so far from the truth. Oscar Piastri has grown into his body; almost appearing to be a handsome giant. Despite his warm face, his attitude is a bit snarky. He has no problem in saying what’s on his mind. And he is most definitely not a boy.

He’s a man.

“What do you say?”

“Sorry?”

He chuckles, Adam's Apple dancing up and down. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

It wasn't his intention to try and get close to you—not purposefully, at least—but he thought; why not? Who knows when his parents are coming back, when his sisters would, and he wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t some snotty guy. Summer is summer, after all. A friend to spend it with sounds quite nice.

Pursing your red lips, you nod, setting your book aside. The dinner table is already set up. Chicken and rice. That’s it. Given, it looks and smells amazing, but plain. You quirk a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to eat your greens? To drive quicker?” He burns up at you teasing tone.

“I didn’t want to risk burning the house down. We’re lucky I was able to get even this done.”

“Very well.” The refrigerator opens, colorful veggies staring back at him. You grin, slow and easy. “I’ll take care of it. It’s only fair, roomie.”

Oscar left home a few years ago, migrating to the United Kingdom for work, so it had been a while since he had stepped foot in his backyard. He faintly remembers his pirate treehouse, his sisters’ Barbie’s cluttered inside. It was a bone-chilling sight for baby Oscar back then, but now, the paint is chipping off, the wood looks a lot weaker. It’s a nostalgic feeling.

The new additions are stunning. A bunch of healthy flowers beam back at him and he swallows when he realizes he can’t name a single one. Waxflowers, Calamint, Dahlias, Peonies, Carnations, California Poppies. One by one, he admires with an open mouth. “They’re beautiful.” He turns to you with a proud smile. “You’ve done an excellent job.”

Pink feathers onto your already blushed cheeks, biting back a cheesy grin. You had decided to eat out on the bench, choosing to enjoy the now fresh air. Still humid, but less than before. The scent of coconut sunscreen makes his whiff constantly. “So…Costa Rica?”

He winces. It was too soon to talk about the situation, but something in your calm voice makes it easier to spit it out even though you probably already heard from his parents. All of a sudden, your savory carrots taste like complete shit. “T’was supposed to go with my girlf—my ex. My ex-girlfriend.”

You pout, sorrowfully. “Oh, I’m sorry, Oscar. I didn’t mean to…I had no clue.” And it’s genuine. Guess his parents weren’t complete traitors.

“Tell me—how long have you been working on fixing the garden?”

“Since last summer,” you hum, chewing down on a piece of grilled chicken. “This is the first time I have actually stayed here, though. Your parents are sweet. As soon as they heard that you were coming back home, they insisted I kept you company.”

Sharp jaw clenches and he scoffs. You simply blink back innocently. Then, he notices it. The way it reflects against the yellow ray of the now setting sun. He knows what it is, so he doesn’t ask. Too busy staring off into the distance, you place your plate down. “Let me show you a few other things I’ve been working on.”

There’s row and row, further into the open area; every twist and turn makes his brows raise up higher, impressed by the noticeable updates. Coming to a halt, he spins his head around, brown locks hitting his temples. “Since when do we have a cherry tree?”

You beam, orbs shining with excitement. “Since last summer!” you repeat, cheerfully. You pick one, handing it for him to try. An embarrassing moan erupts once the sweet nectar slides down his throat. “Good?”

“Bloody amazing.” Every compliment makes you squeal with delight. “My mum is actually allergic to cherries, so how…”

“She was actually the one who brought it up. Said she knew how much I loved them, and that I deserved a little something for flourishing her garden. I couldn’t deny the chance to do so.” You bite down on your lip, sheepishly. “They are my favorite.”

Reaching for one makes him look away as soon as your dress rises up, soft legs poking through. Bare feet press against the wet grass as you tippy toe. He mustered a fake cough, but as soon as you bite down onto the bloody fruit, he clicks into a trance.

Plump lips; thick and juicy. Long lashes fluttering shut against your glossy cheeks. That could have been because of the summer heat, but it affected him just the same. The familiar sensation of attraction rushes to his cock as he stands stiffly—but also loosely. He was loose. So fucking loose.

Something hits his cheekbones and it rips him away from his drooling. A singular seed now lays by his feet; indicating what you had done. A crinkled, wobbly smile shines back at him, hands nervously flattening your dress back down. The Australian jokingly lunges towards you as you squeal, backing away.

“You were disintegrating! I had to get your attention one way or another!”

Oh, you definitely got his attention. Giving you one final scowl, he stops his steps. “Everything—all of it—it’s great. Thank you.” The wind picks up and you shiver. “...for doing this for my parents.”

Neat hair flies against the breeze, covering your eyes for a minute. Pushing it aside, you scrunch your nose faintly. “Anytime.”

Technically, what you’re getting paid for was to watch over the beloved yard; that’s all. But you offer to do more. Mow the lawn? Paint the chipped wall? Wash the windows?

“God no, darling,” Oscar’s mum laughs through the end of the line. “You are doing enough already. Please. Relax.”

But you can’t. Nibbling on your thumb, you brush the counter, strolling past countless family portraits. A smile slips when you spot a toothless Oscar. “I insist.”

So, here you are; decluttering the attic. After a bit of bickering with Nicole, she eventually gives in and asks for a favor. Clean and tidy the small room. Easy peasy.

“Ouch,” you hiss when a nail digs through your skin, gore immediately pouring out of you like a waterfall; you squeak. Just then, a certain brunette peeks their head through the entrance.

“Oh good, it’s you. I thought we had an intruder.”

Raising a skeptical brow at him and the thin duvet, you quickly take it from him, pressing it down to ease the bleeding. “Holy crap, are you okay?” In one motion, he steps closer to you, analyzing the injury with worried eyes. You groan.

“It’s only a little cut. No biggie.” But the way your face is slowly losing color lets him know that your words aren't true. Brown eyes flicker, searching for a spot to sit, but everything about this is crowded. You were just about to start tidying; the mess was still there. Crouching onto a tiny stool, he takes a seat, somehow still towering over you. Or at least that's what it felt like, because suddenly, you felt suffocated.

His long legs are spread as you stand between them, hand out towards him as he winces at the brutal cut. “Ah—that’s pretty deep.” He gags when he notices the underneath flesh. You suppress a giggle. “We should go to the ER.”

You scoff, ripping away from his grip, tripping over a box. Regaining your balance, you drape the cloth over your hand once again. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be right back.”

After rinsing your hand with alcohol, covering the wound with the largest bandaid to ever exist, and balling your eyes out, you make your way back up. The Australian is drenched in sweat, huffing and puffing. “Got it,” he pants. Confused, you tilt your head to the side, but that’s when you pick out the nail in the palm of his hand. You blink, too bewildered to make sense of how he retrieved it without the help of a hammer. “I also found lots of old trophies. Extremely bittersweet.”

“Why’s that?” you hum, kneeling down next to him, reading through the labels. Each makes you more and more dazzled.

A minute passes by. “Because I grew up.”

“That’s…sad.” Shrugging, he digs for more. He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “Dear G—I forgot this even existed!”

Oscar’s 81 Things To-Do During the Summer [List]

Learn how to bike.

Learn the Australian National Anthem (Sophie will be beautifully impressed)

Get better at being more outgoing (Mum is worried)

So on and so forth. “You were an extremely creative lad. Eighty-one things to do…eh.” A tongue click. “Possibly buy a pet dragon?”

He cringes. “Not all were realistic. I actually never really got around to it. Mainly added, if anything.”

Crimson red flashes. “I, um, I could tell.”

69. Oscar Piastri, you know what I mean.

The brunette chokes on his saliva, yanking it away as fast as he can. Standing up to his full height, he rolls up the piece of paper and points towards the exit. “I think I should, um…yeah. See ya.”

“Yeah.” He dashes off. “See you…”

Eighteen-year old Oscar was a horny bastard. But every guy that age is, so it’s not really fair to feel bad about his list. The writing is obviously his, but the things jotted down made him almost feel like it wasn’t. Blowjobs? Hand jobs? What was he thinking?

And then, there was you—a curious cat. He had to be a virgin; he just had to. Why else would he be embarrassed? You weren’t one to judge, though. You knew nothing about the sexual world, having never partaken. The thin band wrapped around your ring finger is enough proof.

And no—you weren’t married.

It would have been absolutely diabolical to mention sex in your household growing up. Being Roman Catholics is no joke, believing religiously to wait until marriage. You never had a problem with that; you would wait. Doesn’t mean you didn’t know what any of the common terms meant. Sort of.

Only now—for the first time in your life—there it was.

Temptation.

The McLaren driver was no newbie. He has had his fair share of experiences; before Lily, with Lily. He knew just about anything and everything. His good-boy act was no facade. At times he didn’t like that about himself, but it’s who he was. Obeyed the rules. Never crossed the line with anyone he wasn’t romantically linked to. And yet…

There you were.

The flowers were perfect; only needing to be watered. The cherry tree was much more…complicated. The chances of animals recklessly hunting for the sweet fruit was high, the chances of the red drupes rotting also was. Therefore, you spent most of your time there.

Maybe you were avoiding him; you told yourself you were already horrified at the dirty thoughts taking over like the plague. And perhaps he was doing the same; he had only been locked in his room for the past three hours.

Golden hour. With your hands on your hips, you squint, admire the polished drupes, tickling with water. Walking back to the bench, you lay down, picking up on your reading, occasionally taking sips from your Cherry Cola.

Pacing the small bedroom, Oscar mutters to himself. Maybe she didn’t read all of it. Maybe she doesn't know what it means. Yeah—he was exaggerating. Clicking his window open, he gasped for needed air. As soon as he spots you reading, he grunts.

White skirt brushes down your smooth legs, challenging the sun to see who shines the brightest. Lips wrap around the glass bottle, puckering in the slightest. And he wonders; would you taste as sweet as the cool beverage?

He’s a grown man; an adult. There’s no need to be uncomfortable. Sex was a part of everyone's day to day life. He was the one making it a bigger deal than it actually was. Still, he slips on a pair of sunglasses, perched perfectly onto the bridge of his nose.

“Is it any good?”

His voice makes you flinch, dropping the book flat on your face. A tiny groan rings through the air. Flashing him a weak smile, you sit up straight, fixing your clothes. “Want one? There’s plenty in the fridge.”

He had noticed, of course he had. Never in a million years did he think he'd see his refrigerator stocked up with the sweet drink. He never cared enough to ask who they belonged to; figured they would just expire.

Wavy hair swings back and forth when he shakes his head. “Gotta keep in shape.” I see, you murmur, loopy eyes peeking over at him, taking another gulp. The sizzling feeling is utterly childish compared to what he’s making you feel. The burning sensation between your legs is annoying and painful, you almost want to plead for help. “I meant the book, by the way.”

“No!” You laugh, nervously. “I mean…it’s alright?”

After he stormed off and left you a breathless puddle, you biked and biked—until you hit the local bookstore. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, simply browsing, but as soon as you reached the section of Erotic Literature, you stopped.

So many—many—wrong choices. Still, humiliated, you paid and fiercely ran out. Maybe this was some sort of punishment for reading what you’re reading; had to be. And Oscar asking questions wasn’t helping. Licking your berry lips, you swallow a thick layer. “What have you been up to?”

Fuck, he moans, large hand sliding up and down his cock; more and more pleasure intensifying. Your tiny dresses. Your short skirts. Your angelic face. The way your lips would separate before every sentence. Your sweet scent that would have normally given him a headache, but instead made him chase after you like a dog.

Finishing all over his thighs, he shudders. White liquid never looked more sinister than at this very moment. After changing, he paces the room with regret.

Pushing the frames further into his face, he hums. “Oh, you know. Just… cleaning up my room.”

It’s been a week in a half now and you’re happy to announce that you have fallen into a routine. While Oscar did his daily workout, you would make breakfast. While you worked on the garden, he cooked dinner. Though, he was unbeknownst over the way you would drool over him when he would walk out the door; a compressed shirt hugging his built body tightly, arms begging to be kissed. You were unaware of the way he would rub his face in desperation when you walked out, banging his head purposefully against the cabinet; the way you would skip out with your book and infamous drink, or how you would prettily tie up your hair before you even got started.

It was a mess.

A mocking mess.

This afternoon though, you aren’t flying out the door to the yard, but rather frolicking over to Ms. Alleck, ready to assist. I try my best, but they always wilt! Could it be the humidity? Laughing, you toss your hair up into a bun, messy strands poking out as you cock your head to the side. “Could be, but don’t you worry. We’ll find a way to make it work. Promise.”

