#hideous bad movie time

[allurilove]

Teenager Yandere Husband x teenager you

“What would happen if you went to the same school as him?”

Rated 16 + — regular ol’ short content !

Teen!Yandere Husband had a major scene phase starting sophomore year. It was his way of saying ‘fuck you’ to his old man, and he started to grow as his own person. He was finally able to express himself in a way his father tried to repress. His father was interested in fashion, creating multiple pieces and clothing that had made it to the runways, but he made sure teen!yandere husband looked proper. Not dressing him in the eccentric and world stopping outfits his father was known for, but the cookie cutter boy you see in those movies about snobby rich people. His dad thought his new bright hair was hideous, and when he started to cut up holes in his jeans— he got a whooping that night. That didn’t stop teen!yandere husband, it only fueled him to go all out. He had black eyeliner on his waterline, multiple rhinestone belts on his hips, and wore long striped socks with his boots. He donated all of his old polo shirts, cream white sweaters, and traded his name brand shoes for a pair of converses.

Teen!Yandere Husband enjoyed listening to My Chemical Romance, 3OH!3, and Get Scared. He had all of their latest music downloaded onto his mp3 player, and he listened to it with his girlfriend at the time. They both shared an earbud, and his arm was around her shoulders. She was just the type of girl he liked: she had those skunk extensions in her hair, long eyelashes, fishnets on her arms, and she smelled like a record store (idk if that’s a compliment). But alas, all mildly good things came to an end when he was broken up with. She wanted an alternative man by her side, and he wasn’t enough for her.

Teen!Yandere Husband started to grow out his hair junior year. He had to constantly brush his bangs out of his face, blowing at the strands whenever they poked at his eyes. He was this tall six foot two guy, bumping into people in the hallways with his wide shoulders. And he had an attitude. He didn’t apologize, just grunting out a ‘watch it’ before he stomped his way to his class. Teen!yandere husband also picked fights with anyone that tried to comment on his appearance. He knew how to throw a mean punch, and he learned it all from his great aunt. Breaking peoples noses and fingers were easier than he thought, and getting away with it was just as sweet than the thrill he felt. His father made constant excuses for teen!yandere husband, saying that it was just a phase and he was just a boy, and if that didn’t work… well a gracious donation would be sent to the school.

Teen!Yandere Husband got his dick pierced the summer before senior year. It was a risky move, his father was already on the brink of snapping at him and kicking him to the curb. But, thankfully his aunt was cool about it, and signed the paperwork. While he was at it, he got his ears and belly button done too.

Teen!Yandere Husband noticed you around senior year. He was cleaning up his ‘bad boy’ act, trying to get on people’s good side before the year ended. While he was on his apology tour, he saw you sitting at the library alone. He doesn’t remember if he had done anything horrible to you, and if he did, he would absolutely beat himself up for it. He was about to approach you, but then he suddenly remembered his appearance, and was self conscious about the way he looked. Who would love to be with a mess of a man like him? Surely, you already had people lining up to be with you.

Teen!Yandere Husband made his first move by asking you to sign his yearbook. You had made him nervous. Just your presence alone was making him sweat. He held brief eye contact with you when he asked, leaning against the white bricked wall with a blush to his cheeks. His voice soft and yet baritone, and he held up the yearbook for you to write your name in.

“Ah yeah… I think we had like one class together? With that really grumpy man that’s about to retire soon.”

You smiled, a little snort coming from you. He watched you add a little heart into your name. “You’re gonna have to be specific. That’s like half the teachers here.”

“You know,” he was totally talking out of his ass, “the teach that shakes his fist whenever he sees teens running down the halls.”

“Really? That’s odd. I never had a male teacher.”

“W-What? Oh-“ he gulped, adverting his eyes towards the ground. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and he awkwardly shifted between his weight. “Maybe I’m misremembering things.”

“If we took a class together… I definitely would have remembered.”

That left him speechless. Did you mean that in a good way?

“You’re sort of hard to forget… you kind of look like Sam Monroe from Life as a House.” you bit your lip, and your eyes took in the sight of his dark but colorful clothing. He had this scent that made him smell like fresh rain and wood.

He hadn’t seen that movie, but he was gonna guess on a whim that might’ve been your way of saying he’s … cute?

Teen!Yandere Husband got your number and followed you around all summer. He was actually shy when he got to hang out with you outside of school. Hours before he met you, he walked back and forth in front of his mirror, trying to give himself a pep talk before the hangout. He wasn’t this nervous before, and he started to fret about his appearance. He had put on his best jeans, clean shoes, and the classic sort of fancy tee. He picked you up in his red corvette, playing music from the radio incase you didn’t like what he usually listened to. He was determined to make this “hang out that’s totally not a date” perfect.

Teen!Yandere Husband casually paid for your things, and opened all the doors for you. He totally thought he was winning in the ‘gentleman’ department. He gave you compliments that teetered between the lines of flirtation, and just being friendly. He actively listened to whatever you had told him, making mental notes to bring them up in later conversations. That seemed to make you happy. You two had stopped by a carnival he coincidentally had tickets for. He tried his hardest to help you at any game, and he was pretty good at throwing darts. He happily smiled for whatever photo booth you brought him into, not once complaining when you wanted to use props.

Teen!Yandere Husband had genuinely smiled whenever he was around you. You just made life better. You were his little comedian, his best friend that’ll he never forget.

Full fics: these fics are an aged up version of yandere husband obvs, and it contains smut.

#1 #2 #3 #4 (coming soon)

Allure: this would be soo him if he were to text reader.

[kaisentine]

꒰ა ⠀ ⸺ 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 , 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮

⌗ ⸺ there isn’t anything more romantic than physical touch ! the question is : how does he like to do it? ft. michael kaiser, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, oliver aiku general cw. couple thingz that make me go EW!, language ( do u guys want me to tag this or no ), there are separate cws for each guy, not proofread . . . gn!reader ദ്ദി ( ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ ) sticky note. blushing giggling crying i’m not ok . . . the parts are wayyyyyyy shorter than i intended them to be, some men’s part are wayyyyyyyyyyyy shorter than the rest though but plez enjoy! 😭 this is part of my event check it out!

𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒾’𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 ! ♡

cw . slick back king, arlene still day dreaming about the idea of playing with her gorgalicious king’s hair

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑 should be cast in a movie because he’s really good at hiding how much he really likes when you do his hair.

if you would have to pick the one thing that annoys you the most, it would be how kaiser asks ( pleads ) you to do his hair for him only for him to say he hates it in the end. it’s never a 50/50 with this man because 100 out of 100 times, he will say that he hates the way you did his hair at the very end—he literally watched you through the mirror! why now?

“can you do my hair?” he yawns, handing you a couple of rubber bands and a comb.

biggest regret of his life—he ends up in the most slick backing slick back the world has ever seen. it’s kind of a feat of how flawless you did it but, “this really sucks.” he complains with his signature disgusted look, smoothening non-existent strands poking from his head. “yeah? too late. either you take it off or you train with it.” you smile with both hands on you hip in enthusiasm.

you hold back your laughter because you’ll piss him off even more and then you’ll never hear the end of it from him—as if you weren’t already. “out of everything, you choose an outrageous slick back?” he brings his middle finger and thumb to his nose bridge in disappointment.

“you asked me to do your hair,” you shrug, standing up from your position from behind kaiser. actually, you’re quite surprised how well he looks in a bun but you’re more surprised you can even put his hair in a bun because of how . . . exotic his hairstyle is.

he huffs in annoyance at your lack of sympathy.

“well i didn’t ask for you to make it hideous.”

so why didn’t he ask you to stop when you pulled out the gel? short answer : he likes your hands in his hair. long answer : that and how comforting it is. he’s convinced your fingertips are made of magic or something because of how good they feel anywhere on his head. it’s the way you occasionally have to tug a little harsher on his hair to make it stay in place, it makes him feel alive—even though you’re “responsible”, there is no malice behind your intent.

and he just loves you way too much to stop you until it’s too late.

“so are you gonna take it out or . . ?” you ask while walking over to the drawers to put the hair items back—showing him that you aren’t going to redo his hair even if he does take it out. he swears he feels his eye twitch.

“nah.”

he’d really like to but it’s not half bad. it’s a subtle reminder to him that you care. and he loves you way too much to do that. God, someone save this man from your magical hands.

sticky note. i cryryeyycryfyecyerycyrcyrycrycyeycrycry . . . guys what the eff!1!! ૮๑ˊᯅˋ๑ა I HAVE NEVER DONE A SLICK BACK

cw . rin and sae aren’t awkwad . . . brother things agenda, reader is shorter than sae

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄 makes it very clear he’s not fond of physical touch but that’s because he views it as something intimate. that’s why he doesn’t care when it comes to you.

everyone is convinced itoshi sae hates them when they first meet him because of how he pushes them away when they get too close. but for you, ask him to do it and he’ll do it.

it was only a simple slip up when you missed him even though he was right there—“can you hug me?”. much to your surprise, he actually turned around to face you. “what did you say?” he asks in amusement to your obvious embarrassment. “nothing . . ?” you hesitate, God, you’re bad at lying—sae can just see it in your eyes. “no, say it again.” “. . . can you hug me?” and just like that, his arms are around your neck, bringing your face closer to his chest. is there steam coming out of your ears? probably. is it for a good reason? yes.

everyday, you thank whoever prayed for you that day because now, you just have to ask and he’ll give it to you. “sae, can you hold my hand?” he’ll intertwine his hand with yours with firmness. “sae, will you kiss me?” of course he will, he always will. yes, while he needs to be prompted to do so, he has no problem in fulfilling the requests. the things that he does for you is uncanny to everybody else because, y’know . . . he’ll silently kill anybody that isn’t you if they even tried.

“you guys are gross!” rin looks like he’s about to hurl at the sight of sae kissing your cheek. you feel like your face is going to turn into a stove and your ears a boiling pot. “it’s not nice to sneak up on people.” sae rolls his eyes, pulling you closer to him whilst you hide your lips with your hand in humiliation.

“. . . i just wanted to ask where you put your training bag,” rin frowns—you feel bad for making the younger sad like that. “what about knocking?” sae is giving his brother the dirty look to which the raven-haired reciprocates, wiping his frown to scrunch his nose. “i didn’t know they were going to be here!” he exclaims, pointing directly at you—you feel betrayed! is he blaming you for his misfortunes? you no longer feel bad.

well . . . when that’s resolved you tell sae “let’s stop doing that . . .” you tense your face in internal cringe.

but not even 10 minutes later—he forces your head to rest on his shoulder—without prompting.

“don’t care. you’re the only person i’m willing to do this with, don’t interrupt it.” he grumbles—because you really are the only person he’s willing to hold.

sticky note. this man is definitely not fluent in physical touch but cut him some slack, yeah? my first draft of this was him and his lingering touches on your ass LMFAOO

cw . nothing . . ?, takes place when it’s cold or smthsmth

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍 ‘s actions speak louder than words, even if it’s not visible to others.

he isn’t good with his words. he isn’t good at loving. yet he still loves you.

there’s something in him that connects his view with affection to his brother—they both view as something not to be shared freely but to only be given to those who deserve it. lucky for you, rin sees you as someone who absolutely deserves it but nobody else deserves to see it.

not because he’s ashamed but because it’s supposed to be an intimate moment between partners that stays in between the two of them, that’s what he likes to think. ( oh, and the way he feels guilty for not expressing things verbally . . . )

times in the loudest of rooms where his teammates are annoying the shit out of him are times when he reaches under the table to hold your hand that’s rested on your lap. it’s obvious he’s seething by how tense his hands are.

“you good?” you whisper in the most subtle way possible. “. . .what does it look like?” he deadpans but gives you his answer after squeezing his palm impossibly closer to yours.

it’s comforting and not comforting by how unnervingly quiet he is—like he isn’t almost dead silent anyway, even with you. there’s a little voice in your head telling you that you should probably take him outside for a breather—nobody is bothering to converse with him anyway.

the air is cold and crisp outside, hitting your nostrils like a big ass truck but that isn’t on you mind. your eyes wander to rin’s red nose that probably got irritated by the cold too, then to how he subconsciously brings his collar up to try and cover half his face while his gaze is lingering off to the far distance, lastly how his hands get shoved right back into his front pockets.

“this better?” you ask, referring to the change of scenery and ambience compared to inside the building, his head nods slightly.

you smile.

and you aren’t looking at him anymore, joining him in looking in the distance. well, you and rin switch roles because now his eyes are on you and how your lips curl, only visible by the shitty lamp posts that line the darkened streets. he loves you so much he’s envious, he loves you so much he’s mad he can’t verbalize it nor is he really good at doing it physically either.

you’re really lukewarm, yet he hugs you when no one is looking—it’s feeling a lot warmer now.

sticky note. shoutout to @cup1ds-bow for this one . . . i’ll give you the biggest smooch to you celine . . . I HAD NO IDEAS FOR RIN

cw . this one is kinda gross help, biting, this stupidhead calls u babe ( blehhh ), this one is superrr short sorry

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈 is . . . an interesting character. you swear there’s something wrong with him when he playfully bites you.

you’re pretty sure there’s a mental hospital 20 minutes away from his apartment . . . maybe you’ll be able to sneak him in when he’s asleep—anything to stop these bites! what started off as a cute gesture for him to show affection to you soon became something more. you thought it was cute—in the beginning—playful nibbles on your lips, toothless chomps on your shoulder and arms . . . did you even know this guy when you suddenly got surprised when they started leaving tooth marks?

one thing about shidou is that he has quite the sharp canines, it’s no surprise you yelp out in surprise when he actually has the courage ( when does he not smh ) to test how sharp they really are. no, it’s not hard enough to draw blood—that isn’t his goal, surprisingly . . .

“what the fuck?!” you jump more in shock rather than pain. his grin goes from ear to ear, almost like he’s showing off the teeth he used to bite down on your arm. “sorry babe, did that hurt?” his says in faux worry, there’s a concerning drop in his tone. if you say no, he’ll continue to do it. if you say yes, he will also continue to do it.

“just shut up.” you roll your eyes. any answer other than yes or no will also lead to a path of him still doing it anyway. you’ll never win with him.

hell yeah you were right. there’s times where he sits next to you only to grip your arm to bring to his mouth to open and clamp down, it isn’t harsh but it’s more than enough to at least leave a mark in it’s way and maybe add another shade to your skin.

it’s totally fine though when he suddenly gains a degree in medicine and kisses it better, softer lips touching his newly-made bite-mark. it’s totally fine because he’s the artist and you’re his muse. it’s totally fine when his art supplies are completely free!

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 , the most unintentionally affectionate person. he doesn’t understand the butterflies in your stomach when he clumsily ( suffocates ) cuddles you.

you’re his personal pillow. it’s cute and endearing until he’s too lazy to walk to his bed and ends up crashing on you on the damn floor.

