#his name is UN-WIN…because he LOST | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

won4kiss · 6 months ago

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⋆ ｡⋆୨୧˚— LOVE APOCALYPSE

𝜗𝜚 ༘⋆ ⋆˙pairing. stranger! park sunghoon x fem! reader synopsis. in which two lost, lonely, broken souls find love at the worlds end. literally. genre. angst ,, fluff ,, suggestive?? wc. 3100. 🫧 — 𝓵𝗂𝖻��𝖺𝗋𝔂

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog & like !! <3

THE WORLD ENDED ON A FRIDAY,

You remember it clearly because it was a rare day off from your exhausting 9-5 secretary job, one where you had planned to do nothing but enjoy a cup of coffee at your favorite café and catch up on books you have been meaning to read. Instead, the serene sunny morning was shattered by panicked screams, gruesome sights and sirens wailing through the city streets.

The news spread quite quickly, making headlines on news channels before everything had shut down, a mysterious virus was turning people into mindless, flesh eating creatures. Within hours, the city descended into chaos. You barely had time to gather some essentials and flee your un-secure apartment before the streets were overrun with the infected flesh eaters.

As days turned into weeks, you wandered through the overrun city, surviving on scraps and hiding from both zombies and desperate humans. Your optimism, a trait that had always been your guiding light, remained intact despite the unpleasing reality around you.

You clung to the hope that somewhere, there was a sanctuary, a safe haven where people were rebuilding their lives, a place filled with survivors and loved ones, and you would make it one day.

You had seen glimpses of humanity at its worst—looting, violence, betrayal—but you chose to believe in the goodness that could still exist amidst the ruins. Your cheerful demeanor, once a source of joy to your friends, now served as a piece of hope for yourself. You refused to let the darkness win and consume you.

It was during one of these aimless wanderings that you met him.

You had stumbled into an abandoned convenience store, scavenging for anything useful, when you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind you. Heart pounding, you turned around, with your quite lousy makeshift weapon—a broken broom handle—only to find yourself face-to-face with a stranger, a very handsome one at that..

He was tall and lean, with dark hair that fell over his cold, sharp eyes. His expression was unreadable, a mask of indifference that made your breath catch in your throat. He was armed, a large knife strapped to his belt and a gun slung over his shoulder, the epitome of survival in this new world.

"Put that down before you hurt yourself," he said, his voice low and dangerous with lack of emotion.

You hesitated for a moment, then lowered your makeshift weapon. "I'm not looking for trouble, Just trying to survive." You say with a shaking voice.

He studied you for a long moment, his eyes narrowing at your anxious state. "You won't last long if you keep wandering around like this. The city's not safe, especially for a small one like you."

"Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine! Thanks for the tip," you replied, unable to keep the sarcasm out of your voice. "What's your name sunshine?"

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not used to such direct questions and humour in times like this, he hadn’t seen anyone this happy in a long time. "Park Sunghoon. And you?"

"Y/N." You say with a curious tone.

He gave a curt nod, then turned to leave. "If you're smart Y/N, you'll get out of here before nightfall. The zombies are much more fast and active after dark."

You watched him go, a strange mix of relief and slight disappointment swirling in your chest. He was the first living person you had seen in days, and despite his cold dangerous demeanour, there was something about him that intrigued you.

The next time you encountered Park Sunghoon, it wasn't by chance.

You had found temporary shelter in an old dust filled bookstore, the thick walls offering some semblance of protection. It was there, while sorting through the scattered books for anything useful, that you heard the familiar sound of footsteps again.

"Didn't I tell you to leave the city?" Sunghoon's voice broke the silence, startling you, letting out a little squeak.

You turned to see him standing in the doorway, his expression as unreadable as ever. "I was looking for supplies. This place seemed safe enough."

He sighed, a hint of frustration in his eyes. "You really have no idea what you're doing, do you?"

You bristled at his tone. "I'm doing just fine on my own, thank you very much."

Sunghoon's eyes softened for a moment, then hardened again. "You're lucky you haven't been caught by a raider or a pack of zombies. Look, I have a safe place not far from here. If you want to survive, you'll come with me."

The offer took you by surprise. You had expected him to mock your optimism or brush you off as a lost cause. Instead, he was offering you an alibi, protection.

"Why should I trust you?" you asked, wary of his intentions.

"Because out here, trust is all we have," he replied, his voice as steady as can be. "And because I could have left you to fend for yourself, or easily killed you already because of how bad you are at covering tracks, but I didn't."

You studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay.. I’m trusting you because you have a very fair point. I'll come with you."

“Smart decision” Sunghoon says with a small smile.

Sunghoon led you through the maze of deserted streets, moving with the cautious and practiced ease of someone who had long ago adapted to this danger filled world. You struggled to keep up, your optimism flickering in the face of his silent determination.

His safe house turned out to be an old apartment building, protection provided with makeshift barricades and booby traps. Inside, it was sparse but functional, a resemblance to Sunghoon's meticulous nature.

"This is it," he said, closing the door behind you. "You can stay here as long as you don't slow me down, or put my life in danger.”

"Thanks," you replied, your voice tinged with sarcasm. "I'll try not to be a burden." You whisper with a small ounce of worry.

To be honest, you were terrified of being alone, and for some reason, Sunghoon’s presence felt like a warm blanket being put over you.

Sunghoon didn't respond, instead turning his attention to a map spread out neatly on the table. As he planned the next day's supply run, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness in your heart at his cold demeanor. Despite everything, you still believed in the goodness of people and humanity, and you hoped that maybe, just maybe, you could break through Sunghoon's icy exterior, and get to know the true him.

Life with Sunghoon was quite far from easy. His cold, over calculated approach to survival clashed constantly with your care free, compassionate, life risking outlook, leading to more than a few heated arguments.

"Why do you insist on risking your life for strangers?" Sunghoon had snapped one evening after you had returned from helping a group of survivors fend off a zombie attack. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

You glared at him, your temper flaring. "And why do you insist on shutting everyone out? Not everyone is out to get you, Sunghoon. Some people just need help. Have some humanity.”

His eyes flashed with anger. "You don't get it, do you? Out here, it's every man for himself. If you keep putting others first, you'll be the one ending up dead Y/N.”

"And if you keep pushing every possible human being away, you'll end up alone," you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion.

For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. Then, without another word, Sunghoon turned and stormed out of the apartment, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Days faded into weeks, and despite your constant bickering, you and Sunghoon developed an understanding for each other. You learned to navigate his cold exterior, seeing glimpses of vulnerability beneath the surface. He, in return, began to see the strength in your optimism, though he would never admit it.

It was during a particularly dangerous supply run that the turning point came.

You had made your way into a heavily infested part of the city, desperate for medical supplies. Everything was going smoothly until a horde of zombies ambushed you, forcing you to take shelter in an abandoned building.

As the zombies clawed at the doors and windows, you and Sunghoon found yourselves trapped with no way out.

"Great plan, Y/N," Sunghoon muttered, his voice dripping with venom and sarcasm.

You ignored his jab, focusing instead on finding a way to secure the doors. "We need to block the entrance, hoon. Help me move this shelf."

Sunghoon hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Together, you managed to barricade the door, buying yourselves some time.

"We can't stay here forever," Sunghoon said, his voice laced with frustration. "We need to find a way out."

“Well no shit” You say as Sunghoon shakes his head at your words, his heart pounding slightly calming down with your familiar bickering.

You glanced around the room, your mind racing. "There has to be an exit somewhere. Maybe a fire escape or a back door."

Sunghoon shook his head. "The back door is probably blocked. Our best bet is probably gonna be the roof if we don’t wanna become their next meal.”

The two of you made your way to the roof, careful to avoid attracting the attention of the zombies below. As you stood on the edge, observing the surrounding buildings, you felt a pang of despair. The city’s view out before you, a sea of ruins and danger.

"We're going to have to jump," Sunghoon said, his voice steady despite the look of terror in his eyes.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "We'll make it. We have to." You say with tears prickling into the corner of your eyes.

As you prepared to jump, Sunghoon reached out and grabbed your hand. "Stay close. We do this together."

With a deep breath, you took the jump, your fingers tightly intertwined with Sunghoon's. The jump was terrifying, but you made it to the next building, landing in a heap on the roof.

For a moment, you lay there, gasping for breath. Then, to your surprise, Sunghoon pulled you into a tight embrace. His face hurried into your neck as you feel tears falling onto your skin.

"Don't ever do that again," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I can't lose you, that was too close-“

You pulled back, looking into his eyes. "Sunghoon, I—"

Before you could finish, he kissed you, despite the dirt on both your faces, and crazy knotted hair, it felt magical, like every puzzle in the world had been connected, him capturing your lips with desperation and passion pouring into each second of it.

Without wasting another second, Sunghoon pulls you onto his lap, going for a softer gentle kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in even closer if possible, leaving soft kisses on his neck.

“Stop doing that, or I’ll really lose control.” Sunghoon says caressing your cheek, with that all-too familiar look of love oozing out of his eyes.

“Then lose control” You whisper, and he doesn’t waste another second.

In the aftermath of the situation, the dynamic between you and Sunghoon shifted. His cold exterior began to thaw, revealing a depth of pure emotion you hadn't ever expected. The arguments continued, but they were now laced with an underlying tenderness, care and love that neither of you could deny.

One night, as you sat together on the roof of your apartment building, watching the stars, Sunghoon had finally decided opened up to you about his past.

"I used to have a family," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "A little sister. She was everything to me."

You listened, your heart aching for him. "What happened?"

"The virus," he replied, his eyes distant. "We were trying to get out of the city and when she was out of my view for a second- she was infected. I had to… I had to end it."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to hold his hand and caress his cheek which at this point was now damp with his icy tears. "Hoon, I'm so sorry."

He squeezed your hand on his cheek with his free hand, his grip tight. "That's why I can't afford to be soft, Y/N. I can't let myself care, because caring means losing."

"But caring also means living," you said softly. "It means having something to fight for."

He looked at you, his eyes searching. "And what about you? Why do you keep holding on to hope?"

You smiled through your tears. "Because hope is all I have. And because I believe that no matter how dark things get, there's always a chance for something better."

As Sunghoon stared at you for a long moment, then pulled you into his arms. "You’re right Y/N, things really do get better.” He whispers giving you a gentle smile before pulling you into a kiss where you can feel all emotions clashing together.

The days that followed were filled with a renewed sense of purpose. You and Sunghoon worked together to add more protection to your safe house, scavenging for supplies and helping other survivors whenever you could. The bond between you grew stronger, forged in the fires of hardship and tempered by the tenderness of newfound love.

But the world outside remained dangerous, and the threat of the zombies was never far away.

One fateful night, the horde descended upon your building, drawn by the noise of a desperate survivor's cries for help. You and Sunghoon fought for ages now, but the sheer number of zombies was overwhelming.

"Y/N, we have to go!" Sunghoon shouted, his voice hoarse from exertion.

You nodded, grabbing your backpack and following him up the stairs. The building shook with the force of the zombies' pounding and moaning, the walls creaking and groaning under the pressure.

As you reached the roof, you realized with horror that there was no escape as last time. The neighboring buildings were way too far to jump, and the fire escape had collapsed.

"This is it," you said, your voice trembling. "We're trapped Hoon."

Sunghoon's eyes blazed with determination. "No. We fight."

He handed you a gun, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch. "Stay close to me." Sunghoon says before leaving a soft kiss onto your forehead.

The two of you stood side by side, ready to face the herd. As the first zombies approached the rooftop, you fought with everything you had, your love and determination for each other giving you the strength to keep going, you didn’t want to give up, not when you had a purpose, someone to want to live for.

In the midst of the chaos, with the last few zombies, Sunghoon was knocked to the ground, a zombie lunging at him. You acted without thinking, firing your gun and taking down the flesh eating creature before it could reach him.

"Sunghoon!" you screeched, helping him to his feet.

He pulled you into a fierce embrace, his breath hot against your ear. "I love you, Y/N. No matter what happens, I love you."

Tears streamed down your face as you kissed him, pouring all your love, fear and desperation into that one kiss.

To your luck, A group of survivors on motorcycles burst onto the rooftop after hearing all the commotion, guns blazing as they cleared a path through the horde in the streets.

"Come on!" one of them shouted. "We've got a way out!"

You and Sunghoon didn't hesitate, following the survivors down a makeshift ramp that led to a big pick-up truck. As the last of the zombies were taken down, you climbed into the truck, your heart pounding with relief, your hand tightly clasped with Sunghoon’s.

As the truck sped away from the city and terror of the night, you focused on the feeling of Sunghoon's hand, the weight of everything you had been through settling over you like a heavy blanket.

"We made it," you whispered, your voice filled with wonder and disbelief.

Sunghoon squeezed your hand, his eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and a gentle look of admiration and love. "We did. And as long as we're together, we'll keep surviving."

The journey to the survivors' camp was long and bumpy, but you and Sunghoon faced it together, drawing strength from each other. The camp itself was everything you had hoped for in a world gone mad, a place where people were rebuilding their lives and fighting for a future.

As you settled into your new home, you and Sunghoon found solace in each other, your love a guiding light in the darkness. The arguments and angst that had once defined your relationship now gave way to a deep, unbreakable bond.

And in the midst of the chaos and uncertainty, you found happiness. For in a world where survival was never guaranteed, love had become your greatest weapon, your most cherished treasure.

Together, you and Sunghoon faced the challenges of the new world, knowing that no matter what came your way, you would face it together. And in each other's arms, you found the strength to keep going, the courage to keep fighting, and the hope to keep dreaming of a brighter future.

For in the end, love was the ultimate victory, the one thing that even the end of the world couldn’t take away.