He had always known you were kind, gentle, soft spoken…pure. And you doing this only added to his attraction. It’s salad, spaghetti, and salmon that afternoon. Sweaty, you pant. I’m going to squeeze in a shower real quick. But you weren’t sweaty, like you believe; you were glistening.

“This is so cute,” you chirp, sitting cross cross in the old treehouse. A few spider webs make your blood run cold, but he quickly took care of it, apologizing. The brunette blushes.

“I wanted to use it one last time. Before we get rid of it.” Neat brows furrow. “It’s just that it’s old—only a matter of time before it plunges down.” “What?”

“O-obviously not now!”

After a bit more convincing, you finally relax and enjoy the way the crickets sing against the night. Small feet press against the wall, white tube socks turning slightly brown from the lack of sweeping. For a moment, he shuts his lids, breaths shallow, body loose. The high temperature almost made him feel as if he was cuddling into the warmest blanket; it felt nice.

Whoops, you mumble when hollow glass pounds against the wooden floor. He perks up at the sound, brown eyes burning with high alert. “You do shit on purpose?” he screeches when he detects scarlet blood. Wincing in pain, you curl your hand towards the hem of your dress.

“Help me,” you plead, slight annoyance written all over your face. He must’ve broken the world record of running into the house to retreat the first aid kit, and running right back to you. The way he sanitizes the skin, to the way he wraps your hand with a gauze pad, is honestly hilarious.

“What so funny?” he murmurs, attention never leaving the wound.

“Mmm. Nothing.” He snickers and you giggle harder. “It just seems as if I’m making you a professional. You ought to be ready if anyone else needs your help to treat injuries.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll tell them a certain klutz made me learn from day to night with all her clumsiness.” His voice drops, laced with concern. “Seriously though—you were just healing. You have to be careful.”

Plump lips part with the sound of his delicate voice, accent almost disappearing. Wandering eyes admire the way his brows are knitted together and orbs soften. Swallowing, you nod. “I will.”

“Good.”

The once vibrant room is now hazy and suffocating. Does he not know what kind of effect he has on you? The type of power he holds? Oscar doesn’t seem to, though, with the way he chugs down his entire glass of water. Stuck in a trance, your hand briskly reaches out for your own drink. He roars with laughter, clutching his stomach. “You just broke your bottle, you don’t have a drink anymore.” He picked up the Cherry Cola you had offered, but he had declined. “Take mine.”

You don’t put up a fight, simply allow him to open and give it to you. The sweet drink doesn’t do a great job at hydrating your foaming mouth, but it helps as a distraction. On the other hand, the brunette can’t seem to not watch the ways your lips suck in and out, eagerly. As if this were the only source of air. He shudders.

“We should probably head down…”

Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you comply, already standing up. From the floor, he has a good view of your legs; long, soft, sweetly scented. He wonders if you use honey as lotion because that would explain his urge to nuzzle his face against them. Picking up the broken glass and plates, you turn back. “Coming?”

A sigh rings through the air once, and suddenly—he’s cradling your face with high intensity and lust, molding his lips against yours. Tomato sauce stains his shirt and your dress from the plates that still remain between you two. One second, you're wide eyed, and then the next, you're allowing yourself to kiss him back.

You want to cry with how pleasant the feeling feels and he wants to scream with how much he wants to fuck you. But alas, one of you pulls away first—you can’t really tell who— and you’re both left gasping for air. Completely winded and fucked.

You both are fucked.

The treehouse comes crashing down the day after your first kiss. Yes, first kiss. You would like to blame him and say that he stole it from you, but the arousal that was dripping between your thighs last night was a clear indication that you could never actually say so because you liked it so much.

The wooden house tearing down is something you take as a sign; you’ve sinned. Okay, maybe that was a bit too dramatic, but you were honestly thinking about it. That night you dreamt of the wildest things imaginable; his pretty face in between your legs, large hands squeezing your perky breasts, fingers swirling inside your velvety walls, cock tearing you in half.

It was unacceptable.

So, while Oscar worked on picking up the tiles with a hometown buddy, you marched right over to beg for forgiveness. Kneeling down against the cushion, you say a silent prayer.

I don’t want to think like this—not when I know I can help it, but God this is getting way too out of hand. And you know I’m not like this, you know that! But he just—AGH. Maybe it’s his personality that makes him so attractive, or maybe it’s his sudden growth spurt, but please let me get a hold of myself. He’s just a friend, he’s just a friend—HE’S JUST A FRIEND.

“Would you mind keeping your words to yourself, sweetheart?” an older lady whispers, two rows ahead of you.

Pink feathers onto your cheeks. “Oh, yes, of course! I’m so sorry…”

I don’t ever ask for much, no, that’s never been necessary, but I am now. So please. Hear me when I say: Push this desire I have, far, far, far away.

If you were to say, there was a ninety percent chance that you would walk away. Not even spare him a passing glance. He would call you out on it later, but whatever—too late. Ignored you, you say? No, really I did? I had no idea, I’ll make sure to not let it happen again!

If Oscar were to say, there was a ninety-nine percent chance that he would let you walk away. He didn’t need your company; he was doing just fine. But then again, that one percent tugs at him like the devil on his shoulder.

“Hey. You’re back.” Cool. Calm. Collected.

“Oh! I suppose I am.” Cool. Utter. Mess.

He grins, eyes crinkling like the leaves that hang upon the crimson tree. Signaling up, he cocks his head in deep thought. “Just finished. Cole said his uncle could shred…” A pause. “He owns a massive wood chipper.”

Blinking like a deer in headlights, you chew on your bottom lip, simply nodding along. “Sounds good? I think. No. Yes. Very good.” You wince at all the uncontrolled mumbo-jumbo. “I’m sorry I was no help, too. I had to…talk to the man up above.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. That must be why your pretty little knees are bruised.”

Your breath comes to a harsh halt, ears burning like a wildfire. The Australian just keeps his brown eyes set on the tree for a second longer before turning to face you. Quickly, you relax your muscles. “You could make up for it by helping me with something else.”

You gulp. Suddenly, your mouth is overflowing with hot saliva. “With what?”

Dark orbs glue onto your delicate figure, a slight smirk playing out. And it looks so unfamiliar, not his own, that you create a distance. And just like that, it’s gone. Vanished just as fast as it slipped onto his pink lips. “Get on.” He crouches down and your jaw drops.

“Wha—like onto your shoulders?” Rolling his eyes in a goofy manner, he nods, picks you up safely, and places you on top. You screech, dizzy by the sudden altitude. “Put me down!”

“You’re fine. Just help me reach those. Been craving them all day,” he murmurs, voice raspy. The twenty-three year old is still slightly sweaty from his hard labor, and that’s clear when you cling onto his brown locks. Other than that, you’re as high as a kite; both figuratively and literally.

You’ve known—seen—how tall and broad the Australian was, but being perched onto his wide shoulders was a sweet confirmation you couldn’t help but enjoy. “Move a bit forward.” He follows instructions, wide hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you steady. You giggle when a few fruits hit your face. “Watch it—and don’t you dare drop me.”

“Get,” he commands.

About three minutes pass by. You rip the cherries carefully, candy aroma filling the air, and plop them onto the basket. By all accounts, you’re well aware of your actions. The basket was full, now overflowing, really, and you could plant your ballet flats back onto the tall grass—but you don’t.

There’s something about feeling his touch; high electricity, shock waves nipping at your skin, soft pants. It’s pathetic how much you crave any ounce of physical touch he’s willing to give you, unknowingly.

“That should be good,” you whisper, meekly. He doesn’t respond, just swings you down as you let out a yelp. All of a sudden, you’re magically magnetic. And he wonders; if only. You hand the basket over, waiting nervously for him to thank you, at least.

“Thank you,” he feels himself saying. “What do you say we play a little game? No prize. Only bragging rights.”

“O-okay.”

A singular cherry is handed over. He grins. Can you tie a knot using your tongue? “Wait—are you being serious?”

The red fruit dissolves inside his mouth, spitting the seed somewhere far enough away. Then, the stem flips into his mouth. “Come on. I’ll give you a head start.”

With wary hands, you rip the stem away from your own drupe, fitting the thin stick into your suddenly dry mouth. He stares intently, clenching his jaw, “Go on. Ten seconds.” Quickly, your lips start to move, twisting and turning. Pouting, then sucking back in. Your low breaths become heavy after a few tries. You think you’re getting it done right, the sudden ball forming is enough for you to guess that you must be doing something correct.

The sound of his low mewls is what ends you. Doe eyes flicker up to face him, paying close attention to how his brown eyes wander up at the sky in concentration, occasionally squinting due to the bright sun. You can feel a thin layer of sweat hug you like a blanket as your movements slow down; a snail's pace compared to before.

For good measure, you fake your twists as you continue to simply admire. Too far gone, you blink hastily when he sticks his pink tongue out towards you, a stinking knot sitting nicely atop.

“I won.”

Gulp. “You sure did. Good job, Oscar.”

Long lashes flutter shut momentarily, head tossed back, sighing. “It wasn’t a fair fight. You weren’t doing anything. Other than staring at my lips.”

Flustered, you dig your hand into the bucket. “That’s not true! At all. At all, at all.” You munch harder, splitting a seed in half. You spit it out sourly. “You're just better at using your mouth than I am.”

It goes straight to his cock, your words. Opening his eyes, the brunette scrunches his nose. You’re avoiding his gaze. You’re good at doing that. A pro. But it leaves him to wonder some more. And that itself was dangerous when it dawned on him.

He doesn’t like daydreaming anymore.

“Fuck it,” he grunts, kissing you harshly, like the night before. And you thought that blew your mind, but this? This left you gasping and reaching out for him even though he was pressed right against you. You could feel him buzzing, pinching your hips against his large hands. It’s perfect.

You don’t really understand how you end up straddling him on the grass, green straining your knees as you grind harder onto him, forcing your skin to burn with each stroke. This—this—must be as good as it gets. There can’t be more, but you weren’t complaining. It was enough.

When his fingers dance underneath your dress, you halt, and everything comes crashing down. “No,” you pant. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Why is that, baby?” he mumbles, lost on sucking the side of your neck. Looking up, his straight brows drew in together with concern. “What is it?”

“It’s just that…I’m—” Why is it so hard to admit? Brushing a strand of hair away, you purse your lips. “I’m a virgin, Oscar. It’s odd, I know, but I can’t sleep with you.”

“You think I didn’t know that?’

You freeze. “What?”

His thumbs circle your thighs, gently, swooning with how soft you feel. “I figured you were. Your purity ring sort of gave it away.” You blush hard, rolling off of him, playing with the thin band.

“I wish I could do this—God, I really want to—but I can’t.”

Respecting your decision, he pats your hand with reassurance. The hot feeling remained between your legs and the pain between his. This was torture, you both know that, but what was there to do? It’s awkward for a while, that is, until he starts asking you about things that shouldn’t make you glow with happiness.

How was your day? I want to hear all about it. Do you think it’s bad to eat an entire bucket of drupes? Must be, right? In the long run? Hey, would you mind teaching me how to garden? You make it look intriguing.

That seems to do it for you. Everything you ever promised flies out the window as you climb back onto his thick lap, and this time, he’s surprised by your actions. Clumsy fingers try their best to unzip his pants, but he only stutters against your kisses. N-no, we don’t have to rush anything. I, you, we—

“Shit, o-okay,” he sighs when you finally touch him, even in the slightest. He may be touch deprived, but so were you, so how far would any of this go? Flipping you over to lay against the tall grass, he winks teasingly and that effectively makes your heartbeat quicken. “Relax, sweetheart. Do that for me, yeah? Can you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

The McLaren drivers press a kiss on the inside of your thighs before licking them. You shiver, though try your best to even your breaths. You shut your eyes, maybe if you act hard enough, you could somehow convince yourself that this wasn’t a war itself. To see how long you’d last. No—you would last. You had to.

“I’ve thought about it.” He slips your panties down, inch by inch. “A lot, as of lately. If you would taste just as sweet as I imagined. As sweet as those Cherry Cola’s you're overly obsessed with.” And he dives in, licking your arousal clean as you pant, chest heaving up and down like an erupting volcano.

