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parkerdrabbles · 7 months ago

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The Corruption Of Hermione Granger - Prologue

Pairing: Draco x Hermione

Summary:

Draco

I am tired of Hermione Granger, Gryffindor's little Princess, acting like she does no wrong. Acting as if she doesn't want the bloody shit banged out of her. So, I devised a plan - a plan she will have no issue getting that little nose stuck right into. My plan is to not only expose that she has deep, dark fantasies just like the rest of us at Hogwarts, that she's not all pure and innocent, but also to corrupt her. Break her. Someone has to. And God be damned, it will be me. I hate her, but God, I can't resist her either. And that scares me.

Hermione

With everything going on, I just want to focus on my studies, keep my head down. I want things to feel as normal as they possibly can be. Only, when I end up falling for none other than one of Draco Malfoy's traps, a book full of things that make me blush whenever I think of them, now that he has trapped me, he won't let me go so easily. I hate him, but I can't resist him, either. And that scares me.

Warnings: sexual content, oral sex, anal sex, spanking, choking, use of food in a sexual manner, just lots of smutty stuff

Authors Note: This is a multi part mini smut series that just came to my mind one day, if this does well, I will write more :)

Draco

•••

The plan is brilliant.

Perfect, really.

The bait will surely draw her in - one of those erotic romance novels I stole from my mum’s bedroom - it was so bloody easy to snag too, she won’t miss it - and there is no way that nosy little Mudblood would be able to resist opening it.

I have left the book, The Dark Knight it’s called, in her favorite spot to read; at the very back of the library, in the Restricted Section of course, in the last isle, where she spends hours and hours drowning in countless other worlds she wishes to visit, pathetic really, or studying for her tests until she is so exhausted, that her eyes droop shut and she is suddenly constantly trying to keep herself awake.

She has a habit of getting that nose into places it doesn’t belong, so she will have no problem getting it stuck right into my trap.

I want to expose her to the whole of Hogwarts – I want them to see that their little, innocent, Gryffindor princess is anything but. I want them to know the nasty desires that float around in her brain, and when I’m done with her, I want her to so corrupted that it shines so bright, it’s blinding.

That’s right.

I want to corrupt Hermione Granger.

Once and for all; someone needs to.

And I will have a bloody fun time doing it.

•••

Hermione

•••

I could have sworn that book hasn’t been there the last 347,000 times I’ve visited this place.

I eye the colorful book tucked cozy against the window, squinting to make out the cover.

It has beautiful binding, and on the front is a fiery redheaded woman, with her legs wrapped around the torso of a knight, his armored fingers tangling in her loose curls.

No, that definitely wasn’t there before.

Curiously, I approach the book, my wand held out in front of me, bathing my surroundings in pale blue light.

Once I get to the book, I just stare at it.

Who could have left this here?

I look to my left, then to my right, reach out to grab the book, but hesitate, pivoting back a step.

For God’s sake, Hermione. Just pick up the bloody book.

I look around once more, before picking up the book, running my fingers over the marred pages.

There are romance books in the restricted section, however, none quite as beautiful and as interesting as this.

I walk toward my usual spot and slide to the floor, holding my wand up to read the title.

The Dark Knight.

I flip open to the first page, and it’s a moving photo of the redhead and the Knight, talking animatedly in a beautiful courtyard.

I read the first few pages, completely leaving Hogwarts behind, falling into this world with the redhead and the Knight.

I was devouring the book, until I turned a page and what I saw made a blush make it’s way from my cheeks down to my neck.

It was a moving image of the two, arms wrapped around each other, tongues in each others mouths, both seeming desperate for more.

Of course I have seen people kissing before; both in books, and movies on the television back home, but none had ever been this…what’s the word?

Sexual?

I quickly closed the book and backed away, blushing madly.

Don’t be an idiot, just read it!

I slowly open the book again, and when I turn the page, my blush only deepens. Now the knight has her pressed against the wall, peppering kisses down her fragile throat, his helmet off.

Slight moans can be heard coming from both the Knight and the woman, and I bite my lip, half because I feel a tingling in my lower abdomen I have felt all but a few times, and half because I’m praying that nobody can hear what’s coming out of the book.

I utter a silencing charm

I quickly turn the page, and even more is happening.

Now, the woman is bent over his knee, his hand guiding her dress up over her ankles and her curvy hips and ass.

I sigh, the feeling in my abdomen sinking lower and lower, and the next page is where I come undone.

The redhead is on her knees, staring up at the knight with stars in her eyes, unzipping his pants.

Oh, my fuck.

I lean back against the book shelf, spreading my legs, propping the book up opposite me, leaving my wand on the floor to illuminate the pages.

I push my blue nightgown up over my white panties, seeing the arousal starting to peek through the fabric.

Only one thought runs through my mind right now.

I need more. I need more.

I flip the page and the woman is bobbing her head, sucking the Knight’s cock, his head facing toward the ceiling in pleasure.

My fingers travel down to my breast and I squeeze, trembling with need. My other hand snakes down to my panties, where I begin to rub my sensitive clit.

My face screws up with pleasure, and I can’t help the small moan that escapes my lips. I quickly cover my mouth and look around.

Silence and darkness surround me.

Once I am sure nobody is around, I turn the page, and the knight has one of the woman’s breasts in his mouth, his hand rubbing her wet, bare sex.

I desperately push my panties to the side, and begin rubbing vigorously, my head falling back against the shelf behind me.

“Yes, yes, please,” I beg to no one in particular.

Now, he has her bent over, positioning his cock at her entrance.

Stars explode behind my eyes as I continue to rub myself, eyes squeezed shut.

Oh my God, I’m so close.

And then, the sound of something being knocked over in the distance makes the blood freeze in my veins.

For a second, I just sit there, listening, then I spring into action, putting my wand out and picking up the book.

There are slight footsteps, and they are getting closer.

I quickly shove the book back against the window where it came from, pull my robes around me, and silently run through the isles, hoping, praying, that I won’t be caught.

The footsteps are getting louder, closer.

I crouch behind one of the tables, hugging my legs to my chest, willing whoever it is to just leave.

Please go away, please go away.

The footsteps stop for a few seconds, and I hold my breath, heart racing in my chest.

Then, finally, the footsteps go back the way they came, echoing off the walls, back into the distance.

Nobody has to tell me twice to get the bloody hell out of here.

And, with that, I run for the door, out into the halls, disappearing into the darkness.

Draco

•••

I watch from the shadows as Hermione runs out the door, robes flying out behind her, that skimpy little nightgown rising up the length of her legs, and smirk.

It worked.

She took the bait.

I grin at the thought of Gryffindor’s little innocent Princess getting off in the back of the library, legs spread, cheeks flushed red.

My cock hardens at the thought – the thought of her coming back for more.

And she will. I know that much. I know how stubborn and insistent she is, when she is on a mission, she doesn’t stop until the mission is complete.

And, I think her next trip, she just might get an unexpected visitor.

I take one last glance over at The Dark Knight, before sliding my hands into my pockets and walking out.

I can’t wait to expose that Granger is just as sexually frustrated and aroused as the rest of us, how she is anything but innocent – she rubbed herself in the bloody library for christ’s sake.

It's either I expose her, or I corrupt her – teach her a lesson.

It’s one or the other, and you best bloody believe it will be the second option.

#dramione smut #dramione #dramione fanfiction #dramione fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter smut #hermione granger #draco malfoy #draco x hermione #hermione fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfiction

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tensbowl · 2 months ago

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my thoughts on beastars!

i recently finished reading beastars and honestly it’s been a WHILE since a manga had me this hooked since.. given. i used to read a shitton of manga in middle school but i gradually stopped when i entered hs (stemmed from a desire to Fit In, mayhaps..!), but i still keep up with haikyuu and given news cuz those are the ones that meant the most to me. beastars always caught my attention but because i’m frankly quite a sheep, i never read it. everyone around me told me it was ‘furry manga’ and i just didn’t care enough to do my own research LOL but here i am now, emotionally bound to legoshi. so much for defeating the furry allegations :(

i loved it btw it was a solid 8/10. there was laughter. a lot of confused laughter, but laughter. my favorite characters are legoshi, louis, and sagwan, although i think i love all of them. except for kyuu idk something about that rabbit pmo.. also completely unrelated but i’m a little scared of rabbits and when haru first showed up i was PETRIFIED. the one thing i hate most about rabbits is their black eyes (oh my god they freak me out) but there she was, standing on two legs, staring at me through my ipad pro screen with no mercy. i was shaking. but whatever i love her now and i think this made me get over my fear. so.. win/win?

i don’t remember all the arc names so i made up my own! i’ll discuss the manga in their respective story arcs and then get deep with the characters.. so i present to you my personal beastars story arcs (the way EYE saw them..)

obviously.. spoiler alert for everything..!

high school arc

this is probably my favorite arc JUST BECAUSE i’m a big sucker for high school stories. right off the bat i fw the drama club HEAVY because i do stagework at my school too! but damn these animals do it so.. difficultly? why are we not preprogramming the lights? why are we hand sewing these costumes? is there any blocking on stage? why isn’t there a stage manager to stop legoshi and bill from almost killing each other? let me loose in this drama club and i’ll have it demolished and rebuilt in 2 hours tops i’d be running it like the mf army. but whatever i guess paru did not care about the accuracy of the drama club which is all right with me (it’s not).

my first impressions of legoshi were so strange. i know he’s not the bad guy but oh my god he’s SO AWKWARD. if i was in this universe (i’ll be saying this a lot) i would for SURE be spreading rumors about the weird wolf man in my drama club that speaks in rhymes and riddles.

i also had no big impressions of any other characters until we get to louis. i thought jack was cool, the drama club kids were cool, and haru looked creepy but i didn’t mind her. but oh my god louis. he was driving me INSANE. i swear for every panel he showed up in i was containing all my anger. i was trying so hard not to lose my shit but this deer got on my nerves SO BAD….. HE for one spoke in rhymes and riddles and i’d be lying if i told you i understand anything of what he said in the high school arc. he got his shit together in the later arcs and got less pompous but in this arc he was losing me. and i was pissed off at him. the only thing i could think about was ‘diva syndrome’. and not in a cute ‘who is THIS diva’ way, in more like a ‘i really want to watch your ego death’ way.

when haru tried to get freaky in the gardening club shed i lowkey was not phased. i feel like in a lot of reviews i read about beastars this was the scene that was turning people off, but i remembered my 2nd grade art teacher showing us zootopia and telling us that rabbits are very sexually active and usually have a lot of kids (why did he tell us this? idk. he got fired). so i was like ‘oh that’s just haru’s instincts!’ but also i guess.. that was kinda weird of her. but after her whole speech about how sex gets rid of the small and powerless feeling she has, we get a better understanding of her actions. though i will say, this was freaky as hell of haru.

now i hate to admit to this (as louis is one of my skrunklies now) but i was CHEERING when he sprained his ankle. i was so happy. i thought he was going to die and i was so happy. but then a new enemy approached — bill the tiger. right off the bat i didn’t trust him. but after finding out that he drank RABBIT’S BLOOD oh it was so over. i was so over him. i was cheering for legoshi when they were fighting but when they brought that shit on stage i was done. i’m a firm believer of keeping things professional at least ON STAGE but these guys had no decorum. sigh.