“sei . . . we need to get up.” you whine under him as his whole weight is pushed onto you on a cold hard floor with no cushion to soften the blow. you have no choice but to wrap your arms around his neck to stop yourself from suffocating. nagi is really warm with his baggy hoodie and his way too saggy sweatpants—seriously, how does he walk in those things? the soft fabric feels ticklish on your skin. God, please wake him up before we both end up sleeping on the floor tonight.

he’s just not letting it up, it feels like he just keeps getting heavier the more time that passes—and just the more impossible it feels to convince him to get off. it’s obvious he isn’t asleep just yet because if he was, you’d probably either be actually suffocating or maybe you’d be able to slip out of his grasp—oh and he’s literally looking straight at you with his chin rested on your chest. “t’lazy.” he mumbles in protest. honestly, you could laugh at this scene—not because you like being suffocated by your boyfriend but because the way your arms are wrapped around his neck make it look like you’re cradling just his head.

“don’t you wanna be comfortable on your bed?” you ask as another attempt to bribe him. you see the way his grey eyes keep staring at you with that stupid almost-pleading look that might say ‘please don’t tell me to move.’, but you’ll say it again because you doubt this is pleasant for him—it certainly isn’t for you. “please, seishiro . . .” you whisper, finger colliding with his soft snowy hair. his lips for a small pout at your insistence. “no.” he’s firm but obviously sleepy.

there’s something wrapping around your waist—his arms are wrapping around you waist. your eyes widen at the sudden grip.

“sei . . .”

“no more convincing. you’re more comfortable than my bed.” he says like he knows you’re going to propose another offer—which you weren’t . . . you wanted to tell him that you loved him but if just accepting defeat is enough for those three words, you’ll gladly lose.

“fine.”

because in the end, he’s the only one who can make you feel this way even when you’re pissed that you will have to sleep on the floor.

sticky note. i actually finished his part first LMFAO

cw . kissing, this man is a FREAK, . . . this is really . . . i put my emotion into this HLRPPP but it’s still short

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔 loves the way your lip balm tastes or he just really likes your lips.

“can you just admit you like kissing me?”

“what? your lip balm tastes really good today.” he acts oblivious to his own actions of smooshing your cheeks together to make you kiss him . . . the only thing on your lips is an unscented and unflavored lip product—what is he tasting?

you raise an eyebrow at his words, very interesting coming from a man like oliver aiku. he views such matters as casual, treats it like it’s casual, says it’s casual but then he acts like he becomes a new man every time his lips just slightly graze yours.

when he pulls away from your face, there’s something in his eyes that say he wants—needs more but he isn’t insatiable per se because he has self-control, he isn’t that reckless, y’know? have some faith in him!

but your lips make him question whether he even has faith in himself to keep him away that long, he’d be lying if he said you weren’t killing him right now.

his lips are prolonged against yours to make up for it.

aiku swears you lace something on—in?—somewhere on your lips that just gets him addicted. your lips don’t taste like anything yet they taste like everything he’s ever wanted—anything he’s ever craved of—they taste like you and maybe you’re all he’s ever dreamed of.

tags :) : @kenyuukissme @levihanmyotp @realmyth @vellichorira @pinkicyheart ( comment to be added! )

[pomefioredove]

for a oneshot how about vil gets sick and reader/yuu (your choice) helps take care of him? :3

o7

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ it comes with a fever

type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, took a more unique approach to the sick prompt, would say ooc but this is just how having a cold sore makes you act

"He hasn't left his room all day,"

Epel's still got that uncomfortably tight grip around your wrist. He hasn't let go since he dragged you out of Ramshackle.

"Not even Rook is allowed in. It's... damn strange," he mumbles, disturbed.

You stop in front of the Pomefiore Housewarden's door.

The boy looks at you. "I'd go in myself, but... ah, I'd figure you'd have more luck,"

Which you suppose is his way of saying "Vil PROBABLY won't kill you"

"It's got everyone spooked, Prefect. Like a herd 'a sheep without a sheepdog,"

So, it's up to you. Somehow.

Epel finally lets go of your wrist and disappears before you can ask any questions. Your newly freed hand closes around the door handle.

It's probably nothing, you tell yourself. But if Vil won't even see Rook... there's a slim chance he'll be happy to have you waltzing through the door.

You walk in, anyway.

The room isn't dark or dreary. There are no strange smells or messes. Nothing is out of place, except for the bundle of blankets on the bed and-

FWISH!

You drop to your knees just before a cushion-turned-missile can hit you.

"Get out!"

Definitely Vil. At least he's alive? "You're not supposed to take the name "throw pillow" literally!"

The familiar canto of your voice makes that bundle go quiet and still. And then, from its depths, a loud, uncharacteristic whine. "Don't look at meeeee-"

You can suddenly see why everyone in Pomefiore is "spooked".

"I'm not going to hurt you," you say, as if approaching a wild animal caught in a trap. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" he hisses.

"That's not very convincing,"

And, of course, he knows as much. Vil sighs, and you can see the bundle moving. He pulls out an arm and elegantly drapes it over his head. "I'm hideous,"

Did he get hit by a bus or something? You blink. "You're just sick. It's not the end of the world,"

A long, long sigh follows. The bundle moves again, and a person comes out of it- and if you weren't in his room and responding to his voice, you might not have recognized them as Vil.

He's messy. His hair is tangled and limp. His face is flushed and sweaty. He looks...

"See?" he points to his lower lip.

With the general state of him, you honestly hadn't even noticed the small bump on his lip. You blink.

"...That's what you're upset about?"

He glares. "Don't patronize me. I have a standard to uphold. I can't go out looking like this!"

"It's just a cold sore, Vil,"

"Just?" he crosses his arms. "Just, you say? You're either lucky or stupid. This isn't some common blemish I can cover up with a patch and concealer! This is a personal failure! All the supplements, all the medicated chapstick, and the vitamin C and I still-"

He shudders. "...And it comes with a fever, so if you have any sympathy to give, at least let it be for that,"

You sigh, a weary, but fond smile on your face. "Oh, Vil... let me get you some orange juice,"

He crosses his arms and almost pouts. "And the strawberries in the bottom drawer of the fridge,"

"Those, too,"

.

With your service, Vil eventually calms himself down, though he still lies in bed as if he were dying of something terrible.

By the third or fourth bad Neige Leblanche movie of the evening (making fun of them with you is good for his mental health), it's starting to get dark.

"Seven already?" you mutter, checking the time on your phone.

Vil's eyes widen, and he pretends as if he wasn't staring when you look back. "So?"

"So... I have to go," you say. "I have to make dinner. I have to-"

"You're not seriously going to leave me in this state, are you? I'm supposed to avoid stress,"

You blink. Is he really... He's guilt-tripping you?? You almost laugh- it's endearing to see him so...

...Not him.

"You want me to stay?"

"Yes," he says immediately. He clears his throat, and then: "...For my health. Go speak to Rook, get us takeout."

If you were a worse person, you might have teased him about how cute he is when he's needy... But you also know he's not going to be indisposed for long, and you'd like to survive to see next week.

You smile. "Sure. Can't say no to free food,"

"But no chocolate or nuts, and I'd like something with a lot of lysine, some order of tofu and beans. Ask Rook, he'll know what to get,"

A pause.

"...Thank you,"

He really is quite cute like this. Then again, Vil Schoenheit can pull absolutely any look off.

You head for the door, your hand closing around the cool handle once again.

"And Prefect?"

You turn. Vil hesitates, seemingly warring with himself over something. You can't say which side won, because he only sighs.

"Help yourself to whatever pajamas you'd like. And don't bother asking some dimwitted question about where you're going to sleep. You'll obviously be staying in my bed,"

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐱 || 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ your task was to keep an eye on the enigmatic salesman while gi-hun attempted to join the games again, but it turned out to be harder than expected as you end up falling in love with him

warnings_ age gap (not specified but legal) reader is implied to be American but not specified, sexual tension, reader is constantly bullying the salesman, ooc salesman, fluff?, angst?, violence, manipulation, stockholm syndrome???, questionable morals, do not romanticize this irl pls

notes_ i can’t stop associating so bad from Jesse Jo Stark and IT girl from JADE with this man sorry. RECOMMEND SPECIFIC DRAMAS OR MOVIES WITH GONG YOO TO WRITE MORE FICS, I ALREADY PLACED HIM IN MY PHONECASE, MAKE THIS CRUSH WORTHY

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 gong yoo

✰ Index (+ fics here)

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Lies can’t be considered to be completely bad. Sometimes you must avoid the truth to be safe, to protect… to seek. You left home with the excuse of a research project for your thesis. Truth is, you wanted to know what happened to your brother.

He graduated with a business degree and left for Chicago but after hearing nothing from him two months later, your parents went to the police.

None could be done. He was simply gone.

But you didn’t believe that. There was more, there had to…

With luck, you discovered your brother left Chicago two days after his arrival, and then boarded a plane with a route to Seoul. With almost zero comprehension of why he would leave the country, hell, the damn continent! It resulted astonishing to you.

It was so great you needed to get answers that you ventured into the unknown. You didn’t know how to speak Korean, you didn’t know much about the country you landed eight months ago.

And you didn’t believe a hundred percent about faith or destiny. But your first clues to your missing brother lead to a man who looked at a card in his hands while he flipped it continuously.

That was Seong Gi-hun. A man who had lost everything and then won but didn’t feel like that afterward.

For some weeks, you couldn’t process the fact that your brother was dead. He had joined some games deathly games that were worth it for many since you could leave as a wealthy winner.

Even more senseless because perhaps your family wasn’t rich, but your brother couldn’t have anything else than student debts and that was something that most adults could deal with.

It all led to drowning in sorrows and thinking your efforts to find him were in vain. The year your brother played the games was 2022 and the winner wasn’t him.

Gi-hun didn’t give up on you. He took care of you when he didn’t have to. Later told you about his plans and suggested you join him.

For your brother.

It was for his memory that you agreed to learn how to wield and use a gun. For his memory, you decided to stay and overcome the people behind those hideous games.

Leading you to become a ghost. Working as a teacher’s assistant until the plan was coming closer and you had to quit. Living in a rented apartment until you had to move out to a little house Gi-hun bought under a pseudonym for you to use while he was inside the games. He assured you could take all you needed from the money he had. Although you didn’t like to do so, you had to because you no longer had a job.

And for a long time, you had to be at the subway station looking for an apparent handsome, tall businessman who offered to play Ddakji and slapped people when they lost. Nobody had seen the salesman yet.

You avoided judging beauty but you hadn’t seen anyone who you considered to be handsome, and no man was slapping people.

Between lifting weights, practicing core strength, having no job and searching for a businessman who bullied random people, you had found a routine.

A lonely routine. You held some camaraderie with the men who also looked for the salesman, but you hadn’t found a real friend other than Gi-hun.

It was late when you were told they had found the salesman. Rain poured and you were at a restaurant having dinner. With hurried feet you took a cab that left you at the door of the solitary pink motel, never noticing certain cops looking from the other side of the street.

When you opened the door, you heard voices and secluded cries. You pulled out your gun and carefully walked towards the pleading sounds.

In a room, there lays a tied man, pleading for freedom. You know him; it’s Choi Woo-Seok.

His eyes are teary, he’s beaten and shakes desperately. You only let him know with his hands to quiet down and to calm down.

Both of your hands are on the trigger. You slowly walk back towards the entrance, where the voices can still be heard. You identify Gi-hun as there. So you try to be more careful, even when the music playing disturbs you.

The darkness of the room makes it easier for you to disguise. That’s when you can see the men sitting in the middle of the room.

They’re playing the Russian roulette and it makes you frown from cringe and panic.

It wasn’t hard to understand that the man facing Gi-hun was none other than the salesman.

He was indeed handsome. He looked like a clean and neat businessman, and the way he arrogantly spoke and held his gun said a lot about him. He was insane.

The only thing you can care about is to prevent death. Your hand doesn’t shake, fingers confidently on the trigger, waiting for the right moment while your free hand sneaks inside the pocket of your coat, pulling another loaded gun.

When the salesman raises the gun, pointing at the ceiling and he is busy talking, you pull the trigger.

Both men turned to look at you in surprise.

Gi-hun suddenly looks relieved, while the salesman stares at you so deeply that it makes you nervous for a second.

But your reflexes were fast enough to see that he was about to move, so you pointed at him with the other gun, shooting at him with a potent sedative right in his shoulder.

“Where did you get that?” Gi-hun asked you. “A month ago, in the kitchen of the Chinese lady’s restaurant around the block”

“Thank you” You nod at him, seeing how he went straight untie the man in the other room.

You look back at the salesman, who is unconscious on the couch. Slowly, you walk towards him. Almost nervous that he would move, jump out and kill you, but it’s impossible.

Your hands start wandering around his neck, taunting his skin and fabric covering it to see if he possesses a microphone or camera that would put everyone in danger.

At the same time, a cop arrives, accusing you and Gi-hun of killing the salesman.

Everything changed in the span of a night.

…

He woke up to the smell of alcohol. His eyes could barely focus but he knew his head was in the lap of a woman. He knew he was in handcuffs and his feet were tied up.

Between faded memories, he remembered your face and hands pointing a gun at him.

When he tried to focus his view again, he realized you had stood up, he saw your blurred silhouette glancing around the room until he felt more oriented. He could hear you talking in English, often mixing words in Korean with bad pronunciation. Something about a doctor and ordering Mexican food for takeout.

Pretty woman, he thought. From your sophisticated and unusual pick of heels, your dress and coat, your earrings, hair, and shade of lipstick. You truly were a sight.

Once you hang up, you turnto see him seemingly awake.

“Gi-hun! The freak is awake!” you yell, making him frown.

Freak? He has been an honest gentleman with you.

“Your Korean is not good” his voice sounds raspy and he can barely sit straight with his extremities tied up.

“Neither is your English” he chuckles briefly.

Choi Woo-Seok appears at the door and looks scared at the salesman, who barely eyes him, still focused on you.

“Gi-hun left with Jun-ho to speak properly” You roll your eyes, nodding.

“Alright. I ordered food for everyone, the dentist is coming to check Gi-hun and this man over here. Keep an eye on that, please” he nods, closing the door and leaving you alone with the salesman again.

“I guess I’ll have to do it myself” you basically whisper to yourself.

“A doctor?” Ignoring the man, you step almost between his legs and you sense he got taken aback by the proximity.

“Take off your clothes” his eyes opened a little more and you almost laughed.

“Excuse me?” one of his brows looked slightly arched, half playfully and half taken aback.

“Take off your clothes, sir” you repeated, trying to sound calm.

“I’m afraid I’m handcuffed and tied from my ankles, miss” he shows you his hands and oddly moves his free fingers.

“Hmm, too bad. I will then…”

You only made him look like a mess. But you found a tiny camera and microphone well hidden in his blazer.

Your hands never trembled over his skin. And unbeknownst to you, he was on fire. You even cleaned the blood on his face and he discovered how soft your hands were.

Once you crushed the camera and microphone, you took a seat in the same place Gi-hun was an hour ago, facing the salesman.

“Two years ago you handed a card to a man. He was non-native, had green eyes, ebony hair, tall like you, and was very friendly” you start, feeling a pang in your chest while describing your brother.