What were you supposed to feel—relaxed? In a frenzy? Most likely the latter because considering the way he was making your head spin said it all. The sounds he’s making forces you to involuntarily shut your legs around his face and his hand that now lies between you two. The stretch is a burning sensation that leaves you both gasping and moaning; it’s too much, but not enough.

More. Grinning up from in between your legs, he shakes his head full of curls, all thanks to the Aussie weather, and your dirty foreplay. “Does it feel good?” You whimper. “Good—good, baby. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Velvet walls clench around his long digits. “Hey, hey, look at me.”

Once your soft orbs connect to his intoxicating ones, his cock grows harder. “Okay, listen, it’s going to hurt a little bit, okay? But that’s completely normal; it’s like a…a stingy feeling. Do you understand?” I do, you pant. He grits his teeth when his calloused fingers brush against your g-spot and your head lolls back, exposing your sharp clavicle. He itches to mark you all over. “Do you want it, then?”

A zing. “Fuck, Oscar. I fucking want you.”

The brown eyed boy is all over you, kissing you up and down, gripping you tighter. It was an addiction in its truest form. For a split second, you frown when he slips out of you, but as soon as he starts unzipping his pants, you feverishly lick your lips.

It dawns on you that you aren’t scared, nervous, or anything; you’re bubbling with excitement. You watch carefully as he jerks himself off a bit, his already large girth growing bigger. How is that possible? “I’ll start with the tip.” Leaning down, he pecks your pouty lips and you smile. “Let me know if it’s too much, we’ll stop and take a break. Or do anything, really,” he adds, cheekbones flushing red.

“I’ll be okay,” you whisper. “I swear.”

You were being skinned alive, it was excruciating pain. You know he notices it when he starts brushing your hips, hoping to comfort you in some sort of way. Heavy breaths, numb lips from biting too hard, exposed breasts arching straight for him. He didn’t know whether to enjoy this or worry.

“Breathe, darling, breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. There you go,” he congratulates, admiring your shaky breath. “You’re doing so good.”

“Osc, move…please.”

There was no more confirmation necessary that you were ready to go. His hips find motion, thrusting into you slowly. Nails scratch down his back as you moan loudly, almost yelping. “Y-you’re so big.” So, so, so, so big. “So good.”

Nearly animalistic, he releases a grunt, pounding deeper into you, getting lost with the way you hug him tightly. You mewl, pressing your naked chest against his, and he nearly slips from his hands being set on top of the cold grass, but it was beautiful torture, all at once.

From the way you tremble, to the way you look up at him, he loves it all. He realized it been too long, he’s missed this, he’s missed having a body undeaneath his, as fucked up as that sounds.

And he—he must be a saint, himself. There’s a sort of invisible halo that lightens up around him, nearly blinding you. There’s a gut-wrenching stare he’s gifting you, making your stomach churn with pleasure.

Wrapping his mouth around your sore buds, you let out a shaky sigh. Skillful tongue swirls the way one would suck on a lollipop; the heat intensifies. “Close?” But you’re not sure, you just know it feels good—ridiculously good. He must have known so, and must want to make your first experience the best you’ll ever have, because suddenly, you’re on all fours.

As he slips in and out with such ease, you grip harshly at the tall grass. You can hear the sad rips with every thrust and every tug, but how can you feel bad when he feels so good? His cock rapidly brushes the magic spot, and you’re left seeing stars. “Oh God. I feel it, Oscar, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Tell me. Describe it.”

Your jaw locks, and your arms give up, flying down towards the grass, round ass high up in the air as he continues his movements. He groans at the sight, slapping your sweaty skin. Whining, you look back at him, grinning from ear to ear. The Australian looks up at the open sky, trying his best to push back the feeling of his upcoming orgasm, but it's hard to ignore the fact that an absolute angel takes him like no other.

And an Angel you were.

“Can feel your cock, Oscar. The way it pulses—so thick, so veiny, so sweet.”

An Angel with a vocabulary of Heathen.

“God, fuck me harder, please, Oscar, please.” He’s pretty sure you’re half-gone, half-present, but it only adds to the lust he carries for you. Just then, you feel the fresh cherry pressed up against your lips. Open, he demands and you follow straight away, ripping it from its stem. You nearly choke on the seed when he suddenly speeds up, limbs and arms burning from holding upright. For a moment, you stare back with an open mouth, admiring over the way his abs contract with every brutal push.

“Now spit.” Two seeds fly out towards the grass, laying there to taunt you as you pick up on your moans, ringing through the air. If you squint hard enough, you can spot the stars that mock the daylight sky. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, none of this does. “So pretty, sweetheart.” You swoon, feeling his arms hold you down. “Again—open.”

You’re expecting another set of cherries, thinking this might be some sort of prize, but as soon as you feel the familiar stick, you pout. No, you cry out. He chuckles. “Yes.” A pause. “You only get to come until you tie a knot.”

“You’re not being f-fair, holy shit.” Long fingers rub slowly against your puffy clit, throbbing with pain, begging to come all of his numbing girth. You clench your jaw, eyes screwed shut.

“We don’t have all night, go on. Move that pretty little mouth of yours.”

It’s a mission, it’s a task, it’s a fucking wreck. It’s impossible. You’re not that surprised, though, not when he thrusts into with twice as much force, triple speed; what a man. Loose tongue swirls at a weak attempt, but then he pinches your swollen bud, and you’re back to square one. You’re nearly there, excited to prove to him how much you wanted this and how you were able to multitask, but then he’s pulling all the way back, only his rosy tip awaiting by your entrance, and he’s coming back down, full-throttle.

It was cruel.

But two can play that game, you suppose.

You pull away quickly, he blinks, and then you’re pushing him back, sprawled on the grass. He nearly whines from missing your warm cunt, but as soon as you climb to sit on his face, he grows more and more turned on. “Go on,” you push. “Use that pretty little tongue of yours.”

Dark eyes stare up at you, enjoying the way your body moves, hips rolling, riding his face at an impressive rate. The white nectar you're willing to spill out makes him lap at an embarrassing speed, desperate to taste the sweetness.

Meanwhile, you’re gripping his hair, trying to feign indifference with the way his nose rubs against your lips, the way he keeps you in place with his watch covered hand, the other playing with your clit. It’s even, this is fair, but you still needed to reach your end.

“I’m close,” you moan, head rolling back, but jaw continuing to tick. He hums and the vibrations cause you to squeeze your legs around his face. That seems to make him enjoy this far more. Unless you show me you’ve done it, then no, you’re not coming anytime soon. Your molars grind harder, white spots forming throughout your vision. “Shut up, just—fucking stop talking.”

“What do y’know? Miss Perfection has a potty mouth.” He pokes his tongue against your hole. “Dirty girl, eh?”

With one final suck, and one soft moan, you cum all over him. The Australian is quick to lick you clean, groaning pathetically deep. Gasping, you fall from your climax, slightly twitching with sensibility as he hauls you onto his lap. You giggle when he raises a teasing brow.

“You got away with it—this time.”

“There’s going to be a second time?”

He stiffens, trying to play it cool. “Well, not anymore, you didn’t do what I asked for you to do—”

Opening your mouth, you stick your red tongue out, displaying the most perfect knot. He gapes, sticking his fingers in to retrieve it. “H-how?” A beat, sharp and accusing eyes. “Seriously, how?”

“Does it matter?” you ask, wide eyes back on for show. “I did it.”

“I…yeah, yeah you did,” he repeats in disbelief. He laughs. “You’re wickedly talented. That's an art.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, slowly, mixed with a giggle. “I tried my best for you.”

“I see that.” The brown eyed boy pinches your hip. “How was it?”

Sighing dreamily, as if napping on a cloud, your eyes twinkle. “I get it now. Why people have casual sex, I mean. It was amazing. Thank you.”

Casual, casual, casual, yes. Of course this was casual, why wouldn’t it be casual? He’s not looking to have anyone new in his life, and you’re barely understanding what any of this is, so yeah. Casual.

“Was I bad?” you ponder, chewing on your bottom lip. “I know I’m no professional, but I—”

“You were perfect,” he reassures with a soft smile. “Best thing to come around, solemnly swear.” Swatting his arm, he snickers, catching your hand. You purse your lips. “I was right,” he murmurs when his lips graze over your own. You open your mouth, waiting for more.

“About?”

“You tasting as sweet as a Cherry Cola.” Then he connects your lips, and you’re left utterly smitten. You can hardly feel him slip your ring off, but you know so when your finger feels empty since the moment you first put it on. “Guess you won’t be needing this anymore?”

“Guess not, no. Keep it.”

“Could take it to a Pawn Shop, sell it for a couple dollars…”

“Hey! Be nice, you dimwit,” you warn. “You should feel special. Stupidly special.”

“I’m kidding. I’ll cherish it.”

“Creep.”

He groans, slapping your ass as you squeal. “There’s no right or wrong answer, it seems like. Very well, let's just leave it at thanks. So…thank you for trusting me.” You blush, looking away. Awkwardly, you reach for your dress, slipping it over your head. He coughs, dressing himself before choking back a much needed chuckle. “Looks like we got dragged through the mud.”

“Ah, ew, I can’t. I need to shower.”

Reaching your end of the hallway, you press your back up against the wooden door as you sheepishly giggle when Oscar does the same. “Okay then…see you around?”

“Around town?”

“Around the house.”

“In the garden?”

“In the attic, too, maybe. It still needs a good sweep.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do we still have time?”

“Before your parents get back from Costa Rica?”

“Yes.”

“Which is in—”

“A week.”

“Which is—”

“Seven days.”

“And roughly…”

“Enough time.”

“Enough time to do what?”

He laughs, eyes crinkling suggestively, and your heart pounds hard against your ribcage. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

“Yeah,” you ponder in deep thought before your lips stretch out into a bright smile of your own. He raises dark brows as you scurry over with bruised knees, a muddy dress, and an exploding heart. “Yeah, okay. Just until they get back.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

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zenlesszonezero · 13 days ago

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#Zenless Zone Zero #Miyabi #Harumasa #HoYoverse #zzzero #zenlesszonezero #Mobile Game #Anime Game #Gaming

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cranberrv · 1 year ago

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dating dallas winston headcanons

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a/n : aghhh first post on here!! lowk kind of nervous, but i thought this would be a strong way to start since everyone loves dal <3 i really hope you enjoy lovelies !! requests are open ! ( not proofread btw, ignore any mistakes <3 )

- dating dal is something special, because he doesn’t really do long-term

- so people know that you’re different, a girl he actually wants to keep in his life for a while

- it’s electric, to say the least. it’s hard to keep your hands off each other

- even in a non sexual manner, he finds himself always wanting to touch you in some way

- keep in mind he is much less than a gentleman, forgetting to open doors for you and not bringing you flowers on dates

- but he cares. and that’s something

- small gestures like a hand around your waist or always keeping an eye on you at parties. brushing down a fly away piece of your hair with his hand, making sure he’s on the side of the sidewalk closer to the road, to keep you safe.

- that’s how you know he cares about you, not through grand, movie-like gestures

- sometimes he cares a bit too much, getting too overprotective

- some drunk guy talks to you at the bar? he mysteriously leaves with a black eye. and god forbid someone touches you in a manner he doesn’t approve of, someone might be ending up in the hospital.

- you get into arguments about that sort of thing, saying he’s being too dramatic or that you were capable of defending yourself.

- actually, you get into arguments about everything

- he’s usually the one to start them. if he’s in a bad mood, he will find anything to argue about. wether you teased him and he took offence, or you stole his jacket because it was chilly

- he’s defensive and cocky, and will not end an argument until he gets the last word in

- maybe muttering some rude name at you under his breath, or interrupting you until you finally give up

- you should not expect to win any arguments with him and his stubbornness

- he’s not gonna apologize either, unless it’s something really serious, like if he made you cry

- then he’ll ghost you for a few days, then come back and apologize

- other than that, most arguments either end in cuddling or him ghosting you for a week or so

- speaking of cuddling, he only really likes it whenever he’s tired or tipsy. he’ll lazily wrap his arms around you in bed, and keep you there. there’s no way you’re getting up

- rubbing your back with his hand, holding you to his chest, planting kisses on your head are normal occurrences during these peaceful moments

- cuddling him is about as rare as the northern lights, so you take advantage of it

- other than that, most nights end in make-out sessions

- sleepy kisses are his absolute favourite, his lips lazily caressing yours

- he’s always in control, don’t even try

- his big hand holding your head in place, and his other hand holding your waist

- he loves kissing you. everywhere he possibly can. head, lips, cheek, forehead, neck, shoulder, everywhere.