but this also got me thinking — are the animal limbs/blood being sold in the back alley market kinda like… drugs? i mean, it’s also like cannibalism (but not really..) in a way.. it’s hard to find a parallel for it. but honestly i think it’d be harder not to go to the market than to indulge in those animalistic instincts after all, so i was thinking, ‘is it really fair for me to hate bill’? and the answer was no. at least for me. i mean yeah he drank rabbit’s blood and i (and legoshi) hated him for it, but doesn’t that mean we should also be hating on like 3/4ths of the civilization in beastars? and i sure don’t. and louis says later too but i was thinking, don’t carnivores NEED to eat meat to survive? it’s kinda unfair for them, too. a double edged sword!!!! i was hooked at this point and i decided i wouldn’t hold it against bill but judge his character based on his actions later.

i rate this arc a 9/10. one point off for strange theater etiquette.

louis’s emo phase

this is the emo phase! basically the time frame from when louis was a mafia boss (which is so crazy). let’s talk about that because i didn’t care much about the meteor festival (apart from the fact that haru and legoshi were having some chemistry and juno’s exciting appearance). first off, louis is supposed to be a crazy big heir to a ceo’s throne.. are you telling me he has no image to protect and he can just go on and be a mafia boss to a bunch of carnivores? me personally if my son was acting like that he would never see daylight ever again. also louis was being so emo i get it he’s trying to show them that herbivores aren’t all weak and he found a place where he actually has power but oh my god this was so me in middle school. i sympathized. this was when i started liking louis because i realized that maybe i was hating earlier cuz we’re so alike. louis my son.

it also freaked me out that legoshi was having internal conflicts about whether he likes haru in a romantic way or a predatory way, but it also only makes sense. so i was like yeah checks out! i guess these are the kind of questions you gotta have in the beastars universe. and then we explored more of the back alley market, which answered a shitton of questions i had and freaked me out a whole lot. i also will say now that haru ALSO speaks in rhymes in riddles like louis. do you think they speak in this cryptic way to each other in bed? also hi gouhin! he’s funny and kinda reminded me of my old drum teacher.

when haru got kidnapped by the shishigumi ON SCHOOL GROUNDS (i presumed?) i was shellshocked. first off, is the mafia just allowed to roam around like that?? and there’s no protection around school? yikes!!! and legoshi’s lovestruck/extremely hungry being CHASES AFTER?? wow. legoshi and i are the same age in this arc (17) and let me tell you that if my crush got kidnapped i would stay the fuck out of that. i can’t tell if legoshi is braver or stupider than me. but i respect the grind. #forthehuzz

also when they just took out the mafia boss like that? wow. imagine being a minor and having a murder record like THAT.. jesus christ. anywho he deserved to die i love haru. i loved haru and legoshi’s interactions in the hotel after that; it was sweet but also sad cuz they’re just tryna love… but their instincts won’t let them. atp i was thinking ‘are they really MEANT to love then?’ like if their instincts are going against them. but honestly fuck your animal instincts. and maybe i misread this cuz haru is speaking in code but legoshi makes her happy and vice versa.. maybe the REAL animalistic instinct was the love we found along the way…

and a little segment on juno yayyyy! i personally love all the characters because they all feel so accurately immature in their high school ways. juno is a first year (15/16?) just craving for a cool same-species boyfriend and like.. yeah. i was thinking like that too girl. you can’t blame a girl for trying and you can’t blame a girl for loving! a lot of people seem to find juno annoying (the slander on reddit is insane) but i just think she’s a teenage girl. good for her.

and then they also found out that riz killed tem and fought about it. riz’s backstory was kinda sad but i can’t lie to you i felt only little sympathy towards this bear. what he did was bad and he is a murderer! it seems like all these characters speak in code but this is what i got from riz’s huge monologue: even though he took strength suppressants and took on a “kind bear” persona, it didn’t stop herbivores from being scared of him. tem was the only animal that saw him in a genuinely friendly light, and that affection for tem overwhelmed riz (in a positive way but his instincts won over his logical side (sad face)) and riz ate him. he was also off his pills because taking them made him feel like more of a monster than he actually was. tbh riz was a victim of the system but that doesn’t make him any less of a killer,, but i totally get where he’s coming from. as a person who takes meds, it’s hard not to feel like some twisted thing while you’re taking them (especially if the meds are promised to ‘fix you’). and riz also created a whole twisted narrative in his own head about what happened, blurring the lines of reality and fiction.. but still he killed a dude :/ it sucks

also hold on. i went on a huge spiel about riz but i didn’t even TOUCH on the fact that legoshi went CRAZY after eating LOUIS’S LEG???? like okay damn what the FUCKK. i was laughing at first but then i saw louis’s leg all bandaged up and legoshi all crazy and my smile DROPPED. this was no joke legoshi was going primal. also makes me wonder what stopped legoshi from eating louis whole? maybe he’s just too nice for that.

props to louis for being an amazing mafia boss. it’s the same thing as a ceo anyway but it had me kinda proud of this guy for leading an entire fleet of lions like that. also the shishigumi scared me when they were gonna kill haru but now? they’re kind of a joke. i love them though.

overall this arc gets a 8.2/10. things were unrealistic (high schoolers nerfing a mafia boss) but also they’re all bipedal animals so what the hell. sure. mangione should spare louis.

high school drop out arc

legoshi rightfully decides he’s had enough of this strange education system and drops out of high school! as a person who goes to boarding school though it has me wondering how he did that so easily. whatever they’re animals (what i keep telling myself).

as a 17 year old, if i had to suddenly go fend for myself in Civilization, i would end up back on the doorsteps of cherryton sobbing. but legoshi, as i stated before, is way stronger/stupider than i am, so he did just fine. he got a shitty apartment and made friends. he also trains with gouhin to get over his predatory instincts and learn to love haru and has an acid trip involving a moth which i just filed under ‘typical shounen stuff’ in my head. it was fun but i don’t remember anything from it. also legoshi was bald in either this arc or louis’s emo arc and i liked it but EVERYONE MADE FUN OF HIM. whatever they don’t love you like i do.

they also introduced sagwan, one of my favs! such a wise man. i love him. he’s also so kind to legoshi right off the bat which surprisingly isn’t a common feat. he also opens up the door to sea life, where they believe in a ‘life cycle’ philosophy. life isn’t too precious over there and they’re all reborn. which is cool. they talk a lot about life in this arc and it really makes you think. i might’ve shed a tear during this arc i don’t remember. at around this time though i was thinking, what happened to legoshi’s friends from high school? he doens’t have a cell phone, so does he just.. not talk to them???? i can’t lie i’d be pissed if that were me! like jack was nothing but a good friend but because legoshi is stupid and needs to Find Himself, he just kinda deserts him. but literally don’t even fret because they come back in a couple more chapters. unrelated, but jack also tries to kill himself at one point which had my jaw DROPPED. i guess yeah. dogs are engineered to be a man’s best friend (and for intelligence) which poses a lot of difficulties for them. they’re essentially genetically modified civilians. how creepy. and also his whole dynamic with being friends with his ‘ancestor’ legoshi?? wow. paru itagaki my jaw dropped a little.

and now on to a mini that i like to call…

MINI ARC: homosexual seniors

gosha and yahya!!! i love gosha. what a kind man he is (and his story with his wife had me gasping like i was watching a soap). yahya, on the other hand, i didn’t care too much for. he was interesting, but 1) i couldn’t take him seriously because he is a horse, and 2) he’s a little fucked in the head! his carrot farm, attacking his friend’s grandson, and his strange ways of speaking all turned me off a lot. also is yahya a real herbivore if his carrots are fertilized… like that? what makes him so much better than the other animals?

i thought gosha and yahya were good ‘two sides of the same coin’ kinda deal. also it was pissing me off how yahya was putting gosha down for choosing family. does yahya have loving parents? i’d think not from all this bitterness. also WHY was he trying to beat up legoshi like that? gosha’s better than me because i would’ve cut ties forever.

overall i rate this arc a 6/10. not my fav! i liked it when legoshi was doing slice-of-life stuff with his new adult friends and learning more about the world, but then i was thrown off course by the homosexual horse and shounen training montages and legoshi’s crazy philosophical acid trip with the caterpillar he ate.

melon domination

ta daaaa already the last arc. when legoshi let melon go, i was kinda pissed but i can’t blame him. legoshi spent most of his life KNOWING he was an outsider and not really knowing much about the hybrid life, and now with haru he’s almost promising to a life full of more discrimination and hate. i thought it was normal how he only wanted to connect with someone this affected by the system as his future kid/his mom will be/was, but also come on man. lock in he’s a criminal.

also around this time i saw some arguments online that legoshi shouldn’t have a kid with haru because all hybrids will end up bad like melon. I DISAGREE HEAVILY ACTUALLY… i think melon only turned out this way because of his fucked up home life (strange predatory mother, presumed dead/deadbeat father, bullying at school) and lack of support at school or home. obviously that kind of hostile environment would raise a hostile kid. melon is not only a victim of the system but also a victim of abuse and bullying! i think that if legoshi and haru were to have a kid, that kid would be raised with love (at least in the house). and it’s not like ALL hybrids are evil — leano (legoshi’s mom) wasn’t evil, but she was ostracized by the community leading her to commit. legoshi is technically a hybrid too, but he’s not demonized because you can hardly tell he’s a hybrid. i think melon’s situation is all about his specific environmental factors.. tldr let legoshi and haru do whatever the fuck they want LMAO

legoshi communicating with the shark was SICK. people hate on the shishigumi for trying to kill louis and legoshi but like… they’re mafia! what else are they supposed to do..? lmao

also props to melon for having a phd by the way. you could’ve been dr melon but no you wanted to pursue.. other interests, it seems..!

i’m also extremely confused about why legoshi turned white. who did that to you. he literally got whitewashed.

the carni-herbi war was interesting to learn about (nice job jack) but the whale was SO FUNNY to me i don’t know why. and immediately cutting to yahya talking with said old-ass whale had me cracking up. the whale also had literally nothing to offer it was so underwhelming LMAO paru you lost yourself in the sauce. i respect it girl me too.

MINI ARC: legoshi drafts himself into war

the turf war was really cool. i enjoyed this mini arc a lot it felt a lot like pokemon LMAO

the quiz was cool too! legoshi is very very knowledgeable because he makes an effort to get to know lots of different types of animals. #respect i love this guy.

there’s a lot more that happened in this arc but honestly?! i have nothing to say about it. i thoroughly enjoyed all of it and read it with nail-biting anxiety. 8/10! two points off because of the whale thing. and kyuu oh my god that made 0 sense i’ve said this before and i’ll say it again: that whole ‘okay legoshi!’ thing could’ve been ANYONE. it could’ve been louis.

ending

i liked the ending. i see a lot of complaints for it online but i have no qualms! i didn’t expect the world to change so suddenly (of course they’ll build another black market lol what’s a society without some crime?) and i didn’t expect for legoshi and haru to skip away into the sunset and for juno to get with louis and for everyone to make it out alive. it was realistic and the characters were lovably immature and awkward yet wise and open. i respected everyone’s vulnerability and honesty and wrongdoings. honestly this manga will squeeze right in between haikyuu and given in my heart as one of the mangas that i will never stop loving (and will love in secrecy SHH)

i still do have some lingering questions though. have they ever heard of the impossible burger? how the HELL did they evolve like this (i NEED darwin) and are there humans in this world? would it be wrong of me to say that i’m attracted to legoshi? i want to know more about that strange club yahya and legoshi went to. how did melon find time to get a phd and can i read his dissertation? why didn’t gosha just absolutely pummel melon’s dad because i totally would’ve?

beastars, in all of its genius and strangeness, leaves us in the dark a little. but honestly i don’t mind! sometimes endings don’t have to wrap everything up nicely. though i do agree that the writing got a little messy and hard to follow towards the end, i didn’t find too many difficulties while trying to comprehend the main story. i loooved the slice of life chapters (beastrike!) and i truly think all characters are quite dimensional and there’s no true villain (you could argue melon, but i’ll argue that the real villain is… society……). 10/10 series, would totally read again. and this time, i won’t be scared of haru.