Meanwhile, the man thought back on the hundreds of people he had tricked. It was easier since less than 8% of the players were non-Koreans.

“Ah, yes, I remember him. Very expressive and handsome. You people from the occidental are very extroverted” he said with a cheeky smile and you almost rolled your eyes. “That was your brother, I’m assuming”

“He was, and yes; While you only made an offer and he accepted, you didn’t tell him his life was at stake” The way he looked at you with arrogance made your blood boil.

“Ma’am, the games are made for the mere reason of helping people. It is just one lucky individual who takes the prize”

“Bullshit. It is entertainment for the rich and a purge of innocent people you and your shitty folks believe are useless. I come from the epitome of capitalism, don’t fool me” he stares too much at you. In his head, he wondered why you got so invested in the whole situation. You seemed young, smart, pretty even. Why were you wasting your mundane life trying to be a hero?

“You and Gi-hun are not saviors, miss. Him trying to contact my boss is useless. You keeping me here, is pointless. The games will go on and my superiors will succeed, while you will watch and hate that your attempts to stop it were worthless” he says.

You huff tired, walking back and forth in the little motel room.

“Good lord, Why are you so obsessed with protecting an organization that will likely replace you the moment your heart stops beating?” He tilts his head, with his hands in cold handcuffs under the table and a little smirk. He almost looks adorable.

“I know where you come from. I know you have never experienced the extreme lack of money. I was doing my research when my superior; The Frontman, found a foreign woman working with Mister Gi-hun” In his words, you try to hide the fear. Of these people hurting your family. Of them knowing more than they should about your plans with Gi-hun and Jun-ho. “Don’t be fearful, ma’am. We have no business with people outside of Korea. But you shouldn’t be digging along those filthy scums. Now you’re also part of this”

The silence makes him feel like he won. His smile is pretty, but he was a fucking asshole.

“And for what miss y/n? For your brother? Who proved to be desperate and needy like everybody else. A man who died and nobody came for him…” he leaned, showing you his cuffed hands and mocking you with every bashful word he spitted out.

Your eyes get teary. You sigh, nodding and looking away. The salesman stared at you with ease, believing he had won once again.

But you take him by surprise when the heel of your boot kicks his ribs and sends him to the floor.

You quickly grab your gun and kneel beside him. The barrel of the gun traces his temple and cheekbone slowly as you lean to his ear.

“You are a man and I’m a woman who are simple mortals. Quit with the arrogance and start speaking the truth” you spit out with feigned sweetness. Your knee brushes his lips and he only looks at you defenseless, but soon goes back to smile. “Why don’t you try to be a good boy for me, sir…”

“You waste your time, dolly,” he says in Korean and makes you frown.

“Fuck you” you spit at him, literally. You couldn’t care less if you weren’t acting decent. The salesman could go to hell. You just grew more eager for Gi-hun and Jun-ho to accomplish the mission.

…

The door was softly closed even when your ears were ringing in anger. Gi-hun and Jun-ho were standing, expecting you.

“Did he say anything?” you sighed, shaking your head. “He’s a fucking asshole”

“We can’t give up. The plan must keep going but now that we have him, he could give us details” You nod at the young ex-cop. Gi-hun only huffed but ended up agreeing as well.

“The only way to keep him steady is if you stay with him” Your heart almost stops as you look at Jun-ho feeling mortified.

“Me?” He nods, crossing his arms.

“Either way is dangerous for y/n. She’s definitely not coming with me to the games, she shouldn’t go searching the island, and staying alone with that sociopath will not calm me while I’m gone” The worry in Gi-hun made you smile a little, he really cared about you and it made you feel like everything was worth it.

For him, your brother and anyone who had joined or planned to join the games.

“I will stay with him. We would be pretty much isolated and if we stay together 24/7, I shall be fine”

“You will be protected, you have my word,” Jun-ho says softly.

“I won’t be able to see you tomorrow. Take care of yourself, use any of the money, and do not give up on making the salesman speak” The tone the older man uses makes you feel a little teary, it’s a goodbye. “Jun-ho and Woo-Seok will keep you safe. And if anything happens to me, take all the money and go back home”

You frown, continuously shaking your head.

“Gi-hun, I wouldn’t be able to leave if something happened to you. I would stay until I knew what happened” he smiled, giving you a quick hug before he got his jacket.

“Keep your eyes open, kid” you nod, wishing him farewell.

The room fell into silence. And it was only you and the salesman in the other room.

…

If anyone walked into the house in one of the most humble districts, they would believe it was a social experiment. A man tied up from the hands and toes has to follow a woman like a lost puppy each day.

From having breakfast, lunch, and dinner together, him being blindfolded while you took a shower and you playing games on your iPad while he took one too.

The silence was the excruciating part. He barely talked and when you tried to pry about him, it likely ended up with you furiously pulling his hair and leaving the room made a mess.

“I could be useful, ma’am,” he said, sitting straight at the table. “The least I can do in lockdown is to help you with banalities”

Out of his suit-tailored suit, he almost made you think about the word ‘domestic’. He was wearing a grey hoodie, black sweatpants, and white socks.

“The only thing I’m asking you to help me with, you cannot provide” you reply, serving him a cup of coffee.

“I don’t drink coffee” he politely declines de cup, and you roll your eyes.

“Really? You look like someone who needs a lot of caffeine” The playful tone came out of nowhere and it made you bite your tongue.

“And I wouldn’t take you as an addict for it” It’s the first time both of you actually speak and it’s odd. “Who would’ve thought?”

“Yeah, I like it very toasted with just a smidge of almond creamer” You hear him chuckle and it makes you smile. But you remember the reason why you are there.

You aren’t there to talk about coffee.

“So… How long had you been doing… your job” one of his hands was cuffed to the chair beside him, and with the free one, he was able to eat.

“Some years, five, maybe seven. But I’ve been in the organization for longer” You almost dropped your fork, surprised to hear he was actually answering.

You wouldn’t push it too far.

“Are the games really that terrible like Gi-hun said?” The man tilts his head.

Perhaps he was getting dementia and he was forgetting you had him captive in a random house. But he was willing to answer.

“They are. But that’s what they sign up for…”

“No. That’s how you and your peers have shaped the games” he makes a feigned pot, cleaning the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “We’ve already talked about this…”

“Listen asshole, I just need you to tell me where the fuck is that damn island” It’s obvious you were getting exasperated and he was enjoying it.

Wearing a sundress and sandals, messy hair, and barely traces of makeup, you looked lovely to his eyes. Almost impossible to imagine you could get angry so easily.

“If your friends were smarter, perhaps they would have already figured it out”

“You really rather die than accept you’re just their dog. Just a messenger who will be replaced once they notice you have mysteriously disappeared…”

Now was his turn to get angry. You could see the way he was tense.

“Not very different than you, ma’am. You were left behind to keep an eye on me. Just a little ragdoll to use”

You slap him so hard that even some birds peeking in the window fly away at the sound. The red tonality starts spreading across his pale cheek.

“Do it again” he blurts out and it boils your blood. He must’ve felt hard by your harsh action but you were enraged.

So you did again, harder this time.

His expression was indescribable. He seemed pleased and you hated it.

“Fuck you!” You yell exasperated by him.

“I told you once, this is pointless” You harshly grab his jaw and make him look up at your eyes. He has a playful smile and some of his hair falls scattered across his forehead.

“I will make you spit out every dirty little secret of yours. Even if it takes longer than needed”

He leans even closer and you literally feel his dry lips against yours but it doesn’t make you flicker.

No matter how wet the whole situation is making you feel.

“Why so quiet, doll?” he asks, grabbing your hip and moving his hand dangerously back and forward towards your ass.

“What a shame you are not complying. If you did, you’d had me begging for you to fuck me hard”

He gulped shocked, you won.

Your free hair, the view of your cleavage, the proximity to your lips, and the words that spilled out of your mouth were driving him crazy.

“You’d love it, right? I can tell no one has fucked you good enough. That’s the real shame, sweetheart” You want to ignore the way you feel you are throbbing, as well as the sight of his tightening pants. “No need, I can get wild by myself”

“Really? You like to get messy in the sheets?” You nod, feeling bold and sassy, gently touching his inner thighs and abandoning the touch once you’re inches away from feeling his hard cock.

“Yes, sir. I love watching my own reflection, gasping and moaning while my fingers slip in and out of my cunt and I feel so close to squirting”

“Fuck…” he curses in Korean a trail of words, which makes you smile as you leave.

…

The salesman was once very poor, he was a guard in the games, became head of them, and then jumped to be the recruiter.

He killed his father and became the most isolated man to protect his and the organization’s identity.

At least that’s what he revealed when you forced him to get drunk. You also got drunk to set it equal but both of you remembered everything. The salesman even earned the right to be out of the handcuffs. Which resulted odd to you, because he hadn’t tried anything to kill you or escape.

It also made you wonder if he was feeling weird things like you.

Sat on the balcony at midnight during a sudden heat wave, watching the skyline of Seoul at a fair distance, it almost felt like a simulation. Where he wasn’t your captive, he was a good man and both of you were having a date. As ridiculous as it sounded.

“Okay. I get you’ve had enough in life, but don’t you want to actually live? To wander and experience tranquility. You’re getting old and time will pass” you unexpectedly said, even taking yourself aback.

“I chose this life some time ago. It’s what I get…” you wanted to take his hands and tell him he had a chance.

But he was just the salesman.

“I would like to beg you to think twice. To question yourself if you want to die as their… dog, or start living. But you won’t listen, you are missing the warmth of life… and love”

You didn’t mean to say all that. But you were also drunk. And that’s what you honestly thought about him.

And that was two days ago.

The most important phone in the house rang. And you literally jumped out of the bathtub to pick up the call.

In a drenched dress that was supposed to be your outfit of the day and hair tangled up in a towel, you get towards the phone, ignoring the salesman seated steps away.

“Hello?…” you are greeted by a distorted voice but soon you know it’s Jun-ho.

“…y/n!… Hope you’re alright, Have you found out anything?” You sigh, already answering the man.

“No. Tiny details of the man but nothing that would actually lead to the island” you almost whisper, hoping the salesman won’t hear you.

“Not much luck here either. A storm will impact tonight. And we lost contact with Gi-hun”

“WHAT?” You nearly scream, the salesman looks up at you with curiosity and you continued the call, opting to whisper if needed. “Yes, the microphone is gone”

“For fuck’s sake…”

“If nothing can be done. We will return tonight, but I have high hopes” he says.

“I’m hopeful too. I will try again with the salesman, Jun-ho” The call was getting harder to understand, you could barely hear the man on the other side. You only hear one thing.

“If needed, kill him, y/n” he hangs up and it leaves you made a mess.

You look back, finding him charming while trying to flip the page of a crossword book.

You couldn’t kill the salesman.

Developing feelings for the man who tricked your brother into joining the games, was almost insane.

You sobbed without care sitting on the couch facing the bed, feeling like you were dancing on your brother’s grave. Like you were failing Gi-hun, Jun-ho, and all the crew. Your friends…

But your salesman was interesting, every conversation with him made you forget about everything as simple as it could be. You liked his big hands and his silly smile whenever you tried to outsmart him.

You are so screwed.

He stared at you sobbing with your hands covering your face. And something made him feel sorry. He hadn’t realized that spending a week with you made him remember a lot of things about humanity.

He knew you were stressed out and scared of losing your friends. He never had friends or girlfriends to rely on, because he thought he didn’t need them. He was better off alone, feeling powerful and condescending for finally being on the other side of the coin.

But what was life without love?

“Let’s play a game,” he says.

“Not in the mood for your bullshit” when you turn to look at him, he is pointing at the open balcony and the view of the city.

“We’ll play mimic. I will tell you the location of the island and you only have three guesses” You roll your eyes. “You can say random shit to confuse us”

“You have my word. This is your only chance…”

“And if you win?” He shrugs. “We can talk about that later”

He would make sure you won.

“Three guesses…” You nod at him, noticing he wasn’t being playful and cocky as usual. He was calm and almost looked innocent.

Slowly, he points at the painting above his head; it’s the sea.

“In the sea, yes, we know the island is on the sea, genius” he smiles, then points at the painting again. This time, his fingers trail downwards, trying to reach one of the edges; to your left.

His hair hadn’t grown in the slightest, but out of his suit, with ordinary clothes and no way to tame his hair, your salesman looked divine. With an adorable expression, hoping to make you understand.

You loved him.

“You are not paying attention” you huff in annoyance.

He trails his fingers down the painting and then points at the decoration of candles at the little table between you two.

His fingers touch each candle, making you follow the pattern of a simulated bridge.

“Dammit, Couldn’t you be less specific? I don’t understand shit…” he sighs, shifting on his seat.

“One more guess…” you’re not sure if you believe him. He could either keep making lies to shift your attention somewhere else. And you didn’t have the heart to call Jun-ho with uncertain hopes.

The salesman points at the painting one last time and you pay real attention. He had big hands and long fingers, fitting a pianist. They move downwards above the sea of dried oil paint. Then, he points at the skyline of the city and finally trails the candles forming a bridge.

Inthe sea, left, south, bridge and the city.

Your eyes snap open.

In the sea, towards left and south, with a bridge that connects to the city.

“THE ISLAND IS LOCATED SOUTHWEST, ALIGNED WITH THE PIER OF THE CITY!” you scream in happiness and the salesman nods in silence, you cheer, typing the message and sending it to Jun-ho “OH MY GOD, I LOVE YOU”

You were about to hug him, but you stopped. Quickly, you stand up but you feel his hand pull you down again.

“Say it again…” his voice sounded deep and it made you feel even more embarrassed after all.

“I’m sorry. I hate to admit it, but I’m human. We’ve spent so much time together that…” Feeling completely helpless and embarrassed you look away. But his touch is there again, caressing your thigh. This time his touch is delicate, unlike the first days where he would seek control and indulge pain even in the slightest.

“I feel things too” he admits, shocking you.

“You feel things?”

“By telling you where the island is, your friends can succeed and with luck, everything will be over. You’ll have avenged your brother and helped future people who could’ve died in the games. The government would step in and I would be charged, you’ll likely get deported or fined even when you did the right thing” You let him speak and trace random patterns in the skin of your thigh because it felt right. “I am no good and I shouldn’t say anything else, but if you’d have me… I would gladly run away with you”

Your heart makes your cheeks bloom a beautiful color of blush. It was wrong, not part of the plan, out of your mind. But it felt right, an inevitable consequence.

You literally jump to kiss him. And in an amazing turn of events, the salesman transformed into the most submissive man.

His hands were almost trembling while they held you.

He couldn’t believe it. All the efforts he put into being loyal to the island that gave him the chance to become someone, were over the floors. All he knows is that when he looked at your bright eyes, he wanted it to be his sight forever. Your company matches him perfectly, you are the type of woman he didn’t know he craved.

“We might need to go to therapy and this is a terrible idea but I’ll pretend you’re worth it,” you say in his lips, biting his lower lip gently.