˚୨୧⋆｡˖˙ ᰋ ─��

@won4kiss 2024

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2cutie · 3 months ago

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A Touch Possessive

Kung Lao x Female!Reader

summary: 18 + content! Kung Lao doesn't particularly enjoy when you train with Tomas. He thinks that's a pretty fair thing to feel all things considered, and whether or not it was true outside his head was another thing. Whether it was his ego or denial, he doesn't think you'd be too upset if he comes up with a pretty little lie to steal you away.... You won't be, right?

a/n: pretty lil thing, innit? *pats his shoulder* dimples make my brain a bit feral. also this is longgg because I was feeling very self-indulgent. (i should probs start bulleting) but enjoy sharing my sins.

Kung Lao's gaze scans the proximity of the training field, his eyes narrowing in the sun's rays. He was looking for you - of course. When was he not?

It became more of a habitual trait at this point, and he couldn't really help it. But he had a reason this time, at least.

He was just… annoyed that you were spending time away from him. Specifically with other people.

Yeah, it was totally a reason. And no, he wasn't jealous. He had this monologue in his head everyday and every time he settled on not being jealous - therefore he wasn't.

You were a champion that Lord Liu Kang had collected; Modest, sweet, kind. A quick learner. Additionally, a great fighter. So it was really nothing short of due time that Liu kang instilled your assistance in training the rest of the champions.

Lao relished in that! He would purposefully do a poor job just to feel your hands position him to a better stance. He would work harder just to strip off his shirt because he was "sweating too much". He sent Raiden a winning smirk and wink every time you fell for it. Raiden always shook his head in disapproval.

But, that delight deflated when he realized that you would be doing the same to the others as well. Your hands on Kenshi's chest? Raiden's waist?

And when you spread out Johnny's legs with your own to show him a better way to dive out of the way? You didn't actually believe Johnny needed assistance for that, did you? The actor was totally stealing his idea!

Besides, he was your boyfriend, not Johnny.

So there he was, sulking, as he searched the Wu Shi Academy for where you were.

It was after the day's training, one where you were separated to different groups. Not only did he not get to see sweat drip off you, but he didn't get to show off for you either.

Unfulfilling.

His eyes finally fell on you. You were a small distance away, conversing the shade with Tomas at your hip. Part of his mind knew you two were discussing your martial arts - after all, Tomas was most likely your instructor of the day - but the larger, more illogical part of his brain overruled that. Tomas was looking at you with those doe eyes of his after all.

He crossed over to you in record time. He called your name, purposefully interrupting the ninja mid-sentence.

You perked off the wall, looking over Tomas' shoulder upon hearing his voice. "Kung Lao?"

He stopped when was beside Tomas. Well, until he was semi-blocking assassin purposefully but not enough for it to seem on purpose. He was smart when he wanted to be. "You, uh, busy? I need your help with.." Oh, he didn't get this far. "..Something."

You blinked. "Ah." You were mildly disinterested, but who were you to deny those dimples? You turned to Tomas, who only shook his head, dismissing you. You apologized, excusing yourself to fall in step beside Kung Lao. "What's up?"

Kung Lao couldn't resist the creeping smirk on his face. He intertwines is arm in yours, pulling you closer as if to prevent you from turning around. "I kinda lost a paper this morning. You don't mind helping me, right?"

Your face scrunched, both in confusion and disbelief. "A paper?" Seriously? That's what he wanted? You turned your head around, debating about returning to Tomas. Kung Lao walked faster. "Why not just be more organized?"

"That's more of your thing. I'm more unbothered."

"So even you admit it?"

Your cheeky comment didn't go unnoticed as he glances down to you. "It's not like I'm a mess all the time, I mean… most of the time. But not all. That counts for something."

You held back several retorts to that as he guided you to his room. He released you only once you were there, opening the door to his room. He gave a nonchalant shrug and stepped inside.

Unsurprisingly, it was in disarray, but not as much as you expected from him. You eyed it over quickly. A part of you semi-hoped this cursed paper would be in the middle of the floor or somewhere in sight so you could just leave. "What paper is it exactly?"

Chinese decor was sparsely scattered, being a spare room for the monks of the academy before their arrival. There was a crest of his heritage on the wall and the desk pushed to the wall was filled with scattered papers in his messy handwriting, all in mandarin. It seemed a fair place to start.

"Training data. I think I left it somewhere around here." His eyes follow you to his desk, some sort of shallow pride swelling in his chest to have you in his shared space. He closed the door.

"Training data," you repeat, deftly shifting through the papers. "You keep track of that? I mean, that's great. I just didn't really… expect it, I guess."

He comes closer behind you, peering over your shoulder as your muse around on his desk. He feels a little offended at that, even despite it being a lie. "I always keep track of progress and achievements."

A partial lie, anyways.

You hum in response and continue to dig through his litter. You notice that he is not at all helping, but it's not much of a shocker, really. You eyed a familiar receipt in the corner of his desk. "You know.." You pick it up, holding it over your shoulder accusatory. "If you kept track of things the same way you keep tabs of this receipt with your favourite food on it, you'd be fine."

Kung Lao snatched it back. ""Hey, don't look at that! It's the only thing that makes my life worth living, so don't you dare laugh at it!" His tone was playful and exaggerated, but it was a perfect ploy for him to move closer to you.

"Ugh, you are so dramatic," you huffed, rolling your eyes. But you couldn't exactly stop the faint blush that creeped on your cheeks upon feeling the warmth emitting just behind you.

And yes, of course - of course - he noticed. He stood right behind you as you continued your fruitless search, really just keeping your mind busy. He brushed some hair off your neck to get a good look at your face. He smirked at your reaction. "I'm simply passionate about what matters to me."

Ignoring that, you pulled away from his hand and attempted to stay focused. "You could be helping."

"I know." You sent him a look over your shoulder at his dismissive tone. "But I am helping." He continues in a low tone and his arms come beside you, his palms pressed on either side of the desk, trapping you between them. Your fingers stop rummaging when you feel him press against your back. Your eyes narrow suspiciously.. "What's wrong?" He asks in feigned innocence, his lips brushing your ear. "Did I make you lose your concentration?"

"This paper doesn't exist," you state. Not a question.

You felt Kung Lao's smirk grow against your ear. He moved down to nuzzle in the crook of your neck, nodding slowly. "I know." He really couldn't even put up a lie? "I just wanted an excuse to pull you away from Tomas. He can be annoying.."

You really, really wanted to be mad at him. But his warmth, almost scorching against your back felt a little too nice and he pressed tigher to you, encasing you. You felt yourself flush. You put a hand on the desk to stabilize yourself. Focus…

"I wasn't annoyed," you attempted to argue back, keeping your tone straight. "And that's not for you to decide for me."

His right hand shifted from the table to your hip, keeping you in place. "It doesn't matter, I just don't like seeing you with him." He whispered against your neck, mouthing his lips on your skin. He moved towards your ear again, his timbre taking a firm, and almost possessive murmur. "You shouldn't be talking with him."

You felt your gut churn. That tone wasn't doing you any favours. And he knew damn well what he was doing pressing himself behind you while pushing up against the wood, the friction pressing at your core. You knew he heard you thickly swallow. "He is still my mentor," you defend, even through your stuttered breath.

"Yeah, but you don't need to train with him. You train with me too, you know?" Kung Lao defied, voice firm and possessive. His warm hand slid from your hip to your stomach, pulling you back to him tighter.

You grunted, placing your other hand on the desk. You were trying so damn hard to keep your composure, to not prize him for his actions. But feeling him press so suggestively to you, feeling the brief hard on against your ass was maddening.

He felt so annoyingly good. Your hand snaked to his wrist, squeezing a pathetic warning to him. "I am also a student. I cannot stop training simply because you're feeling left out."

You felt his chuckle vibrate beside your ear. It was too easy to sense your failing composure. His hand crept from your belly to interlock his fingers with yours, trapping it against the wood under a firm grasp. "Whatever you say," He mumbled, dripping with a smug, amused tone, knowing damn well he wasn't listening to a thing you were saying. His lips kissed the nape of your neck, his tongue running to taste your skin.

A shiver thrummed through you. How was he so good at this? You're attempting to stay determined, but your facade was crumbling. Your hand clenched beneath his, and you squirmed.

On the contrary, Kung Lao loved the way you were involuntary grinding against his hips. His lips pressed more firmly to your neck, his lips sucking at your delicate skin. His free hand went back to the side of your hip. "Ah, ah, ah," he mocked, "don't move so much."

You let out a huff through your nose. You were done with avoiding him.

But you wouldn't let him win.

In a display of insubordination, you wrapped your arm behind his neck, pushing him closer to you. You ground back on him, firm and deliberate, stealing some power back from him. He groaned, and you felt him twitch against your ass. Your fingers sank into his hair, grabbing at his ponytail.

The hand on your hip gripped tightly and he meets the angle of your hips. "Playing dirty?" He managed to get out, the natural smugness of his voice replaced by arousal.

"Like you don't like it." You leaned your head back against his shoulder, drinking in the tremors of his response. He bit at your earlobe. "You're so annoying."

"I'm taking it as a compliment," He conceded, his tongue caressing a path behind your ear. His hand trailed lower on your stomach, his thumb swiping over your underbelly.

You heart stuttered as his fingers trailed under the layer of your shirt. You tugged his head down to your height, kissing his dimple in permission to continue. You littered kisses along his strong jawline, spreading your legs and grinded against his cock encouragingly. Kung Lao leaned it to your lips, meeting your motion in return easily.

Kung Lao's hand dipped below the pants of your uniform, his dexterous fingers grazing your awaiting folds. "Gods, you're so impatient," he grunts, the rumble reverberating both beside and behind you. His voice was a blend of desire and lust as you melted into his touch.

"You're just slow," you retaliated and nipped at his neck, trying to get him to go faster already. There was no need for him to tease; you were so wet already.

He grunted at the sting of your teeth, a shudder running through him. His head pulled off your shoulder just to look down to you, his dark eyes lusted over. "I'm slow, huh?" He questioned in a low mockery. Before you could even question his response, two fingers dipped easily into you, deep. "Because I'm slow, right?"

Your whole body locked, spine arching back into him at the sudden intrusion. Neither your body or your mind expected to be stuffed so suddenly, and an absolutely pitiful whine broke from your throat. "Ah, fuck, you asshole," you panted, his fingers already setting a steady pace in fucking you open. Your slickness made you take him easily.

"Oohh, look who's getting bratty now," Kung Lao taunted with a sharp flick of his wrist. His simper spread when he felt your hot walls clench around him.

You didn't - couldn't - manage a reply to his irritable remark. Not when his fingers worked you skillfully and steadily.

And by the gods was he good with his fingers.

You were practically convulsing gently against his frame, trying to escape from the growing pleasure that was already gnawing inside you at his fingers alone. Your unbound hand gripped at his forearms, his wrist, his fingers - anything you could reach, trying wordlessly beg him to ease up.

You were eating your words now, feeling yourself mend to a moaning debauched mess, so pliant and submissive. His fingers scratched you deep and practiced; he knew your body all too well.

His eyes burned on your skin as he watched your every reaction. You writhed against his solid frame, but your body was at the mercy he didn't feel like giving you. His sighed, so satisfied, as his gaze fell on how well your pussy swallowed his fingers and drooled over his wrist. "Now look at you, so desperate and helpless.. all from just my fingers." He punctuated his words with a crook of his knuckles, hitting just right to release a whine of pleasure from you.* "You were saying you wanted me to go faster?"

Your mind took too long to process what he had said, and by the time it did, his fingers fucked were pumping in you faster, rougher. His gaze swallowed you, watching your crumble of power.

"K-King Lao, Lao, please, L-Lao," you spluttered, clenching around his fingers as you nearly sobbed. Your hips jerked in time with the thrusts of his wrist, your body chasing the pleasure without your mind's permission. His arm wrapped around your waist, enforcing you to keep partaking in the assault of pleasure. "I-I can't-"

"Yes you can. You can take it," He intercepted, keeping you pinned against him, taught. His fingers were relentless. "Don't tell me. You're overwhelmed by my fingers alone?" He purposefully hit the same spot within you, abusing it over and over again, just to feel that delicious jerk of your hips against his hardening dick.

You want to say more, but you find yourself unable to do anything more than just to stutter out breaths and broken sobs. You feel his other hand snake from your hip down, and you blush hard at the realization of what he's doing.

He spreads your folds lewdly, just for the added torture and for his own satisfaction of having a better look at his assault on you. You were dripping for him, your pussy looking so abused and full as your swallowed around his knuckles, painting them in a clear essence. Your pants fell off your hips and to to the floor finally. You kick them hastily off your ankles, not caring where they land.

You're thankful he's mostly supporting your weight. Your own legs were not an ally anymore, not having the strength as you only leaned back into him, seeking his touch and warmth. Your head fell into his strong bicep, muffling your moans into the muscle. You had half the nerve to sink your teeth into him for torturing you like this, but you were enjoying it more than you were willing to admit.

"All spread out in front of me. How can I not just take you?" Kung Lao's own breath was turning hot and ragged, the puffs hitting against your skin. He was so hard against you now, his eyes lusted over. His tongue darts out to wet his lips while his thigh snakes inbetween yours to open you up further for him.

You felt so exposed, so vulnerable and yet with him it felt so right as he admired you, devoured you with his eyes. Relentless, he pressed his thumbpad against your clit and you let out a shrill of a moan, tears hazing your eyes in pleasure. You felt your clit tremble. "L-Lao, gods, Lao.. I.. I'm going to.."

Lao chuckled deeply at the song of your shattered moan. "You're gonna what, hm?" His fingers kept their steady pace, fucking up into you while his thumb applied more pressure, swirling. He was determined to see you fall apart, to see your fall from grace. "Are you gonna come for me?"

You nodded quickly. There was no use in lying. Your mind was completely unraveled, only focused on the rising glow inside of you. Your hips rode in time with his wrist.

"Do it. Come for me." The command was a hiss in your ear, low and gravelly.