#op #beastars #long post and i MEAN IT #essay #legoshi #louis #haru #beastars manga #manga #fish log

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c-t-r-l14 · 1 year ago

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A RETROSPECTIVE, A REFLECTION, AND YES, ANOTHER DAMN ALEX RANT.

What I find the most amusing is the fact that Saku likes my rants about Alex.

At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if ya’ll know me as, “That One Girl Who Despises Alex”, because I write about how mad he makes me, and have MULTIPLE RANTS about how much I dislike him and his gaslighting, excuse-making, manipulative, no-backbone having, crybaby bitch ass.

Like—I be jumping Alex, reading his ass for filth, and be downright destroying him and Saku reads it and is like “Lmao, good stuff”, and LIKES THE DAMN RANTS.

It’s really crazy because at first, I was really scared about posting my first ever rant about him, because before people saw just how immature Alex was being in the breakup audio, a lot of people were jumping listener in the comments and talking about how it was their fault that this happened in the first place. Now, listener is definitely NOT a saint, at all. Even though I sympathize with them, what they did was wrong—point BLANK. But the way their relationship ended wasn’t entirely their fault.

I remember reading the comments and there were some people who said, “Ugh, if listener just didn’t say anything at all, this would’ve never happened”, but that shit confuses me so much?? I do agree that they should’ve been more careful about their approach when it comes to confrontation, but if THIS is the way Alex reacts when Listener looses their cool and does something in the heat of the moment, who is to say that it wouldn’t happen at all? He was so damn quick to end a four year relationship over a mistake. He never put in any work to see why listener acted out that day. He never once tried to talk to them, he acknowledged the fact that they don’t usually act like this, made up stupidly flimsy excuses on why the relationship would supposedly would not work, said some out of pocket shit about them not being the right partner for a long distance relationship, AND THEN PROCEEDED TO GASLIGHT THEM into thinking that THEY were the crazy one for reacting to what he just said, tried to manipulate them into thinking that the reason why their relationship ended was all their fault, and tried to act like HE was the mature one by making the decision to end it in the first place—-

And you’re telling me you saw ALL OF THIS UNFOLD, and your first thought was, “Oh yeah, all of this is definitely listener’s fault. They had it coming, lmao. Good luck to Alex in the States.”

OH H E L L NO.

If he had been so quick to end his relationship of F O U R Y E A R S in a heartbeat over something he K N E W to be an out of character mistake, then what on God’s green Earth would make ya’ll think that he’d stick around had listener stayed silent???? Listener will make mistakes, and there will come a time when their emotions will get the best of them (as it does with all of us), and you guys really believe that Alex’s fickle, emotional whiplash having, “this would be good for us, we both wouldn’t be tied down anymore 🥺” headass would still stay then???

Because, HE W O U L D N ‘ T.

He saw the opportunity to leave, and he took it. He already had his mind made from the jump when he told his mother and father, his friends, his acquaintances, his ancestors—and the ENTIRE W O R L D that he was taking that NYC job and his partner was last to know. Listener—-his own goddamn partner—-was the only person he needed to get rid of. They were his “burden” to bear, and he wanted to rid himself of it. And he didn’t want to seem like the bad guy, so he made excuses to make the break up easier on himself, pushed the blame away from him, and cried like the little baby back bitch he is in order to make it seem like this was such a hard decision to come to. He disregarded listener’s feelings, disregarded them as a whole, disrespected them, and left them with (probably) more trauma then what they started with.

I am sick and tired of seeing people blame the listener for everything that happened. They did not deserve the way they were broken up with at all. Alex isn’t a victim. He never was—and he stopped being the “mature one” (if you can even call it that) the moment those dumbass excuses came out of his slimy mouth.

For the people who were saying, “Alex deserves better than listener! I hope he finds a new partner.” Ya’ll need to realize that if this is how he acts when listener makes a mistake, he will do the absolute same thing with his future partners. He will give up the entire relationship and make an exit plan as soon as they do something even a little bit out of character. People who fold that easily and refuse to put effort in their relationship will NEVER KEEP IT. He will end up being single, and I know he’s the type of person who will never consider himself as a factor as to why his relationships all end in faliure because he has such a victim complex.

This man deserves absolutley nothing, ya’ll! NOTHING!

And I hope that one day, he realizes what he did was wrong, and apologizes to them. I will literally not be able to die peacefully if this doesn’t happen.

The craziest thing is that back in the olden days (four months ago), I would’ve been so scared to publish this whole rant, ya’ll. 😭 My dislike for Alex has been a hyper-fixation that held me in a massive chokehold—and I was honestly scared I was going to get hated on for not liking him (as well as my reasons for disliking him in the first place). But in the most strange turn of events, a lot of people share the same disdain I have for him too, and the comments on that break-up audio is now more critical toward Alex than it is toward listener, and these were both really big shocks to me. I’m really happy that a lot of people enjoy my rants, and even more happier (and surprised) to see Saku HIMSELF like my rant posts too.

Like literally ya’ll, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The love ya’ll leave for these rants are the reasons why I feel more and more confident to make them in the first place, and I appreciate it all very much.

So, here’s to next year, and to all the rants I’ll make in the future! And I hope we’ll all have a great year!

(Except for you, Alex. I hope your credit card declines when you try to pay for that $2.90 train fare and nobody opens the emergency door for you).

#sakuverse #zsakuva #alex zsakuva #I love ya’ll fr #i’m so pissed off ya’ll don’t even know the half of it #he better apologize #he makes me so pissed off #i really do hope his credit card declines and he has massive train delays #Ya’ll should really know the drill by now #If you follow me you should know what you’ve signed up for c’mon now #anyway #hope ya’ll have a good year #except for Alex I hope when there’s cops there when he tries to jump the turnstyle in the train station

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v-in-the-quiet-hours · 5 days ago

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youtube

February 9, 2025

kinda relate on the lines "broken down and hungry for your love, with no way to feed it", exactly how i feel right now.

i really don't know how much longer i'm going to endure this pain of loving you in secret. the feelings are so intense, it makes me crazy. i know we'll never be, a shot in the dark, but it still makes me wonder if the universe could just give us a chance, would we be able to make it work?

funny, because i know i can, but you're too oblivious of my feelings. i dont expect anything from you, but is it wrong to dream of you reciprocating my feelings?

today, you were on my mind 24/7, again. and i really don't know what to do about it anymore. im trying to make it stop, but it just wont.

you sent me a message today, it was a meme about resigning. and i dont know why you're so supportive of my resignation. do you not want me to stay here anymore? do you look down on me so bad, you dont see me flourishing in this career? i don't know.

sometimes i hate you, i despise myself for even liking you. sometimes, i just appreciate everything that you do for me. is this proximity? am i not busy enough to feel things like this. i don't know. i lay awake every night, thinking of what could be. if i let myself loose enough, i know i'd just fall deeper into you. and im trying my hardest not to feel that way. but somehow, i still do.

vince, i like you, god. i hate myself for even feeling this way, but damn, i dont know how much longer i can endure and control myself from falling.

i need to leave this place, i need to focus on more important things.

#Youtube

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kat-earnshaw · 4 months ago

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hedgehogs

I drive the backroads, winding through streets I know by heart, waiting for your call. It’s like I’m caught in orbit, always circling, waiting to be pulled back into your gravity. Maybe it’s always been this way, this feeling of suspended time, just hanging there until I masochistically reach out. But I don’t mind it. I need it—the way I need air when I’m drowning. Just a fix, a few moments to get close enough to feel that strange, quiet calm that settles in whenever I’m near you. So I strangle my arm with a tourniquet, and I tap at the antecubital space until I hear a ping, and I brace myself for the inevitable slamming into my veins.

Out here, the world feels like it’s shifting, breaking apart in a thousand directions, pieces scattering and tumbling away. But you, somehow, you’re the one fixed thing in all that chaos. The one anchor that holds when everything else slides. A rock in a river. It’s late now, a quarter-life crisis under my belt and still somewhere in the back of my mind wondering if my parents might worry where I am, if they might look out the window and notice. But no one does. And you’re this secret I keep close, something I’d never let anyone else touch. And now that I’m older, I start to wonder if you’d keep me close too. Or maybe I’m a shadow you’d laugh off in the company of others. I wonder if I even know you now, if there’s some new edge to you I wouldn’t recognize.

But I still need to be near you, maybe because I don’t know what else there is. There’s a weight I carry around, this heaviness I can’t shake, but when I see you, it’s like a key turns, like something clicks open deep inside. I feel the lock slide back from the cage door, like I’ve been pulled up from dark stone walls into moonlight. It’s as if I’ve stepped out of some cement box where nothing grows, onto open ground where I can finally feel the earth under my feet, wet grass against my skin.

And I wonder what it is you want from this. If you actually mean it, when you say for me to get into the back seat, or if you’re saying it because anything else would be strange. But it’s never really been about that. I could count on one hand the times our lips have met, and that’s not what this is. But god damn, do I want you.

You’re pleading with me now, just once, just real quick, into the back seat. Your hand is a slow weight on my thigh, your muscles tensed just right, flexing in the dim light, and I look away, my words unraveling like loose thread. I’m talking to feel some tether, talking to keep the world from tilting, but the words come hollow. Between the sound of my voice I catch your real words, scattered like embers.

But I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not. I don’t know how many times a week you ask a girl to climb into the back seat. And I don’t want to be like any of them, but you talk about women like you expect me to be. And you’re charming in all the right ways that send me back to sixteen, where my mind’s spinning while I watch the clock, counting the seconds slipping forward, wishing I could just hold them still and figure out what the hell’s happening. And then there’s the faint sound of the radio, just a few notes slipping through the quiet, and I’m straining to make out the song, to catch some hint of your life outside this car, outside this moment. I wonder what it is you listen to these days, what songs you’re letting fill the silence when I’m not here. Who are you now, anyway, beneath all these practiced lines and casual touches? I want to know, but I only catch fragments, drifting through the dark, the clock pulling us forward whether I’m ready or not.

You pull my hand to your mouth so carefully, like you’re making a point you don’t need words to say. You reason with me, telling me time is a circle, that if we’ve done this once, we’re already doing it again, right now, so it’s happening anyway, what’s the difference? And I’m already in the car, we’re already holding hands, and if we’ve kissed before, what does it matter now? Let’s just make out, you say, but then you press my hand to your mouth and hold it there, not moving, just breathing against my fingers.