- he loves making out at the drive-in (or more cough cough), it’s so risky and he looooves PDA

- he often takes you to the drive-in or the dingo for dates, nothing fancy

- he always picks you up at your house, he doesn’t wanna meet you there in case you’re first and it looks like he’s late

- the torn leather of the passengers car seat becomes a common place for you to sit, he loves driving around with you

- your parents don’t trust him or his driving, based on the amount of times dates have been cut short because he’s been pulled over and taken to the police station for speeding

- so because of your parents aversion to him, whenever he wants to visit you, he just sneaks into your bedroom

- he thinks he’s being subtle with that, but yet your parents can always smell the cigarette smoke and leather the next day

- in conclusion, dating dallas can be very layered and complicated, but overall, very fun and exhilarating <3

#dally winston #the outsiders #dallas winston #dallas Winston x reader #dally winston fluff #dallas winston fluff #headcanon #imagine #dallas #outsiders #dallas winston headcanons #dallas winston imagine #dating dallas winston #dallas winston fanfic #matt dillon #80s movies

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goldtheorys · 1 month ago

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Jeff the killer general + relationship headcanons

_I did Jeff headcanons before but they were ass, so here’s my second attempt.

══════════════════ -`♡´-

General 🩶

Veeeeery reclusive

He’s thin and agile, even if he’s literally just standing in a room staring at the wall, lost in thought, he’ll hide or slip out of the room when he hears someone coming in easily

He doesn’t even really mean to, but it’s just some instinct that kicks in he doesn’t bother to fight

Doesn’t like people all that much anyways, so he’ll do what he can to avoid everyone

Loneliness isn’t the loveliest feeling though

Occasionally he’ll go find one of the other creeps, awkwardly ask them a simple question

I see a lot of stuff where he’s really loud and obnoxious, also a total jerk, and although I agree, his whole life went to shit pretty early on

So he lacks social skills, he barely knows how to take care of himself, and doesn’t have good emotional control

Of course he has outbursts, he doesn’t know how to make friends, he thinks because he’s so damn amazing everyone who “acts” like they hate him just wants to be him

But it begins to get to him after awhile, never having someone

He is sort of friends with Ben, but it flip flops from fun and easygoing to strained and frustrating

Survives on randomly selected energy drinks, beer and junk food alone

Cannot cook, cannot remember what a warm meal tastes like

Has a lot of energy, so when he can’t find anyone to bother, he goes on walks

Mostly during night to help hide his face, but because of that it’s pretty enjoyable

Wears a mask too so he can grab some food before finding whatever abandoned park he can, sitting on the swing set while he eats

Prefers the colder months

I’m not sure I wanna add he has smile dog as a pet on my version of him… but he is a big dog person. Runs into a stray every now and again and spends maybe a solid hour just petting and talking to it

He kills when he feels overwhelmed, but regrets it from all the guilt after

Sleeps a lot to try and forget about everything

Relationship

══════════════════ 🤍

You two probably met in a rather absurd way

Maybe it was the classic you both just murdered someone and found eachother, dripping with a stranger’s blood

Or he walked into your home at random, surprised and intrigued by your lack of fear

(you were just too tired to give a fuck)

He’s real rude at first, calling you names, making fun of basically the way you breathe or walk, trying to poke and prod for a weak point

If you tough it out and keep being kind or neutral towards him, eventually he’ll stop and slide into a weird mood of observing you

It’s like his eyes never leave you for a second, and it gets real creepy

He studies your movements, your face, your words, your mannerisms

You’re still here despite his lack of…maturity at the beginning

Even if it’s a little begrudgingly, you’ve let him stay

It’s weird and he can’t help but question if it’s some scheme to hurt or kill him

But he’ll be damned if he misses the chance to have the first genuine human connection he’s had in years

Kind of follows you like a cat when he can

Like to watch you from his own spot in the room, occasionally piping up to say whatever comes to his mind

And, it would take a bit longer, but eventually he warms up to being more affectionate, rather than the previous friendly coexisting

Doesn’t show it, might even scowl at you for being quote unquote cringe, but adores when you compliment him. About his beauty, his talents, his intelligence, he wants it all

But what he really adores is your touch

Late nights in, watching some show while he lies on top of you

Your nails running up and down his back, occasionally tangling into his hair to twist and brush it makes his heart beat faster than any night when he’s drenched in sweat and blood

He’ll still refuse to show that kind of weakness in front of anyone else, but when it’s just him and you, he’s pathetic for your attention and affection

Likes to hold you from behind, tracing every curve, every scar, every inch of your skin he can reach

Dangerously possessive

You’re the first good thing that’s happened to him in a long while, he cannot stand even the thought of you being ripped away from him

And as I said before, he doesn’t have the greatest control of his feelings

Instead of voicing his fears or concerns, he lashes out at you, especially if he knows you’ve been spending time with someone else

Tries to force you to stay by his side, threatens to harm you if you dare to leave

But once he calms down, he leaves, and your left scratching your head wondering why he had done all of that

He’ll come back when you’re asleep, watching you as he traces shapes onto your arm

He’s so fucking scared you’re gonna realize how truly shitty of a person he is

Wakes you up, wrapping you into a hug as soon as your blearily blink your eyes open

He won’t apologize, he’s still a bit of a narcissist, but you can feel it in the way he clings to you in the darkness of the room

You’ll cuddle him to sleep, and wake up in the morning to him acting like nothing has happened

══════════════════ -`♡´-

_ughhh still don’t rlly like this it is SO messy, but also idc lol. Hope my version of him is enjoyable… might work on nsfw headcanons next, but I’m kind of just going with whatever right now. requests open, and sorry for my previous inactivity (⇀‸↼‶)

#creepypasta x reader #x reader #sorrowrites #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta headcanons #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer headcanons #i forgot how to tag

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only-lonely-star · 5 months ago

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Dating Dallas Winston Headcanons !! 💋

Dallas will catcall you every waking moment of the day. Even though the two of you are already together he'd still make his appearance wherever you are just to whistle lowly and say, “Well damn, look at what I found here,” with the most cheeky grin imaginable. Sometimes it could be verbal, other times he'd be so bold as to give you a small swat or squeeze, followed up by a proud smirk. It's typical for him to pretend he doesn't know you as he does so, just to keep the teasing aspect of your relationship alive.

Dallas most definitely influences you. Whether you were already similar to him or the polar opposite, he’ll always find a way to put you on his favorite song, album, strange food combination, or a different brand of cigarettes. Not only physical items, but mannerisms and small phrases too. Dallas finds it amusing to add a bit of himself into your personality as well as things you enjoy. “Come on, just try it. One time,” is something you hear often.

Though Dallas is careless to most things and couldn’t be bothered to give a shit about his surroundings, he’s always protective of you. He doesn’t outright say much in terms of protecting you, but he’s always aware. He’s aware of the eyes on you and possible dangers. If you ever drown yourself in too many drinks at Buck’s, Dallas would keep his eye on damn near every man in that bar. He wouldn’t say a word about it to you, he’d silently observe and keep watch to make sure you were safe. The last thing he wanted was for you to end up hurt or hanging out with the wrong crowd. He would never let you get stuck in that position.

We all know he has borderline anger issues, a big factor in his behavior with every person he meets. He isn’t afraid to fight anyone including men, women, children, elders, Socs, Greasers- the list goes on. Dallas rarely found you to be annoying which was rare in his case. If an argument ever occurred he’d stand with clenched fists and a clenched jaw instead of taking that physical anger out on you. He cares. A lot.

His idea of a date doesn’t sound too romantic. While most guys take their girlfriends out for nice dinner dates and movie nights, Dallas would simply invite you to bed (take that how you want lmao) and see you behind closed doors. Partying, driving around recklessly, and laying in bed with you are his ideas of what dates are. Hell- he’s never done any of those corny dates to begin with so he didn’t know better. Since he’s more of a loner than anything, he prefers your company beside him late at night. Whether that leads to something or not, that’s your decision because Dallas is always down for extra. He simply enjoys having your limp and calmed body beside him, entangled in his bedsheets.

Dallas takes the nicknames you give him and takes it personally. He isn’t one to care about what people think about him whether it be good or bad. He’s too carefree for that. But of course he cares what you think. His natural cocky, arrogant, big ego type of attitude can become easily bruised. One small comment about his blatantly rude behavior and he’ll remember it forever. He won’t ever change his personality or looks just because of a comment or teasing nickname- but he won’t forget it either.

(that’s all for now, enjoy it loves! ❤️)

#dallas winston #dally winston #the outsiders dally #the outsiders #headcanon #headcanons #dally x reader #pov #imagine #fanfic #se hinton #greaser

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winters-dream · 1 year ago

Text

Hero has amnesia from an injury Villain caused. Guilty, Villain took them in until their memory returns:

Hero halted in their tracks, their breath caught in their throat. Villain, fresh out of a shower, stood in the middle of the room with only a towel to keep them decent. Their hair, still very damp, dripped small water droplets onto their shoulders that ran down their perfectly sculpted chest.

Their perfectly sculpted chest that Hero was openly gawking at. A wave of heat rushed into their cheeks, coloring their face and neck scarlet. They wanted to turn away, leave the room. Something to give Villain back their privacy, or at least make themself seem less of a pervert.

But they couldn’t tear their eyes away from the scar that took up most of Villain’s torso. Pale in color, the scar ran from the top of their left shoulder to the center of their stomach. The surrounding skin was warped and Villain’s shoulder looked like it took most of the damage. Hero found themself wondering if it ever healed properly, if Villain had full use of their shoulder.

“It’s rude to stare,” said the villain, their voice cutting through Hero’s thoughts like a knife. Hero’s eyes shot up to the villain’s face, a deep scowl present on the criminal’s face. “It’s even more rude to walk into one’s bedroom without knocking. Did you forget your manners as well?”

“Sorry, no, I didn’t mean to walk in on you. Or to stare at you, you’re um,” Hero rushed their words out, pausing momentarily as their eyes drifted back down to Villain’s scar. “I, uhm, I just had a question, I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

They looked back up at the Villain’s eyes, their cold stare not wavering for a moment. They felt frozen in place. And hopeless. Villain often had that effect on Hero. Their frightening aura alone was enough to set alarms off in Hero’s head. They were helpless, like a deer staring at oncoming traffic, unable to move out of the way before they got hit.

Hero could hardly imagine what made them think they ever had a chance in a fight against Villain, what their pre-amnesia self was thinking.

“Are you going to actually ask the question?” asked Villain. “Or are you just going to stare?”

“Uhm.” Hero couldn’t remember their question, the surprise of seeing the half-naked Villain threw their train of thought off track. They averted their gaze away from the Villain’s annoyed stare, their eyes falling back to their scar.

“Your scar,” mumbled the hero. “What happened?”

Villain tensed at the question, something of pain, anger, and resentment flashed in their eyes. They turned their head away from the hero, hero could see the muscles of their jaw working as they ground their teeth together.

“I had a big fight a few years back,” they spoke in a hushed tone.

Hero could only muster a small ‘oh’ as they stepped closer to the Villain, their hand outstretched towards them hesitantly. Villain said nothing as the hero’s fingers brushed over the scar, the tissue rough and bumpy compared to the surrounding skin.

“Does it hurt?” hero asked. Their head hurt, something about the scar seemed vaguely familiar, though Hero couldn’t place how.

“It did when it first happened,” admitted the villain. “But not anymore. Physically at least.”

A strange sense of guilt swam through Hero’s chest the longer they stared at the scar, a pained expression contorting their face as they pulled their hand away from the Villain’s chest. Physically at least.

“The person who did this was close to you?” Hero asked.

Villain looked away, the pain they felt in their heart too great to look the oblivious hero in the eye. “Something like that.”

Hero looked away from Villain's chest, focusing their attention on their own hands. “That must be awful. I can't believe that someone you were supposed to trust could do that to you.”

Villain’s gaze snapped back onto them, pain and anger evident in their eyes. They didn’t speak, just stared at the hero with a hardened gaze. Heavy with many years of heartache, pain, anger, guilt. Hero knew they were the cause of a great deal of it. And they wished they could remember all of it so they could at least try to make things right . . .

“It was me,” they realized. “I did this to you.”

A deep sigh left through Villain’s nose as they backed away, turning towards their closet.

“Yeah,” they whispered.