That sent you over, as if his permission held power over you.

Your release hit you - hard and crashing. You convulsed in his hands, her body arching and twitching. Kung Lao worked you through it, working you through you even as the white started to faze out of your vision. He held you firm, wanting to feel each twitch of your climax.

You sobbed and moaned his name, the only thing your mind could process, quivering as you came undone and when he worked you into overstimulation. His fingers slowed as you started to drift away from your high. The new wetness making his coating his fingers thickly.

You stuttered at the movement on your oversensitive walls. Your grimaced, shuddered. "Kung Lao," you warned. "Please."

Alright, he could be nice.

He let his fingers slip out of you, missing your encompassing heat as soon as they left you. His fingers were stained with your mark, your release dripping down his fingers. He held his hand in front of you both, forcing you to get a good look at it all the same. You painted him so beautifully.

There was a primal satisfaction he felt thrum through his body. Kung Lao took a moment to admire the sight, feeling the slick between his fingers. "Gods, look at you," he murmured, full of pride and desire. His eyes shifted to yours as he brought his fingers to his mouth, pressing them to the flat of his tongue. He slowly, savoringly licked them clean.

You groaned at that, a spike of heat bubbling in you again. You took the moment to shallow out your breathing. "You're so gross."

"You love it," he hauntingly responds, his tongue running over his thick fingers, cleaning every last drop you left on him. When he was satisfied, he hugs you to his chest. The same hand finds course to your chin and tilts your head back.

Your mouth was parted as you panted, meeting his eyes back with your glazed ones. Kung Lao's eyes scanned over your face, committing the painting of your features into your brain

"You look so beautiful when you come undone by me." He leaned his mouth forward, hovering just above your lips. You think he's going to kiss you, until his fingers press your lips. The same fingers you came on. "Taste yourself," he ordered.

You didn't protest. His fingers dipped into your mouth and you pressed your tongue to them. Your taste was faint, but still you obediently listened to him. As his fingers pushed deeper, your tongue wraps around his index, slick and warm before you swallow. You suck on them, your eyes never leaving his as you watch his desire unfold in his eyes.

"That's it," he praises. "Taste good, don't you?" You had enough sense to glare harmlessly to him. He takes his fingers out when he's content, a trail of saliva falling disconnecting. "You look adorable trying to glare at me when you're flustered and dazed."

"I can't believe you lied about some paper just to feel me up." You tried to break out of his hold, your mind catching back up to remind you that you should be annoyed with him.

"Hey, hey, don't get mad at me. I was just having some fun." His grip was unrelenting. "I feel like you should reward me for even letting Tomas flirt with you in the first place."

You were allowed enough room to turn in his hands, facing him with an unamused look. "He was not flirting with me," you argued back. "And you don't get anything just for being jealous."

Kung Lao sent you an incredulous look. "Are you really truing to deny it? You must be completely clueless then. It was so obvious. And I wasn't jealous," he added on petulantly.

"Tomas was not.." You trailed off, thinking back to some parts of your conversation with the assassin. Perhaps, just perhaps, Lao had a point. "It's not important," you ignored his smug 'hah!'. "I wasn't flirting with him, anyways."

"You're just as oblivious as always," he retorts. "And just because you weren't doesn't mean anything. I don't like how he was all over you. He knows I'm yours."

You ignored how your heart clenched when he said that. "You are still not getting anything just because you got jealous. And yes," you tacked on quickly, "You are jealous."

"Wha-" He sputtered. "I am not jealous! Why would I be jealous of him of all people?" He huffed, an indication that he was, in fact, incredibly jealous but refused to admit it.

"Possessive then? Infatuated?" You crossed your arms over your chest. "Envious? Bitter? Which synonym would you prefer?"

Kung Lao releases a frustrated huff, knowing this was going nowhere. His eyes flicked away as you continued to drive in your point. "Fine, I was.. a little jealous. Are you happy now?" His tone was still defensive, but there was a small glint of resignation.

"You were all of the above," you corrected, eyeing him.

He rolled his eyes. "Alright, you got me. I'm infatuated, envious, whatever. Anything else you wanna add to the list?

"Sure," you practically purred and reveled in the way his shoulders slumped. "Egotistical, flamboyant, cocky…" He were enjoying the sulking look of his. "And looks so damn good when he admits it."

His brown eyes look back at you, that smirk returning to play on his lips when you mentioned the last part. His ego never took a bruise for too long. "You forgot humble and modest.'

"Oh, right," you muse, matching his energy. You smirk up to him, unfolding your arms as you cock your head to the side. "The great Kung Lao."

His eyes seem to gleam back to you, enjoying the banner. A sense of confidence washed over him at the title. "Greatest warrior of all time." So self-assured.

"And exactly what does the great Kung Lao think he deserves since he so believes he's entitled to something?"

"I think as the Great Kung Lao I'm deserving of many things. Recognition, respect, admiration…" his eyes flicker down to your form, his gaze walking over you "Among other things Tomas won't get."

You give him an unimpressed look. "And what do you want now?" You ask instead.

"Well, for one" He stars, "For you to stay far away from Tomas. And for two.." Kung Lao moves in, backing you up against the desk once more, the back of your thighs digging into the wood "I think I deserve a little reward. For being honest about my feelings." Your legs bend until you're sitting on the edge, and neither of you care about the papers you may be crumpling. His hands are on either side of you again. "A nice, hard, long reward."

Your hands rest of his shoulders, eagerly squeezing at his muscles. His hands come to pull apart your thighs to slot between them. Your turn to lick your lips. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Lao's body is firm as he pulls you by your legs to him. "And I think I'll take here, right now."

"On the desk? Seriously?".

"What? You don't like the idea of it?" His hands explore the contours of your sides. "You didn't mind a moment ago."

You sigh, defeated, and instead pull at his vest. "You're overdressed," you mumble, rising your eyes to his expectantly.

"I can fix that, easy." He moves away just enough to start undoing the buttons. Each undone button is a tease to his tanned skin below, a shade that has your mouth watering in anticipation. He pulls it off his arms, tossing it somewhere on the floor. His chest is bared to you, muscles rippling with the movement.

Your eyes roam him appreciatively and your hands find his skin again, massaging into his toned chest. He's well aware of how built he is, and even more aware of how much you appreciate it.

Kung Lao leans back, his face close to yours as he sends you that cock-eating smirk. "You like the sight, huh?" He teases. Like he had to ask.

"So obnoxious." You pinch his dark nipple in retaliation.

"Hey!" He lets out a shocked gasp, and his chest twitches at the sudden pinch. "Watch it now, that's sensitive." He pouts, rubbing a hand over the abused peck. He gives a brief glare before his smirk creeps back. "Do it again."

You let out an exasperated huff. "Ruining the moment."

He laughs, settling his grip on your hips. "You never complained before. Besides, you're the one who pinched my nipple."

"As if you didnt' like it," you retorted. You brought your hands to his face, carressing over his soft skin, your eyes drinking in his spellbinding features. Your fingers trail over his soft lips, the curve of his smile before tracing the dents of his dimples, staring at them in awe.

The dents deepened. "A fan?" His lips kiss your fingertips.

"Unfortunately."

"Only unfortunately? That hurts." His large hands squeeze you. "Can't help I have a handsome face. Lucky you, hm?" His self-assured confidence was back in full force it seemed.

"Hm," you repeated, matching his tone. "Looks ever better between my thighs."

There was a nice reaction. His eyebrows shot up at your boldness, his teeth peeking beneath his lips. "Is that an invitation?" He asks, voice lowering to a more seductive undertone. His hands shifted the inside of your legs, pushing them.

"Take it as a suggestion, if you will."

His hands stopped the junction of you pelvis. "I think I'll have to take you up on that." He kneels on the floor, quick and impatient, forcing your legs to expose yourself in the process. He's practically drooling already, and you were already bare, ready for him from the previous sin. Your pussy was a delectable sight but he still managed to trail his eyes back up to you when he heard the quick intake of breath.

Your hand shifted to the back of his head.

"Eager?" He teases, his breath fanning over your sensitive skin. You have half the mind to tell him to shut up but the words are lost when he leans in, his tongue licking a long stripe up you.

Your whole body jolts from the contact, and his hands have to hold you down atop your thighs, keeping them spread so you don't squeeze him. Not just yet, anyways. When he presses his lips to yours, sucking, a squeak leaves you and your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at his scalp.

He can feel you twitch and squirm, both beneath his palms and on his tongue. His ego inflates at the sound of your pleasure. He chuckles, the deep vibrations coursing inside of you. "Sensitive, aren't you?" He teases between licks, his tongue lapping at the wetness unfolding before him. You can feel yourself opening to him. His fingers dig dents into your plush thighs, keeping you in place as he continues, dipping his tongue inside of you.

"Oh gods," you whimper. You can't manage a reply, not right now. You undo his ponytail, letting his hair fall free to his shoulders, and you grip it to ground yourself.

Kung Lao lets out a low moan as he swallows your lather, a taste he can never be filled of, and you jolt at its vibrations. His eyes open to see you, drinking in that delicious look of ecstasy on your face. It spurs him on, his tongue working inside your hot folds with more fervor. "You're shaking," he murmurs between sucks, and his eyes are blown wide as watches between your thighs, full of hunger.

You know that, damn him. But your face still flushes deep red from hearing it from him and you whimper, trying to stifle your moans. Seems you're being stubborn. He can't have that; He'll just have to pull them out of you.

Kung Lao sucks on your clit, grazing it just lightly between his teeth, before his tongue flattens against it to soothe it. He places open mouth kisses to your folds. He wants to hear every sound, feel every whimper and gasp of pleasure on his tongue and lips. He wants it all to be for him. His tongue rides inside you, moving quick and with purpose.

You pull him more taught, pressing the both of you closer, to have him deeper. He sucks and you jerk, a moan leaving deep within your chest. His hands fall away from your thighs, instead dipping underneath your hips and crushing you to him. His mouth covers the whole of you, and he moans in satisfaction as your thighs instantly squeeze around his head, twitching and trembling. An approving grunt follows.

He has more access to you, his tongue exploring each wet cavern and crevice of you, and you can feel each path it takes, each thrust the appendage pulses into you. You're not sure if you can decide if you like his tongue or lips on you better, but fortunately you don't have to decide.

He loves every second of this, loves every drop you make for him to swallow.

Your lips are parted as you heave your breaths, the blush running down your chest and dusting your shoulders. He doubles his efforts, his tongue fucking furiously against you. He wants nothing more than to see you writhe and cry out beneath him.

And yet, when you feel yourself fading, can feel yourself getting too far gone, he stops. Sudden and short, and you feel empty as his and unfulfilled as his tongue sinks out of you.

You hear him growl as he pulls away, not entirely wanting to himself. But he's craving you carnally.

You whine in protest, panting. His chin is wet with your slick and it makes your body flame hotter.

Kung Lao's eyes are darkened with desire, his own breathing ragged. He can still taste you on his tongue, can feel the evidence of his work on his chin. "You taste so good," he praises as he licks his lips. His hands squeeze you encouragingly. "But I need more. I need you."

He rises to his feet without another warning, his body towering over yours since you slipped down to your forearms. One hand stays upon your thigh, the other coming to caress your face, his thumb tracing your plump bottom lip. "I need inside you," *he mummers, voice rugged. His body presses against you, his aching cock pressed right up to your clit through the confines of his fabric, but you still felt it twitching when he feels your wetness touch it. It's evident how much he desires you.

"I think you may have a kink for desk sex," you comment idly, your breath ghosting his lips. You shudder at how hard he is.

He leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a deep kiss. But it's short before he pulls away, his breath hot as he responds. "Maybe." His hand slips to your neck, a shiver running through you. "I think it's just you." He pushes you backward until your back is laying on the desk.

"That's so stupid and cheesy," you comment but bite your lip. He grabs at the top of your uniform and slides the rest of it over top of you, leaving you just in your bra. His eyes soak in the sight hungrily, greedy. It cups your breast so nicely…

But no as perfect as it would be with his hands. With that though, he gropes your bust, pushing the plush of it up against your bra, plumping the skin. He nearly pants at that alone. Maybe he was a boob guy afterall.

It takes his mind a moment to process you responded. "I know you don't mind it." His hand continues to knead over the lace of your bra, a touch possessive. His eyes have a dark gleam to them.

His hand pushes beneath the band of your bra, pushing it up until your bare breasts bounce out below and he wastes no time in pressing his palms to them. You arch into his touch.

A hum of approval sounds in his throat. The peak of your nipples are enticing, and he runs it between his fingers, feeling it harden at the attention. He presses the peak with his thumb, his eyes roaming to your face to watch your expressions.

"You're being handsy," you comment, pretending as if this was having no effect on you.

He tilts his head. "Can you blame me? You're just too tempting." He shifts the bra off you afterward, another garment falling somewhere to the mess of his floor. "There's so much I want to do to you.."

"Why don't you start with kissing me?"

A soft chuckle leaves him. He presses flush against you again, taking in the sight of your flustered skin. "I'm definitely doing that," he mumbles over your lips, teasing you before finally capturing yours in a deep, passionate embrace.

His tongue wastes no time in licking into your mouth, tasting, his hands holding you in place as he tastes you hungrily. You kiss him back with the same fervor, but you let him dominate the path of your lips, the ferocity of the moment. Your legs encompass him, wrapping over his sharp hips. You grind up into him. moaning as he meets your movement, his desire so hard as it slides against your wanting folds. Your fingers find their way back to his hair.

"I have a question," you murmur inbetween of kisses and you nibble on his bottom lip before salving it with your tongue.

Kung Lao shudders. He breaks his next kiss, keeping close as he looks down with lidded eyes. "Listening."

"Can you just get the fuck inside of me already?"