And I'm already gripping the handle on the car door when something unseen presses me toward you, and our lips barely meet, but it’s like we don’t kiss at all. The seconds drag out, or maybe they vanish, and nothing really happens in that space, only this strange feeling of reaching and pulling back. I'm frozen. And there’s no release, just a hollow ache, a thread pulled too tight. I wonder if this is your way with anyone, and I’m left with nothing but the weight of wanting, of the slow burn of reaching.

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thethornsofsin · 1 year ago

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That shit is still blowing me I ain’t gone lie. To be accused of doing something I’m not and of acting funny because someone that use to fuck with me liked an old post of mine is mad fucking funny like that’s the craziest shit ever. Like what are you peeping because it’s nothing at all to see I don’t want that man in any way nor have i said anything to him to have him like an old as messaged from last month. How you jump to conclusions based off of someone else’s actions that I can’t control nor am I concerned about. You be talking about me clocking you but yet you do the same thing I would have never known he liked something I said if you hadn’t mentioned it. It just blows me that you could ever feel like I’d do you dirty like that. As much as I’ve said that you need to take it down a notch with how you interactive with other women because sometimes it’s too overly sexual and flirty. Yet, I haven’t opened my mouth and accused you of talking to another woman to fill up your day and that it’s another woman in the picture. Like I just don’t get it I haven’t given you a reason to even fix your mouth to say the shit that you did. I’ve trusted you to do what’s right and you tryna place somebody else’s actions on me like I’m in his face grinning and leading him on and I’m not. I tell you to be mindful of what you say and you always quick to say imma just keep my mouth closed and not comment on anybody pics anymore and just stay to myself but you can’t help yourself as soon as you say it I know it won’t happen cause you right back to being too flirty. That part of you ain’t gone never change. All the wild shit You say online and I’m the one to get chewed out for something I wasn’t even aware buddy did is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard in my life. I have never ever given you any reason to feel how you do all I do is love on you yet I get disrespected over something l didn’t even engage in. You act like I said something sexual underneath his pic like damn that dick big I wanna suck it like tf I would never do that but you on the other hand have no problem saying something flirty and sexual to a woman you know online or don’t know. Yet all hell broke loose because somebody liked my old post and mind you it was just a like no comment nothing just a like and that’s it nothing more, no conversation was had. So I get it you can do whatever the fuck you want but I can’t. Cause God forbid if I did I’d probably be the worst person on this earth. To top it all off because of your poor observation skills you allowed yourself to paint me negatively then doubt everything I’ve said to you about missing you all because you read into something that wasn’t there.

#sorry for the rant

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dragonbabes · 2 months ago

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Continuing this thought with after everything is said and done — everything is dead that needs to be dead — Lucanis’ love for Rook is so loud. Lucanis is not hiding anymore. Not from Rook. Never from Rook again. He will stop Rook in their tracks, turn them to him, and plants the sweetest kiss on their lips whenever he wants. If they are near, his hands will find a way to caress Rook; a hand on their shoulder, waist, a light bump shoulder to shoulder, or even just a brush of their pinkies.

He begins every morning with “Good morning, love” and ends every day with “I love you.” He refuses to sleep without Rook in his arms (or vice versa); I’ll put a few bucks down on saying that he can’t sleep without Rook around. If any of the above is disrupted Lucanis may be a little more snappy or fidgety than normal, albeit none but a trained eye would know that…

While working he’ll randomly stare out a window and sigh, sun highlighting the contours of his tanned face.

“Ah, the First Talon looks so retrospective, so mysterious.” Newer crows will say but Viago just shakes his head and responds,

“He’s thinking of Rook.”

Lucanis would drop anything for Rook. Middle of a meeting with other Talons, and he sees Rook poke their head in? He’s by their side in an instant talkin bout “What do you need of me?” Scoops their hands into his, and looks (up/down) at Rook with that soft look. (Y’all know what look I’m talking about. That real puppy dog-ass look with the soft eyes and that little smile as if Rook is the center of… everything).

Lucanis would scream it from the rooftops of Treviso after the fade prison. The agony of loosing Rook, and the regret that suffocated him afterwards, Lucanis would be sure that everyone knew that he killed two gods for Rook, and wouldn’t hesitate to kill again for them. (This made me think of something else check the last lil paragraph for that thought)

All of these small and big gestures that he would’ve never done before Rook was lost in the fade? Lucanis will be damned if he ever lets Rook leave him without their heart full and knowing that Lucanis has them.

I’m sort of obsessed with the idea that Lucanis, who sees his only value as being a weapon, an assassin who’s only skill is to kill kill and kill again, will learn that he has more to give Rook than death. Maybe he learns this the day that Rook came back — that he can give Rook gentle caresses and back-arching sighs and warm, wet kisses down the neck — or he learns it a year later in front of a fire. Rooks head against his chest rising and falling steadily; a peaceful rhythm for a quiet night. He learns that he can give himself — more than the death on his hands — and he can give the security of his arms secured around Rooks body. He can give them a reprieve from the rebuilding world that is so demanding of them. Lucanis realizes that Rook is content to take whatever he will give, like the little desert he made them to try and convey the depth of his respect, love, and admiration for them. And he would get tears in his eyes. And Lucanis would lean down and press a kiss to Rooks head, imagining that it was sending all the warmth and fuzziness thrumming into his body right back into Rook’s. He is now the embodiment of devotion, amorous love, unflinching and unyielding.

Anyways, no, Lucanis doesn’t live rent free in my mind and, yes, I am totally sane. Not gnawing on sticks out here. I’ve never spiraled for a fictional character in my life. 🫶🫶

Romanced Lucanis headcanon

Endgame spoilers below this is your warning

my headcanon is that while him and Rook have both admitted they Like each other, and are technically in a relationship, Lucanis is holding back a little b/c:

1- What if it’s Spite influencing his emotions/thoughts (possible? Unlikely but if so, it’s unfair to Rook) 2- they’re all in a very stressful situation and emotions are high, is this what they really need right now? 3- what if one of them dies? Do they deserve the pain of losing their beloved? 4- he’s just overthinking and trying to protect them both

This is why he cuts off Rook with “Don’t-“ when they start to say “I love you” before the Ghilan'nain fight. He’s not sure if he’s ready to hear it, and hasn’t admitted to himself that he loves Rook back.

And then Rook is grabbed by Ghilin’nain and is hanging there upside down, Lucanis is trapped and breaks free with the sacrifice of Harding/Davrin, kills the god, and decides yeah, he almost lost Rook, he needs to tell them how he feels. And then Rook vanishes into the Regret Prison and Lucanis PANICS

So the script is flipped when Rook is back and he says “I love you” first, he’s the teasing one trying to lift her spirits, and he’s fully relaxed with her and openly flirting. He loves them, it doesn’t matter that it’s a high-stress situation, or that Spite is obsessed with them, or if one of them dies. He needs Rook to know that he loves them, and that they can have one normal night of comfort before the world ends. He thought he’d never see them again, and that they were trapped wherever they where unaware that he loved them. He’s not wasting any more time.

#dragon age #lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #rookanis #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: veilguard #da:v #da:tv #rook #dragon age the veilguard #datv

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mayhemscorner · 2 years ago

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Opposites

König x f!reader

Summary: She was so confident in public, she didn’t need the battlefield to get riled up and show her true colors. She actually froze in the line in the line of fire, and König could finally be her protector

(A/N: this is not my usual content but I need to write this for… personal pleasure)

warnings: violence, blood, swearing, slightly OOC

“This is bullshit, a plan like this will get us killed!” Y/N spews across the table, jabbing a finger deeply in to Ghost’s chest.

“Bullshit or not, it’s the plan. And we’re carrying through with it. Follow orders, or go home kid.” Ghost sneers, slapping her finger away.

“I don’t know what kind of stick is shoved so far up your ass that makes you act like this, but it better be long enough to use as an excuse for your idiocy.” Y/N barks back aggressively, turning away from the table to finish cleaning and reassembling her gun. König fidgets nervously at the edge of the makeshift table. Y/N was right, it was a suicide mission after all. But no one else had the balls to go against Ghosts orders. So the best he could do is keep a look out and protect the others, after all it was what he was best at.

“Everyone off to bed. We head out before daylight. Enjoy the lick of sleep you might be lucky enough to get.” Ghost grumbles out in finality, stalking towards the door and slamming it behind him. Everyone awkwardly shuffled around like mindless zombies, already worn and tired from lack of sleep and stress.

“Gotta stir the pot, don’t you love?” Soap chuckles out, roughing up Y/N’s already unkempt hair as he sidles up to her. The yearning for a hot shower only adds to the stress of the mission, let alone Ghost trying to prove a point. But Soap, he adds a bit of relief if only he would mind his personal space. Y/N hunches forward, swatting Soaps hand away, lasered in on finishing her gun.

Soap only chides more, hoping to get at least a smile.

“Enough already, damnit!” Y/N snaps around with lethal precision, knocking a dirt covered boot on the back of Soaps knee, sending him tumbling forward.

“Hey, I was only joking around… Trying to get a grin from ya. What’s got you in a bend?” Soap coughs out, wiping away the annoying sand that plumes upwards anytime anyone does as much as look the wrong direction. Y/N wipes a frustrated tear that had welled up unannounced, causing König to jolt with anxiety and grip the table in front of him, ready to defend. Conflict between the two currently fighting was rare, almost non existent unless one stole the last tea sachet without buying another box. And here they were, in front of him and in each others faces, seconds from a screaming match or attempted homicide.

“Do you want to die out there? I don’t! I might be the only one left in my family but I still have a dog waiting for me at home. A warm bed and distance between me and this sorry excuse of a unit! How am I supposed to have your back if we’re walking straight in to suicide, Johnny? We’re supposed to be the best there is and just willingly go in to our deaths when there’s other options? You’re weak for not saying anything. I look a damn fool being the only one defending our lives before they’re even jeopardized, god damnit!” Y/N raises her voice with every sentence, words sharper than any blade the unit carried, and gripping tighter and tighter at Soap’s collar.

“And what makes you think Ghost would lead us to death? What are you even doing questioning his plans, he’s in the position he’s in for a god damn reason! If you didn’t shit on everything he did, maybe you’d see the sense in his words. You’re too conceited. Because if he was wrong about ANYTHING, we’d all have been dead long ago. Pull your head out of your ass and start acting your position, Y/N.” Soap spits back, grabbing at her vest and jostling her to the side.

That one move caused all hell to break loose, the two of them grappling on the floor and throwing stray punches. Any passerby would think the two were siblings, and they practically were with how long they’ve known each other. But this fight was personal, the two foaming at the mouth in built up rage from the stressful mission at hand, and the both of them seen each other as the easiest form of taking their aggressions out.

König chuckles at first, hoping it would die down after a few good punches, waiting to hear the two laugh and hug it out… but it didn’t come. The screaming only continued, things being knocked over from tables as they pushed and knocked each other over.

König seen enough when Soap pinned her to the ground with a knife at her throat, the other hand still gripped tightly on her vest,” and to think you ‘excelled’ in hand to hand combat. Bullshit! You ca-“

“Enough.” König growls, effortlessly pulling Soap off of Y/N, but being gentle enough to set him upright on his feet.

Seeing only Königs eyes was a scary thing to Soap, he couldn’t tell if he was tired or upset, but he could definitely read the malice in his squinted eyes.