He smiles. Unsure if he’s making the right decision but confident that he’s choosing the right partner. The salesman believes he doesn’t deserve a second option. He hated himself for a variety of reasons. But he couldn’t comprehend the way you made him feel. It was his obsessive nature what had been completely shattered by your arrival. Transforming into something else, unknown and prone to make him addicted.

He hated vulnerability, but he was welcoming it with open arms for you.

“I don’t want to ever let you go”

“Don’t you dare, darling” you say, moving to straddle him and kiss him a little more.

___________

SALESMAN X READER X FRONTMAN FIC NEXT AND IT’S WEIRD AND MESSY AND A DISAPPOINTMENT, STAY TUNED

[rafesslxt]

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 | 𝐚.𝐬.

nsfw content | anakin x female bsf!reader | moodboard

aesthetic: 🎞️🍝🫂🫦❤️‍🔥 | words: 3,5k

「 ✦ after just another bad date you seek comfort from your best friend and roommate Anakin which turns into a steamy session ✦ 」

warnings: smut, modern!anakin, best friends to lovers, reader describing her worst date ever to Anakin, making out, hand job, blowjob, teasing, just the tip first, unprotected p in v, pxrn link inserted into the story so don't open in public, fucking the whole night, begging, breeding kink I think

note: the p!link is from twitter, you have to be logged in to twitter to watch it/ be able to see it. English is not my first language.

"Movie night?"

When Anakin read my message, he instantly knew my date didn't went well. It was something like a tradition between us whenever someone seeks comfort.

He replied with a "Of course, when will you be here? Have you already eaten?" He always asked me that. If I have eaten and drunken enough, every day.

"I'll be there in 30 and no not really." I replied before putting my phone away to drive back home.

After college Anakin and me moved in together after being roommates in school, that's how we met each other in first place. It was just always so easy between us. No drama, no arguing, no cleaning after each other. Most of the times.

When I pulled up at our apartment I kind of knew what awaited me already. With a sigh I entered the apartment, smelling food which put a smile on my face. I heard Anakin walking towards me.

"Woah." he says, eyeing me up and down in my new dress. "Thank's.. that's even more than he said." I chuckled and pulled off my heels. "That bad huh?" he asks me, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest.

"Yeah, that bad. I'll just change and come back down yeah?" I say, already up the stairs to change out of my tight dress. When I looked at myself in the mirror I just didn't get it. I looked bomb, why he hell were all these guys I date so.. trashy? It's not like my character didn‘t matched my looks.

With a groan I changed into grey loose sweatpants and a sports bra. Walking back down into the living room I just couldn't hide my smile when I saw the dimmed lights, Harry Potter on our TV and snacks on the little coffee table. The couch was covered with blankets and pillows. I walked further into the kitchen where Anakin stood, putting Pasta on two plates.

I walked up behind him and hugged him from behind so my cheek was pressed against his back. "Thank you Ani." I muttered. "No problem. Come on take your plate and lets watch Harry Potter so you can tell me what it was this time." he had to hide a chuckle, not wanting to make me mad.

I did like he told me and sat down on our couch with my plate in hand, starting to eat as he starts the movie. "Soo..?" he begins, digging into his food now too.

"Ugh it was.. hideous! It started really good you know. He was dressed well, we met in front of this really nice restaurant and talking to him was so easy. Until, we looked for what to order. I told him to just order the lasagna for me because I had to go to the bathroom."

"Oh I have a feeling where this is leading to.." Anakin joked with a smirk on his lips.

"So when I came back everything was fine, he tells me he ordered food so we continue talking until the food comes and that motherfucker just ordered a fucking salad for me. And you know what? That's not even the worst! Without fucking dressing because apparently 'that's what makes you gain weight'."

"What?" Now he was full on laughing and almost chocking on his food. "Oh that has to be the best story of 'em all by now."

"Oh no I'm not finished, the story goes further. So I'm sitting there, the waitress looking at me apologetic, I didn't even knew what to say so I just ate that excuse of a salad and when I asked him why he ordered it, he tells me 'I like em skinny' , like, what the fuck?"

Anakin puts his food away now because he had to laugh so hard he fell on his back. "Ani!" I whined but also laughing a litte. " I-I'm sorry that happened to you but- but It's so funny to me imagining you sitting there like 'What the fuck bro' "

"After that I thought it couldn't get more worse so why not go home with him and at least get a good fuck out of it, right? So we drive home to him, talking, blabla. Then it get's heated and shit and Ani, I swear to god I had to hold back on laughing when he pulled down his pants! I never felt so bad for someone in my life! "

At this point Anakin forgot how to breath properly. Laughing so loud the whole neighborhood had to hear.

"And when he wanted to go down on me and I let him, it was so bad I just had to stop him and tell him I have to go and oh boy he didn't took that well. He got so mad to a point where he told me girls would fight me to be at my place right now.When I opened the door to leave and he asked me what my problem was I just told him 'I like em big' like he told me he likes the skinny in the restaurant."

All you could hear through the apartment was Anakin's laugh. "Stooop it's so bad I'm just thinking about dating girls!" I joke and smile at him as he slowly calms down with tears in his eyes.

"You probably broke him at this point." he laughs, teasing me a litte. " Yeah I hope so to be honest. Maybe he will let women order what they like now."

He giggles and starts eating again.

"I just think I‘ll go for older guys at this point." I huff rolling my eyes and really considering it while digging into my food too.

"Older guys?" Anakin repeats with a full mouth and looks at me with knitted eyebrows. "Yeah, maybe it's the age. Like, all these so called men, just act like little boys."

"Hey! I'm not a boy!" Anakin looks at me with an opened mouth, acting as If he was shocked. I roll my eyes at him playfully before putting my empty plate away. "Oh yeah? What makes you different from all these boys I go out with huh?" I ask him with a teasing smirk on my face.

"Uh - did you ever see one running out that door before ?" He was right, they never run away from him. It's the opposite to be exact. They always try to stay, most of the times giving me dirty looks which I find funny every time.

"No, but thanks for reminding me how I always have to wear headphones." "Not my fault I'm that good." he says with an arrogant smile. I only scoff to this and turn back to the Tv. If I'm being honest, I would give a lot to be with someone like Anakin. They always sound like they are having the time of their lives. Lord help me.

After a while of watching the movie in front of us together I got kind of.. impatient? No that's the wrong word. I just couldn't stay still, always shifting somehow every few minutes.

"Whats wrong?" he whispers with a soft voice, my head on his shoulder. "Uhm, I don't know I feel uneasy." "Uneasy?" "Yeah." I simply reply. I shift again, pressing my thighs together this time.

"You sure you mean uneasy and not horny?" he grins now, licking his lips. "Fuck off." I answer him, rolling my eyes. " No, I'm serious, maybe that's why you're so pent up. When was the last time you actually had an orgasm while having sex?" My eyes go wide and I turn my head back to him, shock on my face. " Anakin! I'm not telling you that!"

"Why not? We always tell each other everything. I'm sure this wouldn't hurt to answer right?" I sigh and look away again. "I don't know." I answer him quietly.

"Come on, tell me. I bet - " "Anakin that was my answer to your question. I don't know. I don't know when the last time was." I repeat.

"What? What do you mean you don't know? You were in a relationship half a year ago with -" I interrupted him again. "He never made me come." I sigh again as this just reminded me at how desperate I was at this point.

"Wow.. " he just breathed out with his eyebrows knitted and a little smug grin on his face.

An idea popped into my head, but I tried to shake it away as fast as I could. "What? What is it?" he asked, seeing my expression. "I - never mind, Anakin. Just – let's watch the movie again, okay?"

But he shook his head and turned my head towards his with his fingers on my chin. "No, tell me what you were thinking. I can see it in your face."

Suddenly my face got all red and I felt the heat rising up my neck. I never felt that way around Anakin, I was always comfortable and easy, calming down my nerves instead of getting them wrecked.

"I uh - I really can‘t tell you Ani." He tilted his head down a little and looked at me with piercing eyes. "Tell me." he commanded and repeated himself.

I swallowed down the clump that had formed in my throat. I knew that look, it was the same one he used on all these girls in clubs and bars before taking them home.

"Please don‘t look at me like that." "Why not?" yes that scene aaahh

"It‘s making me uncomfortable..“ i lied, looking away with my eyes even tho he still holds my chin. "Come on, tell me.."

Here goes nothing huh? "Would you.. I mean.. help me?" "Help you with what?" Oh now he was just teasing me. "Ani.. you know what.." I whined and glared at him, my eyes on his again. He just shook his head and and a deep chuckle rumbled through his throat.

"Maybe.. but I still want you to say it." "I want you to fuck me." I blurted out bluntly. There it is. No way back now.

"You sure you want me to do that? Because there‘s no backing down from it.“ I nod my head as a sign of 'yes' before he crashed his lips into mine.

Both his hands found the sides of my face and placed themselves there, stroking the skin with his thumbs almost in a loving kind of way. When I finally realized what was happening, I pushed him back onto his back and sat down on his lap.

One of his hands ghosted over my bare back since I only wore my sportsbra, down to my ass, grabbing it and pushing me more against his hips.

"Fuck you have no idea how long I‘ve wanted this y/n.." he groaned against my lips, kissing me with passion. "Really?"

He pulled away for a moment and stared at me as If I had three heads. "Are you kidding me? You know how many boners I‘ve had in my life when you walked around in the morning with nothing but my shirt on? Or when you came back from the gym all sweaty and panting in your little shorts?"

I had to chuckle lightly and shook my head. "Well sorry 'bout that then.." " Don‘t worry baby, now‘s your chance to make up for it." he smirked before he started kissing my neck and placing his hand on my thigh, squeezing it through my sweatpants. His soft lips left a wet trail down my skin, sending shivers down my spine. His scent filled my nose and made my head dizzy.

I started grinding against him, already feeling his boner through his pants. My fingers pulled his zipper down eagerly and pushed his pants down. "Shit.." i mumble to myself when I saw the big tent in his boxers. He glared up at me with a proud smirk on his lips. "What?Surprised?" he smirked and put his hands on my hip, grinding me against it again.

"You will be my last try with guys my age. If this ends just like all my other dates then I’m gonna go for older guys." I huff, supporting myself with my hands on his shoulders. I gazed down at him, taking in his angelic face. He always looked so beautiful to me, even more now when he bit his lip and his eyelids were heavy and hooded like he enjoyed this just as much as I did.

"You'll never think about someone else when I'm ready with you, promised." he groans, lifting his hips up against my core. Both his hands found my ass again before he suddenly got up from the couch, carrying me up the stairs. "I'm gonna fuck you into your mattress so every time you sleep in your bed, you smell us."

He kicked my door open and walked towards my bed where he let me down at the edge. My hands immediately found his boxers which I pulled down, met by his hard cock slapping against his stomach. I swallowed the clump in my throat down before looking back up at him. "What? Surprised?" he asked with an arrogant smirk.

I bit my lip and looked back down, slowly taking him into my hand. The tip was already leaking pre-cum over it's red skin. He was thick and a lot bigger than the guys I've had before him. I let a finger slide down a prominent vein that started at the base and ended right before the tip.

With my hand around him, I leaned forward and wrapped my lips around the tip, teasingly sucking on it while my hand slowly moved up and down his shaft.

"Mmhh fuck, I'm gonna go insane If this is just another dream." Dream? He was dreaming about me? Doing stuff like that with him? My ego boosted, so I sunk down a bit further with my mouth before I felt Anakin's hands in my hair, tugging at my scalp.

My second hand steadied against his thigh and pushing him back every time he wants to go deeper. I let go of him and started to just kiss the head, letting my tongue glide over it. "Stop teasing me.." I heard him mumble, his eyes closed and his lips parted slightly.

I let my tongue glide over his cock from the bottom to the top which seemed to be the final straw for his not existing patience. He pushed my back onto the bed so my head met one of my pillows. He tugged my pants and top of, leaving me in just my slip. His eyes slowly wandered over my body with a soft smile on his lips.

"You're beautiful y/n." I don't know what it was but something inside my stomach moved when he said my name like that. He leaned between my legs, one hand stroking the inside of my thigh. "Your skin is so soft.." he started kissing the same spots where his hand just rested a few seconds ago. ".. and you smell even better."

He pushed his thumb right against my clit through my soaked underwear. "Ani.." I moaned, pushing my head back into the pillow.

"What do you want, hm?" he tauntingly asked as If he didn't knew the answer. "Fuck me, please." I saw the surprise in his face when I answered him so bluntly without batting even one lash.

"Oh where's the fun in giving you what you want so soon, huh?" He pushed my underwear to the side, his grip hard around the cotton. "Shit.." he groaned when he saw me exposed, licking his lips hungrily. "I'm gonna wreck your world baby." he more laughed to himself than with me. He pushed his fat tip against my pussy, running it through my soaked folds, over my clit over and over again in a tormenting way.

"Ani.. please. I need you." I started begging at some point, not being able to take his teasing anymore. "Want me to push it in?" he smirked devilish before he only pushed the head inside, already making my eyes roll. God how am I supposed to take all of him? But as soon as he pushed in, he pulled back again. He did the same procedure again and again.

"I can't believe these idiots didn't treat or fuck you right with such a tight little cunt." he breathed out, his chest moving up and down, trying to control himself. "Need you.." I mumbled, my hips shaking slightly.

Then, without a single warning, he pushed in again but this time more than the tip, but all the way to the half of his cock. A loud gasp and moan left my lips, my jaw hanging loose and wide open. "Oh fuck–" "What was that huh? Still need someone older princess?"

His hips moved forward again until his whole length was inside my greedy cunt, my walls pulling him inside. "Fucking hell, you're so damn tight. Already squeezing me empty.." he groaned and started to move his hips back and forth against mine.

I grabbed his back, digging my nails into his skin. "Hold on tight baby." he chuckled before he started to fuck me into the mattress like there was no tomorrow. My eyes widened and my nails dug deeper into his skin, leaving marks all over it and my legs wrapping around his hips to feel him even deeper.

He leaned down and breathed against my lips and touching my forehead with his. "You feel so good.." a moan left his mouth. "Oh fuck Anakin, you're so – fuck yes." I arched my back and pulled on the hair of his neck with one of my hands.

"You keep your hands where they are or I'll tie you up." he taunts right into my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

The night was long, it felt like hours and I heard early birds chirping at some point. I laid on my stomach, pillow under my tummy and ass up in the air while he pounded me from behind. His hands were on my throat and on my nipples, playing with them, making me even wetter than before.

"God Ani.. need to cum.." I mumbled tired into the pillow under my face, a whiney tone to it. my eyes rolling back and my bottom lip tugged between my teeth, probably looking like straight from porn. "Aw what, did I fuck you stupid?" he mocked me with a following grunt, the sound of skin slapping filling the air around us.

A whimper left my mouth as an answer and I moved one of my hands down to my clit, rubbing it in circles, desperate to cum. "Want help with that?" he murmured into my ear from behind, his sweaty chest against my sore back. I nodded helpless and let him push my hand away to replace it with his own.