His tongue rolls over his teeth, dimples returning. "So bossy." But his hands are already moving down to the waistband of his pants, pulling them down without a waste of another second. There's a bit of arrogance in his expression when he's there nude above you. "I like it. But can't you wait a little bit longer?" He's purposefully teasing you.

"Make me wait any longer," you started, a grumble in your chest, "And I'm going back to Tomas."

A laugh escapes out of him, his head dipping back in amusement. When the laugh ends, his head dips toward you again, his eyes gleaming with annoyance and a flash of possessiveness. He leans in, his lips hot against your ear, his voice dipping low and dangerous as he speaks. "Don't you dare every joke about that," he nearly growls.

"Then get on with it." You lick a hot stripe from the curve of his collar bone, up the length of his neck, tasting his sweat and pulse beneath his tongue. You stop at his chin, placing a wet kiss there. The sight of his thick, twitching and curved cock nearly makes you feral. Precum drips out of its slit and your mouth waters.

Kung Lao shudders overtop of you, a moan escaping past his lips. His self-control is fading, the desire of how badly he wants you surging forth. It was driving him wild.

He finally kicks off his pants completely.

You are both bare and exposed, the heat between the both of you scorching. Your hands seek his skin, following the valley of his contours before finding purchasing in wrapping around his neck, keeping him close to you. Your breaths mingle, tasting each other's. You're so ready for him, it almost hurts with every pulsing throb that runs through you. You peck his lips, looking into his eyes as you await him.

You don't dare to blink. You always loved watching his expression when he sunk into you, afterall.

He sigh when he finally, finally, lines himself up to you.

His chocolate burn you, committing the feel of your legs around his waist to his vast memory of you. His heart is pounding in the confines of his chest, his body tight with need for you. "You're beautiful," he can't help but mutter, his words barely more than a whisper. He drinks in your every feature, his breath catching in his throat as he finally, slowly, pushes into you.

His girth stretches into you and your warmth envolpes him, so easily encompassing, your body familiarized with every part of him. You grunt at his entrance, your head dipping back onto the desk. Your hips arch up into him, his cock curving into you deeply. He holds you steady.

You're so tight, so hot, so wet. So perfect for him.

Your hand squeezes the back of his neck, the other raking your nails into the curve of his back as you ground yourself into the moment. "Kung Lao," you moan out his name, watching his eyes dilate, his eyebrows scrunch in pleasure as he hilts into you.

He's always so expressive in that moment, with how his lips part open, his eyes haze beyond his control.

"You feel so good," he grunts, ragged and deep, his lips still parted as he breaths out the words. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment at sensation of your nails dipping into his skin, his body rigid with pleasure. He loves that sound of his name on your lips, the way you say it; the way you need him in this moment.

He begins to move, his hips thrusting into you slowly at first. His hand bruise your hips as he tries to maintain the last threads of his control. His eyes open to fixate on your face.

He didn't need to wait for you to adjust. Not when you were so used to him, not when he prepared you so well. He moves inside of you deeper, accumulating you to his increasing movement. His breath fans off your skin, both of your moans slipping into the other's mouth.

You're so slick around his cock. He opens you wider for himself, a hand holding you down on your thigh, while the other glides to the dip of your knee and raises your leg up, settling it over his shoulder to spread you. His angles his hips a new angle, delving into you deeper.

You can practically see the moment in his eyes when he feels you fully adjust to him, the flash of lust over his pupils when he knows he can pummel you. He marks your plush skin possessively, his thumb stroking the skin that plumps under his grip. He drinks in every twitch, every pass of pleasure on your face and every moan that escapes from your lips. His pace increases steadily.

"You're so pretty, Kung Lap," you praise and he kisses your knee. "I like when your hair is down. Fuck, you feel so good." Your hips undulate as his thrusts turn more purposeful, more pointed.

Your compliments wash over him, his pulse jumping. Something in him always burned when you praised him, something primal. "You feel amazing," he responds, hips thrusting faster into you, your skin slapping off each other, the sound filing into the background.

You pussy clenches around him, pulling a moan from the both of you. You shiver at the sound of his moan, a ripple of pleasure coursing through you. You can hear how wet you are becoming, the lewd sound of your sex filling the room, amplifying your shared lust. The desk begins to creak beneath you as he picks up his pace to something more relentless.

Kung Lao's eyelids flutter again. You were going to kill him with how much you twitched and clenched without realizing. The desk was a countertenor to your lyrics of pleasure, urging him on, riling him to to pull more from you.

"You're so tight," he grunts.

You cursed below your breath. He hits into you so deep, so bruising. "You make such pretty sounds, Lao," you whisper. "Please keeping moaning. F-for me."

Your words course a shiver down his spine. He ruts into you, and it earns a deeper and more guttural sound from him. He pushes your thigh further up on his shoulder. "Don't stop talking," he growls out, his breathing coming out more heavy and broken as his thrusts stutter.

You poke an eye open, watching his sanity crumble. Your other eye opens. "You like when I talk to you?" You ask around broken moans. "Like when I praise you for being a good boy?'

Your eyes paint with lust when he nods, his eyes nearly rolling back at the title. "I love it," he gasps, steadying his weight on an arm as his thrusts slam into you. Your voice, your choice of words, drive him wild. His hips buck into you more urgently, less rythmatic, relying more onto his fraying instincts. You know his you a bruise in shape of his hand by tomorrow. "Do not stop. Please don't stop."

Who were you to deny that? "The great Kung Lao falls at such simple words.. So beautiful when he's like this." You moan at a particularly harsh thrust, spine jerking into him* "So pliant. My good boy.. good puppy."

Kung Lao nearly whines at that. You both demean and praise him as one, and he can't resist the pull it has over him, his movements turning sloppy as he ruts into your hips. He released a loud moan, his eyes practically pleading with yours. "I'm your good boy," he agrees, his body all but melting, his hips driving into you with a desperate need.

And yet you crave even more. You know he can give you more. "Don't be so gentle with me, pretty," you coo. "Go harder. Be rough. You can do that for me, can't you? Baby?"

A guttural moan passes his lips at the neediness in your request. He likes it rough. He loves it even more when you give permission to be rough.

"Anything," he nods. "Anything you want." He rightens his grip on and does an experimental thrust into you, harder, brutal as he drags you down onto him in time with his plunge. He doesn't wait for a response, diving right into a savage pace, jackhammering into you at an animalistic rhythm. His muscles strain, but gods he needed this.

The force of his hips send the desk into an endless creaking state that threaten to splinter, scraping against the floorboards. The back of it bangs against the wall with each calculated thrust, but neither of you can find a care to stop. A large part of him is riled knowing someone could hear you both, knowing that they're hearing him claim you.

"T-that's it," you affirmed. "Y-yes, Lao. Doing.. so-so good. Feel so good."

"You're mine," he states with a deep growl," the thought of someone - hopefully Tomas - hearing this was driving him to an almost overwhelming state. His hips bounced off yours in an impairing force, the sound of your coupling growing desperate, urgent.

"Yours," you confirmed. Your head throws back, your throat presented to him. Tempting… "F-fuck, Kung Lao..!"

That smirk returns to his lips, seeing the expanse of your throat bared to him. His head dips to it, his lips sucking over your pulse point. His teeth graze it, teasingly. "You have no idea how good you look like this.."

Moans spill from you, falling from your lips in an overflow and he soaks the vibrations of them, bites them. Your nails leave crescent dents into him, red marks burning into his back.* "Tell me about it," you request in a helpless whimper.

His teeth pave a burning pathway to the side of your cheek, his deep grunts filling your ear. "The way you open up for me." he starts, his voice sensual and gravelly with need, his body practically molding itself against you as he bounces you off of him. "The way your pussy takes me, the way your body responds.. Your moans.."

"Yeah?" Your urge him on, your own body responding to his words. "How wet I get for you?"

Kung Lao moans, the sound guttural. His lips find your jawline, pressing nibbles across it. He's driven by your words. "So wet, so tight."

The best part about that was just how amplified it made the sounds between you two. The loud, wet squelch. It made everything so much more intoxicating.

"You do it to me, it's all you, K-Kung Lao," you sputter out. Your lips messily find his.

This was so obscene, so disgustingly perfect. "All me, no one else," he growls between your tongues' intertwining, his pants hot and heavy as his thighs slam off yours. "No one else can make you feel this."

The hickeys he left tingle on your neck, and you relinquish in their burn. Your tongues dance in a heated, messy display, hands groping any part him you can reach. You find the column of his throat and you squeeze, firmly. "Only you," you agree. "S-so keep fucking me, Kung Lao. Make me come on you, let me feel - fuck - feel you inside me.. Please? So I know I'm yours. I-inside and out."

Kung Lao's lips part in delight, in pure pleasure at the restriction around his throat. The sound of your light begging, telling him to make you come? He would do anything you asked in that moment. "Fuuck, you're mine."

His hands grip onto the underside of your hips and lift you, the change of inclination allowing him to thrust into your warm cavern deeper.

Your moans leave you without any sense of control or restraint. You can only willingly take what he's pounding into you, your mouth agape as moans stream out of your raw throat. You're burning, so is he, and you can feel the familiar urge settling in your stomach.

He knows you're right there on the edge because he's there too, but his focus is entirely on you. "Come for me, baby girl," he grits out, driving into his hips. "I need to feel you." He grunts out your name, and you think that was the thing that truly breaks you.

You bury your fingernails further into him, ground yourself, overwhelmed by him. You moan his name loudly, the only thing your mind could process onto as you came for the second time, more immense than the last.

He watches you you fall apart beneath him, your climax painting you into the perfect picture of debauchery. Your inner walls tremble and grip him, aside your spiraling cries, and it's almost enough to send him following right over the edge. Almost. "You're perfect," he gasps out, gripping your thigh closer to him, using it as an anchoring point to plow into you.

Your breath remains shuddered, moans still slipping past your lips as he continues to fuck into you even in your hazed, barely there mindset as you tried to find solace after your release. Your hips jerk gently out of your control, bucking back up to him as he chases his own ecstasy. Your eyes are blurred, pupils blown wide as you keep your vision trained on him.

One look at your eyes and he knows he's done for, but he holds on, stuttering with more urgency. "I'm close," he rasps out, strained. "So close."

"Please," you beg to him in a soft, needy whisper. He leans back over you, pressing his head into your shoulder. He can practically feel himself tear apart.

Your arms wrap around him in a secured embrace, feeling the way you claw onto him in anticipation for his own release. He faltered, if only for you.

It pushes him into his own pleasure, a lengthy moan escaping his throat, his body tensing while his hips mercilessly still plow into you, burying your head deeply into the crevice of your neck as he comes inside of you. "Fuck," his hisses as he rides through his orgasm, "I'm so-I- you-"

He's sputtering nonsense, his mind so far gone.

"That's it," you whisper encouragingly, shifting your hips to feel his warmth cradle the inside of you, the heat spreading into you deeply. You milk him for all his worth and when he doesn't have more to give, he slows speed down, his thrusts turning soon shallow.

Kung Lao can feel himself shuddering against you, his body reeling from the pleasure still coursing through his veins, the adrenaline that still pumps through him with every hammering pulse of his heart. He's completely wrecked, utterly spent, but he can't bring himself to move away from you, not just yet.

You are in no rush to escape from him either. You just hold onto him there, your bodies intertwined intimately as you bond in the mutual afterglow. He's still inside of you, entrapping his release inside of you, hot and filling. Your fingers glide over the skin of his mark you marked, a comforting sensation for him, while your others glide themselves through his hair. It's quiet between you two as you share a few silent moments

. You nuzzle your cheek on his head, peppering kisses to the crown of his hair. Your pulse steadies in his comfort and you let out a small, content noise. "So good for me," you praise after a pause, when you trust your voice to speak again.

But apparently his mind was already back because you can feel his ego practically bolstering, his senses flooding back into him. He pulls slightly back, hovering closely above you with a self-satisfied look in his eyes. "Perfect, aren't I? He grins. "I do come from a long line of-"

"You're so unsexy." You push his face away from you.

He cackles, his lips widening honestly. He grabs at your wrist, holding it so you can't push him away. "So what? You love it. Don't deny it, you think I'm great."

You make a noise, shaking your head at his pride but even you can't help the sound of affirmation that leaves you. You caress his cheek and you sigh again, silently, your eyes softening in adoration. "Yeah," you begrudgingly agree. "I do love you."

Oooh, he's never letting you live down those words. He cranes into your touch. That winner smirk of his dissolves into a genuine one, his eyes softening. "You better love me," he answers, tone turning more affectionate. He places a kiss to your palm. "You're stuck with me forever, you know that right?"

"Only if you don't burn the world down before then," you confirm.

"I'm not that bad," he protests but there's cheekiness bordering his voice. "I might destroy a few things. But I'm a perfect angel, really."

You want to scoff at that. This saint just committed several sins with you. You raise yourself up and he pulls himself out of you, humming at the loss of your contact. You feel the mess pool between your legs and you grimace. "If you're such a saint, how about you being so generous and carrying me to the shower?"

Kung Lao isn't really listening to you, passive as he takes satisfaction in watching his come pour out of you instead. But he eventually looks back to you. "Demanding as usual." He shakes his head in mock disapproval. "But," he concedes, lifting you easily into his arms. "I suppose I can indulge you once in awhile."

"My hero," you pride him flatly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His chuckle runs through you in his chest and he squeezes you as he carries you into the adjourned bathroom with prideful strides. "You really should be more grateful, you know," he teases. He sets you gently down in the shower, ensuring your legs can stand on their own before he releases you.

You don't reply for a second, focusing on stabilizing yourself. "You're staying, right?" You don't voice it, but it's an obvious plea for him to shower with you.

Lao raises an eyebrow at you, clearly saying: 'Of course I'm staying', as if he was offended you even thought differently. He steps inside of the shower after you, closing the distance between you and him again. He smiles down at you and walks you back under the water spicket.