“You’ve duked it out long enough, it’s time to get some rest, both of you.” König continues, kneeling down to offer a hand to Y/N, only to have it slapped away. The twinge in his chest at the cold gesture hurt more than a gunshot wound. The woman who never needed defended still wouldn’t accept the hand he’s outstretched to her and only her multiple times, was once again rejected. König is frozen, hand still outstretched as she crawls up from the floor, muttering a goodnight as she body checks Soap on her way out.

The three involved in the altercation didn’t get a wink of sleep, but all were prepared. Y/N was stalking to the kettle on the stove, only stopping to stare at Soap. He only raises an eyebrow in anticipation, waiting to see if she was going to throw an apology or her hands.

“I’m sorry, Johnny. And I mean it. I’m not going to die having the closest thing to home mad at me.” She mutters out quietly, shifting between her feet to keep her tired mind preoccupied.

“I’m sorry too. You’re still an asshole.” Soap remarks, tousling her hair once again before pulling Y/N in for a quick hug.

“And you’re still a Dick.” She quips back, sipping at the scalding hot tea around his back.

“We’ll be fine. Have some hope for crying out loud.” Soap whispers as Ghost walks in, causing the two to separate and stand in line.

König sidles up behind Y/N, hand resting on her shoulder as Ghost quickly sets the plan in place. A quick squeeze for reassurance, mainly for himself. If at any point he thought this mission could go wrong, he’d tell her how he felt… or he wouldn’t. He loses his words every time, maybe facing a close call would coax it out of him… wait. Did she just squeeze his hand back with her tiny paw? König risks a glance down, seeing her hand resting gently on top of his. Hers looked so fragile placed atop his, save for the scars littering her knuckles and fresh bruises from hours ago. Soap steals a glance at the scene, noticing Königs bewildered eyes and Y/N’s almost nonexistent smirk, winking at her as Ghost turns to head out. Johnny receives a kind punch to the gut from her free hand in reply.

“Yeah, I deserved that one.” He heaves, gripping the doorway as he walks out in front of the two that remained.

“You ready big guy?” Y/N asks, dropping her hand to her side, convincing herself to move forward.

“Y-yeah. Always ready.” König stammers out, following behind. Her heart thumps quickly at the catch in his voice, but quickly denies it’s over her. He must be nervous for what lies ahead. The battlefield was no place for a love story, and Y/N was almost certain König was just nice with everyone. But König was never nervous on getting to the action. It’s where he felt most comfortable. Better than wandering aimlessly in a market square, embarrassed when civilians gawked at his height, pointing him out discreetly to their companions. He couldn’t help his height, regardless how much he hated being singled out in those situations. In the unit he’s adjusted to everyone being unsurprised when his head smacked against the door frame or bumped in to a light fixture. His unit didn’t laugh or stare, König actually appreciated that they all couldn’t care less.

The shield of night sent a flutter against Y/N’s chest, but now wasn’t the time to get anxious. However, Any slight sound would still make her tense. Was it a desert amphibian or an enemy? She shakes her head in to clarity as Ghost motions onwards. Once they reached the building they would split, Johnny and Ghost inside, König and Y/n surveilling from any vantage point they could find outside.

“Keep an eye out, we’ve already ran in to a sticky situation in here.” Soaps strained voice rings in to their coms.

Y/N’s heart sinks, wondering how something could’ve happened so soon and if Johnny was alright. König couldn’t even be bothered by the voice in his ear, there was movement ahead that needed his attention.

“Eyes forward Y/N, we’ve got company.” He whispers, signaling with two of his fingers. She follows the fingers to their now commandeered humvee and their only way back, watching closely as the tires kick up sand on the road they had just walked not even an hour ago. With barely any vantage point and no place to set her rifle to sight in on a long distance shot, she mutters a curse before looking for the highest ground. Y/N looks behind the towering man, with a flat surface of a merchants abandoned stand finally being her saving grace.

“Hey big guy, mind giving me a boost?” She mutters quickly, motioning to the stand behind him. König outstretches his arms and bends down, wrapping them as delicately as possible around the bottom of her knees. The veil he was wearing concealed his manhood, blushing feverishly as Y/N’s breasts make quick contact with his chin before lifting her further up.

If it weren’t for a quick thinking situation, she would’ve blushed herself, thinking how good König looked below her, hands exactly where they should be… caressing her legs with a gentle strength as his head moves lower.

The cool metal roof of the stand sends chills against Y/N’s braced arms as she heaves herself the rest of the way up with a slight push from the man below. Looking down the scope, the humvee is in sights. One man driving, one man riding on the back. Both enemy targets. Simple maneuver, take the driver out then save the guy on back for last.

Lining up the sights, a bullet is sent precisely through the windshield, sending the driver slump and the humvee cockeyed. The man on the back instantly launches off and rolls to the ground below, standing and firing his own gun recklessly as Y/N tries to zone the sight in once again.

“Damnit, I can’t get him.” She curses, slamming the sight covering shut and looking around for a solution.

“Leave it to me.” König barks out, stalking right in the line of the haphazard firing. Y/N winces as the sound of a bullet skimming flesh sounds. The soft grunt from below confirmed it was her partner that was hit. But it didn’t stop the fight frenzied tank of a man to charge forward, closing the gap of the now charging enemy. In the blink of an eye, König had his bloodied arm wrapped around the assailants neck, and legs sweeping them both to the ground. Another gunshot rings out before the crunch of bone brings a bitter silver taste to Y/N’s mouth and a churn in her stomach. After several heartbeats of silence, Y/N reaches for the com switch shakily,” please tell me you’re okay.”

“Enemy down, I’m injured.” König wheezes back in to his own mic. The heat wave of anxiety washes over Y/N, but she still forces herself off the stand to asses the situation.

“What the hell is going on out there you two?” Ghost sounds in. The same thought must’ve been rushing through everyone’s head as the line goes silent. König’s report should’ve been word enough as to what was going on. Y/N finally comes to the scene, seeing the crazed bezerker now docile and injured was almost frightening.

“Don’t move, just tell me where you’re hurt!” Y/N yelps, kneeling quickly at his side and grabbing the bloody arm that lay limp.

“Y/N, my arm is fine. It was just a graze. It’s my leg.” König half chuckles, half wheezes while trying to sit up. She knocks him back to the ground and quickly cuts an opening around the blood stain on his upper thigh. She mutters a quick curse under her breath and reaches for her belt, whipping it off and sliding it beneath his leg.

“I’ve never done an extraction on field before so I’m sorry if this hurts. You can punch me if it makes you feel better.” Y/N giggles in panic as she yanks her belt tight, creating a tourniquet above the wound. If it wasn’t so close to the femoral artery, she would’ve just left it… but desperate times call for desperate measures. It was a relief to get the heavy medical pack off her back, but the tension only built in her chest as shaky fingers grab supplies.

“I could never punch you. You wouldn’t be able to handle it.” König chuckles. Y/N can only roll her eyes before grabbing a tongue depressor and holding it out,” here. You’re going to want this.”

She places it between his teeth as he looks at her in confusion,” why would I-“

“For this.” Is all Y/N gasps as she digs the metal forceps in to the wound, causing König to convulse in pain and a stifled yelp. Metal hits metal as the forceps meet the bullet, thankfully not stuck in too far. The wooden tongue depressor between his teeth snaps, and a worried arm grips at Y/N’s shoulder.

“Y/N, you can hurry up now!” König seethes in pain, fingernails biting in to her skin through her shirt. She could only sigh in relief as she assesses the bullet under the glimmering moonlight, holding it up so König could get a view as well.

“I’m giving you thirty seconds to take a deep breath and move your hand so you don’t break my shoulder. Then I’m stitching you up.” She heaves between quick breaths and wiping the anxious sweat from her brow. König can only nod, moving his hand thoughtlessly to her thigh and regrouping as Y/N threads the needle.

“I’m not going to ask again, what’s going on out there?” Ghost’s voice chimes in.

“God damnit, I’m sewing an injured man back together give me some peace and quiet or come out here and do it yourself.” Y/N spits back before ripping the com out and getting back to work. The first puncture sends a moan from König’s lips and a tingle through Y/N. If he wasn’t laying in front of her injured, she may have just melted and stored that sound in her mind for later.

“Y/N-“ König begins in a pleading voice, getting cut off by her slight laugh,” yes big guy I’m almost done.”

“No no, no. I wanted to say thank you. For this, for making me comfortable. I appreciate it.” König smiles at her, slightly visible under his unkempt veil.

“I really wouldn’t call this comfortable, König. This is very unsterile and we’re on the ground.” Y/N says mindlessly, tying off the last stitch.

“No, not this. You. I mean you. Thank you.” He pants between his quickened heart rate from pain, adrenaline and even ecstasy.

“You feeling alright? You’re not losing too much blood are you? Should I call in an emergency med evac?” She rambles back.

“I’m fine! You just amaze me.” König mumbles, caressing her cheek faintly and accidentally smudging blood where his fingers pass. She responds with checking the temperature of his forehead and grimacing,” I think you’re losing too much blood. I’m calling for an evac.”

Just as Y/N rises to find her com, his hand pulls her down on top of him, her arms being the only thing bracing the distance between their faces.

“Do not call for an evac. I’m trying to confess my feelings here!” König snaps, staring directly in to Y/N’s frantic and searching eyes.

“I really don’t think this is the time t-“ Y/N tries to scold, only to be cut off by a hurried and sloppy kiss from the fidgeting man below her. She kisses back mindlessly, melting against Königs touch. It feels so wrong for this to be the moment, but she’s craved for this to happen since she laid eyes upon the man on the way to location.

“Sure looks like you don’t need any help out here.” Soap grunts out from above them, and receiving a middle finger from the two in reply. Ghost creeps in on the scene as Y/N stands and brushes the dirt and blood from her pants. König’s eyes become heavy as he smiles,” you can call for that med evac now. I’m going to pass out.”

Without missing a beat, his body becomes taught and his eyes droop shut.

“Man’s got balls, I’ll say that much. I wouldn’t risk dying just for a kiss from you.” Soap states in awe before requesting an evac over the radio.

“No smart remark back? I’m making fun of you here, kid.” Soap questions worriedly and turning back around.

“Johnny. I’m just baffled this man likes me… And worried that he’s passed out.” Y/N replies, staring off in shock and at the fallen tower they call König in front of them.

“I’m baffled you two never even noticed. We’ve been taking bloody bets and I owe some damn good money.” Soap coughs out as the evac arrives.

“Wait, who the hell do you owe money?” Y/N shouts over the churning chopper blades, turning to Soap in confusion. The question is answered as Ghost knicks the wallet from Soaps back pocket,” you’re short a few hundred.”

“Sorry I didn’t bring cash with me on a mission, didn’t know we were stopping for some damn ice cream on the way back to base asshole.” Soap barks, almost silenced out from the thundering blades that were once again quickening to carry away König.

“Lucky bastard doesn’t have to walk back to base either.” Y/N grumbles, scuffing a boot in the dirt before walking back to the trail that led them here.

“I’m sure the humvee is still drivable.” Ghost offers, only to receive a quick no from the other two in unison.

*a few hours later*

The sun was rising, beating down on the units sore and tired eyes as they finally reach the base. The door groans in protest as Ghost slams it open. The three left sit silently around the small kitchen table as the other unit members begin to crawl out of their own beds for the day shift. Silence lingers as the other members come and go before Soap finally clears his throat,” I haven’t heard any updates on König. But no news is better than bad news.”