Hero averted their eyes back to the ground, guilt heavy in their heart as flashes of a memory came back. The putrid smell of rain mixed with blood. The shine of a sword swiping upwards, cutting into Villain’s skin. Blood and dirt mixed together as Hero tried to stop the bleeding.

Their head was pounding now.

“Why were we even fighting?” asked Hero. They heard the rustling of fabric and looked up to see Villain had put on some sweats and was in the process of searching for a shirt. Hero could only bring themself to be a little appalled that Villain didn’t mind the Hero’s presence as they changed.

“I don’t remember the reason,” said Villain. “The fight was so long ago.”

They turned back to face Hero as they pulled a shirt over their head, covering the scar as they did. They walked closer to the hero, lifting a hand up towards their face. They used their knuckle to wipe away a tear Hero didn’t even know they had shed.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Hero. “I'm a horrible person. I don’t know why you’re helping me.”

Villain gave them a long look. “Me neither.”

#my own #writing #fantasy #imagines #oneshot #writers of tumblr #female writers #hero #villain #hero x villain #villain x hero #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #villains #heroes #amnesia #memory loss

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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 1 year ago

Note

I’m back with my Hunter brainrot, thanks to your kinktober post 😅 I hope this is ok to ask:

Can you write a Hunter x f reader where the prompts "I can't risk losing you again." and "Don't you see that I'm hurting?" Are used?

And can it be fluffy with feelings? It would also be cool if it’s NSFW or steamy but that’s honestly up to you. I love your work sm <3 take care

Thank you so much, anon! Sorry for the delay; I was trying to work out how to get the line prompts in while keeping it fluffy/sweet/steamy. There’s a tiny bit of angst, too.

I hope this is okay! <3

Safe with You

After you were snatched by locals on a recent mission, buried feelings bubble up to the surface, and neither of you can fight them back any longer.

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!

Warnings: canon typical violence, hurt and comfort, light angst, feelings and softness, friends to lovers (this trope with this man 🤌), squint for possessiveness, fingering, praise/encouragement.

Rain pelted against the large barracks window, the grey skies a common sight on Kamino. But Hunter’s attention wasn’t on the brewing storm outside. Dark eyes watched as you moved around the room with a slight limp to decant the contents of your pack onto your cot.

Six months you’d been with them. Six months as their civilian handler. You were supposed to report to the Kaminoans on their missions and provide them with whatever they needed to ensure they returned safely each time. The long necks couldn’t have anything happening to their ‘experimental assets’ after all. You weren’t meant to be in the field with them, yet you’d insisted.

And now you were hurt.

Jaw clenching, Hunter tries to forget the panic that had consumed him when you'd sent a distress signal during the middle of the last mission. They’d left you on the Marauder at a safe distance and able to assist if needed, but the locals had found you and weren’t too happy. Your scream of his name over the comms as you’d been dragged out of the ship had turned his blood to ice and would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Before he could stop himself, Hunter was up on his feet and across the room, reaching out for you, selfishly needing to triple-check that you were okay.

You startle as warm hands grasp your wrist, your heart rate spiking as fear simmers in your veins for only a second until you look up at a familiarly handsome face. Try as you might, you were still a little shaken. The locals hadn’t hurt you – your injury was self-inflicted, having smacked your hip on the bunk racks as you’d tried to kick yourself free of their grasp – and that had been their only saving grace when Hunter had stormed their small village with a blaster in one hand and his vibroknife in the other, demanding to know where you were. The relief that had crumpled his face as you’d been yanked out of a nearby building would forever be etched into your memory.

For a moment, you can only stare into his eyes, watching a mired of emotions flicker across his face before his hand shifts to your chin to tilt your head from side to side, double-checking for any marks. “I’m okay, Hunter.” You tell him softly, shifting your weight onto your good leg. “I don’t blame them.” You’re touched by his concern, warmth seeping through your body.

Hunter shakes his head a little, a hard glint in his endless brown eyes. “I do. You’re hurt.”

“Like I said on the way back here, this is self-inflicted.” You repeat, gently taking his wrist to pry his hand from your face. He didn’t need to worry so much – you’d been through a lot worse.

Hunter isn’t backing down that easily, not when something is clawing at his chest and demanding that he be sure you’re okay. “Let me see.”

You pause, blinking a few times at the commanding tone he’d slipped into so effortlessly. It was easy to forget at times that he was in charge. “Hunter…”

“Please.” He remembers his manners, softening his tone a little. He hadn’t meant to come across as harsh or rude, but that strange feeling in his chest wasn’t easing.

“There’s nothing to see. I’ve probably just pulled a muscle. It’ll be fine in a few days.” You point out.

Hunter takes a deep, shaky breath. “You don’t know what it was like hearing you scream out for me.” He pauses, swallowing, the memory replaying on an endless loop in his mind. “Nothing mattered other than getting to you. And I was too slow. You were gone when I got back. But your scent…” His jaw clenched, brows drawn down into a pained frown. One of his hands moved to cup your face, the light drag of his thumb across your cheekbone tugging at your heart. “So sweet but tainted with fear…” He trails off, remembering how relentlessly he’d tracked you down, pushing his senses further than ever before, searching for every little trace of you, desperate to have you back. “Don’t you see that I’m hurting? Please. I need to see that you’re okay.”

You couldn’t deny the worry you saw in Hunter’s eyes, something that rarely surfaced in the stoic soldier, and his words struck a chord with the unspoken connection that had grown between you during your time together. With a small sigh, you nod, giving in to his request.

“Alright. But I promise you, it’s not as bad as you think.” You gently guide him to sit on your cot, lowering yourself next to him and lifting your shirt enough to reveal the purpling bruise on your hip. It wasn’t anything serious, just a painful reminder of the close call.

Hunter’s eyes narrow as he inspects the bruise, his fingers brushing lightly over the discoloured skin. His touch is surprisingly gentle, and for a moment, there’s silence in the room, only the distant rumble of thunder and the patter of rain against the window breaking the stillness.

“I told you, it’s nothing major.” You reassure him, studying the deep furrow in his brow. “I appreciate your concern, but I can handle a few bumps and bruises. It comes with the territory.”

Hunter remains silent, his gaze fixed on the bruise as if trying to will it away. Then, without a word, he rifles through the contents of your pack that you’d dumped out, grabbing a small tube of bacta gel. Wordlessly, he begins to apply it to your bruise, his movements deliberate and tender.

“You shouldn’t have to endure this.” He mutters, almost to himself, his fingers working the gel into your skin. “You weren’t made for this, yet you willingly put yourself in harm’s way. I can’t…I can’t risk losing you again.”

His admission catches you off guard. The weight of his words hangs in the air. The bond between you has evolved, whether you intended it or not.

You place a hand over his, pausing his ministrations. “I’m here because I choose to be. I believe in what you and your brothers are fighting for. I want to help in whatever way I can. I want to protect you. You’re not the only one who would go to great lengths for someone they care about.”

Hunter meets your gaze, his expression softening. At that moment, you realize that the storm brewing outside is nothing compared to the one raging inside Hunter.

You watch as he sets aside the bacta gel, knowing you’re at a crossroads and that whatever you say or do next will tip the scales. His eyes lift to meet yours, and for a moment, the silence lingers until his gaze dips down to your lips for the briefest of seconds.

You move on instinct. Leaning in, your hand cups his cheek, guiding his face towards yours. As your lips meet in a tender kiss, you feel him respond with relief and desperation, as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. His hand finds its place on the small of your back, drawing you closer as he deepens the kiss.

Warmth licks through you, and you let out a small noise of surprise as Hunter pulls you carefully onto his lap, shifting you so that you can straddle him. His hand still supports your back, the other cradling the nape of your neck as his tongue presses forward, sliding between your lips to taste you.

Your soft moan is muffled by his mouth, tongue meeting his, body going pliant. Hunter’s lips are firm and confident, every fragment of his adoration for you poured into the kiss.

He wants to drown in your scent, to block out the rest of the galaxy and focus on nothing but you – the sounds you’re making, the racing of your heart, the taste of you that he’ll never get enough of. Cautious not to jostle you, Hunter stands, cradling you to him, smiling against your lips as your arms and legs wrap around him. As you cling to him, he carries you across the room to his bunk, laying you down gently on his sheets.

Sinking into the softness of the mattress, you gaze up at Hunter as he settles above you, careful not to rest his weight on you. Soft lips return to your body, dragging down your throat as his fingers creep under your shirt, dark fabric pushed up as he traces the curves of your body, the rough pads of his fingers against smooth skin. He’s already half-hard just from kissing you, but he studiously ignores it.

You are his priority. You always have been.

He shifts, working his way down your body. Reverent kisses pressed to your exposed belly, lips lingering around your injured hip, still shiny with bacta. Endless brown eyes flit up to meet your gaze, stealing your breath. Reaching down, you cup the inked side of his face, watching as his eyes flutter shut, head tilting into your touch, lips ghosting the palm of your hand in a feather-light kiss as he reassures himself that you're okay. Tears prickle at your eyes, heart aching at the sweetness of the gesture.

Fingers reach the waistband of your pants, already sitting low to not press on your hip, and there's a silent question in his gaze as he looks up at you.

With a small nod, you encourage him, and Hunter slowly pries your pants down further, eyes flitting between yours and the expanse of skin slowly revealed to him. He sees every emotion painted on your beautiful face, like a masterpiece he’s dedicated his entire life to studying.

Your pants hit the floor, Hunter’s lips trailing a path back up your body, soft kisses and gentle nips laved across your thighs and stomach. One arm returns to supporting his weight above you while the other hand smooths across your body, committing every part of you to memory. He could spend an eternity mapping you, losing himself in every nuance of you. Your honeyed scent fills his lungs, overpowering the lingering smells in the barracks.

It’s the sweetest torture you’ve ever experienced, the soft drag of his fingers across your body, the warmth of him so close, those eyes that have drawn you in since the very beginning. He dips down for a delicate kiss, fingers sliding across your thighs. They part without protest, and the deep rumble of approval that flees his lips sends a shiver through you.

Tentatively, he drags two fingers across the front of your damp panties as your kiss breaks. “So needy already, cyar’ika.” He croons, marvelling at the whimper you let loose. “Should probably do something about that, eh?” He adds, catching your clit with his next stroke, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

All you can do is nod, heart racing as you look up at him, trusting he’ll take care of you.

A smile passes over Hunter’s lips, and his fingers dance under the waistband of your panties, sliding down through your slick folds. Drawing lazy circles around your entrance, he goes to press a digit into your warm heat but pulls back at the last moment. Your brows furrow, and the small whine of frustration you let out makes him chuckle. “Patience, mesh’la.” He admonishes playfully, dragging his fingers up and over your clit again, making you gasp.

It’s maddening. But at the same time, oh so delicious. One of your hands grasps at the sheets of his bunk, the other grabbing onto him, anchoring yourself as his fingers stroke across you, cataloguing each spot that makes your hips jolt or pulls a little sound from you.

The delicious torture comes to an end as he finally presses a finger into you, another sliding in beside it. A soft moan escapes you, muffled as Hunter presses his lips to yours, crooking his fingers until he finds the right spot.

Stars erupt in your vision, kiss breaking as you tilt your head back, letting out another moan as pleasure curls through you.

“There it is.” Delight warms Hunter’s voice as he finds the spot, fingers moving, watching enraptured as you react to his touch. Leaning closer, his lips ghost over the shell of your ear. “You should see yourself, cyar’ika. So beautiful.” He whispers, revelling in the way your heart rate spikes at his words, how you squirm and cant your hips to chase the pleasure he’s giving you. “That’s it. Take what you need.” He encourages.

Eyes sliding shut, warmth builds in your belly with every brush of his fingers against that sensitive spot inside you, with every soft word he utters. You grind down against his palm, the added pressure on your clit making your head spin as his fingers slide in and out of you.

Hips rolling, you’re grateful for the bacta gel that’s numbed the earlier ache, and you whine as Hunter’s teeth graze your earlobe. Warm puffs of his breath caress your neck as he dips down, dragging the flat of his tongue from your clavicle back to your ear, making you shiver. “Keep going, sweetheart, you’re doing so well.” He murmurs, a low rasp to the smoky voice you’ve grown to love.

Breath stuttering, you cling to him, desperately rocking against his hand. Your fingers twist the sheets as the pressure builds and builds. “Please...” You whine, eyes opening to find lust-blown brown gazing right back at you.

You ask so sweetly that Hunter can’t do anything but take mercy on you. Ensuring his fingers continue pumping slowly in and out of your tight heat, his thumb makes contact with your clit, and the cry you let out is magnificent.