"Please let me come, please." I cried, pushing my ass with the same rhythm against his hips. he squeezed my throat tighter, letting my mind go fuzzy. "Nhhg fuck yes - come around my cock baby, fucking drip down on me like the little slut you are." he groaned into my ear.

I squeezed my eyes shut when the heat inside my tummy became too much and finally exploded. My mouth hung open and a broken cry erupted from my throat. My legs were shaking like crazy, my walls clenching around his throbbing cock.

"Hm fuck yeah, milk me baby.. want me to come inside that pretty pussy? Wanna feel my cum?" I heard it in his voice how close he was and that he was probably holding back right now. "Yes.." I sighed tired but happy which was enough for him to slap my ass hard and let out a quiet whimper, creating goosebumps on my skin from that needy sound.

"God I'm gonna come, I'm - ohh.." he gasped in a deep breath and held still, shooting his load right inside of me, painting my pulsing walls. A sensitive whimper came out of me and I looked back behind me. Anakin's head hung low and his upper body was shaking slightly from his orgasm.

He slowly and carefully pulled out of me, collapsing next to me. His arms wrapped themselves around me and pulled me closer against his chest. "That was wonderful.. such a high." he sighed against my hair. I nuzzled my head against his chest and took a deep breath, smelling his scent. "I should have asked you way sooner.." I giggled quietly, my eyes still closed since they were heavy and burning, seeking for some sleep.

"Hmm.. don't worry. You'll never have to worry about that ever again." he whispered back, pulling my even closer than before.

thank u for reading, it‘s the first time i wrote something for anakin 💓

taglist: @imabee-oralizard @supernaturaldawning @beautywine @whyamireadingthis @cardi-bre91 @jordynhartley2001 @meneatervv

masterlist

xoxo sarah <3

[writingfromasgard]

[Masterlist]

Simon might have a German Shepard as his work dog but in his private life he's got the scrungiest dog in the world. It's got 1 tooth, missing a weirdly square piece of its ear, and the vet isn't sure how old it is. It had mange so bad that its permanently missing fur and feels like petting asphalt.

Simon names it Icarus. Doesn't matter if it's male or female. He also cooks all of its food, boards it when he'saway, and decides to take up knitting so he can knit Icarus "fur".

Where did he find it? Garbage? Petrol station? Woods? No, this dumbass saw an alert Icarus was going to be euthanized because it'd been in a shelter for 2 years and was like its hideous and now mine.

Every time Simon comes home, Icarus hobbles over to him, eyes blinking asynchronously, tail wagging so hard its backend is moving side to side. Simon picks it up, giving a single pat on its head and spends the rest of the day watching Icarus' favorite movie: All cats go to heaven.

[paracosmic-murdock]

vigilante like me

chapter six: the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up

pairing: matt murdock x black widow!vigilante!reader

summary: nights and nights of playing the hero as if that could redeem you that easily ended up taking you to new york, where you accidentally met the man who would turn your world upside down. a vigilante like you.

warnings/tags: (this chapter contains smut, shower sex virginity loss, unprotected sex, minors dni) angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, injuries, violence, phd in applied flirting and ma in yearning studies, some smut (minors dni), takes place sometime during the blip, when born again comes out we might find out if my decisions of who were gone were right, spoilers/references of stuff and themes from daredevil (2015); avengers: infinity war (2018); avengers: endgame (2019) black widow (2021); and hawkeye (2021), but y'all must've watched all of those already so idc, yelena belova and the themes and events from the black widow (2021) movie are very relevant in this plot, song: cowboy like me (taylor swift)

word count: 3.3K

✰ chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter seven | chapter eight | chapter nine

✰ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

He left the kit on his bed and went back to you, helping you stand up and walking you to his bathroom.

“May I?”

“You don't have to do that.”

Matt chuckled. “You did this for me once, and I was in kind of a better shape than you are now. Just… allow me.”

“Okay,” you agreed, knowing he was right and that you needed to be clean so he you could patch you up and avoid infections. You were too injured and bloody and couldn't risk it. “I liked these jeans.”

“Yeah, maybe they can be ripped jeans now,” he proposed, an optimistic grin plastered on his face.

“I've learned a thing or two about fashion trends, and let me tell you: apparently, ripped jeans are completely hideous today.”

“I guess you're a well-dressed lady.”

You laughed. “When it matters, yes I am.”

“Were you well dressed today?” he asked, taking off your black sports sneakers.

“Not really,” you replied. “Nothing important going on.”

“Hey,” he called you. “I am sorry about what I said last night.”

You gave him half a smile, putting your hand on his chest. “Are you?”

“I am sorry.”

“I'm sorry too,” you apologized, surprising yourself. “I just… I've learned who you are, and I know you aren't one to give up. You were there tonight, Matt. This is something that can happen countless times because I've done pretty fucked up things. Whether I was in control of my actions or not, I did it and I can't ignore that. I don't want my shit to affect you or for me to be… measured the same way that you are.”

“It's okay, I get it,” Matt helped you take off your oversized white, blood stained t-shirt. “We both have skeletons in our closets.”

You smiled weakly, now taking off your jeans with difficulty. “I guess so.”

Then, there was silence.

Matt guided you to his shower and turned it on. The water was hot, almost too hot, so, while you waited until the temperature was just right to get under the stream, he took his clothes off too. Now, you were both in your underwear and the idea of him and you like that made your cheeks go warm.

Just like you did to him the other day, Matt washed your hair with care. It was so intimate you wanted to throw up, and he seemed to realize how the moment was affecting you but said nothing.

“Govnyuk,” you muttered when his hands touched a wound above your right breast. “It hurt.”

“Sorry,” Matt whispered. “This one is pretty bad.”

“That makes me feel better.”

He shook his head, taking your right hand in his and put it on the left side of his chest. “I have the same one. Credits to a ninja named Nobu. It was really bad, I think it makes it to the top five of my worst moments.”

You traced the shape of it with the tip of your finger and did the same with a similar one on the other side.

Matt turned around. “He did those, too.”

“They're awful,” you noted. He laughed, turning to you again.

You took his left hand and drove it to your upper right thigh. “There was a tracker here to keep me on sight. When Yelena, my friend and another Black Widow, freed me, I stabbed myself to take it out.”

“Contrary to what you might think, I can't dodge every bullet,” he explained when he drove your hand to his right bicep.

“I was in Novi Grad when Yelena found me,” you said as you put his hand on your right lower back. “I had a partner, Emilia. Our job was to make sure the big guys never forgot they were under the rules of Dreykov, the director of the Red Room. Emilia died during the infamous Battle of Sokovia; a robot shot her to death and shot me here,” you continued, then made his thumb meet the little scar on the side of your index finger. “You know, Wanda Maximoff, the Avenger, had a twin brother, Pietro. Nobody knows him or what he did, but I do. He spent three seconds taking me to a safer location, then told me he was free on Saturday for a dinner date I now owed him for saving me,” You laughed a little. “Hours later, I found out he took dozens of bullets to save Clint Barton and a little boy. Don't tell him, but I teared up a little when I found out that the guy who used to flirt with me in the market twice a week was dead. I got this one when I was peeling a plum there because I got distracted telling him that he looked ridiculous with his hair bleached. He didn't.”

“I don't even remember how I got this one,” He chuckled, showing you one on his left side. “Just another beating one night.”

“Knife training in the Red Room,” you said, showing him various scars on your abdomen, thighs, and back. “We gave each other a bunch of these when we were practicing. Or some other times, when we were forced to fight each other until there was only one left standing. I was always that one; that's why I am alive today.”

“A building fell on me,” he added as if it was nothing while showing you other scars throughout his torso and a few on his thigh. “Some guys and I were trying to defeat The Hand, an evil-”

“Oh, that was you?” You smiled, almost proudly. “Congrats on defeating them, Dreykov considered them the competition.”

“Thank you, it wasn't easy, but it's done.” he smirked, and just then you noticed how close you were.

“Here,” You cleared your throat. You rested his hand on your left breast, making unnecessary contact with most of it as the scar was almost on the valley between them. “I got in a lot of trouble in Madripoor. In Moscow,” you continued, driving his other hand to your hip, right on your underwear. “Even New Asgard, as peaceful as it seems. I used to be a mess after Yelena disappeared along with half of us.”

Matt caressed your skin as you spoke, causing goosebumps all over your body. Your brain couldn't comprehend how you were truly feeling; all you knew is that you didn't want it to end. Neither did him, as seconds later his hands went to your neck to lift your face softly. He got closer in what felt like an eternity, and finally, Matt closed the almost non-existent gap between your lips.

Your first kiss, actually.

With all that happened to you, you never considered dating or meeting anybody. You thought you weren't reluctant to the idea, but caught yourself rejecting every person that asked you out. Therefore, you have never had real dates, kissed anybody, and much less had sex.

Being in the shower with the first man that ever ignited something in you, ironically both anger and attraction, made you want it. Crave it, even.

You moaned his name when he broke the kiss and drove his lips to your neck.

“Is this okay?”

With your breath all heavy and your heart losing a race to a lioness, you nodded. “Yes. Please.”

Matt kept kissing your neck, even going lower, careful not to get close to your open wounds. His touch muted all the pain, all long forgotten, as he moaned between each little bite. “Can I take this off?”

You hummed, letting him get rid of your soaked white and bloody sports bra.

He moaned your name. “I'll take care of you.”

“Call me it,” you told him, just like an order.

“Call you what?”

“You know,” You gripped his hair. “Sweetheart.”

“Oh, sweetheart?” Matt smirked. While you couldn't see him, you felt on the skin of your breasts the shape of his lips changing. “You're driving me insane, sweetheart.”

The sole sound of that term went from offending you to making your underwear wet with more than water.

“Oh, God,” he groaned, desperate, as your scent filled his nostrils suddenly. His lips left your nipples and went south slowly, torturing himself with the lazy rhythm. “Fuck, sweetheart-”

On his way down, now on his knees, Matt's lips stumbled upon a scar right above the black lace panties he so desperately wanted to take off.

“This one-”

Matt hushed you and traced the silhouette of your scar with kisses. He ignored the origin of it, but didn't say a word. Whatever it is, he knows it's not one to take lightly. “It's okay.”

Your hands stayed in his hair, stroking it. His played with the hem of your panties. “Do it, Matt.”

He took them off in a hurry, like he was being hunted. Hunted by the despair of tasting you for once.

Now, your scent was stronger, more invasive. Matt felt himself go hard only by imagining how it would feel to eat you out. However, he began gently kissing your thighs and meeting the scars on your legs, tracing their shapes as he passed by them. Most of them were almost completely faint, which made him realize there must've been years since you first got them. Matt wondered how long you were in the Red Room and how old you were when they began to turn you into that version of yourself you wanted to erase but don't seem to be able to leave behind.

“Can I taste you?”

You frowned but nodded, trying your best not to give away the fact that you had no experience at all. Thankfully, Matt didn't seem to notice it, or at least not yet. Not when he was incredibly busy pushing you against the walls of his shower and putting your left leg on his shoulder to get a better access to you.

He was absolutely enraptured by you and had no idea how he hadn't devoured you just yet; something inside him was telling him this was a memorable moment. When will he ever get to taste you, the woman that's had him on a chokehold for numerous reasons, for the first time again? Dear God, Matt felt like he had never wanted anybody as much as he wanted you… every attempt to push him away or insult him only made him grow more attracted to you. It was like you had some sort of string tied to him and you, and each time you interacted it grew thicker but shorter. Matt could feel physically empty whenever your interactions concluded without resolving the tension of the string—which shrinks more by the second—, and it would leave a pain in his chest, one more agonizing than all of those that have left him on the verge of death altogether. Because you were killing him in a way no tangible death could ever compare.

You looked at him, seeing how his right hand caressed the skin of your thigh delicately. The tip of his fingers was so dedicated to cherishing you somehow, giving special attention to everything that would make you flawed to any other. Matt's lips kissed your inner thighs affectionately, making you wetter and hotter with every graze of his beard on your sensitive, heated complexion. His other hand was on your hip, but in the blink of an eye, the both went to your ass and groped it hard enough to leave behind residual pain in the shape of his fingers but not to the loss of intimacy. You wondered how he could make you feel that way, but your thoughts went blank when he pulled you closer to him and gave you a long, agonizing lick.

“Oh, my God!” you almost yelled, never imagining, not in a million years, that a human being could make another feel this good. He moaned at the taste of you, the sound producing small vibrations that enhanced the pleasure Matt was giving you.

His eyes went to yours while he licked and sucked your cunt that had never known such a feeling. Your eyes stayed locked on his, even when he wasn't seeing the erotic, blissed expression dancing on your face, the hunger and devotion were crystal clear on his, all for you to gaze at. Surely, you did. Knowing what you provoked in him made you even wetter, making Matt groan; it was all so sensual and indulgent that you fought the urge to ask if he would tell a priest about this in his next confession, or maybe if he enjoyed it enough to go to Hell for it without a single regret.

If Matt's sin of choice was wrath, yours might as well be lust. Now that you experienced it, you know you would never give it up; you don't really have a chance to go to Heaven nevertheless.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” he asked, voice smokier than usual.

“Yes, fuck,” You gripped his hair and pulled him closer to you. His cocky chuckle didn't make you wait, and, while normally it would drive you insane in a bad way, right now it was the sweetest thing on Earth, Heaven, and Hell. “Rodnoy, please.”

The sudden switch to Russian turned him on. He would be embarrassed by it if he didn't have you at his mercy right above him. “What was that, sweetheart?”

You couldn't utter a word as you felt how his middle finger joined his mouth in the quest of pleasuring you. First, it teased you as if he were making fun of you in the cruelest of ways. Then, he put in two of his fingers at once.

The feeling was strange: pain and ecstasy both, blending together and taking over your whole body. The pain seemed to be the outside effect, as with every thrust of his fingers the pain of your previous injuries awoke for a brief second. The inside effect was the ecstasy, which traveled through every inch of your body to the degree that you could feel the yearning boiling your blood, frying your brain, burning your heart. Now what you truly needed was a release for all of that, and you felt closer and closer to the edge.

Matt's other hand left your thigh, and your eyes followed its path with attention. It landed on the only piece of clothing left separating you from equality of conditions. You saw how he took it off and then his attention went back to you.

You couldn't decipher what the look in his eyes meant, he looked somehow urged and furious, and then left you unattended. You thought that maybe he didn't like it that you were inspecting his every movement. Curiosity killed the cat, as they say.

Though, seconds later, Matt stood up and searched for signs of consent. He found them in the heat of your body, completely unrelated to the stream of warm water falling from the shower head. He found them in the beat of your heart, fast enough to mock having twice as many. He found them in the new flow of arousal leaving you at the thought of you completely naked and ready to do something you were ignorant of, and the weight of intimidation at your belief of him wanting to punish you for witnessing something you shouldn't have.

But Matt kissed you, the softness and care of the beginning long forgotten as his lips captured yours, his teeth collided with your own, and his tongue craved to fill you. And sure he did.

“Matt, Matt,” you cried out his name, feeling him get inside you slowly. “God…”

They also say that the satisfaction brought the cat back.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Matt groaned, his voice almost inaudible. “You feel so good. You taste so good… Fuck.”