“Ah, he’ll be fine. Just needs some blood pumped in him and some rest. I’m sure he’ll be released soon. I’m not going to sit around and wait to be the welcoming committee, I’m too damn tired.” Ghost yawns, stretching out his limbs before standing and waving the other two off.

“You should get some shut eye too, kid. It’s been a long night and there’s only more ahead. The big guy will be fine.” Soap sleepily lilts out, accent becoming even heavier in his groggy state. Y/N droops forward, jolting up quickly to catch herself before nodding,” yeah. I think you’re right. I’m calling it a night… or day.”

“See you when the sun sets, Sharpshooter.” Soap yawns out, finally retiring to his room.

Y/N slowly trudges to her own like a mindless zombie, stripping down and crawling under the scratchy blanket and almost immediately passing out.

Thunk.

Y/N’s eyes crack open, seeing the sun was still shining, and upset that someone was being so loud knowing there was others sleeping. The sound rings again, but this time she realizes it’s knocks on her door. Dramatically rolling off the cot and groaning in protest she rips the door open,” seriously, I’ve been up all night and the last thing I need is an early wake up call!”

She finally stares at the chest of the knocker, eyes trailing up to see König with his veil still crookedly on.

“Actually, I’ll take this early wake up call.” Y/N smiles, leaning against the door frame awkwardly in an attempt to hide her anxiousness.

“I- I didn’t mean to wake you, Y/N. I just wanted to make sure you all made it back in one piece. I should’ve just waited…” he trails off, wringing his hands out and shifting his stance several times before continuing,” I should go… to bed, now. It’s been a long night.”

As König begins to walk off, Y/N circles her arms around him, resting her head against his mid back and yawning,” I’m so glad I didn’t kill you.”

König freezes, looking down at the smaller hands wrapped around him and turning in her arms to be able to look down at the hug assailant.

“I don’t see how you would’ve killed me, saved me actually! You are amazing! Such a strong and fierce woman.” König boasts, hooking his arms under Y/N’s to pull her up, and settles his hands gently on her backside as she wraps her legs around his torso and hands on his shoulders. She sleepily admires the dopey eyes behind the facial covering that looks at her with so much appreciation and grips gently at his jawline,” let’s get some shut eye and you can compliment me more later handsome. You shouldn’t be lifting, let alone walking after getting shot.”

König coughs, clearing the catch in his throat before nodding due to a complete loss of words. He’s never been called handsome, and her words travel down him, filling him with pride as her head tucks in to the crook of his neck. Her very presence makes a gunshot wound seem like a cat scratch, and König would be a dead man walking if she had seen the discarded crutches by her door. It was the feeling of finding something worth fighting and living for, instead of something to die for.

“Anything for you, meine leibe.” König whispers, pulling a hand to the back of Y/N’s head to stroke through her sleep riddled hair. The twinge of pain in his leg as he walks is a reminder that the woman sleeping in his arms could save a life just as easily as she could take it, and a promise to himself he would do everything in his power to make sure nothing ever hurt her in the ways he had been.

“König, where are you taking me?” Y/N grumbles out in a moment of consciousness. He tilts down, kissing her temple through his veil and chuckles,” the couch. The both of us would never fit on a cot together.”

In the matter of a few hours, Soap would come out to set the kettle on the stove, stopping to view the massive blood thirsty killer they called König protectively curled around the tiny terror that was Y/N and see the two in the rarest state for either of them… total peace. He pulls the kettle before it could even whistle, pouring hot water over a bag and sipping the piping hot tea as Ghost walks out.

“Hurry and take a picture. I don’t think I’ve seen either of them not have the gleam of murder in their eyes.” He gruffly states, pouring the same water over instant coffee and joining in on the viewing. They both tense and hold their breath as Y/N shifts, rolling inwards towards König who was pressed up behind her, causing the both to only hold tighter.

“Do you two have anything better to do?” Y/N seethes out, slightly muffled by Königs chest.

“Not really, no.” Soap grumbles back, taking another sip of his tea and preparing to run. Y/N definitely thought of trying, but the tightening grip around her prevents her from moving,” don’t move. I’ll handle this.”

Soaps eyes become wide as the realization hits that it was now a tag team against him instead of just Y/N.

“Shit.”

#konig imagine #cod mw #cod konig #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig x you #könig #könig x you #könig x y/n #könig x reader #könig cod

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nightlychaotic · 3 years ago

Text

Rafter Revelations

“I’m leaving.”

“What?”

“I’m leaving. I can’t deal with this any longer. I am sick and tired of all the secrets, all the tiptoeing around each other.”

“I’m not the only one with secrets, Marinette.”

“I know. And that’s part of the problem.”

“Can’t we talk about this?”

She raised a brow at that. “Are you going to come clean about what you do that leaves you so exhausted and overworked? And don’t give me that workaholic excuse again. We both know that isn’t the whole truth.”

Tim glanced away, the two sitting there in silence for a minute before Marinette’s soft, broken laugh cut through the silence.

“I thought so.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Everything is Tim. Every gods damned thing is in my life,” she muttered bitterly.

“What about you? What about your secrets?”

“I’d love nothing more than to tell you. Share this burden with someone else….”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because you won’t share your secrets. And for all I know they could be the dangerous kind. I can’t share because I don’t know what you’ll do with them. As much as I want to fully trust you- I can’t. I can't because you have a big secret and for all I know you’ll take my secret and run with it and I can’t risk that happening. Not again.”

“Marinette-” he whispered, moving to place a hand on her arm, trying to comfort her or build a bridge, an olive branch, anything. He swallowed, trying to ignore the growing lump in his throat as she pulled out of his reach with a small head shake.

“I’m sorry, Tim. I just- I need a break,” she said softly, shouldering her bags. “You have my number. Call if you change your mind or- No. Just. Nevermind. You know how to reach me if things change. I- Goodbye Tim.”

She didn’t give him time to say anything, quickly opening the door and pulling it lightly as she walked away, leaving the door to swing close. She left, leaving behind silence. Silence that felt too loud. No scritching at the lock. Nothing. He could barely hear her footsteps walk away on the carpeted hallway floor. The lock hadn’t turned. She didn’t lock the door. Why didn't she lock the door?

He took a deep breath as he glanced around their small apartment. She just forgot in the heat of the moment, right? Of course. She didn’t- She wouldn’t-

Tim stopped, heart pounding as he stepped into the small kitchen. Sitting there, glaring at him, was her key.

She did.

She left her key.

She was gone.

Oh.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, turning away, grabbing his computer and logging in as he sat down on the couch, leaving the door unlocked, a small part of him hoping she would walk in. That this would all undo itself as he pulled up some cold cases, throwing himself into them. Anything to distract from the pain.

—---------------------------------

It was two months before Tim saw or heard anything from Marinette and the circumstances were less than ideal. He caught sight of her on patrol being smuggled from one building to a different one, her gag loose around her neck. She had to have worked it off, he guessed by the irritation of the gaggle of goons’ faces as she talked, the picture of pure innocence.

He followed behind, not making his presence known until they’d shoved her into the lone chair in the corner, two of them hovering next to her, while the rest sat at the folding table and chairs, dealing out cards and drinks. He made quick work of two before the rest caught on to what was happening. All of them quickly forgetting about Marinette as they moved to take on Red Robin.

Marinette glanced over, a small smile on her face at the lack of guards as she quickly began working her way out of the zip tie cuffs, using his sudden appearance as a distraction, frowning as she heard the clanging of his staff being knocked away.

“Hey!”

She grabbed his bo staff from where it had fallen, giving it a quick, experimental twirl before smiling slightly, glancing over at him.

"I think you may have chosen the wrong priority," she called out, pulling the goons attention to her, tilting her head as they laughed.

"Put the stick down, girlie. Hate to see such a pretty little face hurt."

"Make me."

Red Robin tensed watching her take a few steps back, looking less confident as two of the goons broke off, heading towards her and she bumped into a stack of crates. Her demeanor changed as soon as she did though, quickly slamming the end of the staff into one of their insteps and snapping it promptly up into his face before swinging it around, landing a few several blows in quick succession. The first goon charged as she knocked his friend unconscious. She laughed as she jumped, pushing off the crates to flip over him, and ramming the staff into his back, pushing him through the crates. She turned back to the rest of the goons holding Red Robin as she planted the staff.

"Still think he's your biggest threat?"

The grin she got when more goons left him was almost feral as she shifted her weight to the balls of her feet before launching forward, sliding into one goon, taking him out as she dealt a painful blow to his partner, swiftly standing and locking eyes with him giving a small head shake very much telling him to ‘Get on with it’ as she turned back to the fight.

He felt his face heat up as he wrenched his arm out of the goon’s grip, ramming his head back into the other goon’s quickly stepping away before ducking beneath a punch, grabbing the extended arm and using their momentum to throw them into their coworker.

“Took you long enough.”

He paused, surprised to find the other four goons who’d moved after Marinette unconscious, littered across the floor as she leaned on his staff. Since when had she been able to do that? Nothing indicated she knew how to fight. No record of martial arts training or anything. She’d never seemed interested in them either when he offered to pay for some when they’d first started dating, laughing it off saying she was a fashion designer, who’d be interested in her, and even if someone was it’d be handled then. That he didn’t need to worry about her. He didn’t quite believe her then, but could see why she’d dismissed it now. This was a whole other side to her he had no clue existed. A side that his background check didn’t reveal any hints to.

“How strong are you?” she asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

“What?”

“The next shift will be here any moment. I want to get the drop on them. You’re going to give me a boost up. You’ve done some gymnastics training right?”

His eyes widened slightly as he realized what she was thinking. Gymnastics? Yeah. Sure. A small handful of times and only ever with Dick at his insistence.

“Do you mind if I hold onto this for a minute?” she asked, holding onto his staff.

“You really shouldn’t do this, Miss. I can get you out-”

“With eight more goons on our tail making a fuss? No, take them out now. Don’t have to deal with them. Their boss isn’t even in town right now. Easy Peasy.”

“You don’t have any equipment or training,” he protested.

“Now who said that? There’s a reason I’m holding onto this for a minute. Ready?” she barely gave him any time before running at him. He locked his hands together, giving her the boost she wanted, watching as she pressed off the top of a stack of crates to get the extra air she needed, bringing his staff up and over the rafter beam and catching the other end of it so she hung beneath. She swung, catching the beam with her legs and pulling herself to crouch on top of it as the door opened.

“Where’s the girl?”

“Where do ya think? Tha Bird hid her away.”

“Let’s get ‘im.”

Red Robin didn’t move from his spot underneath the beam where Marinette crouched, allowing the eight goons to form a loose circle around him, leering at him while he tensed, preparing for a fight before she made her move.

Marinette dropped down, landing on top of one of the goons’ shoulders for a second before pressing off, the force driving the goon to the ground with a grunt while she flipped, planting the staff on the ground and landing delicately on top of it, balancing in a way he didn’t think was possible.

“I think you fellas are forgetting something,” she greeted them with an innocent smile, while Red Robin tried to restart his brain after witnessing that.

Marinette however had no qualms about leaping straight into the fray, a whirlwind of motion as she leapt off his staff, snapping him out of his stupor and into motion, keeping an eye on her as they fought.

"Marinette! Behind you!"

Her head snapped to him, confusion clear in her eyes for a moment before she shook her head, ramming the staff back into the gut of the goon sneaking up on her, before pulling away and throwing the staff to Red Robin.