“Yes, yes, like that…” You babble, eyes falling shut once more as he works you into a frenzy. Lips parting on a silent gasp, you finally tip over the edge. Trembles skitter through your body as you give yourself over to it, letting yourself be swept up in the moment.

Hunter has seen a lot in his few years – sunrises on pretty planets, families reunited, millions of stars shining in distant pockets of the galaxy. Still, all of it pales compared to the sight of you falling apart beneath him.

Working you through the high, his hand only stills once your beautiful eyes open once more and, holding your gaze, he slides his fingers from you, dragging them up to his mouth. The taste of you explodes in his mouth, and he groans, lapping at his fingers as he cleans away the evidence of your release.

Ragged breaths escape you as you come down from the high, watching the way the man you adore savours the taste of you. Exhaustion starts to creep through your body, the adrenaline of the day wearing off and the intensity of your orgasm stealing what little energy you had left. “Your turn…” You mumble, hand sliding down his body towards the thick length straining against his blacks.

Hunter gently captures your wrist, guiding your hand back up before peppering your pulse point with light kisses. “Promise me that I can teach you how to defend yourself better. And that you’ll always carry my spare vibroknife.” He makes a heartfelt request.

You attempt to protest, but seriousness settles over his expression, a stark reminder of how shaken he’d been earlier. “Tomorrow morning, I’m returning the favour. Then I’ll promise you anything.” You finally conceded.

A soft chuckle escapes him. “Deal.” He agrees, sealing the pact with a gentle press of his lips to yours. Carefully, he shifts you, pulling the sheet up, cocooning you in warmth. “There’s my girl.” He coos, watching as your eyes start to droop, lids heavy.

Half-awake, you mumble. “Yours?”

“Mine.” He confirms tenderly, smoothing your hair from your face, the ache in his chest finally easing as you rest safely in his bunk.

#Soarings Ask Box #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #star wars #the bad batch hunter #sergeant hunter #hunter x you #sergeant hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter bad batch #fluff #soft smut #friends to lovers

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popponn · 1 year ago

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call you later; 2.

notes: what if you didn't pick up their call? they left a voicemail, in their own ways. so we still got uh... aryu chigirin and im considering reo. idk who else will come later but i had fun writing this!! character: itoshi rin, bachira meguru. [ part 1 : isagi, sae, nagi ]

itoshi rin

What did you do? This guy is the type to only left anything if it’s urgent, about nii-chan, or about football. Other than that high chances are they are actual death threats and you are not an exception.

Though, he can not deny that you are sort of his favorite in a way—won't admit that to your face too, though. That’s why he even bothers calling you and not just left a message or tell some poor soul to call you instead. While he probably feels a bit irked that you didn’t pick up, he will save the nagging when he finally met you face to face later. And even then, most of teammates will clarify that rather than nagging it’s more like his way of asking for your extra attention. It’s adorable, if you ignore the fact that the next movie night will definitely without a doubt would have to be a horror movie night just to cheer him up. Prayers and thoughts, if you dislike horror.

The message he will left is exactly like him, in a way. Rude, doesn’t have many words, but if you squints you could hear what sounds like a caring nosiness. While he isn’t the type to suddenly get clingy because of one unpicked-up call or thing about it too much, call him back soon as you can even if he didn’t say or rush you to do so. Would never say it to your face, but having you around him calms him down a lot and that includes your voice.

“Where are you right now?” Rin sounds like he was angry, as usual. “You better not be picking up problems left and right or I swear I will—”

A background noise that sounds like a chirpy teasing interrupted him, reminding him not to be so scary, which Rin replied with a snarling growl, “Shut up! And that wasn’t for you—I got a match so you better fucking watch it and fucking message me where you are while you are at it. I will get you home later so you better wait for me or else…..that’s all. Later. Next time don’t just go somewhere without telling me, stupid.”

bachira meguru

Do you know how long of a voice message can someone left on an unpicked up call? If you don’t you will find out soon.

He probably would not really question why you are not picking up, but mostly because whenever you got separated he will always call you in the most ungodly timing possible just for chatting. Somehow. So, at this point, it has become more of a norm for you to not pick up and just call him again later. He is not being nosy, it’s just more of how he expresses his love—sharing literally everything with you. This has led to several one-sided awkwardness from your part between you and some of his teammates, but hey Bachira Meguru’s Hottest Soccer Gossips is a very important segment in your daily life with him.

Which being said, yeah, get ready. He will talk into the phone as if you were there replying to him—and indeed he always manage to predict how you will react. Listening to his voicemail during work is a good replacement for podcasts and such as in case you are bored by them. Though, sometimes, when he is in a rush and have to keep the message shorter than usual, it’s really sweet! He rarely manage to remind you to call him back though, as it feels like norm for you to do so. Don’t forget it, so you don’t get a Bachira Meguru species asking to be carried around for the whole day on the next holiday. He has muscles and those things are not light.

“So, so, so!” Meguru began with his chirpy voice, not leaving any greeting as usual. “Today Isagi and Chigirin kind of clowned and I really, really want to tell you that story—but I gotta go fast, so I will tell you at home later, okay?” Meguru worded out each word in a rushed manner, akin to an excited buzzing bee waiting to run somewhere with skips in his steps and ball for him to dribble.

“Last night I dreamt about Zico so I will definitely win today! But I also dreamt you were there bundled up because you got a fever. Not like I’m complaining if I get to take care of you with my specials, but stay healthy, ‘kay, ‘kay?” Meguru said, jokingly yet dotting. Then, immediately, he continued, “Oh, well! That’s all—I will call again later or you could! So, see ‘ya, Lovely! Love you! Muuuach!”

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buffkitties · 4 months ago

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Brooooo I feel like you fucking GET KOMAEDA I feel like you're the first person in the like 8 years I've been fixated on Komaeda that gets him like I do. Your post about people ignoring how rude/funny Komaeda is is genuinely so fucking real. Adding on to that I hate when ppl make him out to purely idolize the Ultimates and think they can do no wrong because there are so many times even before ch4 where Komaeda will make fun of/call out his classmates. KOMAEDA IS BLUNT AND COMES OFF AS AN ASSHOLE SOMETIMES AND ITS FUNNY!!! Komaeda is lowkey one of the funniest characters in the series but no one gets it. No one gets it like we do

Excuse any typos or nonsense that I type because I just woke up, but real you're so right people always ignore that fact. He always calls them out if he feels the need to since he still has morals and he doesn't idolise every single thing that they do. I feel like people often forget that Komaeda doesn't see everything in that hope centered way like 24/7 and that he's a person wity normal thoughts and feelings too

There are many examples with Hanamura actually. He often points out that his actions are weird and stuff (plus he says that they should keep a look at him cause he seems freaky) but he doesn't outright hate him just makes sure to let him know his actions arent tolerated

Is that surprising tho? I mean... Kodaka wrote him in such an ableist way. Not to mention how ableist the fandom is as well

Also I've had him as a special interest of 7 years (ish?? Something like that) and he never leaves my brain. I would never let a detail about him pass willingly because my brain gets eaten by him

I feel like Komaeda is neither rude nor polite if that makes sense. He's like in-between since he isn't a total asshole and he does have manners and stuff but he also does speak his mind unfiltered and that does tend to leave a bad impression or may seem backhanded. His words tend to come off harsher than intended most of the time

Partly why its funny ngl

#nagito komaeda #sdr2

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adhd-merlin · 10 months ago

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a lesson in manners

For @merlinmicrofic. Prompt: "Then go", Arthur/Merlin/Gwen, Established Relationship, Gen. Words: 500

“Well.” Merlin rises from his chair. “If there's nothing else.”

Guinevere turns to him – her disappointment clear in her eyes, even though she tries to keep it from her voice. “You’re leaving?”

“Sorry.” Merlin smiles apologetically. “I promised Gaius I would be back in time for supper.”

Which is fair enough. Merlin’s been dining with Arthur and Guinevere more often than not, lately. They have – perhaps selfishly – grown used to his presence.

“Hardly the first time you've kept him waiting,” Arthur observes. Just to be contrary.

“Precisely. He's starting to ask questions.”

“What sort of questions?” Guinevere asks.

Merlin looks at her with a pointed raise of his eyebrows. “Ones I'd rather not answer.” Guinevere’s mouth curves into a faint smile. She closes her eyes when Merlin leans down to kiss her temple.

“I'll see you tomorrow. Good night.” Merlin nods at Arthur before going to the door.

Guinevere looks at him with a hint of sadness in her eyes – which, as a general rule, Arthur finds unacceptable. Guinevere should never look sad. Not in his presence. Not if he can help it.

“Merlin?” Arthur calls. Merlin stops, his hand on the handle. “Is that the way to take leave of your king?”

Merlin looks puzzled. “I'm sorry. Did I forget to bow?” he asks, and he does so, with a jester-like flourish.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Yes. Not that it matters. Come here.”

“Arthur…” Merlin protests, weakly, but he obeys his beckoning.

“Guinevere got a kiss. I was just wondering at the disparity of treatment,” Arthur explains – not because he cares, but just to keep Merlin there a little longer.

Merlin clicks his tongue. “She's nicer than you.”

Arthur just looks at him.

Merlin sighs, theatrically, and Guinevere giggles.

Good.

When Merlin bends down – no doubt to give Arthur a quick peck on the lips – Arthur grabs his ridiculous neckerchief and pulls. Merlin gasps, grasping one of Arthur’s arms as he tips over, and slamming his knee next to Arthur’s thigh to avoid smashing his face against the back of his chair.

“Arthur— ” The rest of his objection is rudely interrupted by Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur kisses Merlin until he’s breathless – maybe from the kiss, maybe from the cloth that’s pulled tight around his neck. Arthur doesn’t loosen his grasp. He knows Merlin likes it.

When Arthur breaks their kiss, Merlin blinks at him vacantly. He moves his lips as if to shape a word, but seems to have forgotten what he wanted to say.

Then, he remembers. “Gaius is waiting,” he mumbles – eyes fixed on Arthur's mouth.

Arthur lets go of Merlin’s neckerchief and pats his chest. “Then go,” he says, amiably.

Merlin gets to his feet – a bit shakily. His ears are red. He walks to the door again, turns as if to say something, then frowns and closes his mouth. Wordlessly, he leaves.

Guinevere starts laughing.

Good.

“That was mean,” she says.

Arthur takes her hand and kisses it. “Don’t worry. We’ll make it up to him.”

#(pathetically fighting my way out my writer's block like a weak kitten inside a wet paper bag)#bit OOC but who cares? not me!!#merlin deserved to be snogged stupid #“why is he always wearing that silly neckerchief. clearly asking to be choked” (<- me and fourleggedfish probably)#arthur said “I can be a little silly. for my wife”#merlin micro fic #merwenthur #mergwenthur #merlin fanfiction #*

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 10 months ago

Note

Here's a silly idea if you wanna try it, no pressure!

How do you think the bachelor's/bachelorette's world react to the Farmer casually mentioning a blue man who leaves notes for them around town as challenges who also keeps cameras around town to watch them?

They do not elaborate, the Farmer just moves on like they talked about the birds lmaooo

Oh, man. I found the idea itself so funny that inspiration immediately kicked my ass 🤣 There's already been more than one mention for Qi and about his weird obsession with Farmer, strange quests and, God forgive me, about "snake milk"... Sheesh 😅

Thank you so much for the ask! ☺️ (hope I translated this correctly. Or feel free to ask again!)

SDV bachelors/ettes react to Farmer, who casually mentioned Mr. Qi:

_________________________________________

"You gotta drink less so you don't see shit." It's unusual to hear Shane say that, but even he doesn't remember drinking so much that he saw some hallucinations like "blue men". He'd let Farmer's words pass his ears and now was beginning to wonder if he should let his dear niece near that weirdo. Challenges, cameras everywhere... yeah sure.

The doctor's instincts hit right away and Harvey will run after Farmer to see if they have a fever. Cameras in the whole Stardew Valley? Dangerous quests in Calico Dessert? Sorry Farmer, but Harvey won't believe it and will insist they go to the clinic for a check up, or at least rest at home. You can’t ignore rest, you know, because it affects both physical and mental health...

"So I'm not the only one who noticed it." Wait, what? How does Sebastian know? "Found a weird note with your name on it when I was in the mines." Hold on, what was a local emo doing in the mines? And why is his arm in bandages? "Hm, let't change the subject, we were talking about blue stranger, weren't we?" Wait a minute, Seb!