“Fuck me,” you ordered, knowing how much you needed it and that you could take it. “Fuck me. Show me how much you want me.”

He pressed his forehead against yours and held you by the hips, and then obeyed you as if you had a say in his life. “I've wanted you since the moment I met you.”

“Yeah?” You felt your wounds open slightly at the brusque thrusts of him, but didn't consider stopping him, not even for a second.

“Yes,” he confirmed. The fresh smell of blood hit him. “Are you okay?”

You hummed and nodded urgently. “I'm perfect. Don't stop.”

“I have to… pull out, sweetheart,” he notified you as he realized he was about to come.

“Don't do it,” you countered, taking his hand and driving it to the large scar on your lower abdomen. “It's okay.”

Matt understood right away.

“I want you to come for me,” he said, approaching your lips to kiss you. The hand that was on your scar traveled south and drew circles on your clit. You felt yourself about to pass out. Or pass away.

Either way, what a way to die, you thought as you came undone. You screamed his name along a series of oh, God's, and found yourself shaking and sweating.

His neighbors are sick of hearing it.

Matt thought they should get used to the sound of your voice, because he wasn't planning on letting you go, even if it cost him his life and sent him straight to Hell.

Then, he came too, moaning and panting like an exhausted animal.

“Wow,” you muttered. He pulled out of you. “That was-”

He smirked. “Yeah, it was.”

“Yeah. I think I'm gonna faint in a second, though.”

“Stay strong a little more, alright? Let me clean you up.”

You nodded, and he drove you under the shower again. Matt cleaned you, making you flinch as he touched the areas he had overstimulated a minute ago.

“Can I ask you something?”

“I might lie.” you joked.

“I'll know,” he replied, knowing damn well he couldn't.

“Okay, shoot.”

“Was this your first time?”

The smallest gasp left your mouth. “What? Why are you asking me that? How would you even know that?!”

“Hey, it's just a question!” He defended himself. “You bled a little, that's how I know.”

“Well, I'm not a virgin. You're delusional.”

Matt laughed, guiding you out of the shower and putting a towel on you.

You walked to his room and once you were both sitting on his bed, Matt opened the kit and took out the tools he would need.

“Can I take you out for dinner as soon as you're a hundred percent alright?”

“Make a wish,” you told him. “I'm about to agree to a date for the first time in my life. One with you.”

He stayed silent for a few seconds. “Can I tell you my wish?”

You hummed as he began stitching the wound above your breast. “Tell me.”

“I wish for you to be a hundred percent alright as soon as possible.”

“Cute,” you noted with a smirk.

The process of him patching you up was filled with small talk and flirting. You found it ridiculous to see yourself in that situation, but you wouldn't want it any other way, to be honest.

Once he finished, he gave you one of his t-shirts and helped you put it on.

Matt left and then went back with two phones in his hand. “Save your number.”

“Aw, you want my contact in your burner phone, rodnoy?”

“I want your contact in my burner phone, yes,” he confirmed with a smile. “And what does that mean?”

You did as he asked you. “It's Russian for sweetheart.”

Matt chuckled and cupped your face. “You're cute.”

“Oh, don't you dare tell anybody, Devil.”

“I won't.” And he kissed you softly.

When you pulled away, he made you lie down on his bed and covered you with his steel blue silk bed sheets.

“Fyodor was supposed to be my friend,” you said suddenly. Matt lied right beside you, holding you close. “But he drugged me and then left me at the mercy of a man who wanted to avenge the person who stood there forcing me to kill my friends when I was a little girl in the Red Room. That's what happened tonight.”

He felt like he had never been so consumed by wrath in his entire life.

[thatneoncrisis]

oh captain my captain would you like to tell us more about your russian girls that make weird choices

Kozia Anastasiya "Nastya" Amvrosyevna and her younger sister Kozia Renata "Wren" Amvrosyevna [names are written last name/first name/patronymic here] two Russian-Polish immigrants living in a made up city in the fictional year of 2009 but its a fake 2009 i made up so im not beholden to historical accuracy and so i can do random scifi shit when i feel like. the main gimmick being they are locked in a never ending cycle of being dealt a bad hand, fallout, resentment which then escalates to biblical murder. then they come back and do it all over again

They immigrated to america when nastya was 10 and wren was 3 with their mother, their father is missing presumed dead. four years later their mom passed from an nonspecific ongoing degenerative illness and the two girls get sent to different foster homes, with wren actually getting adopted. when nastya is like 23 shes finally able to track her sister down and much to everyones surprise, she decides to leave her foster family and move in with her sister. present day nastya is 26 her sister is 19 and still a senior in highschool

wren suffers from that specific sort of apathy really smart kids get where they just assume school is so dumb trying is stupid so she got held back and is at risk of being kicked out. which sucks because this is a really Nice school with Smart kids and she could just like a fucking doctor if she wants. but NO she just has a bunch of hobbies she cycles through when she ditches and spends a good chunk of time hiding the fact shes on academic probation from her sister whos working insane hours to keep her in that fucking school

nastya has two full time jobs UPS package handler and not throttling her sister until her eyes pop. in her heart of hearts she wants wren to have good things in life, and to be able to give them to her. she wants to take her out to eat and on vacations and to the movies and buy all the hideous fucking clothes she likes. and then it cuts to her standing there while she listens to another voicemail from the school about wren skipping and she needs to pace outside in circles in the snow about it

[inf3ct3dd]

ellie headcanons pt.5!!!

warnings: nada

content: loser!ellie x reader headcanons

authors note : ellie dug a hole into my skull and moved in

⁃ against bags for no reason. like her pockets are constantly full of things. random receipts, money, headphones, EVERYTHING. she takes her pants of and they jingle cuz they're filled with COINS.

⁃ knows how to do a back bridge and just HAS to let everyone know. you're watching tv and she's just on the floor like "look"

⁃ i feel like shes the type of person to just start fully eating an orange in the middle of class. like ur listening to the teacher talk and you're just hit by the most aggressive wave of CITRUS from behind you

⁃ constantly fighting the air... like she's just in the kitchen punching and kicking at NOTHING just because. she's always coming up to you and like take punching you and doing her own sound effects like “PWAH PWAH WAM WAPOW"

⁃ jar hoarder 😞😞 every time you buy anything that comes in a jar she's keeping it. literally won't let you throw them away!!! you guys don't even have cups anymore, its just jars and mugs.

⁃ speaking of mugs, ellie has just as many stupid mugs as she does stupid tshirts. absolutely has a lot of garfield mugs be she LOVES GARFEILD

- would buy a dry-erase board for your fridge and leave u little notes and drawings

⁃ "Every single time I see you, I become horny like a triceratops" with a little drawing of a triceratops"

⁃ breaks into incoherent ramblings when shes sleepy... like insane hypotheticals

"what if our bed just completely exploded right now"

⁃ whenever ur on facetime and it gets quiet she just breaks out into song. not even like good, trying singing but BAD SINGING.

⁃ she does that whenever it's quiet !!!

⁃ is listening to music CONSTANTLY. her headphones are actually attached to her ears like all DAY she's listening to something.

⁃ HATES THE BIG LIGHT (iykyk) she lives for low/ natural lighting definitely has so many lamps and led lights

⁃ can never sit normal.... like she is not beating the gay ppl sitting weird allegations she sits so ODD

⁃ will spend literal hours in the pool. doing flips, pretending to be a mermaid, 'making up' her own tricks, she lives for it & !!!

⁃ refuses to dress right for the weather. it'll be like 90° outside and shes in a whole hoodie and jeans.

⁃ has the WEIRDEST subway order. probably puts banana peppers on her shit 😭😭 she swears its the best thing ever

⁃ love's campy comedy movies, esp lesbian ones and horror movies (but im a cheerleader, bottoms, scary movie, etc) also def loves coming of age movies

⁃ has a letterbox account and makes extremely thought provoking reviews

literally her

⁃ always taking candids of you, and they're literally her favorite pictures

⁃ every time she sees two things next to eachother she's like "oh my god it's literally us!!"

⁃ one time she crashed her car and it literally fully flipped over and she just crawled out of the trunk and called you like "you would NOT believe what just happened to me."

- absolutely a waffles girl she needs the texture she likes the CRUNCH

⁃ but like she also loves bacon pancakes. like she's obsessed w adventure time and she makes bacon pancakes ALL THE TIME and she sings the song while she makes them

- eats trail mix like all day....she buys the giant jars and you make fun of her cuz she "likes eating nuts"

⁃ the most secret swifty ever. like she refuses to let it be known but she fully sobbed when she listened to folklore for the first time

⁃ obsessed w those baby sensory videos. like she will literally be entertained for hours

⁃ LOVES the lego movies, esp lego batman

⁃ the MOST honest shit talker ever like you'll be like "yeah she's just a really bad person" and she'd be like "she's also like disgustingly hideous...

⁃ her search history isn’t even weird or gross its just…random. like she’s definitely googled “how do cotton candy machines work” before

⁃ family guy enjoyer.....

⁃ her cf story is like insanely long n its filled w random memes she reposts and insane ramblings

taglist!!!! if ur name is crossed i can't tag u :((

@syrenada @dinaissoprettyoml, @kingofmylastkiss @as2rid @greencacty @melissabarrerass @bratydoll @lov3lylotus @forelliesposts @echostinn @f3r4Ifr0gg3r @r3wbeef @leatheredhearts @mousymaven @mina-281@princessguardian444 @calystas-morning-tea @horror-whoree @slutshies @bearieio @mag-mfm @bubs-world @paran0id0blivi0n @sawaagyapong @bbygrIshelbs @gayh0rr0r @p|9ys @ellieslilsIvvt @dollietes @elliesmellsbadd @ibloom4u @ddreabea @beestar120 @brunettedolls-blog @girlwonderchloe @elliesgflol @maris-koffin @emonopolyman @iloveeyousblog @fr3sh-tragedies @ilovaffles @certifedcrybunny @elleatethat @baldph0bic @clouded-whispers @4rt3m1ss @saggykneecaps @swtsuna @ellesslutt @minixmel @yuyans-stuff @owmoiralover @thecowardwrites @lunascerebro @elliestrwbrry @iwantsoda @teeveegirl @dinasmoon @urnewghostfriend @k3ym4ra @bratzboydoll @ungodlyvenus @lav3nd3rhaze @scokslvoer @iloveunrealpeople @realwinehouse @nehemiahlicious @onedeaddreamer @teawithnosugar @r4t1ku5 @villainousbear @mentallymarriedtonatasharomanoff @gay4tiddies @uraesthete @lil-elliesgf @neighborhood-houseplant @sagessensationalstuff

[harveydentures]

One thing that’s enjoyable about Barduil as it sprung from the Peter Jackson trilogy is how Thranduil and Bard’s relationship is uneven in Thranduil’s favor in a social sense, but uneven in Bard’s favor in an emotional sense. Thranduil saves Bard’s life for openly selfish reasons and makes only vague attempts at connecting with him because ultimately he’s the one with the established power behind him, he doesn’t need to be friendly. But Thranduil’s arc, both in the movies and the books, involves a lot of turmoil and forced vulnerability that he’s obviously been intentionally avoiding for a long time. Much of the drama in the second half of the movie trilogy especially is about how other characters manage to squeeze feelings out of him. Bard is the stoic one here, because even though he’s less privileged, he’s the one who’s been in consistently challenging circumstances for a long time, and he’s adapted accordingly. Bard isn’t impenetrable, he possesses softness and warmth where it’s natural, but he’s much more emotionally sturdy than Thranduil.

And physically sturdy, as well! In the movies, Thranduil is constantly hiding a hideous disfigurement from his past conflict with dragons - the same conflict that killed his father as a result of Oropher’s rashness and bad thinking. Bard not only escapes the death of Smaug with his body intact, he saves his children as well. When Doriath was destroyed, Thranduil was still somewhere in the early stages of his life. When Laketown was destroyed, Bard was an adult and father in his own right. One man is living a reflection of the other’s past circumstances, as altered by the difference in culture & biology between Men and Elves.

Speaking of which, the difference in how elves & men respond to time also gives Bard a social advantage over Thranduil. He says himself that “100 years is a blink in the life of an elf.” After ten years, Bard will have absorbed what you and I would consider a decades worth of information about Thranduil. Thranduil, on the other hand, will have put a tiny fraction of that amount of thought into Bard. Ironic that he brags about this; it’s actually kind of an interpersonal handicap! But it makes sense that Thranduil wouldn’t pick up on that, because as Lee Pace says, he’s spent a long time sheltered. But Bard hasn’t.

[heylittleriotact]

𝐢 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨

𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐅𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐀𝐔

𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦

4 Months Later

As luck would have it, snow started flying ten minutes before her shift ended. Flying. Not falling gently like in a Hallmark movie. No - this snow was heavy, wet, thick, and moved horizontal to the ground due to the beastly wind that bore it into the city.

It was dark too: by this time in November the sun was pretty much gone by 4:30, and by 5:00 when she was done it was completely black. 

Rook learned early on that commuting to work in her uniform on public transit was uncomfortable at best, and self-inflicted psychological warfare at worst: riding the cramped bus into downtown and transferring to the train at rush-hour, packed in with dozens of other people and stuffed inside the damnable three piece suit was a nightmare. 

Instead, she learned to just keep her uniform at work in her locker and get changed at the beginning and end of her shift. 

It was one of a few tricks she’d picked up over the past few months to make certain things bearable. Leaving her uniform at work meant she had to wear it for as little time as possible each day. The uncomfortable pantyhose she had to wear (minimum 80 denier to conceal her tattoos which were to be hidden at all times) were swapped out about two months in when she discovered the joy of stay-up thigh high stockings, which alone made the uniform practically bearable. The shoes were still hideous, but she had been working on sourcing a pair of plain black pumps that fell within the dress code (no embellishment, glitter, or sequins; no platform; heel height maximum three inches).

She still hadn’t gotten around to tailoring her jacket, but it was the least of her worries these days. Standing in the middle of a fucking snow storm waiting for her bus that was surely going to be late was actually taking priority over everything else at the moment. 

“Fuck!” 

She’d flicked her cigarette, failing to notice it was wet, causing it to snap just under the filter. 

“God… fucking… dammit…” she muttered, throwing the busted smoke in the garbage can nearby and digging out another one. 

She’d given up on trying to find a practical way to smoke during the day: staff were forbidden from smoking on funeral home property, and if she wanted to leave the property to hack a dart, she was expected to remove her entire uniform, change into street clothes, and find somewhere acceptable to light up, then be back, changed, and ready to go before her break ended.

It wasn’t worth it.

It was fucking stupid.

She got it: the optics of having a bunch of funeral home staff gathered around like a murder of crows, issuing smoke from their mouths like miniature crematoriums by the side door wasn’t a great look to the public at large, especially given the amount of cancer patients that passed through the doors in body bags.

So she eventually conditioned herself to get through an eight hour shift without needing a cigarette. It actually wasn’t that hard, but there was no denying that at the end of her shift she was fucking jonesing for a puff in a bad way.