You smile up to him, your hands finding trails over his arms to take. You know you really shouldn't tease him, but you just can't help it… "Wanna invite Tomas, too?"

Bad choice for you. His hand was on the nozzle and upon hearing your words, he stops and looks down on you. Did you seriously just ask him that?

"He has his own." His answer was short.

He just.. can't help it when he feels a bit vindictive, twisting the shower on to rain freezing water down onto you. His expression clearly communicated that that's exactly what you deserved and he holds you there tight as you shriek and try to escape.

He watches the water crusade over you, your body shivering and he doesn't fight the satisfied look on his face.

"Lao!" You shriek, your hair weighing down under the cold divets of water. "You asshole!"

He sighs in exaggerated bliss, obviously enjoying the desired effect it had on you. He holds you tighter to him, his body radiating a warmth that contradicts the cold water pouring down on you. "You know you deserved that."

You shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin. His gaze follows the trail of water running down your body, following the lines of your curves. Your nipples perked, hardened. But when you shiver again, your teeth clattering, he finally finds some mercy and turns the water to warm. He moves himself under the stream of water as well, letting it rain over you both. He sighs at the contact.

You harmlessly glare up at him. "You are such…" You honestly had no good comeback.

"Can't help it." His voice lacked remorse. "You provoked me."

"Pain my ass," you mutter beneath your breath, but you know damn well you partially deserved that.

But hell, if you didn't absolutely adore him...

"You have a nice ass," he adds after a moment.

"Lao, if you don't shut up for at least two minutes.."

#kung lao x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #kung lao #mk1 #mk1 x reader #kung lao x you #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat kung lao #look guys i made a border that cool ppl do #thank u ppl on pinterest bc i dont own the game and cant screenshot pretty screens of the bbgirls #my writing

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zqmbiescorpse · 2 years ago

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GLADIATOR, PART 2

johanna mason x female reader

a/n: yay johanna is in this part, sorry if any parts seem messed up? i don't know if copying it from ao3 affected it.

summary: after winning the 72nd hunger games, quite a name had been made for you in the capitol - quickly becoming a favourite across panem. because of this, naturally, you find yourself thrown back into the horror of the games due to the 3rd quarter quell, representing district 5 one last time. though, not all is lost, fellow tribute and close friend, johanna mason of district 7, finds herself in the same position.

tags: graphic depictions of violence (sometimes), johanna mason, katniss everdeen, peeta mellark, finnick odair, johanna mason x female reader, catching fire, mockingjay part 1, mockingjay part 2, 72nd hunger games, 75th hunger games, gore, eye gore, detailed descriptions of eyeball squishing, disabled reader, female reader, reader is missing an eye, reader is missing limbs, missing fingers, traumatic events, blood, choking, johanna mason needs a hug, rebellion, slow burn, mutual pining, scared of feelings, fluff, angst, making out, kissing, confessions, peeta has his prosthetic leg, maybe smut idk, tension, awkwardness, wlw, i love johanna so much

warnings for this part: trauma, mild violence - a lot lighter than the previous part, also mentions of forced prostitution

word count: 3.01k

(part 3) (masterlist)

You woke with a start, having been thrashing around in your sleep, evident in the many luxurious duvets and plumped pillows scattered around everywhere, that same nightmare fresh in your mind as you processed your surroundings. Every single night you relived the terror of the events that occurred during the games; your victory and merciless killing of the District 1 tribute whose name you hadn't even known. That was bordering on three years ago, of course, his name was engraved into your everyday thoughts now.

Lonnie Velasco. Funnily enough, his name was the only one you could remember out of all the 23 other tributes. His name was the only one you wanted to forget. Without fail, you'd see his face each time you closed your eyes, the memory of his golden curls slicked back with a grim, homemade gel consisting of sweat, blood, and grease - his perfectly kept tanned skin splattered with patches of crimson. Worst of all, it was the fear-stricken look in his eyes, silently begging you to let him live while he tried to breathe; the pressure of your hands squeezing his bruised neck, purples, greys and blues flourishing beneath your fingertips, the life draining from the blonde who was really just a boy.

After countless interviews celebrating your 'honourable' victory, every moment you had unfortunately shared with Lonnie in that arena was seared into your mind, constantly hanging over your head, the guilt clinging to your entire being, its nails digging into your flesh solidifying its position there.

Returning home to District 5, you and your family soon moved into a new, very expensive house provided by the Capitol as a reward for winning the games. It was much larger than anything you had lived in before; an appropriate accommodation for a family of six, but, a lot of the time you wished you could have the spacious building to yourself. You were happy they were happy, delighted that the elongated torture you had endured brought a little positivity into your life.

Yet, here you were, back in a Capitol apartment years later, being reaped for a second time. The third Quarter Quell. You couldn't exactly describe how you felt hearing your name get read out from that stupid slip of paper. Your stomach dropped in an instant, twisting and threatening to throw up any food you had consumed earlier in the day, your knees suddenly feeling weak, shaky, the lower half of your body easily mistaken for a wobbling jelly struggling to support the upper half.

There was no hope for a volunteer as you and an elderly woman were the two female victors of District 5, understandably she acknowledged the fact that her name wasn't called and moved on. Still, it wasn't fair that you had to plunge back into the nightmare, tearing open all gradually healing mental wounds wide open, re-exposed to the trauma of the games you had been working on overcoming. On top of that, you were also, very clearly, unsuitable for combat, your dominant hand having three out of five fingers made it almost impossible to grip anything, let alone a weapon. Not to mention you were half blind.

Crashing waves of anger, misery and hopelessness washed over you, not stopping anytime soon - causing your muscles to tense, teeth grinding against each other in order to stop yourself from lashing out in front of everyone, not wanting peacekeepers to view your perfectly natural, valid human emotions as acts of defiance.

That was days ago, time passed and so did your intense negativity, allowing yourself to take a calmer approach to the situation in front of you. You wanted to make it out alive, meaning you had to prepare yourself the best you could, mentally, more death and tragedy were coming, finding their way toward you, its dirty filthy ways of eternally fucking a person over crawling into the fresh, open flesh representative of your trauma. Then, you were provided with a shining beacon of hope.

That morning, Haymitch had caught up to you somehow, discreetly pulling you aside, out of sight without a single soul noticing your absence. At first, you hadn't thought it was weird, knowing Haymitch for a good while now made you close friends, leading you to believe that he had plans about something. You figured the girl from District 12, Katniss, who had won the Games alongside Peeta the year prior, was involved because of rumours circulating about rebellious acts committed in their games.

Although you were correct about her, you weren't expecting Haymitch to come out with this ridiculous plan to ensure the survival of Peeta and Katniss. Supposedly, he wanted you and, about, eight other tributes to secretly work together to get as many survivors as possible out of the arena, and the two victors of District 12 to District 13. The entire concept made your brain short circuit and you weren't sure if you fully understood what was going to happen, or why it was, yet, you leaped at the opportunity to aid in the rebellion, flattered to be so trusted by Haymitch. He was glad, feeling more secure that you were in on it too.

You let out a sigh, the breath wavering as you stared up at the ceiling of the unnecessarily huge apartment. Chances of getting back to sleep were slim, extremely slim, especially after being coated in an uncomfortable sweat from an incredibly vivid dream and the thought of Haymitch’s plan wouldn't leave you be.

Most of the other tributes, you found, suffered the same fate of constant night terrors, even combined it would be a miracle if between you a full ten hours was achieved. Restless, you'd heard that the others would venture down into the training rooms at night, though, not a single person laid a finger on anything dangerous. It was more of a social thing, they would go down there to clear their minds or maybe talk, depending on whether anybody else was down there with them.

Besides, the rooms had to have been left open for a reason - you speculated it was for the audience, to show strong friendships between past victors, making the upcoming games more exhilarating, entertaining, and possibly sad? Did the people of the Capitol have it in them to feel sad, to sympathise? You weren't sure.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you made sure your sleepwear looked somewhat presentable in case of finding company tonight, shuffling quietly through the apartments to avoid waking anyone who might've been resting. Surprisingly, the corridors and elevators were well-lit at this time, each bright shine leading you closer to your destination.

Eventually, you approached the set of heavy, double doors (metal you were sure) indicative of the training room and social areas. You brushed your shoulder up against it, jolts shooting down your body at the cold surface, slowly cracking the right door open, producing a limited amount of noise.

Squinting at the fully illuminated room, it took a second for your eye to adjust to the space. However, it didn't take long to spot the spikey, red-headed woman sitting not too far away from where you were standing; seemingly busy, not yet noticing you, her fingers running carefully along the edge of an axe, resting in her lap.

You'd known Johanna since the 73rd Hunger Games, the pair of you mentoring for your respected district tributes (7 and 5), thus giving you the opportunity to meet in person. Unbeknownst to you, she had watched your games as closely as you had watched hers the previous year, logical due to your similar age range - her older by just over a year. Because you and Johanna were the youngest mentors for that year, you remembered trying to make conversation, and a friend, so your time back in the Capitol was manageable.

"Can't sleep?"

Ripped away from your mindless daydreaming, you were met with an alerted Johanna, her entire attention fixated on you, a wide grin apparent on her face like she found humour in her own dumb question.

"No…I can't," You managed, the inner workings of your brain coming to a halt the second her eyes were on you. Normally, your mind works at a fast pace, and speaking to people was never an issue. Until it was. Until it was Johanna you were speaking with. "How are you feeling?" You offered, asking an unintentionally dumb question in return.

"How am I feeling?" She echoed, fired up and amused, but in an angry sense. "Pissed off, for starters."

"Sorry, I don't know why I asked that," You trailed off, feeling a bit awkward but really, your short-tempered friend wasn't all that bothered by it, she wasn't mad at you per se.

A sigh.

Watching as Johanna looked back down to the weapon, you didn't know if that was your sign to leave, frustrated at yourself for being so stupid and messing up a conversation before it even had a chance to get going. Tentatively, you turned toward the metal doors, about to walk away.

"It's fine." Shaking the hair out of her face, she lifted her head to gaze at you, catching how quickly you quipped back around to face her. "I'd rather have you for company than anyone else" Johanna cracked up, adding a swift, "Not like there's anyone decent about anyway," to the end of the sentence, retracting the affection immediately after it was given out.

"Well, thank you. It's been a while, kinda sucks this is the way I get to see you again" You paid a short amount of attention to what she had just said, possibly flustered and not wanting it to affect you.

"Kinda sucks?" Johanna laughed, that uniquely menacing laugh that you adored, "This is a load of shit, Y/N and I can't believe they're putting us through it again."

Her tone shifted, the irritation seeping from her words. You noticed her hand around the axe start to tremble furiously, chuckling still while gritting her teeth. You took it upon yourself to join Johanna, sitting down beside her and waiting for her to calm down. She did, the tense atmosphere becoming a comfortable silence.

Sympathy; it was all you could feel. A huge part of your admiration for Johanna came from the fire that burned so dangerously within her, her adamant refusal to sell herself away to the capital as a prostitute, to be used once more by those disgusting, thieving mutts. She lost her family because of it, because she wanted to have some of her life back after losing so much of herself in that damned arena.

You knew that, deep down, a part of Johanna resented you because you escaped the threat of it. The injuries that permanently mangled your body, from the brutality of that final brawl, made you unfit for it, undesirable to the citizens of the profound Capitol. Prosthetics and whatnot had been offered to 'fix you up', but you couldn't let them do that to you. If it weren't for the sheer entertainment your suffering brought for the Capitol, your family would also be dead because you defied them.

Pride was the last word you felt regarding your wounds; they didn't make you feel like the warrior you had been made out to be, they were just a constant reminder of the trauma you have endured - haunting any possible peaceful moments, taking over your life. For crying out loud, you couldn't even try to see the world how you used to before your games, literally and metaphorically (since you lost an eye and have to deal with wonky depth perception, on top of everything else.)

Her breath was in sync with yours, the inhaling and exhaling being the only noise in the room. From the corner of your eye, you could see her looking at you, observing you, while a smug yet warmish smile crept onto her lips. Sheepishly, you averted your focus from a random spot on the training room floor to glance at Johanna. She tilted her head and raised her dark eyebrows at you, expecting you to say something.

"I don't think I'm making it out of there alive this time," You said, honestly. You sensed it wasn't what the pretty redhead wanted you to say, however, you didn't miss the way her eyes softened slightly at your comment.

"We've all done it once, we're all capable." Johanna renounced, sharply intaking a breath, disturbed at what she had implied. "You'll be fine," she added, reaching out to pat your shoulder in support, trying to reassure you. You appreciated it deeply, a light flutter in your stomach.

Unexpectedly, her arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders, pulling you forward slightly, forcing you into an embrace, your arms mirroring the position of hers, your hand brushing against her back. It was silent for a moment. You could hear your own quickened heartbeat and you were sure she could hear it too. There was so little space between you that the sound of her opening her mouth to say something was impossible to miss; her breath tickling your earlobe as she leaned in even closer now.

"Are you in on it too, Y/N?"

All the tension built up in your cramped muscles loosened, providing a sensation that made you feel like you were deflating. The hug was merely a cover to disguise her question, so anybody watching wouldn't have heard what she was asking you, instead assuming that you and Johanna were sharing this moment of melancholy, in each other's arms. To be honest, you mistook it for the same thing. Working yourself up like that, hoping for something different than what you got. She was playing with you.

"Yes…I am," You responded, sensing she'd pull away at any second. She didn't.

Johanna let you stay there for a while. It comforted you both. You had no idea how she would be feeling exactly, but you knew it made you feel safe and appreciated, and hoped that it made her feel similarly positive, taking your mind away from the games for a brief instance of relaxation. Being pretty much cuddled into Johanna, she was all you could think about, as she often was. Occasionally, you would wonder if you made your feelings for her obvious, and of course wanted to know if there was any chance she felt the same, no matter the complications it would bring.