Alex probably won't even listen to what the Farmer is saying. "Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever you say, weirdo." The athlete may not be a genius, but even he can realize that there's no benefit to anyone putting cameras in Pelican Town for, like, what? Fun or whatever? To keep tabs on Farmer? That's stupid. Don't be stupid, Farmer.

"Wait, seriously? Yo, no kidding." With a lifestyle like Farmer's, Sam immediately believed in their words even without the details. However, the interest and desire to organize a quest with his friends to find the "secrets of the Valley" quickly faded away as the skateboarder's stomach rumbled. He would just forget the whole thing later.

Honestly, Elliott is completely confused. How should he react to what his friend Farmer has just said? The writer thinks it's complete nonsense, but because of his manners and his unwillingness to be confrontational or rude, Elliott will simply try to change the subject.

"Absurd", Abigail thought, but somehow the Farmer's words stuck in her mind. Considering that the purple-haired girl was just looking for an excuse to procrastinate duties, her ass began her own adventure of finding cameras. And she found one right away! And a strange note from someone named "Qi"! Wtf, hey Farmer, tell again about that weird blue dude!

"Ok, let's think: why would someone follow you around 24/7 and give you weird tasks?" For some reason, Maru was very much interested in Farmer's casually thrown words, trying to make sense of them. It's unclear, really, where this interest comes from, but maybe the young inventor wants to spend more time with Farmer. Even if the conversation is kinda strange.

Penny did her best to keep her smile from looking too forced. Wishing to remain polite and not to be rude, the red-haired teacher simply thanked Farmer for the conversation and went about her business, trying not to think too much about their words.

"The blue man? Oh, has Clint been drinking that Joja soda again?" No, Emily, that wasn't Clint, and he only turned blue once (and that was probably from worry, not from Joja cola). She would have forgotten about Farmer's words, but she also could swear that Sandy had once mentioned a similar person paying the rent in Oasis. Hmm, maybe Emily should ask again...

When Farmer told Haley about the strange blue man and other oddities, the blonde paused and wondered: if she should really have even listened to the words of a person who just a couple days ago had been rummaging through trash cans and eating raw seaweed? The answer was obvious, and Haley forgot about it as a misunderstanding.

Leah only shakes her head. "Whatever you say, Farmer." She doesn't want to be rude to them, but all this talk of cameras, dangerous quests, and a mysterious man hasn't impressed her one bit. If Farmer keeps this up - they'll always be considered a weirdo.

#stardew valley #sdv #thanks for the ask!#sdv sebastian #sdv harvey #sdv sam #sdv shane #sdv elliott #sdv alex #sdv penny #sdv emily #sdv haley #sdv abigail #sdv maru #sdv leah #sdv headcanons

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zenlesszonezero · 13 days ago

Text

#Zenless Zone Zero #Miyabi #Harumasa #HoYoverse #zzzero #zenlesszonezero #Mobile Game #Anime Game #Gaming

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xxejinn · 1 year ago

Text

▶ 【 “ Luffy x Reader ( One Shot ! ) ” 】

「 Sweet Dream 」

disclaimer: one shot / short story

Imagine..

『 Monkey D. Luffy ✩ ! ! 』

“ ZORO, what do you think of a child? ”

Blinked twice as he stared at the captain, confused by what Luffy questioned him.

“ Did you bumped you're head or something? ”

As usual, Luffy would sit at his favourite place on the ship and keep on staring into the sunset in front of him.

“ I had this dream nowadays. A girl and.. me."

Zoro remains silence, absolutely don't have any clue on how to reply his nakama's question. "Luffy.. take a rest. It's been days you keep on the look out."

Luffy didn't speak.

"How many years now.. since she's been missing?"

" 5 years and a half. "

Luffy smiled , " Ahh.. I see. " His gazed still fixed on the view in front of him as his smile keeps on going wider.

" Luffy.. stop thinking about her anymore. "

" She will come back, Zoro. I know. Y/n.. will come back. "

No matter how many times Zoro pursued Luffy to forget about Y/n, he only shows his smile and often repeated the same words.

" Y/n will come back.. "

All the crew knows how deep is Luffy's love towards the woman that they thought were once their friend. The incident where took a lot for them to fight with disbelief that Y/n is a traitor keeps lingering around them as she left them.

Until now, they decided to let things go and of course trying their best to forget about her. Acting as if she was never one of them.

One thing for sure, Luffy always stay.

Count days, weeks to month and turns to years.

He never missed repeating the same words when the crew wanted him to moved on. Zoro once get into fight with Luffy about this but let it slide after seeing Luffy becomes a sad loner - lonely.

" He's just broken, Zoro. "

Sanji tap on his shoulder. " Dinner time . Let me take turn for now. "

Zoro sigh. He took last glance at Luffy's back before leave. Sanji takes turn and try to talk with Luffy.

" I cook your favorite foods, Luffy. Let's eat before it gets cold. "

" Go ahead. I'll join later. "

Sanji sigh, " Luffy.. you used to be the one who comes first when you're hungry. What happens to that now ? "

Luffy just silent. He let Sanji talks behind him but he only had one questions in his mind ,

" Y/n.. where are you ? "

✩　✩　✩　✩　✩　✩　✩　✩　✩

“Father, please. I want to see ( D/N ) just for a second.”

↺⇢ D/N ~ Daughter's Name

A man in black cloak gives the woman with crimson red hair who is looking at him with a fiery and determined gazed. She has a fair skin and slim figures.

Her gazed didn't even make him flinched.

“ How rude !! Where are your manners !? ”

“ I'm done with all the formalities. I want my daughter now ! "

The man scoffed. " You mean.. that pirate's daughter? You should feel grateful because the others could still accept her existence into our clan."

Y/n clenched her fist.

" She's your granddaughter. Whatever. I don't care about this clan's affair. (D/N) is my daughter ! She's not part of this fucking clan. Like it or not. I will be taking her from here. "

The man in front of her sighed.

He tapped on the wooden wall behind him as a secret passage just right behind him opens.

A young girl with black hair popped out and immediately run towards Y/n. She gasped in excitement and rushed over to hug her daughter.

" (D/N) .. you're alright. "

" Mama! "

Y/n do a check-up on her and relief to find she's in one piece and no trace of wound found anywhere.

"Leave at dawn. The ceremony starts tomorrow morning. We can't risk any circumstances during your runaway so.. don't messed up, Y/n."

Y/n stared at her father, the Chief of their clan. She suddenly went clueless, she thought her father would be somewhat- a bad guy trying to stop her from being together with her daughter.

"Father.. I-"

" I love you , Grandpa !! "

A slight tinted pink flushed through the Chief's cheeks after (D/N) released their hug.

Y/n smiled. The chief clear his throat and pat his granddaughter's head. " Be good. Don't troubles your Mama more. Never let your guard down, okay princess?"

Their attraction somehow made Y/n's heart flutters.

"Then.. you should prepared now. Hideki will guide both of you."

Before they leave, the chief called.

"Send my regards to him when you met him."

Y/n smiled, " I will, Father. Then.. until later."

"Be careful, my princesses."

please do comment, share and likes !

no copyrights ❏

english is not my first language.

luffy x reader ! + daughter !

@httpjiikook

#luffy x reader #luffy imagine #oneshot #one piece luffy #fanfic #luffy x y/n #luffy #monkey d. luffy

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rreeaahh · 1 year ago

Text

Lies | R. A. B.

Ch. 1 of "One way ticket"

pair> regulus black x lestrange! slytherin! fem! reader | > suggestion of james potter x reader

summary> in which y/n and regulus go back to hogwarts and are forced to listen to their parents' lies for the last time, only to be faced by new ones.

word count> 1.4k

warnings> toxic family; hypocrisy; rude regulus;

a/n> english isnt my first language, guys, so please forgive any error<3 that's the first chapter of my new series, "one way ticket", which is a slow-burn, so please have patience!!! lots and lots of love

“You better not try anything funny while at school, Y/N, do you understand me?” spat Cyrus Lestrange, his hand still on the back of his daughter in a fatherly-protective manner. “Don’t forget what truly matters from now on.”

“Yes, father,” is the only answer she deliveres with a smile on her face.

While waiting for the Hogwarts Express on King’s Cross Station, in the chaos and movement on the Platform 9¾, Y/N Lestrange and her father, Cyrus, seemed to be a lovely parent and his most precious child. The others probably think he’s telling her to be careful, to focus on her studies while she calms down her stressed dad. Truth is, however, that the two Lestranges have a relationship full of hatred.

“Don’t you dare disappoint me,” he mutters, “Again.” The additional word is like a punch in her stomach, nearly breaking her perfectly happy face if it weren’t for a woman to approach them, alongside her husband and son. That’s when his whole mood changes and he’s lovingly caressing her shoulder, arranging the collar of her gray shirt.

“Y/N, darling!” exclaims Walburga Black and comes happily to hug the young witch’s body into her arms. The woman kisses Y/N on both cheeks, and cups her face to take a better look at her. “Look at you, more beautiful every single time I see you!”

Y/N could see that behind Walburga, her father and Orion exchanged the formalities and her heart speed increases when she spots Regulus near his father. “Hello, Mrs. Black, it’s nice to see you,” she smiles sweetly and looks respectful at her.

“I haven’t seen you since… our little gathering,” she says. So that’s how she calls it. “I invited you to tea that time; I expected an owl from you or your father.”

That’s when Cyrus Lestrange intervenes in their conversation. “Hello, Walburga. I’m so sorry I couldn’t write to you,” he lies. “I had a lot on my mind and Y/N was too focused on her studies, you know how she is.”

The woman looks at her, very pleased. “Yes, of course.” Her expression looks hurt for a moment, but then she looks at her son, getting him to enter the little reunion. “Regulus told us about how you to got selected to be Prefects, isn’t that right, son?”

Y/N can sense his displeased to be forced to talk. It’s written all over his face, despite his polite smile. “Yes, mother,” he answers and when the woman looks at him without blinking, he moves his attention on his housemate. “Good to see you again, Y/N.”

Lies.

“Hello, Regulus,” she mutters and smiles, trying to force herself to hide the sudden urge to vomit. The boy grabs her hand when she offers it and place a cold kiss on her skin. Now she’s going to vomit.

“Look at you two,” Walburga says in a nervous tone, like she’s ravished with emotions. “I cannot wait for you to graduate school and make us so proud.”

There’s a knot forming in her stomach. Her smile is still there, her eyes are still sparkling with agreement but her heart dropped to her stomach and formed a knot that’s strangling her intestines. She lets out a nervous chuckle and subtly looks at the boy’s expression, as relaxed as she tries to be. “Of course, mother,” he says in a calm tone, putting an arm on her shoulder and smiling at her. Y/N knows that there’s a knot forming in his intestines, too, but she chooses to keep herself quiet.

Being forced to smile in his direction, to laugh lightly at his words and to be that close to him – without trying to kill each other – seems like a torture. It is, indeed, a greater torture to observe the look of admiration that her father has on his face while listening to all the accomplishments that Regulus Black had in the last time. She was better than him, and yet, she was not enough.

“They will work together wonderfully to serve our lord, am I right, Cyrus?” asks Orion with a serious tone in his voice. Y/N always had a bad feeling about that man, but she could not wrap her finger around it. She knew, at least, from who Regulus got that annoying personality.

“You can be sure of that, Orion,” assures her father, giving her a cold gaze, like he is threatening her to act accordingly to her new role. “I raised Y/N to be my greatest pride.”

Lies.

Her salvation is the train – the old and loud Hogwarts Express, which is supposed to get every student back to Hogsmeade Station, in order to begin a new year at Hogwarts. She turns back to her father while the Blacks are saying their goodbyes to their son, and she forces a smile.

He wraps his hands around Y/N’s shoulders and she cannot help but let herself feel like the small child that needed to be loved by her father, her only parent. And then, only for a moment, her smile in not fake anymore.

“Don’t be a disappointment, Y/N,” he whispers into her ear as he ends the hug. “Got everything you need?”

She nods. “Yes, father.”

“Good. I’ll send you a letter when there’ll be a need of you.”

She nods again obedient and grabs her luggage. “Regulus,” Walburga’s voice break the silence between them, “Help Y/N get on the train, dear.”

“With pleasure, mother,” he says and puffs the air as he comes near her. “Permit me, Y/N,” his gaze is burning her eyes as he grabs her belongings and invites her to follow him.