She lit the fresh smoke and inhaled deeply, exhaled heavily, and turned her back to the wind so this one wouldn’t get wrecked too. 

Pulling the collar of her jacket up around her neck, she checked her transit app.

Your bus is 5 minutes late

Lovely.

In the gap between the tracks of her current playlist (she was currently having a Megadeth renaissance) she could hear the constant rush of tires on slick asphalt as cars sped down the main road next to her, and… honking? 

Turning around and raising her arm to prevent getting a face full of wet, stinging snow, she squinted: some asshole in an Audi had pulled up alongside her. She was used to people honking at her when they drove by - this had to be the first time someone had actually stopped.

Yeah great idea, jackass, stop in the middle of traffic…

The passenger window rolled down and in the LED glow of the streetlights she could make out the distinct shape of Emmrich’s face.

Oh fuck me.

“Would you like a ride home?” He inquired.

Yeah right, like I want anyone I work with knowing where I live… especially you.

“Nah I’m good. Bus will be along any minute.” She took a drag, hoping her disinterest would hit home and he’d realize she wasn’t going to get in his fucking car.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” he remarked, sounding genuinely surprised by this revelation of her character - but not put off by it. Just intrigued.

“Not like we’re encouraged to stand around lighting up at work,” she retorted dryly. “It’s good you didn’t know: means my hands and hair don’t reek like stale smoke.” 

She was forever paranoid of smelling bad: cigarette smoke, body odor, mildew… unwashed clunge - it made her cringe when people smelled like shit. 

“I’ve never noticed anything like that,” he admitted like the idiot he was.

“Cool…” she drawled, her sardonic tone nearly drowned out by the cars speeding past. “Good to know that you make a habit of smelling me when you’re around. That’s fucking creepy, Emmrich.” 

She couldn’t be sure due to the cold practical glow of the streetlight above them, but she was pretty sure she saw his sallow skin turn a splotchy red.

“I don’t— I never said I was smelling you,” he stated, trying to reclaim his dignity. His left hand tightened on the steering wheel, loosened, and slid down the curved surface a few inches. “Only that there isn’t a cloud of stale cigarette smoke following you around everywhere - people notice such things, you know.”

“Do they?” She queried facetiously. “I had no idea.” 

“Your bus still hasn’t arrived.”

“How very astute of you to notice.”

She could keep this up all night, even if her toes were starting to tingle and hurt from standing in two inches of slush: she wore Chucks today and they were drenched through to her thin stockings.

“I’m more than happy to give you a lift home. I’m sure you’d do the same for me, if our positions were reversed.” 

Oh fuck, sure, appeal to my compassion and humanity and imply that I wouldn’t leave your ass out here shivering in the snow. Wrong!

“The longer you hang around here pressuring me to get into your car, the faster you’re moving up in my list of creepy dudes.”

“A very good thing for both of us then that I’m not a ‘creepy dude’ - only a colleague extending the courtesy of a warm, dry trip home to another colleague in a less than ideal position.”

She puffed on the smoke again and exhaled through her teeth, rolling her eyes: her feet were going numb, her peacoat was covered in snow, and her hair was sticking to her head. She was miserable, and her bus - if it ever came - was going to be fucking packed with likewise miserable people. 

“I’ll get my muddy feet all over your nice car and make it smell like cigarettes,” she argued.

“My car is subjected to my own muddy feet frequently enough when I’m scheduled on graveside services, and I really don’t care about the smell,” he said with far more nonchalance than he needed to.

“Fine,” she capitulated, reefing on the smoke one more time before stubbing it and dropping it in the bin. “But only on the condition that I never have to hear you say the word ‘position’ again.” 

She was turning back towards him when she said it, and he moved his head out of the light before she could see his face, but she was pretty sure she heard him let out a short laugh.

“You have my word,” he said, and she shifted her backpack on her shoulder and opened the passenger side door, folding awkwardly into the seat, grateful she didn’t manage to slip and land on her ass.

The inside of the car was nice and warm, and it smelled like he’d just driven it off the lot. There wasn’t a speck of dust on the dashboard or console. 

“Christ, don’t we listen to enough of this shit during the day?” She buckled up and nodded towards the screen in the middle of the console that indicated they were currently listening to ‘Violin Suite in E Minor: K.304: II. Tempo de Minuetto’ by the one and only Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

All seven locations of McDermott & Rafferty played the same eleven track CD on a loop over the sound system throughout the day, and all eleven tracks consisted of Mozart, Bach, Tchaikovsky, and a variety of lamentable instrumental covers of well-known songs like Clapton’s ‘Wonderful Tonight’. She’d only worked there for four months and already had nightmares featuring that music.

“I’ll need your address, please.”

Ugh. No going back now. 

She could give him a fake one near her apartment, but he seemed like the kind of guy that would sit there and wait for you to get inside before leaving, so that wouldn’t work. 

Fuck.

So she told him, because she had to. 

And he entered it into the nav on the console. 

And it was there forever now.

Satisfied that she was properly buckled in, Emmrich shifted into drive and signaled, looking over his shoulder before easing into traffic.

“This is what I enjoy listening to,” he stated plainly, returning to the topic of his shitty music. “What do you prefer?”

“You don’t have to change it.”

“I wasn’t offering to change it, I asked what music you enjoy listening to.” His right hand released the steering wheel to turn the heat up and returned to its place as soon as he was done. 

She felt awkward as fuck, sitting next to Emmrich in his nice car, wearing his nice suit, listening to his nice music while her box-dyed black hair was plastered against her skull and she was dripping all over his nice leather seats.

“I dunno. Everything, I guess.” 

“Except classical music.”

Hoooooly fuck, am I going to have to sit here and make bullshit small-talk with you the entire time? Can‘t you just be like an Uber driver and take me home and let me stare out the window in silence like a normal fucking person?

“Yeah, I guess so. I dunno. It’s fucking boring. It makes me want to go to sleep. It’s frankly a miracle that  you haven’t driven into oncoming traffic if this is what you listen to on your way to and from work.” 

“That’s not very nice—“

Oh good, he expects me to be nice.

“— you can’t very will sit here decrying my musical tastes while holding your own close to your chest.”

“Chest. That’s on the list with ‘position’ now as words I never want to hear you say again.” 

“Rook.”

“Emmrich.”

He sighed and drove on, reflections of traffic lights and neon store signs skimming over the lenses of his glasses, as he seemed to finally take the hint and cease his attempts at getting to make idle chit-chat.

Astoundingly, this did absolutely nothing to diffuse the awkwardness. Now she felt guilty on top of it. 

Unfortunately for Rook, as much as she liked to project an abrasive, rather unapproachable vibe into the world - especially around people she didn’t trust - she was actually a very nice person. A very compassionate person. A very empathetic person. It was why she’d been drawn to the funeral profession in the first place. 

He didn’t have to give her a ride home, he didn’t have to spend ten minutes cajoling her soggy ass into his car, and he didn’t have to try - earnestly, it seemed - to assure her he wasn’t a pervert, which, if she was being honest with herself was what he was trying to accomplish with his attempts at harmless conversation.

Goddammit…

“I dunno, I guess I like everything? Like… if I like the way it sounds, I like it, I don’t care who it is or what genre it is.” She shifted her sodden backpack on her thighs. “Weird stuff mostly that you’ve probably never heard of, like uh… Dead Meadow, Le Tigre… Nine Inch Nails, y’know?”

He did not know. This man had never been to a rock concert in his life.

“Classic rock is good too - Zeppelin, Queen, Sabbath. I spin them a lot too.”

“I’m of the mind that one can never go wrong with the classics, as I’m sure you can tell by my own tastes.” He signaled and changed lanes, fastidious in his mirror and shoulder checks once again. “If they bring you joy, you should enjoy them.”

“What, so you’re not gonna dump on my music?”

“No, why would I?”

“I dunno. I assumed because I ragged on yours you’d rag on mine: my shitty, un-nuanced tastes.”

“Did you?” His eyebrows raised, his eyes stayed on the road. “Do you take the bus to work every day?”

“Yeah, I don’t have a car.”

“But you drive?”

“Don’t have a license either.”

Emmrich frowned slightly. “But you need—“

“— a driver’s license to work as a funeral director at McDermott & Rafferty - yeah, I’m aware. They made that abundantly clear when I was hired. Numerous times.” 

She didn’t want to get into this: being in her mid-twenties and not being able to drive wasn’t exactly something she was proud of.

He might have been creepy, but he wasn’t dumb: Emmrich seemed to pick up on her reluctance to discuss the topic further and changed the subject again.

“You’ve settled in nicely at the chapel. I hear nothing but good things about you from families, and the turnaround when I give you an obituary to work on when I’m meeting with a family is unmatched by any other admin - with no sacrificing accuracy or quality either. You’re a very talented writer.”

He also seemed to know that the best way to pick someone up after accidentally blundering into one of their more embarrassing personal shortcomings was to make up for it with a compliment.

“Thanks.”

The rest of the drive passed by without incident. Emmrich would occasionally ask her questions: what she did before she decided to pursue the funeral profession, if she’d always lived in the city, etc. It was a decently long drive - Rook lived on the far west side of the city and the Hildwell chapel was central. By the time Emmrich turned into her street, her hair was mostly dry and she wasn’t shivering anymore. 

“Uh, yeah, just… just up there on the right. The building with the white stucco.” She pointed, her fingernail plain and unpainted: no ‘unnatural or bright’ nail polish allowed - including black.

She quite liked her little one bedroom walk-up: it was hers. Well… not really, because she rented, but it was hers because it was only hers. No family, no ambitionless sponge of a boyfriend, no loud messy roommates: just her own space, her own air, and her ever-growing collection of houseplants. She’d scratched and fought for 720 square feet of freedom, and she was never going back to anything less.

Despite her deep affection for her home, she couldn’t help but feel somewhat embarrassed as Emmrich pulled up to the curb to let her out as close to the front doors as he could. 

It wasn’t the nicest place. It wasn’t a shithole either, but it was an older building, and it was clearly a rental property. Emmrich probably lived on the bougie side of town in a fancy condo or townhouse. She knew he wasn’t married and he had never mentioned having any children, but that didn’t mean he didn’t live in a place that was four times the size of her apartment, furnished with top-of-the-line everything. 

“Thanks for the lift,” she said, unbuckling and practically scrambling to get out of the car: the less time he had to stare at her building, the better. “I hope this didn’t take you too far out of the way - whereabouts do you live?”

Emmrich was staring intently over her shoulder at the warm light of the apartment lobby. “Hm? Oh, I live in Darrowley,” he said absently, seemingly fascinated with the square, four storey building looming in the dark.

“Darrowley?!” She repeated, hand pausing on the door handle. “That’s clear on the other side of town!” 

It definitely qualified as bougie too.

“I enjoy driving. I find it relaxing,” He smiled at her as effortlessly as he smiled at everybody. 

“Right… you find driving across town through insane rush hour traffic in a city of over a million people relaxing.” 

What a fucking weirdo.

She opened the door at last and got out before he could take it upon himself to open it for her. “Uh… seriously though - thanks, Emmrich. I’d probably still be waiting for the bus. Sorry for… for being so stubborn about it.” 

“I’m just glad that you’re home safe.” The pleasant expression on his face lingered, and the light spilling out from the apartment lobby made him look rather nice, she thought. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Rook. Take care.”

“For sure. Uh… have a good night, Emmrich.” 

She closed the door and swung her backpack over her shoulder, carefully navigating the slushy walkway up to her building lest she slip and eat shit - the last thing she needed.

Withdrawing her keys from her pocket, she unlocked the lobby door and as it closed behind her she looked through the glass. 

As it turned out, he absolutely was the sort to sit and wait until she got inside safely. 

She flicked on the entryway light when she entered her suite on the fourth floor, crossing over to the window in time to see him pulling away at last, the red glow of his brake lights getting smaller until she could no longer see them. 

She put her nose against the damp sleeve of her coat. It smelled like new car.

[wannabe-cartoonist-blog]

Last Game hair style fixes, in order of who needed it most.

I've never liked the canon hair styles in Last Game. They're either hideous, or just simply don't fit the characters/style of the main series. I get its a (mostly different) art department and meant to age the characters up, but most of the time, they simply just look off-model to me. I know I'm not the only one who's got issues with the hairstyles in this movie too, so I did my best to fix them up and give them styles that I personally think suite them. Originals below cut as well as my explanations! Important to note, these are my preferences/headcanons for them so take everything I'm about to say with a grain of salt.

**Akashi isn't here, because believe it or not, I actually think his hair looks the best out of everyone in LG.

I wouldn't change it. I like to draw him with neater hair/his bangs pushed out of his face when I age him up, but for the summer after the Winter Cup - when LG takes place - the canon hair is exactly the sort of style I think he would/should have. I like the allegory that the rough chop is something he did when his mental health wasn't good, so now as his mental scars heal, it's growing back out. ❤️

Midorima

A neater/shorter hairstyle does fit Mido's character/personality, but the LG hair simply just doesn't look like the same hair type we see in the main series. Mido's hair has got the slightest wave to it (which I tend to over-exaggerate whenever I draw him).

With this in mind, I went and gave his hair some more body/volume by extending the sides. (You'll see a lack of volume/body is the key issue with the other LG hairs as well).

Murasakibara

Mura's hair in this movie looks so so flat and greasy. Now I didn't do the best job fixing it up, but this is basically how you'd go about doing it; just add more flowy strands. His hair is pretty pin-strait in canon, but there's lots of flowing strands, even when he's not moving much, which give it a clean-look.

When it's all just one limp form, like the movie does, it appears unclean as opposed to just long and sleek.

Momoi

Another victim of the lack of body/volume. The style they gave her is also simply bad, like she just took a pair of scissors and cut in a straight line. There isn't even really any style to it. Its kinda just laying there on her head, which is not what her hair usually looks like in the main series. There's always strands/some lift to it. Also Momoi has always had some sort of bangs/framing pieces in her face, so for her whole forehead to be out was just a tiny bit jarring.

I think the style I came up with is a little more mature while still having personality and life to it. Plus, LG takes place in the summer, so a shorter hair style would be more comfortable in the heat.

Kise

Kise I don't think I did a good job of fixing to my liking either. It was hard to edit it without making it look bad in general, because I really don't think this choppy sort of style suites him like at all, so it was too much to change. Now his hair is one of the better drawn ones in this movie for sure, but it feels more like a Kagami hairstyle than a Kise one to me. I just don't think his modeling agency would let him have such a choppy, hard-to-style haircut. I also think a more polished look fits his handsome, princely sort of appeal that makes him popular with girls.

Aomine

Alright, now its time for me to be playful and silly with some out-there hair styles. Aomine (and Kagami's hair) in Last Game I don't mind. After Akashi, I would say Aomine looks the best. BUT. We have NEVER seen Aomine with long hair, even in flashbacks when he's a child.