"We should get back," the redhead whispered, the soft, smoothness of her words enveloping your ear, cushioning it, steadily releasing you from her grasp.

"You're right, I'm starting to feel sleepy, for a change. I don't know what you did Johanna, but you've helped loads. Thank you." The gratitude slipped from your lips while a small hint of blush appeared on your cheeks.

Again, Johanna laughed, retrieving the axe she had set aside, standing up and waiting for you to follow, which you did with great haste. The pair of you sauntered toward the large metallic doors, remaining close to one another with each step, brushing shoulders every now and then.

You grabbed the handle, the metal as chilled as it was earlier. Getting the door for Johanna, opening it wide for her to pass through, she had stopped right in front of it, clutching the training axe, an unreadable, maybe frustrated, expression present.

"And what are you gonna do with that? Bring it back to bed with you?" You joked, finding yourself funny.

"No, silly," She chuckled back, for a second seemingly genuinely amused by you, then to your surprise, the District 7 tribute pivoted sharply and hurled the axe across the training room, the weapon wedging itself into a padded area on the wall. With a new sense of pride in her step, Johanna walked on ahead, exiting.

"Hurry up Y/N!" She called out, nearly halfway down the hallway.

You had been standing frozen in place, still holding the door wide open, processing what had just happened (and figuring out if you were attracted to it). Remains of a dumbfounded look lingered on your face as you caught up to the fiery woman.

Eventually, you and her arrived at your apartment, stood outside your room. She didn't have to come all that way with you, in fact, getting off the elevator two floors earlier was quite an inconvenience, but, there she was, right in front of you.

"I appreciate you walking me here," You mumbled, the words barely audible - wanting to show your gratitude, though, you ended up making yourself visibly flustered.

Johanna hummed, lifting her line of sight to lock eyes with you. She had no issue holding eye contact, her gaze intense while she stared you down, a certain something glimmering inside the organs. On the other hand, you struggled, not bearing the same confidence she had. Everything began to feel quite tense, gulping at the sensation of blood rushing to your ears and your cheeks, listening while your heart gradually picked up pace, quickening, slamming recklessly against your rib cage.

She looked like it was taking every bit of her strength to hold back, to not give in to the urges suffocating her senses. You looked desperate. Both of you refused to let the moment end, craving something from one another, neither willing to do anything about it.

Your mouth twitched, about to speak. Nothing aside from a small stutter came out, Johanna's eyes widened for a split second, like she was begging you to talk.

"Goodnight, Johanna." You uttered, offering a smile because you knew that the pair of you were hoping for much more.

"Sleep well, Y/N."

Disappointment flashed over her and you felt just as gloomy. Those minutes between you loomed over your mind while you settled back into bed, different outcomes and things you could've said and done occupying your thoughts. At Least the drama of romance kept the nightmares away for the rest of the night, you slept better than ever, drifting off thinking of Johanna.

Rejection held you back. Fear held her back.

#the hunger games #The hunger games catching #catching fire #johanna mason x reader #johanna mason #x female reader #fanfiction #lqbtqa #finnick odair #katniss everdeen #haymitch abernathy #peeta mellark x reader

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mariacallous · 10 months ago

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Despite the overwhelming scale of former president Donald Trump’s victory in the Iowa caucuses on Monday night, some of Trump’s most ardent supporters have already claimed that the vote was rigged because he lost one single county.

“After it was reported that President Trump won every county in Iowa tonight, Democrat shenanigans ensued and now it’s being reported that Johnson County in Iowa, which is a Biden +40 county, flipped to Nikki Haley by ONE VOTE,” Laura Loomer, a far-right activist who has been embraced by Trump, posted on X in the early hours of Tuesday morning.

Other Trump supporters on far-right online platforms also claimed electoral conspiracies, even though Trump won 51 percent of the vote in Iowa, with Florida governor Ron DeSantis a distant second at 21 percent and former UN ambassador Nikki Haley in third place at 19 percent, according to results shared by the Iowa Republican Party and AP’s election tracker.

“We need a recount in Johnson County RIGHT NOW!” an X account named Red Eagle Politics wrote.

On Trump’s own platform Truth Social, Seth Keshel, a retired US army captain who has become a leading voice in the election denial movement in recent years, wrote: “Haley by one vote in Johnson County screws my prediction of 99/99 to Trump. Audit!”

Some of Keshel’s followers claimed those who voted for Haley had been “paid” to vote against Trump, but provided no evidence to back up this claim.

On pro-Trump message board The Donald, where a lot of the online organizing of the January 6 riot took place, users took issue with Haley’s Monday night claim that Iowa voters made the presidential election a “two-person race.”

“They rigged that county by a single vote just so she could say this,” one user wrote.

Others said the one vote loss was the work of the so-called deep state. “To win by ONE vote is just too conspicuous,” a user wrote. “It looks like a ‘Fuck You’ from the Deep State.” Responses in the same thread urged Trump to call for a recount in order to “trigger” his opponents.

Some Trump supporters also claimed that tens of thousands of Democrats were being paid to switch allegiances for the caucus and vote for Haley.

“The Iowa Democratic party has reportedly pushed for and paid TENS OF THOUSANDS of its registered voters to temporarily switch their party registration from Democrat to Republican so they can caucus for Nikki Haley,” Joshua Hall, who was once convicted of threatening to kill Democratic congressperson Eric Swalwell, posted on X.

While there was no evidence anyone was paid to vote, CBS reported that in at least some Johnson County precincts, election officials ran out of forms printed to allow people to switch party affiliations on the night.

As has been the case since the first false claims of a stolen election emerged in the wake of Trump’s loss in 2020, none of those claiming wrongdoing on Monday night provided any proof to back up their claims. With a long primary season now underway, those peddling lies about election integrity are just getting started.

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cygniavenue · 11 months ago

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can I humbly request that Odysthe ramble? I am very intrigued and you brought it into my mind in exchange I can give you UHHHHH A worm on a string, if that strikes your fancy

i humbly accept worms on strings!!

so honestly most of my thoughts on them are just stuff i came up with in my head because they dont have any canon interactions :( but i dont think it's very far-fetched to say that they did interact, considering how close they both are to Diomedes.

i did say this in my other post but Sthenelus is violently jealous of Odysseus at first. he sees how well they get along, and how quickly they become close friends, and on top of that they share a patron goddess. so Sthenelus is maybe just a little bit afraid that Odysseus will steal Diomedes from him. Sthe does have friends outside of Dio (iirc somewhere the Iliad states that he is "kindred spirits" with another character named Deipylus) but Dio is his best friend, and he's maybe a little hurt and jealous when Dio referrs to Ody as his best friend.

Ody is pretty keen on sensing this jealousy (it's not very hard to tell) and isn't deterred by this at all. He probably thinks it's funny because he really has no intention of stealing Dio from Sthe, i mean, obviously. He has a wife and a son at home who he really misses. and flirting with Dio is fun, but most of it is kinda just going over Dio's head. Neither are really in it for any kind of commitment, it's just all in good fun. So Odysseus gets the bright idea that he's going to try flirting with Sthe. He's hot tempered and a little arrogant but Dio must like him for some reason and besides that Odysseus does think he's attractive. he's also trying to put himself between them so he can maybe play a little matchmaker because its utterly ridiculous how DioSthe are pining for each other, but these two don't really know anything about love and they're not budging.

But anyways, Ody flirting with him definitely doesn't go over Sthe's head as much as it does with Dio. It gets him flustered and riled up which is very entertaining to Ody so he just does it even more. and slowly over time Sthe stops resisting it so much and even pokes back at him sometimes. They become friends eventually, even if it takes Sthe a while to open up, but all three of them end up being really close.

and its sort of at this point where Ody is kinda like. well fuck. i might've caught feelings for both of them. which is really unfortunate for him because DioSthe definitely don't realize they've caught feelings for him too. these guys are in so much denial.

and i wish i could say they get a happy ending where polyamory wins! but the whole Palladium Stabbing Attempt happens, and that ends up being really fucking messy. Dio is utterly heartbroken and betrayed and Sthe goes back to violently hating Odysseus for trying to stab his best friend, and won't let him anywhere near Dio. it does bring Dio and Sthe a lot closer to each other though, even if its not necessarily the romance Odysseus wanted for them (that doesn't happen until after the war), so in a very bittersweet way Ody is happy for them.

and thats...kinda the end of it all, as sad as it is. canonically Dio goes to Italy after the Trojan War and they never see each other again. un-canonically he might go to Ithaka in the hopes of reconciling with Odysseus only to find out he's still lost at sea. Sthe probably goes with him and isn't stoked about it because he still really hates Ody but he's not about to part ways with Dio. But at least Penelope is there :)

#im gonna leave u with that last thought #do with that what you will #mj rambles #me showing off my rarepair like that one will smith gif #look at my guys!! <3 #odysseus #diomedes #sthenelus #odysthe

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withclawandvine · 3 months ago

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those olympic edits of athletes running to celebrate with their partners had me thinking about my gadge high school au again so here’s a drabble about that state qualifier that gale secured for his baseball team ok bye

After a rocky start to the season, the Covington Jays had found their stride; going on a twenty-two game winning streak that put them back in play for the state championship for the first time in over a decade.

But only if they won this final regular-season game, and the Fort Treze Rebels were putting up a hell of a fight. Enough to drag the game into extra innings, going run for run.

From where he stood at second base, Gale watched the raucous welcome for the runners he brought in turn into shouts of Send it, man! as Bristel jogged up to the plate. Behind him, a reinvigorated home crowd. And at its center, a cluster of tar-black hair and keen gray eyes.

Noticing they had his attention, Posy jumped up, her gap-toothed grin brighter than the stadium lights as she waved at him enthusiastically with both hands.

No, not just waving — pointing.

To a girl wearing a pretty white dress, emblazoned with a cobalt pin featuring her own last name in bold letters. While Gale blinked disbelievingly at her, she winked.

Up only one run, they couldn’t afford to give anything up — and that started with Gale. But despite that pressure, he stepped onto the mound with a clear head and something bright and buoyant in his chest.

The first strikeout was swift and decisive: three hard swings that hit nothing but air and shoulderblade. The second — drug out by two fouls and a rogue pitch so high Thom had to jump for it — wasn’t earned so easily.

The first baseman stepped up to the plate. He was a heavy hitter, and Gale knew that if he got the right pitch, that ball was a goner.

Gale was known to throw a lethal fastball, but the pitch that really got him attention from scouts was his change-up. It wasn’t something many of his peers had in their arsenals. Batters fell into it like a trap: thinking the ball was coming in hot, only for it to drop to a breezy 81, sailing right below the bat.

The un-countered momentum of that final swing nearly brought the Rebel to his knees.

The umpire hadn’t even finished calling the strike before a tide of blue and white swarmed him — rushing in from their positions, tripping over each other clearing the dugout.

Teammates clumsily worked their shoulders under Gale’s legs, lifting him up. And as they jostled him up and down, fellow classmates and family members ran onto the field to join the celebration.

A coach once said that you’d never be able to tell if we was winnin’ or losin’ by lookin’ at Hawthorne’s face. Up five runs or down, Gale remained unruffled and unreadable — getting emotional stimied his game, and letting his opponents see it bolstered theirs. But that was hardly the reason he tolerated hero treatment for only another minute before rolling, throwing his weight down so the team had no choice but to drop him.

And when his cleats hit the ground, and he took off, it wasn’t because he wanted to run away from his team, or their riotous joy. It was because he wasn’t feeling it himself.

Gale was running for home plate. Or rather, the blonde girl in the white dress standing next to it, diamond dust already smudging her glossy heels.

He swept her right off of them, wrapping her in a spinning embrace.

Madge clung to him, her legs locked around his waist and her fingers interlaced behind his neck. She was saying something, but it was lost to the celebrations and the thunder of his own heart.

As cliche as it seemed, Gale was on top of the damn world.

Trusting Madge had a strong enough hold on him, Gale let go of her waist to cup her face in his hands and kiss her. His lips met hers once, twice, before his smile was too big and toothy, and he had to settle for just staring at her in astonishment.

His cheeks were starting to hurt. “What’re you doing here?”

Madge leaned back as far as her grip on his neck would allow, getting a good look at him, that smile, before answering, “As if I’d miss this.”

Gale was too caught up in it all — the thrill of victory, the reignited hope of getting another, the girl in his arms — to notice the reporter for the local paper until after the blinding flash of the camera.

#alexa play ‘the alchemy’ by taylor swift #HE JUST COMES RUNNIN’ OVER TO MEEEEE #oh but that camera flash does NOT bode well for our lovebirds #it actually leads to a “but daddy! i love him!” moment for madge 🫢#but that’s a story for another day #i think i got a lil carried away here but fun fact i am a Sportsball Enthusiast #gadge #gadge fanfiction #the hunger games #thg #thg fanfiction #the hunger games fanfiction #my writing: thg #ship: gadge

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fizzingwizard · 1 year ago

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My favorite things ever created for Lupin III were Mine Fujiko's Lie, and The Woman Called Mine Fujiko

Not because I don't love the fun, energetic, quirky vibe of the classic series. Not because I prefer Fujiko to the boys (though I do adore her).

For me, The Woman Called Mine Fujiko resurrected not just Fujiko, but every female character written by a man who assumed he knew what makes women tick - or didn't care whether he knew, and just wanted to write her that way.

In the classic series, Fujiko's both a strong, dangerous woman who regularly betrays Lupin, yet she's also a helpless damsel in distress who needs Lupin to save her. How much she is of either depends on the writer and the story. Her saving grace is that, even back then, there was already more than just a sense that Lupin enjoyed getting outmaneuvered by her. They were the kind of perfect rivals who make the fan girls drool when it's two men, and start to see secret romantic longing in every look. Lupin and Fujiko really were rivals in love, but instead of making them more interesting, it hurt them. It made Lupin seem stupid, and it made Fujiko seem cold, heartless, selfish, and arrogant. What's more, because the story always favored Lupin and the boys' POV, we rarely ever got a glimpse of what Fujiko thought or felt - so fans were free to attribute to her whatever motivations they wanted. And fans, when it comes to beautiful, treacherous women, aren't very open-minded, let alone forgiving.