"Keep it."

"You need it more than me," she shot back, turning away from him.

“Care to share why you need eight guards by the way?”

“What? Did you expect me to make it easy for them?”

He didn’t answer as he got pulled away, comforted by the familiar weight of his staff, the two of them quickly handling the goons, Marinette taking care of the last three as she yelled at him to duck, using one’s momentum to throw him into the other two, grabbing his hand and pulling him along.

She led him through the warehouse, which was all fine with him as he was still trying to process what the hell was happening. And where the hell his girlfriend, ex-girlfriend?,had learned to fight. She led him up to the roof, the cold air hitting them like a wall.

“I assume you have a grapple or something?” He nodded, pulling her close. “Hang on tight,” he warned before pulling them up, swinging roof to roof for a minute as his brain caught up to the night’s events.

“What did you do to get on Penguin’s bad side anyways?”

“Fooled around with a Wayne. Apparently he didn’t get the memo we were on a break and his goons thought I’d make a nice ‘Welcome Home’ hostage. Put me down here,” she directed, easily taking the shock of the landing as she stepped away from him.

“I’m sorry.”

She frowned for a second looking at him, tilting her head to the side. “Why are you sorry? You had-” she broke off with a laugh, shaking her head as she turned away from him. "Of course. Of fucking course, you're Red Robin. That makes perfect sense. I'm just an idiot who couldn't see it sooner."

"Excuse me, Miss? Are you okay?"

"Drop the act, Tim. Gods. Of course you're a vigilante."

"How’d you figure it out?"

“You’re smart. Figure it out yourself.”

His heart leapt into his throat as she jumped, the soft clank of metal the only hint that she’d jumped onto the fire escape. He moved peering over the edge watching as she quickly made her way down and out onto the street, quickly heading in the direction of her apartment, the cheeky call of “No need to make sure I get home safe,” over her shoulder her only goodbye as she left him alone on the roof, desperate for answers.

—---------------------------------

Tim threw himself into research, trying to figure out what happened in Marinette’s past that gave her so much experience and confidence fighting like that, and how that allowed her to figure his identity out so easily from a small slip up.

The most obvious place to look was Paris. At the Heroes and Hawkmoth, what went down for those ten years.

The Parisian Heroes were something he knew woefully little of, having been banned from going near it by several members of the Justice League, with special stress put on it from Wonder Woman, all news coming from inside of Paris had been stopped until two years ago when news detailing what happened in and the subsequent end of “Paris’ Emotional Reign of Terror” hit newstands. Bruce had even set up multiple firewalls to help keep the news segmented, as if it didn’t exist at Diana’s pleading. Tim was sure Bruce knew what was happening but kept it from the rest of them.

It was around this time the Parisian Heroes went dark around the same time Marinette moved to Gotham, he knew that much from conversations with her. Many posited they’d gone into retirement with the defeat of Hawkmoth, finally taking time to themselves after years of near nonstop battles with akumas. The already frequent attacks appeared to have picked up from once or twice a week to near daily at the end of his reign.

Looking closer at the timeline, Hawkmoth was defeated two weeks before Marinette moved to Gotham. Enough for her, had she been a hero, to settle her affairs and get out of there for a change of scenery. It would explain her comfort in fights and confidence if she’d been fighting magically powered Akumas everyday for years. Her certainty and calmness slid into place as well.

She was calmer and more self assured in that fight with the goons than he thinks he’s ever seen her, handling herself with ease. She handled his staff as if it was second nature for her, as if it belonged, doing things he doesn’t even think he’d be able to. He was still trying to wrap his head around how she balanced, perched on the tip as if it was a fixed platform. It was almost cat-like.

That rang bells in his head. One of the heroes used a staff.

Each hero had their own weapon, most very unconventional, but a staple, almost a signature for them. Some had instruments such as Viperion’s Lyre and Rena Rouge’s Flute. Many had everyday objects and toys like Multimouse’s Jump Rope, Queen Bee’s Top, and, most notably, Ladybug’s Yo-Yo. Only a couple weapons were found in the cases of Carapace’s Shield and Ryuko’s sword. The weapon of his interest fell into this last category as well. Chat Noir’s Baton.

The problem came when he could only find evidence of there only ever being one Cat. A decidedly male and blonde Cat at that. His weapon, perfect for the fighting and skills that Marinette showed, the baton extending to impossible lengths with him balancing on top of it like it was nothing, yet nothing to prove that there was a female Cat active in Paris for any length of time, outside of a speculated swap though surprisingly lacking images or videos to support it.

That was a dead end.

Great.

—---------------------------------

One week later and he was struggling to come up with anything pointing him in any direction that might shed light on Marinette. It had gotten to the point where Dick had “lovingly” shoved him out onto an extra patrol saying the fresh air, did that even exist in Gotham?, would do him some good.

Which led him to now, tailing after glimpses of a cat thief. Last he’d heard Selina was in London, a new exhibit at the British Museum having caught her attention. Although it wasn’t unusual for her to show up out of the blue, eyes on a new prize closer to home.

Red Robin dropped down into the museum shortly after frowning slightly. They didn’t move with the same confident caution Selina did, seemingly not caring if they ran the risk of setting off an alarm or motion sensor.

He stopped.

That wasn't Selina standing in front of the display case. The biggest give away was the unnaturally long braid that trailed along the figure, almost seeming like it had a life of its own, the tip flicking unpredictably as the braid swung. Upon closer look, he could see that the suit was all wrong, toxic green accents along the suit and low slung belt out of place. Ears perched in her hair that appeared as if they were moving. Scratch that. They were moving, flicking back in his direction.

"You can come out," she called. "I know you're there, Little Birdy."

"You're not the cat I was expecting to see here."

"I'm sorry if I disappoint you. I don't plan to be around long though so no need to worry your pretty little head," she told him, turning to fix unnaturally green eyes on him, they seemed to glow as she took him in. “Of course you’re the bird that finds me,” she muttered, adding to his confusion.

"I thought there was only one Cat and that he was in Paris."

"Chat retired."

"Willingly or did you steal his Miraculous?"

"Are you calling me a thief?"

"Well-" he gave her a pointed look. “If the shoe fits.”

"By necessity not by choice. I’ll just take what I came for and we’ll never have to see each other again."

“What requires you to steal?”

“And here I thought you were smarter than this. SUrely You can figure it out,” she said, before extending her baton, hitting him and pushing him back before turning her attention back to the case, leaving him to move, catching his breath and close the distance between them.

She laughed, ducking around the batarangs thrown her way, eyes flicking over to him briefly before she began tracing a circle on the glass, batting his staff to the side while throwing a well aimed kick at him, the sound of her claw cutting the glass grating against his eardrums, throwing him slightly off balance as she pulled a book from the display, tossing it up before it seemed to disappear as she swung her baton at it, extending it into a staff, twirling it around as she finally faced him again.

“Now that that’s been taken care of,” she started with a Cheshire grin. “Care for a game of Cat and Mouse?” she asked before promptly taking off, quickly managing to disappear into the shadows, light laughter trailing behind.

He took off after her, trying to follow her through the shadows but the silence of her movements was uncanny. She could give Batman a run for his money with the complete and utter vanishing act, shadows swallowing her up as if she’d never even existed.

He slowed to a stop, looking around as he tried to figure out where she might have disappeared to, not expecting the sudden weight from above, knocking him to the ground.

She dropped down, springing off his shoulders before landing on the tip of her staff, balancing perfectly at ease as she laughed.

Tim smiled as the pieces clicked into place. He didn’t have the full story but he’d only ever seen one other person do what she just did with such ease. The revelation felt almost nostalgic back to the times when Dick was Robin and he made that discovery.

“Well this has been fun, but I have to run. Maybe I’ll see you around, Birdy,” she told him, giving a small salute as she started to leave, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Wait! Marinette!”

She stopped, turning to look back at him with a soft laugh.

“Took you long enough, Tim.”

“This is your secret, isn’t it? You hold the Cat Miraculous.”

��Close.”

“Close?”

“I’m the Guardian for all of the Miraculi.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah….” she trailed off glancing away, the bravado and confidence draining a bit, leaving the Marinette he was more used to dealing with. “There was a reason I was so set on not sharing mine until I knew what you were hiding. The books a grimoire attached to them which-”

“Which you want under your protection,” he finished. She nodded.

“I can’t risk it or the Miraculi falling into the wrong hands. I don’t want to repeat another decade of fighting.”

He laughed. “I don’t blame you. I- I know you weren’t Chat Noir. Which hero were you?”

“I’d make you guess but the magic confuses things so I’ll spare you this time. I was Ladybug. I did moonlight as Multimouse every now and again though as well. You should see the things I can do with a little bit of weight on the end of a rope.”

“Is that an offer?”

The two stood in silence, both thankful for the darkness as their faces turned bright red.

“I-I am so sorry that just slipped out-” he sputtered, as Marinette let out a small laugh, placing a hand on his arm in reassurance.

“I take it you missed me then?”

“You wouldn’t believe the amount of cold cases I’ve solved hoping you’d walk back through the door.”

“I left my key.”

“Did you think I locked the door?”

“Tim-”

“I know. I locked it when I was out or asleep,” he offered.

“Have you slept?”

“Have you?”

“Touche.”

Marinette snatched her hand away with a small blush, realizing it was still resting on his arm, letting out a breath. “I missed you too, you know. You can’t believe how stupid I felt not noticing the signs you were a vigilante. I mean the long nights, the hidden injuries, the caffeine sustaining life. I did all the same things for ten years. I should have figured it out.”

“I’ve been hiding it for ages now.”

“It still should have been obvious,” she replied, shaking her head. “Regardless, no more secrets between us. Promise?”

“Promise. Does this mean you’ll come home now?”

“I don’t know if you’re ready for the chaos the kwamii will bring. They’re going to want to meet you now that you know.”

“I think I can handle it if it brings you home.”

“You’re going to regret those words soon enough.”

He reached out, pulling her in for a hug. “I doubt that.”

“You haven’t met Plagg and Trixx yet,” she warned, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I can handle it.”

“You say that now. Race you home?”

“What?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never raced over the city skyline before.”

“Oh you're on, Mari. I have the home field advantage.”

“Let’s see how far that gets you then, hm?” she said, kissing his cheek before using her baton to carry her up through the skylight with a laugh, leaving him to kickstart his brain into motion before chasing after her, grinning.

#Maribat #Timari #timinette #MGI Bracker War 2022 #ROund 1 #No Beta this is war #Identity reveal

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suna-reversed · 4 years ago

Note

Hello :)

Sukuna. fluff. Pretty please.

Could you write something about sukuna falling for itadori's best friend. You can throw some angst in there too because I am a masochist❤️

Sukuna x F! Reader

oh god, this turned purely self indulgent halfway through. low key thinking of turning this into a series to give you the angst you deserve.

A/N: (reader is Itadori’s senior and is 18) (loosely inspired by the song “me and my husband” by mitski)

“And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space

But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved”

——-

- You had been one of the few poor senior students who had been victim to what had been Itadori’s “elevator pitch” for more people to join the occult club early back in high school. [the said “elevator pitch” being him jumping out at random people with a white bedsheet over his head saying “boo” as he handed you the club form]

- You didn't end up joining the club. But you somehow did end up getting joined at the hip with the chaotic mess under the white sheet.