So for him to finally decide to grow out his hair - in the SUMMER HEAT - just feels like a weird move to me. Feels out of character. He strikes me as someone who likes his hair out of his face when he plays ball and just wants to roll out of bed and not worry about brushing/styling it or anything. The animators also aren't consistent in this movie and sometimes his hair looks particularly long in the front and back, which again, I don't think he'd like. This picture below and the ones above are from the same movie/take place within like a week of each other, yet look so different.

He looks cute and it definitely gives him a more youthful look; which is a weird choice, because they want to age up everyone else but Aomine in this movie. So, I think a fade would really suite him (I don't think I drew it that well tho). Keeps his hair short and out of his face but also ages him up a little more with a mature style.

Kagami

Alright, Kagami's look here is pure indulgence. @knbposting said "Kagami with a mullet" and I haven't stopped thinking about it. Sue me. His LG hair isn't bad and makes sense for his character and the time of year. But its just sorta plain. Honestly, Kise's hair style in this movie would probably suite Kagami more. I always liked how in the main series, Kagami's hair is a little scruffy in the back so I really wanted to lean into that.

Is a mullet suitable for the summer heat/something he'd like? Well, maybe not but I think it ages him up while also seeming like something he'd get at some point in his life. So here we are. I will end this with saying this is probably the longest he'd ever let his hair get.

Kuroko

Finally, we have Kuroko, whose hair I've barely changed. Now, the animators/artists do a really bad job of keeping his face on-model (eyes too beady, features too sharp) but that's a whole 'nother issue, and I managed to find a scene where they kept him on-model lol. I think a shorter, neat style is good for the summer and suites him, but a main feature of all the hair throughout the main series is the spikes/strands of hair on nearly every character - Kuroko especially - so I just added a tiny bit more here.

And that's the end! If you read all the way to here, thanks for coming to my insane-person rant.

[pomefioredove]

Hello!!! Can I request for a one-shot of Vil x RSA reader, where Neige is very close to the reader and Vil is jealous, So try to make Reader spend more time with him than with Neige and show them that he is better than him?

-🐭

AWAHHH I LOVE THIS ONE

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in the way

type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not yuu, unless they were like a yuu that went to RSA, it could happen, not proofread

The only thing more poisonous than jealousy is Vil Schoenheit himself.

Long after the winner of the VDC had been voted, announced, and publicized, Neige Leblanche's face put on every screen and newspaper, there was you.

Vil knew he was poisoned by hatred.

Though he had a right to be; his confidant, his, perhaps only friend, had betrayed him for the person who made him despise himself like nothing else. The person he could never be, no matter how hard he tried.

An eye for an eye.

He had, painfully so, relied on Epel Felmier to sneak into RSA. Vil couldn't trust Rook for such a thing, and Epel certainly had the face for it.

He brought back... well, you.

Neige's best friend since his first day at Royal Sword Academy.

People called you shy, Epel said. You didn't appear on Neige's Magicam, or come with him to movie premiers, your very name utterly untraceable, for that very reason.

Vil had barely withheld a sigh. Of course. He was going to have to charm a shy, dainty, naive, kindhearted little prick.

Typical. As if Neige wasn't bad enough.

But Vil had his mind made, and he was going to be gracious about it, thank you very much.

And so, you "stumbled" across each other at a shop in the town between your two schools. He batted his eyelashes, complimented that hideous RSA uniform, and got your number.

Neige says such nice things about you! That's what you said.

He almost gagged.

But texts became phone calls, which became video calls, which became gifts exchanged between schools, which became little get-togethers on Sage's Island.

Which became... this.

You. Your surprising wit, your refreshing honesty, your sharp tongue. Your time spent together was not only tolerable, but enjoyable, even.

And then Vil realized something quite horrible.

He had a crush. On you. On the friend of his worst enemy.

Now, wooing you to bother Neige was one thing. That was a matter of professional pettiness. But actually stealing you away from him, out of something like true love?

No, too personal. He wouldn't.

And then, one mild night, on a walk, you admit that you enjoy your time with Vil more than with Neige.

And suddenly, everything is different.

Vil begins pursuing you properly, but not subtly. He has flower arrangements fit for a queen sent to your dorm. He remembers every little detail. He lets you vent, whine, truly bitch because he knows that Neige wouldn't. He gets closer.

The worst of it is when you're all together. Poor, sweet you, without a care in the world, walking between Vil and his least favorite person.

Even Neige seems a little uncomfortable. It's delicious.

At first, Vil makes a show of holding your hand, opening doors for you, complimenting your outfit and your eyes and the silly things you say, but it soon becomes less of a petty performance and more of a natural instinct, an urge to be close.

Neige begins to blur into the background.

Heavily, but painlessly, Vil realizes something else.

He doesn't care about Neige Leblanche anymore. What he's feeling is no longer a poisonous jealousy, seeping into his chest and making him bitter.

It's desire. For you.

Neige only happens to be in the way.

[psychoticallykind]

Clowns

"Respect" - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 814 words

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

Regulus was trying really, really hard to keep a straight face as he watched his boyfriend struggle. He was succeeding so far.

James looked slightly horrified by the - admittedly hideous - clown painting Regulus had brought home.

"You told me that I could choose the theme for movie night," Regulus reminded him. "Remember? It's next Sunday, everyone is coming over."

James hadn't looked away from the thing. He sounded almost faint as he replied. "Uh-huh. I remember."

"Don't you like it?" Regulus pushed, forcing himself to keep up the act. "I thought it would be cool to hang up behind the TV, and we can watch It - you know, the Steven King one? And I found like three other clown movies that look interesting."

James nodded. "Right. That's - um. Okay." He squinted at the painting. "And your theme is clowns? That's the decision here?"

Sometimes growing up in a toxic household had its benefits. Given, they were few and far between, but they did exist. And one of these benefits was that Regulus knew how to act.

"You hate it, don't you?" Regulus asked, pushing a little bit of dejection into his tone.

James looked away from the monstrosity for the first time in ten minutes, wincing at Regulus's expression. "No! It's -" James hesitated as his eyes flickered back to the painting, but seemed to find some resolve as he looked back at his (secretly amused) boyfriend. "It's not what I expected. But that's okay. We all have different ideas, and I respect your choice. It's a good choice," James insisted.

Regulus glanced at the painting. "Are you sure? I don't want to force you into anything."

His boyfriend glanced one more time at the clown before walking over to Regulus and pulling him against his chest, wrapping him up and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Of course, I'm sure."

Regulus felt the slightest sting of guilt at how sweet James was being. Especially considering he hated clowns with a passion.

Regulus couldn't see James's expression anymore, but he felt him take a deep breath, and he could hear the sincerity when he spoke next.

"I maybe don't love the clown itself," James admitted quietly. "But I love you, and I love that you made a choice that you'll enjoy. So if having a clown-themed movie night will make you happy, then I'm happy to go along with it, love."

Oh, this was no longer fun. Regulus was regretting the whole thing now.

"We can go hang it up now, if you want?" James offered, and Regulus winced. He'd actually been counting on James rejecting the clown idea immediately.

He really should have known better. James had never refused him anything before.

"Um, Jamie?" Regulus asked quietly.

"Yes, love?"

Regulus bit his lip, hesitating. It felt like a mean trick, in hindsight. "Um. About the clown."

"Yeah?" James asked. When there was no reply, he continued. "I know I probably didn't react very well at first, but I meant what I said. I didn't mean to make you second-guess yourself."

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut. This was so bad. Why had he done this?

It was all Barty's fault, he decided. This was the last time he listened to one of Barty's ideas.

Part of him just wanted to go with it now - the clown was creepy and he actually really hated those movies, but he didn't want to admit he'd been playing a trick on James when James had been so sweet about it.

On the other hand, if James apologized one more time he was going to start crying.

"I don't actually want the theme to be clowns," Regulus said quickly.

He felt more than heard James's confusion. "What?"

With a deep sigh, Regulus turned around and met his boyfriend's eyes. "I didn't actually choose a clown theme. It was just a trick to see how you'd react to the really creepy painting."

Regulus watched James for a reaction. He knew that it wouldn't be anger - James was too well-adjusted for that - but he was worried James might be a little upset.

He did not expect the huge, beaming smile.

"So it's not clowns?" James checked, eyes wide. At Regulus's answering nod, he let out a long breath and pulled Regulus into a tight hug. "Thank God. I was dreading the nightmares that thing was going to cause."

Regulus could've melted in relief. "You're not upset?"

"Upset?" James pulled back with a laugh, shaking his head. "No, love, I am so, so happy right now." He glanced at the painting and then gave Regulus a thoughtful look. "Did you actually buy that?"

"Uh, yeah, but we can throw it out," Regulus suggested.

"Can we burn it?" James asked. He gave Regulus a pleading look. "I would really love to burn it."

"Yeah, James," Regulus laughed. "We can burn it."

[xiayannie]

𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 23𝐑𝐃 — 𝘶𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘰𝘢

↳ scaramouche & xiao (separate) × gn! reader

content: fluff, crack ? | 𝐗𝐎𝐗𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

small christmas scenarios with the two

↟ 𝙎𝘾𝘼𝙍𝘼𝙈𝙊𝙐𝘾𝙃𝙀

hates the idea, but goes along with your shenanigans because it's "christmas" and it makes you happy

he secretly enjoys it

"can't believe I'm wearing this hideous thing." SCARAMOUCHE scowled, staring down at the ugly sweater in disdain.

you merely rolled your eyes, dragging him by the arm to the kitchen. a cup was thrusted into his face, which he took skeptically.

"what? you've never had hot cocoa?"

"I've never been a fan of anything sweet." he retorted, staring at the assortment of sweet add-ons from the so-called 'hot cocoa bar'.

a small realization flashed on your face before you went to rustle in the cabinets, pulling out a newer container.

"I got some dark cocoa the other day, maybe you'll like this better." you hummed, handing him the instant cocoa powder.

SCARAMOUCHE hesitated a bit, but he scooped some of the powder into his cup of hot milk before stirring. your expectant eyes made him feel a bit pressured as he took a sip, expecting the worst.

to his dismay, it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

"...it's okay." SCARAMOUCHE murmured out quietly, watching as you beamed at him.

"that's good!"

"how about we go put on a movie?"

SCARAMOUCHE throughout the movie kept refilling his cup of hot cocoa, which you noticed, but didn't say anything about until the both of you got drowsy on the couch after the movie.

"...how many cups of cocoa did you have, scara?"

to which he would remain silent for a bit, his cheeks flushing the slightest bit of red as he avoided replying, trying to come up with any excuse he could.

"I was a bit thirsty."

"yeah, sure. and you must be a bit cold." you snickered at him, eyeing up his decked out christmas attire; reindeer socks, plaid pants, and ugly cat sweater.

needless to say, SCARAMOUCHE was not going to live it down. especially since he got caught humming along to mariah carey's "all I want for christmas" despite talking shit about christmas music earlier.

↟ 𝙓𝙄𝘼𝙊

doesn't get the whole point of making gingerbread houses (to not really eat them) but he tries it for the sake of seeing you smile

doesn't like Christmas much, but he enjoys spending time with you

the two of you spent the afternoon making gingerbread houses, and the difference between the two were as clear as day and night.

XIAO's gingerbread house was collapsing in as you stared and compared it to your averagely decent looking one. his face was calm as he continued to frost his roof, but the weight of the sweet frosting was contributing more to the downfall of his house.

"xiao..." you tried to stifle a laugh, aware of how seriously he took the activity, as well as how hard he worked on it. "...good job, my love."

"thank you." XIAO replied, putting down the icing bag to dust off his fingers. his expression was stoic as usual, but his eyebrows gave you the impression that he was proud of his work.

you put a gumdrop up to his mouth, to which he obediently opened his mouth and ate. XIAO's face scrunched up a bit, but he swallowed it silently. you pulled him in for a sweet hug, melting into his side as you laughed.

"...these sweets aren't to my liking." he murmured, staring at the abomination of sugar before him.

"well, good thing we won't be eating them." XIAO's brow furrowed in confusion at what you said.

"what's the point of making it, then?"

"they're just for decoration usually."

XIAO was dumbfounded, but he nodded and decided to brush it off, instead focusing on helping you clean up.

the night ended off with cuddling, sweet whispers and quiet giggles exchanged between the two of you.

"did you enjoy building gingerbread houses together, xiao?"

he nodded, bringing his hand up to lightly stroke your cheek.

"I do not get the whole point of making them, only to use them as decoration, but...I'd enjoy anything as long as I'm doing it with you."

slap!

you giggled like a school girl, lightly hitting him on the shoulder. "such a smooth talker, who taught you to say such sweet and cheesy lines?"

"... it doesn't even compare to that gumdrop you fed me earlier." he scoffed, but a small smile graced his lips as he stared at you.

"but I'd eat as many gumdrops that you'd feed me if that means I get to see you beam at me in return."

XIAO didn't care for christmas. but he now does, because it means that he gets to spend more time with you, no matter how dumb or stupid he thinks the activity is.

[merakiui]

VIL’S BIRTHDAY!!!! 🎂 GIVE US VIL THOUGHT OR SUFFER!!!!

ANON, PLEASE....... _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):_ have mercy on me... spare me.........

AHEM. LOL as for Vil thoughts!!!!! I think we don't discuss cyberstalker Vil enough,,, the way he was obsessively checking the status of who was most beautiful and Neige's Magicam account during book five........ there's so much potential of Vil being Magicam friends/mutuals with you but never having met you irl, only ever doing online collabs. Whenever he has the time, he's checking your account to see if you've posted anything new, wanting to know what it is you're up to. I like to think he'd try to regulate this obsession so it doesn't become unhealthy (after all, too much screen time can be very bad!), but it becomes impossible the more he falls.

Or a Vil who turns you into a living doll after using various poisons to paralyze you. <3 it's a temporary effect, of course, but he has warned you that it you keep acting out of line and trying to escape he'll employ a more...permanent means of keeping you by his side. Vil takes great care in dressing you up every day, taking the time to apply your makeup and even going so far as to deliberate over which fragrance you should wear. You're not going out anywhere; this is solely for his eyes only, but Vil insists that looking your best, even in the comforts of your home, can be a marvelous feeling.

Or maybe something where Vil is offered a role to be a slasher/horror movie villain. At first he considers turning the role down because he doesn't want to continue to perpetuate an untrue image, and he doesn't like the idea of playing a villain who won't remain on stage until the end. But then he reads through the script and sees that the villain actually wins in the end. Sure, it's a bad ending for the protagonist, but for the villain this is the best possible ending... despite this, he's about to turn the role down when he catches wind that you'll be playing the lead role, the character who is held captive by the character Vil could play. And Vil has always wanted the opportunity to be able to touch and kiss you in more intimate ways without having to trouble himself with both of your reputations or, most importantly, the fact that he's not very close with you...

Beauty and the beast au, but Vil is the beast. >:D cursed to be a hideous beast and now he lives alone in a castle in the woods. The typical monsterfucking scenario. <3

Stepbrother Vil who is your first for everything. He won't allow his precious stepsibling to settle for a subpar partner. That's why you'll practice with someone you can trust, someone responsible, someone like your brother Vil.