So The Woman Called Mine Fujiko was desperately needed. It somehow managed to pull Fujiko out of the grip of the male gaze without turning her into some kind of angel. It subverted the whole "she turned out like this because she was damaged as a child," by making us think that's what happened to her and then making it all a lie. She's still a criminal. She still betrays and uses people and is less spiritual and more practical about taking life than the romantics Jigen and Goemon (and often Lupin) are. And the underlying message was, it really doesn't matter what made Fujiko. She's a woman, and she's free to do what she wants. Even if it's bad. If we admire Lupin, we really have no business hating Fujiko. (Specific episodes can make most anyone hate her, but that should be chalked up to bad writing and low respect for characterization. This is, after all, fiction.) And, we learn, Lupin isn't in love with Fujiko just because she's beautiful and dangerous. He's also in love with her because he loves freedom, and freedom is Mine Fujiko.

In Mine Fujiko's Lie, we once again get this amazing, nuanced Fujiko who subverts tropes as neatly as she high kicks in heels. Her antagonist is a warped version of herself, a master manipulator who doesn't realize how he's manipulated by others, whose freedom comes with his first taste of desire - and which ultimately leads to his destruction. Nothing ventured, nothing gained - or lost. In her usual style, Fujiko defeats him by seducing and betraying him. While the art avoids the gore of Jigen's and Goemon's episodes, the eroticism highlights Fujiko's body's softness and vulnerability in a way that makes her seem desperate but determined as she uses psychological manipulation to win over sheer male power. Thematically, yeah, she's still talking about love and sex. But there's something existential about the way she talks, something deep that digs into the human psyche.

And the reframing of Fujiko's skill as psychology rather than seduction is only part of what's modern and liberating. The other is her relationship with the little boy (whose name I can't recall atm :P). We're primed to think (or dread) that Fujiko is about to tap into her latent maternal instincts. She's a woman, so of course she won't be able to resist a motherless child! And, as un-Fujiko-like as that would be, the alternative - her stealing the boy's only chance at a healthy life along with stranding him as an orphan - was too distasteful to hope for. The story string us along, making us think it'll be one, it'll be the other... and then, in the end, she's neither drawn into motherly sentiment, nor does she turn out to be utterly irredeemably (the usual fate of women who don't perform femininity in an acceptable way). She gets what she wants and the boy gets what he needs. He probably won't have stellar memories of her - and she's still far, far from an angel. But she's worked the job the way that she wants to work it, with resourcefulness and independence. Unlike her helpless charge, or her helpless antagonist. It's telling that this is the only movie of the three in this series which results in a direct kill (of the main antagonist, I mean). If there's anything Fujiko can't stand, it's helplessness. She's going to survive. She doesn't wax romantic about what it means to be a warrior. Someone came for her, she gave as good as she got - that's Fujiko. And yet, though she can't afford to be weak, she isn't so hard that she can't fall asleep on Lupin's shoulder.

I needed both of these stories to love Lupin III. Without them, I don't think I'd be able to look at it as anything more than a boy's fantasy. Fujiko's gotten some better development and overall treatment in some of the more recent anime series - but I will say that I was really disappointed in her in season six, because I felt she was rewritten to be more like ScarJo's Black Widow than anyone who could function as Lupin's rival and lover at once.

rabbit trail: The bit in Goemon's Blood Spray, where Fujiko walks off because Goemon's self-punishment is too ridiculous to watch, and Jigen and Lupin are all "This is how men are," about it, gets a mixed reaction from me. On the one hand, I tend to feel like Fujiko, that as confused yet determined as Goemon was, him killing himself through training is just wasteful. As is his friends letting him, because that's what he wants and he's got a warrior's spirit and yadda yadda. But on the other, my real issue is claiming this is a gender difference. It's glorifying the warrior philosophy yet again, when in the real world strong, war-hardened men run from battle every day, not because they aren't real warriors, but because they have sense. Live to die another day. (Which, incidentally, is what happens for Goemon, because he survives the training.) IMO Fujiko left because she's practical. Goemon did what he did because he's spiritual. Jigen didn't understand him, but went along with him anyway, because Jigen is emotional. And Lupin did understand him and deliberately didn't get in his way because he's a mix of little bits of all the other characters.

#lupin iii #mine fujiko

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omelette-archives · 23 days ago

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OMELETTE LORE ACCOUNTS

Question: Do you think Luigi freezes a rectangular block of water and when it's frozen, he chops it up into ice cubes?

Answer: Yes and he would purposefully do it whenever there were other people over and would maintain prolonged heavy eye contact whilst doing it.

(I honestly thought you were gonna say he puts the entire rectangle into a water bottle and whoever drinks from the bottle has a 80% chance of being stabbed in the throat by a block of ice)

Question: Do you think Tomathy at some point tried to do a found footage type horror film and forced his roommates to help make it and it was so bad it was (un)ironically enjoyable?

Answer: Yes and even after the film's finished, Jerard would assume it was still being filmed so whenever he saw Luigi just doing some Weird Shit™, he'd just chalk it up to the film.

Question: Do you think it's Eustace who brings the yolks over to eat at random restaurants and in the middle of them eating, Eustace just casually says that this is the restaurant his parents died at or something that's factually wrong but sounds true and the yolks won't question it anyways?

Answer: Eustace whilst cutting into a steak "did you know that this place was closed down for a month because both of my parents were brutally stabbed and murdered here by one of the kitchen staff?"

Question: Do you think it's funny that Andrew and Eustace met through a mutual class? Ever wonder what they were like together, what class it was, and if them being friends was even intentional? Like was there a seating plan, was it a forced group project?

(Man it's wild how they stayed in contact after school. The wonder of friendship [and (d)rugs])

Answer: Yeah but also I just know Andrew would've tried to scam Eustace. It was probably English. I think they did get along to some extent like less 'we're friends' but not 'we're just classmates' vibe.

Question: What are the yolks' opinion on pavlova?

Answer: Jerard - neutral. Luigi - strong hate. Tomathy - doesn't mind it but wouldn't be eating it as a first choice. Eustace - likes small amounts but if it's a big pavlova, he'd rather not eat it.

PROMPT: Yolk spa and relaxation day.

Answer: Luigi would obviously be wearing the cucumber face mask and lying face up but also eating just a raw cucumber.

Eustace would probably go straight to the massage as well as Jerard but for different reasons. Eustace to find out what it feels like and Jerard for obvious reasons due to his back.

Tomathy would probably try out all the baths including the weird green-looking water in the very corner. He'd first try the cold baths and then when he finds a really toasty one, he'd accidentally end up taking a nap to which Eustace would find him and splash water at his face. Very hard.

Question: How would the yolks cheat in games? [ORIGINAL QUESTION REDACTED DUE TO DETERIORATION REASONS]

Answer: Contrary to popular belief, Eustace would cheat at card games just because he is that bad. It's honestly a 50/50 chance where he either wins or he spectacularly loses and he's lost $2 to his name.

Tomathy would probably cheat at Cluedo since he doesn't have a single braincell and he just peeks at the paper card where it says the murderer. Because he's been caught trying to cheat, they've just stopped playing Cluedo to Tomathy's relief.

Jerard would probably cheat at Scrabble or that game where you have to press the button and inside it has a dice where you have to finish at the center in order to win. He'd make up new words.

Luigi is a god at all board games. However, he will always lose in videogames with his screentime reaching into the hundreds.

Question: How would the yolks survive/manage in a horror movie? [ORIGINAL QUESTION HAS BEEN UNABLE TO BE RECOVERED SUCCESSFULLY]

Answer: I know Luigi's immortal but I feel like he'd die first. Not 'cause of stupidity but 'cause he just wasn't afraid of the killer and stood there until they killed him.

The rest would stick together until Eustace would accidentally get lost or separate from the group but he'd find shelter. That being said, he'd probably see the killer in the window and try to run away to no success.

Tomathy would get mad at Jerard and storm off stupidly. He'd try to find Eustace but in the woods, he sees a shadow/dark figure in front of him with the moonlight shining on them and he'd run but he'd accidentally go to a dead-end to which he dies.

Jerard is surprisingly the "final girl" and obviously confronts the killer to which he loses 'cause he's not that athletic and he slowly dies from losing too much blood.

Bonus: Dave is just Eustace but whereas Eustace would've blamed himself for his parents' death, Dave would've hated the world.

Eustace: I made them go out it's all my fault

Dave: the people driving the other car are at fault. The people who made cars are at fault. The people who called the ambulances were too slow and at fault. The emergency responders were at fault. The government was at fault. God was at fault. The earth was at fault. Everyone was a-

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lovelessprick · 2 years ago

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White Thief - Chapter 1

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Summary: You were just another bounty, on a forgettable planet, with no credits and no ship. And in the face un danger, anyone who has nothing to lose will do anything to try to survive.

Themes: Angst (a lot of action)

Warnings: gambling, persecution, mentions of violence, swearing, kidnapping, typical show violence

Words: 5.5 k

The soft melodies echoed within the walls of the bar you currently were staying at. Your surroundings followed a rustic theme, taking after the green planet, which was often described as an endless sea of forests. And living up to its name, there were only a few cities on this small planet, the rest of the area was pretty much inhabitable, all because there were many creatures hidden in the ancient forest, too big and too strong for the residents to fight off. In fact, if it weren’t for the walls surrounding the city, those monsters would’ve probably already taken over the city.

In front of your eyes, was a set of cards placed on a wooden table, their backs turned to you, thus hiding their secret. There were probably fifty of these cards, you had taken your time in analyzing them.

Nervously, you eyed the Trandoshan in front of you. His hands leaned on the edges of the table, and he was taking in all your movements, not wanting to miss anything your body did, from you just moving your head curiously or a single flinch, he wanted to see it all.

“Have you decided what cards you’ll take, honey?” taking another posture he leaned back, now standing up and his arms knotted themselves over his chest.

Before, when he first spoke to you, you knew he was a shady character, all because of how weirdly he looked at your form. Yup, you didn’t like him from the beginning. And now, he just gave another reason why you were so wary of him. The way he formulated the question, was just as if he tried to mimic a snake, sizzling each c or s letter.

Why he decided to do that was beyond your reasoning, especially when a few minutes ago he was speaking perfectly to you.

But you had to obligate yourself to pull yourself out and focus on what was at stake here. It was simple, it was just a simple memory card game, right? Considering the decks amounted to a total of fifty cards, it didn’t take you long enough to count there were twenty-five pairs, meaning there wouldn’t be a draw.

In addition, if there was any instance of a player using foul play, the win would go directly to the player’s rival. This would result in all the credits going to the player who sticks with the rules.

You moved your feet two steps to the left, picking the most favorable card, and opening up a yellow circle. Moving the card close to your chest in an attempt to calm your throbbing heart.

You had to focus, all of your credits, which weren’t much, to begin with, were on the line here. The thought of how you lost all of that money, started an internal turmoil of deception, frustration, and overall rage. That day came to mind, the day you became the target of bounty hunters, barely making it out alive. You still couldn’t believe the sheer luck you had, and how to managed to get away by infiltrating yourself in a ship.

Over the past two years, you managed to hide in plain sight, escaping from bounty hunter to another. Hiding from ship to ship, planet to planet. That was your life now. And you could only wish one day they’d finally remove that bounty over your head.

But in the meantime, you had to survive in the safest way possible.

You had only stayed here for a week, and recognizing the patterns, you predicted the hunters were going to take a little while until they found you, so you had chosen to take a little break and down yourself with pure liquor at the bar.

That of course didn’t turn out well when you had practically spent all of your credits. Now, in the same bar, same bartender, same clientele, you tried regaining some of the money by playing this little game.

This was the fastest way to gain money, but unfortunately, it also was the fastest to rid of them. So you had to play safe and make sure to win.

You freed the air that seemed to have gotten stuck in your throat.

“We don’t have all day pretty lady” ignoring the comment of the Tardoshian, you quickly snatched a card out, a blue square. Taking in your surroundings once again you placed the cards back on the table.

And at that moment you realized something crucial. You. Were. Fucked.

Especially when the male in front of you took a pair of cards, without much thought. Taking the two cards between his finger and carelessly played with them, with a mocking undertone. And then he showed you he’d gotten a pair.

His pupil looked up at you, instantly earning a smirk out of him, showing off the pointy teeth of his mouth.

“Not having much luck, huh?” he said, a superior undertone to his words. And in response, your brow quirked up, showing the public that it didn’t affect you much, especially to the fucked up version of a lizard in front of you.

Now your mind was filled with one thing, and just like a DVD player, it bounced through for mind. This has to be foul play. You were sure of it. Honestly, you blamed no one but yourself for getting yourself into this situation. The bar already looked worn out, the tables and even the floors were covered in scratches, and only one light bulb was functioning leaving the place with barely any light, the people at the bar looked exactly the type to be… bounty hunters.

A new wave of anxiety smacked your head. Were they bounty hunters? Since when did they get here? Were they looking at you? Some were enjoying their drinks with their companions, but some were, looking straight at you. And once they acknowledged your eyes, they simply turned away, almost guilty, like a child being caught stealing a piece of candy.

Remember, breathe in, breathe out, and pause, breathe in, breathe out-

“Still waiting”

They couldn’t possibly be bounty hunters, right? They always arrived a little more than a week. You were never wrong, why would you be wrong now of all times? With no escape ship, no money, and nowhere near safety. And besides, they may have unannounced themselves as the audience of the little game you were participating in.