He even offers her his hand to get on train and them both wave goodbyes to their parents who stay there, on the platform, looking at them with loving expressions.

Lies.

As soon as they turn their backs to the train, both Y/N and Regulus exhale deeply. “That was worst than last year,” she says without waiting for a response.

She knows Regulus does not fancy talking to her – at least, her feelings are reciprocated. One difference between them is that Y/N is a talker, while Regulus isn’t even a listener – if he was, maybe they’d work together for real, not only pretend to.

Loud laughs from behind them makes Y/N turn herself from Regulus and look at the train entrance, where two boys are teasing a third one, while the forth is only rolling his eyes in annoyance. When they too observe the two Slytherins there, there’s silence.

“Look who we got here,” says the oldest Black and puts his arms around himself, only looking at his younger brother.

Y/N cannot help but feel just as embarrassed as the rest of the Marauders seem to be, like they are part of a private conversation between the two brothers.

“Sirius,” says Regulus in a cold tone, looking at his brother up and down.

Sirius Black is no longer dressed in shirts and black trousers, perfect from head to toe – like Regulus is – but now he wears jeans and a leather jacket.

“See you got yourself a little girlfriend, brother,” he laughs and puts his hand around the shoulders of James Potter. Y/N’s heart skips a beat at the sight of him, looking at her, at her eyes, looking at her like it’s the first time he sees her, and then breaks a little when he breaks the eye contact. “Let’s go, boys,” he demands, “We wouldn’t want to intervene into something… private,” he says in a suggestive tone and walks away laughing with his friends, walks away like he’s not missing his little brother at all.

Lies.

Y/N learned Regulus’ expressions. After all those years forced to spent together in the same house, same classes, same social gatherings, she saw him being hateful, bored, annoyed, even slightly happy, she can say, but now… She couldn’t say how he’s feeling. There was a mix of annoyance and… sadness?

Before she could say anything, Regulus changes his expression and looks at her like she is the biggest disgrace of the world. “Don’t you dare say something,” he warns her and drops her luggage right when the train starts moving. “Don’t follow me, Lestrange, am I clear?” he asks and turns his back on her, starting to walk away.

“Oh, but how am I supposed to live without you, Regulus, my dear?” she asks in a mocking tone. She lifts her middle finger in the air, as she saw the Muggleborns do to each other when they were angry and grabs her bags, turning around on her feet and walking away from him and his pathetic presence.

She doesn’t need him. She doesn’t need anyone. She’s better than him, than all of them, and she does not need to prove that to anyone. Not even to her father.

Lies.

#slytherin #angst #hogwarts #regulus black #regulus x reader #james potter x reader #slytherin reader #pureblood #sirius black #the marauders #one way ticket

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arthropod-concoctions · 2 months ago

Text

Sniffer looked up to find himself trapped between blocks of bedrock, for the fourth time this week. Unlike the last three times, this time he also had a note between his fingers; his own handwriting. It said “STOP BEING A COWARD”.

He sighed. Like usual, his past self's intentions were a mystery; it didn't matter how brave or cowardly he was about it, he couldn't get out of this hole without Piglin's help. There was a hole above him that he could squeeze through, but it was too high up to reach, and the crevasse he was in was too narrow to open his elytra. If he had water, he'd be able to swim out, but as usual, he'd forgotten to bring a bucket with him. So he did the only thing he could; grabbed his chat.

<SnifferMyFeet> piglin

<SnifferMyFeet> im stuck again

<PiglinMyNose> LOL

<SnifferMyFeet> get me out

<PiglinMyNose> What's the magic word?

<SnifferMyFeet> i hate you

<SnifferMyFeet> please

<PiglinMyNose> Coming over :-)

Now there wasn't much else for Sniffer to do than wait for rescue. Piglin would show up... eventually. It was impossible to predict how long that'd take. Maybe he'd be over immediately; or maybe he'd have an accident, forget he was supposed to do something, and leave Sniffer in this hole for another three days. Last time he nearly starved to death. Maybe he should do that on purpose next time; maybe that'd shake his memories into place enough to figure out what he was doing here.

Not today, though; he heard Piglin descending into the quarry, and Piglin arriving in a timely manner anywhere was a miraculous enough occurrence that he didn't want to let it go to waste. “Over here!” he yelled towards him, but Piglin was already approaching.

“I know, I know. You always get stuck in the same place,” he said, grinning. “Have you found out anything interesting about that hole yet?” He was pronouncing all his r's today.

“No- well, there must be something, or I wouldn't keep going here, but I keep forgetting what.” That was a problem he and Piglin shared; whenever they got fatally injured, or hit their heads, or even just got spooked badly, their memories would go out of the window and they'd wake up hours or days later in some random situation with no clue how they got there. “Did I tell you why I went over here, maybe?”

“You did say something, actually. Something like... 'I'm going to figure out what's on the other side of that hole', I think. Not going so well, though, is it?”

“The other side? There isn't any other side!” Sniffer twisted around to gesture behind him. “There's just a bunch of spiky rock...” he trailed off as he noticed something.

The crevasse extended outwards a little near his feet. It was mostly more bedrock, but just a little distance away, the rock gave way to pure blackness, like looking down into a massive cavern.

How have I never seen that before? Sniffer thought to himself, but immediately corrected himself; he obviously had seen it before, which is why he kept going into this hole.

“There is something here,” he said to Piglin. “Drop down the water. I'm gonna go deeper into the hole.”

“That's what she said,” he heard Piglin hiss behind him. Sniffer whirled around to face him and took a swipe at his legs with his sword; Piglin dodged it, but he yelped anyways, cutting off his giggle. Sniffer snorted.

“You're being awfully rude for someone who needs my help,” Piglin said, clutching a bucket of water to his chest.

“I'm sorry, alright? Just give me the water.”

Instead of just giving him the bucket, Piglin decided to splash the water directly into Sniffer's face, creating a source block right where he was standing. Annoying, but it'd work. Sniffer held his breath as he turned around in the water, then ducked into the opening in the bedrock. The darkness got closer-

And suddenly Sniffer was dropping downwards. The water flowed straight down, and he barely managed to stay afloat in it. He looked around.

There was nothing under the bedrock. Not a big cave, no lava, no monsters, just endless blackness in all directions. The world border wasn't even here, Sniffer realised. The two of them had gotten used to the shining blue barrier always being visible in the distance, but now, there seemed to be nothing obstructing the way in any direction.

Sniffer swallowed hard. It looked a bit like the End; and if it was anything like the End, he'd be respawning if he went too far down, and this was a very inconvenient time and place to respawn. So he grabbed his rockets, spread his elytra and glided away from the water. It was hard to breathe down here; and it seemed to get harder the further down he went, so he stayed close to the bedrock ceiling looming above. He flew a few circles in the dark space, but he was anxious to go far; something about this place gave him the creeps, not to mention the fact he only had limited rockets with him. After a minute or so, he decided he'd had enough. He turned back towards the hole letting light through the bedrock, and he nearly flew up into it when he noticed the water that Piglin had sent down, flowing out... elsewhere, a few yards away.

There was another hole in the bedrock. Sniffer had completely lost track of his directions by now, so he had no idea where this hole would lead him. He continued circling, and considered. Piglin would probably be worried if he didn't come back up soon... but his curiosity was burning.

Sorry, Piglin, Sniffer thought as he lit a rocket and maneuvered upward, flying through the second gap.

* * * * *

Sniffer rubbed the sore spot on his head; seems like he'd hit his head on something while flying. Right, time to figure out what he was up to before that moment. He was in-

Wait, where on earth was he?

He was in a square, industrial-looking room with no windows and not a speck of colour. It didn't look familiar to him at all. He definitely didn't build this, and he was fairly certain Piglin hadn't built it either. He looked at the floor, and shied away a few blocks; there was a hole in the floor leading to what looked like a very dark cave.

Oh, he suddenly thought, the hole in the bedrock! He'd flown into the crevasse, but that was all he could remember before the blackout. But is seemed like he'd actually gone through the hole this time, and found... whatever this is, on the other side. Well, he wasn't about to let this opportunity go; it was time to explore. He left the room through a doorway with no door installed. It led into a stairway, similarly square and colourless. Whoever built this place could really use some lessons in decorating, Sniffer thought.

At the top of the stairway was another empty doorframe leading into a bigger room, and Sniffer's eyes were immediately pulled to a window revealing some actual colour for a change. The giant window looked out onto a body of water. In the distance, he could see a shore leading into a plains biome, with some structures-

Not just any structures. That was Piglin's house. And more to the left, he could see his own house. It looked terrible from this angle, he noticed. Hadn't he ever approached it from... no, he hadn't, because he suddenly realised where he was located: behind the world border.

Sniffer's heart began beating faster. There were people on the other side of the border? And they were watching him and Pig? He'd never seen this structure he was in before, and he'd gazed longingly through the border countless times. What was going on here? At this point he turned his attention to the smaller monitor in front of the window.

PROJECT SALMACIS

Project Salmacis? Sniffer had no idea what that was. He tapped the first button.

The screen suddenly showed a picture of himself, and a table of a bunch of incomprehensible information.

SnifferMyFeet

Components: <Grian> + <Smallishbeans>

COHESION INDEX: 4/9

Observations:

- dominant personality switches upon respawn or force to subject's head.

- subject speaks with meld of components' accents.

- PvP skill markedly increased from that of both components.

“Well I appreciate the compliment, but... what?” components? Cohesion? Dominant personality? What was any of this about? He decided to tap the name of one of the components, 'Grian'.

The screen now showed another picture of himself, with... actually, that wasn't him at all! The left half of the figure's face matched his own, but the right half seemed to be some twisted mirror image of the left half. Sniffer yelped in surprise at the disturbing picture, and quickly tapped a symbol in the corner of the screen which thankfully was indeed a 'back' button. There was a bunch of text on that panel too, but he had no interest in learning about whoever-- whatever-- that was.

He was about to go check out what these mysterious observers had to say about Piglin, when suddenly he heard something shatter behind him.

Sniffer spun around to see a cloaked figure standing in the doorway of the room. Next to them on the floor were the remains of a mug and a strange magenta stain, from which wafted the smell of... schadenfreude? That made no sense, but it was the only way Sniffer could explain the smell.

The two of them stared awkwardly at each other for a few seconds before Sniffer spoke up. “Alright, who are you and why are you stalking me and Pig?” he said.

“...You do not belong here,” the figure replied. Their voice echoed strangely, which might have been intimidating if Sniffer couldn't see the confusion plain on their face-- which was entirely grayscale, but otherwise unremarkable. “You were not meant to cross the threshold.”

“Well, I did.” Sniffer took his sword from his hotbar into his hand.

“You know, it says here my PvP skills have improved a lot... you wanna put that to the test?”

Then he charged, and the cloaked figure turned around and ran back into the stairwell. Sniffer gave chase, and closed the distance easily though; the figure's cloak got in the way of their legs, and Sniffer got the sense they weren't exactly used to hurrying. He jumped the last few meters, and raised his sword to plunge it into the figure's neck--

The figure spun around to face Sniffer. His sword pierced their eye and it exploded into more colours than he'd seen anywhere in this place, more colours than he'd seen his entire life-- then white.

* * *

Sniffer respawned in his bed, and almost immediately heard fireworks signaling Piglin's approach.

“Come on, dude, you couldn't have been a bit more careful?” he heard Piglin yell from outside as he went down the stairs. Piglin beat him to the front door, and barged inside. “Now we still don't know what's under there!”

“Under... the bedrock, you mean?” Sniffer replied. “No, I remember that bit, actually. It was just... darkness. Like in the End, but there were no islands anywhere.”

“Oh. Well that explains the death message, at least. Do you remember what happened next?”

“Yeah, I saw another hole in the bedrock, different from where I went down, and I tried to go up it, and... that's where I black out. Weird that I remember all this, if I just respawned right here...”

“Maybe you hit your head on the bedrock, then died falling down?” Piglin suggested. “Now I'm curious what's in that other hole, though.”

“Yeah, maybe...” Sniffer pondered for a few seconds, then waved his hand dismissively.

“Probably just another cave. I wouldn't worry about it.”

#arthropod writes #grian #joel smallishbeans #jimmy solidarity #goodtimeswithscar #sniffermyfeet #piglinmynose #trafficblr #project salmacis #remember these guys? i sure do!#and i hoped to have this written & posted months ago but... :OUGH:

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