You looked at the crowd once again, interlocking eyes with a big muscular guy, probably a meter and a half taller and wider than you. He only hissed at you and took another sip of his drink, which was probably Pink Nebula.

And while you tried to reassure yourself that these guys, especially the muscular one, wasn’t bounty hunter. Your anxiety had already held onto you, and this was worsening its tight on your heart.

The unspoken words coming up your throat, and beating the hell out of it, made your ears deaf. Feeling the heaviness of your head, you rested your hands on the table, keeping your head between them.

Due to the pressure, your eyes started forming droplets which you let fall to the ground gracefully, panting slightly. But once again, the little slimy, disgusting lizard in front of you had tried to distract you from your spiraling thoughts.

“You can always give up darling” he smirked, revealing all of his teeth to you. But you never looked up at him and from the discomfort, a little giggle came out, so low you were barely able to hear it.

And then another one, this one louder.

The lizard had shifted his position, a bit taken aback by your sudden wave of terror.

Shutting your body completely, left you with no self-control, and instead, every part of you seemed to react on instinct instead of listening to your brain’s orders.

Because after your chest began moving up and down frantically, the air coming out of your mouth hurriedly, and unexpectedly, the giggling grew louder and louder, and soon after, snickering left your throat. Choking on the very air particle you were letting in and out.

You couldn’t hear anything, not even the music that was playing somewhere inside the bar. Only you and your laughs filled outer space.

But inside, the inner parts of your body, the place every vein connected, the place every neuron had all decided on all of your upcoming actions, they were screaming. Plotting something that was so surreal even someone like you, who had grown to be quieter and faster to avoid suspicion, thought of it as suicide. But you had no control over my limbs, so you became a slave to your frantic brain.

“Darling are you going to choose or what?” the reptile’s deep voice became more frustrated, and you couldn’t blame him. You’d become this wrecked version of yourself, doing absolutely nothing for at least five long minutes.

Your fingers reached for the blaster, tucked inside your shirt behind you. Making one final eye contact with the gambler in front of you, you took the blaster out. And pointed at the single bulb at your left, and when the laser quickly exploded the bulb. Without a second thought, you reached over the credits you and the Trandoshian piled up and quickly placed them in your pockets of the white cape hugging your body.

Everyone at the bar had become a mess, a bit too dramatic. But that didn’t stop you, on the contrary, it gave you enough distraction to get your things and leave this place as far as possible.

Putting the white fabric over your head and disguising yourself better, you ran as fast as possible to the exit. Looking one last time behind you. The lizard had come out of his trance of surprise, and he was now pointing at the exit and screamed a hurried “GET HER” to many of the guys at the bar. The ones you suspected of being bounty hunters, turned their heads to the exit.

Maybe your body created this false hope they did not indeed see you through all the darkness, and maybe if you stayed in the bar, somewhere hidden, until they all left first the cantina, you could make out a safe escape. But your tingling body reminded you to get the hell out of there now.

Just as you passed the door, another man walked in beside you, hitting your arm slightly. The armor and helmet told you everything you needed to know, a Mandalorian. He could help you escape by fighting the creatures following you or, maybe capture you for stealing the poor excuse of a lizard’s credits.

And then, you heard it.

Bip, bip, bip,bip.

A sound you recognize a little too well. The sound increased in speed when you got close to the Mandalorian. He was a bounty hunter. Just the mere thought of a bounty hunter would’ve made you curse under your breath.

BUT. HE. WAS. A. MANDALORIAN. BOUNTY. HUNTER.

You could’ve sworn your head had collapsed at that moment, and you were about to flop on the floor, ready to get killed in that instant.

Somehow your brain reattached itself back, and you sped so fast along the alleyway, to wherever the path it took you. It didn’t matter where you got, anything was better that the situation you put yourself in. Not only was a group of huge thugs pursuing you to beat you enough until your soul left you but now a bounty hunter was going to join your chase. And to make matters worse, the bounty hunter was a Mandalorian.

“HEY!” a new voice was barely heard from the wind hitting your face so violently. It was definitely recognizable, a combination of deep and raspy. A voice that otherwise would’ve probably swooned over if it weren’t because you knew you were about to be seven feet underneath the very soil you were running, this of course if they’d be kind enough to organize a funeral for you.

But then it hit you, his voice was almost as if it had been covered in metallic material. Your brain just like at the bar was shortcutted and a low giggle escaped your mouth. The Mandalorian had just begun his hunt, and unfortunately for you, you were his little prey.

You were fucked, so fuckity fucked, the whole ordeal passing through your mind as you just sprinted across the city. You moved to a corner, and try and gain some time, a sizzling metalling sound, barely audible, almost hit your leg, just centimeters apart.

Your brave stupidity overtook you and looked behind you for a split second, trying to figure out what exactly was that sound. A little metallic chord, returning in full speed to the … THE MANDALORIAN.

You just escaped death’s grip itself, and yet the sight of him made your soul just leave you through your mouth. There was no way you were escaping unscathed like the previous times. You are were lucky enough to actually keep up the same pace, if not faster than the man behind you. After years of training, staying in the shadows, and having these minor heart attacks you had managed to keep up.

Up ahead was the central market, just as colorful as when you’d arrived. People walking around, parents buying their dinner, and children playing games. But you had to interrupt their lovely happy memories for now.

“GET AWAY, GET AWAY, GET AWAY, GET AWAY” you shout non-stop, each word straining your lungs, burning your vocal cords, and leaving you out of breath, making each word increase in desperation.

A blaster sliced through your hair, cutting little strands near your face. And the heat radiation from the red blaster seemed to sink into your skin eternally. It hurt, that was for sure, and it didn’t even hit you, you didn’t want to imagine getting hit by one.

But your body was becoming more tense, and breathless, numbing your brain. Everything was starting to make you dizzy. And just at the end of the market, you stopped suddenly.

You had come to the conclusion this was the end, so you might as well die without your lungs hurting like hell.

You quickly lifted your hands up, and slowly turned to see the Mandalorian ten feet away from you. Holding his blaster in front of him pointing at you.

You were panting hard, and it made it difficult for you to stand on your feet so you had to crouch down and breathe in as much as you could. And so was he, panting a lot. He may have gotten his little rabbit, but he surely had to put up a fight to get to you.

For a moment the two of you remained like that, breathing heavily. And as your brain was clearing up again it occurred to you, why he still didn’t shoot your fatal blow. He was still, aiming the gun at you, and you were for sure defenseless and had nowhere to hide. So why was he standing like that?

Swallowing a chunk of saliva to relieve your dry throat, you yelled at him.

”OI TIN CAN, ARE YOU GOING TO SHOOT ME OR WHAT?” you croaked to him, standing up as the feeling of my tortured lungs slowly healed itself.

You knew mocking him was a terrible idea, in fact, you could even say that it probably sealed more your death sentence. But then again, you accepted this fate, you were a dead girl walking, and soon enough, your body would seize to move.

He slightly lowered his weapon, and while panting, he just tilted his helmet to the side. Not a word was spoken.

You looked around, taking in the marketplace, everything was as it should be. All the stalls, without a single scratch, lay in front of you. Everything was so still, so untouched. But where was everyone you’d seen a few moments ago?

You and the Mandalorian had become the only people in the market, not a living breathing soul besides you two was residing within the market at the moment.

You composed yourself now that your head had been cleared. And through your throbbing heart and aching lungs, you remembered the thugs that had been following you alongside the bounty hunter. They surely must’ve already caught up to you two.

A clang of metallic boots thumping the floor quickly moved your attention. Each step getting closer to you. And you simply stood, regaining your breath and energy which had been wiped after stopping in your tracks.

Then a set of other pairs resounded just behind you. All the bravery and energy you got left had been spent by the easy movement of looking behind you. And just as you thought, a group of maybe, eight creatures was coming up to you, a group of people which you had mistakenly recognized as ‘the bounty hunters’ of the bar.

You were trapped now, and it wasn’t like you could do much more about it either. Your energy was at its lowest, a crippling chest still gasping for air. And now you had to deal with the bounty hunter and somehow get yourself a quicker death sentence instead of getting beat up and leaving you on the streets for days until your heart stops.

“Is this her?” one of the thugs asked, moving swiftly towards you, to one of how friends. There was no escaping this now, and while you had anticipated this, it still hit you like a brick wall.

No one replied to him. All of them were confident they found their target. So the man closest to me slightly bent down to my eye level. His big bulky eyes looked across my form to analyze me, and a moment later, he’d begun chuckling. He was making fun of me.

“This little thing was what caused so much trouble to our boss?” another question, with a definitely mocking undertone too evident to pass up. Maybe it was the way he was smirking at me, or perhaps how his voice seemed to get higher than his natural one.

You didn’t answer, only gasped the last group of breaths. On instinct your feet reached behind, trying to, once again, get away from the creatures in front.

“Hm?” he eyed me questioningly. Something inside me lit a fire. You weren’t in any form to fight, especially when you never learned how to fight face-to-face. But my body just couldn’t take the rush of emotions since entering the bar. Going from hopeful about regaining my money back to a stressed, anxiety-driven mad girl, and my body just couldn't take it any further.

“Yeah?” I slightly bobbed my head up, eying him. And with a last gasp and swallow, I spat whatever came to mind.

“Well, tell your slimy boss, this little thing stole eight thousand credits from him, asshole” that last added insult rolling deliciously off your tongue. And what for me was a delicious taste, he’d received it as a rotten one, earning a scrunch in his face.

“What did you say, skank?” it wasn’t much of a question, but rather an indignant growl coming out of this thick hard neck.

Instinctively, you took two more steps back, and before the group tried to reach for you, another slight hiss was heard, the same hiss you heard just minutes ago, this time though, more audible.

The thick metallic cord attached itself to your feet. And without any warning, your feet just pulled back, the floor erupting pain everywhere in your left cheek. And to make matters worse, a bit of the dirt came into your left eye, blinding you slightly. A huff escaped your lips and your lungs had to force out air on impact.

During this whole process, the cord hadn’t stopped moving, earning a huge headache. You were just snaking through the pathway away from the thugs. Trying to understand what was going on, you slid your body so you would be laying on your back, but before you could do anything, it stopped.

And as you saw the thugs coming after you, your savior was aiming their blaster at the group, striking down the creature closest to both of you.

The Mandalorian shot another one of them, ending their lives in an instant. Now six remaining, he stood in front of you, fighting them in close combat.

You were still trying to make out what was going on. Your fragile lungs were too beaten up for today, and you hoped they wouldn’t get more mistreated today.

In addition to your chest pain, your whole entire body ached, your face, belly, and arms after the Tin Can had pushed you back with whatever the metallic chord he used.

So you tried to stand up, your legs almost giving out, but you still maintained yourself. Something the two long years of becoming the hunter’s prey is that you never could think twice, in situations like this it was a do-or-die situation, you couldn't afford to fall back a single second.

And so, you carried your weight somewhere to hide. The grunts and growls as your background noise, as you went for one of the closest stalls. You thought of hiding in this stall, especially because your aching body was pleading you with for some rest. But you turned away, even if it was tempting you. It was a stupid idea, too close to the fight and either the thugs or the Mandalorian would find you instantly.

Looking back you saw a mess of punches, kicks, and the Mandalorian had pulled out a knife. Four to one, it hardly seemed fair. You would’ve reached for your blaster, and you slightly did. Reaching a few centimeters on the weapon behind you. But as unfair as it was, you knew it was better to leave the bounty hunter on his own and try to escape. Afterall all of them were fighting for who gets to kill the prize, me. And without much thought, you moved your feet away from them.

Arriving at one of the stalls a bit further away with, your legs re-activating, you could still hear the sea of huffs and grunts behind you. And at that moment your thoughts stalled on the Mandalorian. You knew the stories, the Mandalorians being one of the fiercest warriors in the entire galaxy. But damn he really lived up to the Mandalorian name. Eight against one, in a matter of mere seconds four were out.

That thought honestly only made you more scared of him. What he could do to you.

These thoughts kept spiraling until one last thump, a big object hitting the floor resounded nearby. You immediately tried holding your breath, out of nervousness. But also to listen to any more sounds that might give away anything, whether it was the Mandalorian or the thugs that won the battle, the proximity of their steps, just anything.

Heavy singular steps hit the ground. Coming directly to your hiding location, confidently. You still wanted to know how he knew where you were. And it wasn’t long before the tracker started bipping once again.

All you could do was sigh.

And as you heard the metallic crunches hitting the floor, the little machine just kept increasing its alarm.

You tried convincing yourself everything was alright. That day, the day you escaped and pissed off the noble, you knew your life would be a mess, and you would likely end up dead soon anyway.

But you still didn’t want to believe this was the end for you. After fighting so much. After everything you’d done to survive, everything was for nothing. This was your fate. You were going to die at the noble’s hand soon anyway, and when you tried to avoid it. Fate had only persecuted you until this very moment. Because your destiny wasn’t to live a normal happy life, but instead, die young, cowering in fear, and pleading for mercy to the Maker.

Another step, this one is eerily close to you. You really had tried not to cry. Even if it meant the massive ache in your heart to tighten. You weren’t fond of the idea to die crying.

But you couldn’t contain it any longer. A sob escaped your thigh throat. And with that, you started tearing up, raining down on your clothes.

You put your knees to your chest to console yourself slightly. You weren’t loud about it. You didn’t want anyone to hear you in this vulnerable state.

The steps came to a close just in front of you, and upon that realization, your heart froze in place.

Ready for your blow, your head stayed hidden between your legs, your hands gripping onto your legs, your eyes hardy shut, and gritting your teeth just enough so they wouldn’t shatter. You so, you waited. You waited for the Mandalorian to finally kill you.

_____

Hiya, it's the first time I write since my Wattpad era 6+ years ago. And I just couldn't help myself reading some fanfics over here.

I'd like to mention English is not my first language so if some words sound weird it cuz of that.

Hope you enjoyed it tho ;)

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