- Whether it was you two rushing to the theatre to watch Jennifer Lawrence’s new movie, or going to a revolving sushi place [only to get pocky from a nearby vending machine instead because revolving sushi is apparently expensive], Itadori Yuuji had become a comforting and very important presence in your life.

- So of course when he suddenly dropped out of your life, being the worried friend you were, you decided to poke around a little only to find out that he was...dead?

- Maybe a few months down the line, you would’ve started to slightly recover from the tragic news you had just gotten. Instead, what you got was your supposedly dead best friend popping up days later to tell you that he ate a finger and now he was the vessel for some centuries old curse,,,

- Um yeah...safe to say that Yuji did not expect you to go into the fit of emotions that you did [boy had the audacity to call you dramatic for fainting and then crying while hugging him once you gained consciousness]

- some time passed and Yuji and you didn’t see each other much with him practically training to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Still, simply happy to have him back alive, your brain managed to convinced itself that everything was still the same.

- And it was when he’d sneak out a day or two from his heavy schedule and you’d be back to your normal routine of watching movies, stuffing your face with snacks, getting your face licked by the mouth on Yuji’s hand…

- ,,,wait what

- The first time the curse had made contact with you was simply out of annoyance of why the stupid brat even took the time to see someone as mundane as you so often.

- His plan was to simply scare you into leaving, knowing it would cause the brat pain.

- So he grabbed the opportunity when Yuji moved forward to brush off some popcorn dust on the side of your mouth, not only licking the side of your face but also being successful in slightly grazing his teeth against your tender skin.

- Yuji had mentioned that being a vessel had caused some weird physical “abnormalities” for him. you didn’t understand it back then but at least knowing that had sort of prepared you for such an instance.

- So imagine the curse’s surprise [and an even further growing annoyance] when your eyes barely widened for a second before you burst into laugher,

“Didn’t you train your dog to not bite?”

- by now, Yuji had jumped 5 feet away from you and was still halfway through his string of apologies, but upon hearing your reaction, he mused on your fake calm while letting out a chuckle himself,

- “Guess I’ve got to get a leash for him”

- By this point, the ever so indifferent curse had taken two teenagers talking about him like a mere annoyance as a personal challenge.

- And that’s how it started.

- He’d come out every now and then, licking your fingers as Yuji passed you something or making lewd remarks on anything and everything that you ever started a conversation about.

- But you and Yuji barely paid him attention and it was an understatement to say that it infuriated the living hell out of him.

- Particularly you, who wouldn’t even be annoyed or sarcastic about his tactics anymore. Instead, treating him like a friend who was simply joining you and the brat to hang out.

- He hated it. Hated how bright your laugh was. Hated how you made them stop every time you saw a stray animal just so you could pet it. Hated how your skin was as soft as a cloud and how you sometimes smelled like cherry blossoms. He’d kill you in an instant if he could ugh.

- it was a weekend and Yuji and you had been watching a movie, even though Yuji was barely paying attention. You knew he was tired as his large frame slumped over your shoulder. Pulling the blanket up to his face, you once again felt the wet feeling of the assaults you had grown familiar with on the side of your hand.

- “You could’ve just asked for a pocky if you wanted one, no need to lick it off my fingers you grumpy little thing”, you laughed as you stood up to go to the bathroom

- that snapped the final string.

- Coming back into your living room, you wondered if Yuji had somehow gotten up in his sleep and managed to draw weird black lines over himself all in the span of 5 minutes.

- ‘Yuji, what the fuck?’

- ‘Well well, now who’s acting like a grumpy little thing’

- The deep voice sent rumbles down your spine and you knew in an instant what had happened.

- Even though your breath hitched in your throat and your body begged for you to run as fast away as you can, you held your ground as you simply tilted your head at the curse

- “Well, I’d like my best friend back if you don’t mind.”

- You saw the smirk on Sukuna’s face falter for just a second before he crossed the space between the couch and you.

- Now as strong of a front as you managed to hold up until now, watching something like that stride straight towards you would have had even the strongest of sorcerers shitting bricks.

- Instinctively, you took a few steps backwards, but he simply continued to close the distance between the two of you until you were backed up against the wall.

- You flinched as he slammed a hand right next to your head and he seemed to gain immense satisfaction from that as he looked down at your startled face with a smirk plastered on his tattooed face.

- Sukuna was sure that you’d be begging for his mercy any second now. His smirk widened and he was ready to mock your pleas as he saw you open your mouth to say something,

- “ ...so much for a damn pocky.”

- All those other times you had caught the curse off guard were nothing compared to the “partially-confused partially-baffled” expression that he held on his face now. It almost made him look human. Almost.

- You didn’t realise just how long you were holding his gaze until Yuji took back control and apologized like a million times over, reassuring you that he would’ve never let you get hurt.

- The curse didn’t show up for almost a week after that. And while you were grateful for not having to wash off your hands or face 14 times a day, you somehow felt anxious about its sudden disappearance.

- All those worries were thrown out the window as he once again showed up while Yuji was passed out on the couch after a particularly tough session with Gojo sensei.

- Looking at the curse, you felt anger more than anything, how could he just drop out on you with no warning and then show up in the middle of your living room- ...wait a second, why the hell are you mad at a literal curse for not telling you he was taking a mental health break or whatever it was that he was doing?

- While you sorted out through these conflicting thoughts in your mind, the curse seemed to be going through a similar crisis.

- Having woken up in the brat’s fragile human body with no warning whatsoever, Sukuna wasn’t in the mood to see your face so soon again. He didn’t know why your physical presence unsettled him so much. All he knew was that he hated it. Even more now that he knew what you looked like all scared and small compared to his vessel’s towering build, and how you smelled even sweeter than what he had tasted, and how despite all that you still had the courage to stand up to someone as dangerous as him. Ugh, disgusting.

- “The stupid brat passed out.”

- Such a simple statement caused you to snap your head up at him. But he didn’t wait for your reaction as he somehow managed to plop down on the couch while still looking graceful. Picking up the half eaten box of pocky, he warily pulled one out, eyeing it as if it was a poisoned dagger before breaking off a piece and placing it on his tongue.

- “This is what you would risk your life for, brat?”

- He turned his head slightly to look at you still frozen in place, staring at him with that doe eyed look that made his chest burn a little. Isn’t this what he wanted all along?

- “Are you simply going to stand there and gawk? I don’t bite-...well, not unless you ask me to.”

- He knew that would set you right back to your usual self,

- “...maybe we do need to get a leash after all.”

- Sukuna internally grinned as he saw you move to the other side of the couch, ready to hear whatever more of the snarky comeback that you’d have (not that he was anticipating it, it was just the better alternative to being gaped at. Or so he told himself)

- “You ate the non chocolate covered part of the pocky by the way-”

- “As if a layer of this disgusting brown substance can make the rotten stick taste bette-”

- “Well aren’t sticks all you had to eat in yOuR TiME anyways?”-

—-

- You somehow managed to fall asleep after the bickering, proceeding to sit in silence after you told him to not bother you while you tried to read. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were a little disappointed when he actually didn’t. Instead, he sat on the couch with a slight smirk still plastered on his face, continuing to simply gaze at you. your heart did lunges every time you slyly looked up from your book to take a peak at him. you wondered how many ways he had come up with to kill you so far.

- On the other hand, the curse sat idly, watching you while his thoughts rumbled in his mind. Maybe killing you can be pushed off the agenda for now. There are much better ways to hurt the brat anyways aren't there? Perhaps he could use one of these brownish covered sticks to-...what is he thinking?

- He ultimately deems it stupid brat’s humane emotions and sheer stupidity that must be interfering with his thoughts.

- A loud sneeze snaps him out of his daze as he sees you slumped against a pillow, your book falling off your lap. And then he does something that he immediately decides that he would pretend to have not done for the rest of his existence. Luckily, the brat takes back control right after he does it anyways.

- But that thought slips his mind as he finds himself replaying the serene look on your face as he gently pulled the book out of your hands, and how his hands shook a little as you nuzzled your nose into the fabric of the blanket that he pulled over you. How could you have felt so calm around him?

#jujutsu kaisen #jjkxreader #jujutsukaisenxreader #yujiitadori #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #itadori x reader #sukuna #sukuna headcanons #jjk headcanons #sukuna smut #gojo saturo x reader #jujutsu Kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen hcs #sukunafluff

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erythrum · 3 years ago

Text

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑬𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝘙𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘊𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘱𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘦!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 | 𝘑𝘑 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘹 𝘱𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘦!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢,𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦,𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴,𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨,𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵,𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵,𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦,𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘫𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘢,𝘳𝘢𝘧𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘨𝘶𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 (𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨,𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦&𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨,𝘷𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘹,𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬)

𝙖/𝙣: 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 @outcrbcnks ,𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 :)

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 5.3𝘬+,𝘣𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘦

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘙𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺/𝘯, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘰

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

Find the gun, find the gun y/n. It was all I could do to keep me calm down in the sewer, the disgusting sewage the covered my body in a thin layer made me nauseated. Kiara was ahead of me leading the way down the tunnel. The light of the drain was coming in to view. Almost there.

"Kie, I think I might throw up," the smell was making me gag.

"God this is fucking awful, why did we let them convince us to do this?”

“If you remember correctly, we are trying to find a damn murder weapon,” I might have said that a bit too demeaningly, but to be fair, I couldn’t ignore the way my boyfriend looked at her. The hardest part was pretending like I didn’t know what was going on.

“Whatever, let's just find this damn thing and get out of here,” Kiara said.

We eventually found our way to where the sewer met the storm drain on the street above. Searching felt like a waste of time, I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to get involved in this bullshit, but I guess dating JJ came with its ‘perks’. Which happened to include searching for a fucking murder weapon at the bottom of a sewer.

I dragged my hands as deep as I could under the nasty water, trying my hardest to keep my head above water.

“People are so shitty,” Kiara said, disgusted by the trash that easily could’ve been recycled sitting at the bottom of the basin.

“Guys! I think I found something,” she held up something that was definitely not a gun, something dead. It elicited a yelp from her throat, definitely not good.

“Is it Gavin? Is it a body?” The sound of JJ emanated through the drain. That was when I heard the water coming.

“Kie, somethings wrong,” she was so caught up on the poor animal she failed to notice the water beginning to flood in.

“Oh shit!” She was starting to panic. Not good not good not good.

“Guys get out of there!” The voices of JJ and Pope slowly being drowned out by the rising water.

Kiara began climbing up the ladder leading to the drain on the street. Adrenaline was coursing through my body as I climbed behind her, the water closing in on me.

“Push Kie!”

“I am y/n, it's too heavy,” the drain was our only escape now. The water was at my chest, inching closer and closer to my neck. The adrenaline made my body act on instinct, but I also couldn’t keep myself calm. It felt like my body was numb as I tried to pull myself up the ladder, closer to Kiara.

I couldn’t keep my head above water now as it rose up above my head. I took the largest breath I’ve ever taken in my life and prayed that JJ and Pope would come lift the drain. Struggling for air was the worst experience I’d ever felt, I couldn’t hold it any longer. The water filled my lungs, it went black after that.

The boys were pulling as hard as they could on the drain. The combined strength of the two alone just wasn’t enough. But someone else had heard the screams of the two girls and came barreling down the street to help.

Pope had a look of horror on his face as Rafe Cameron himself began pulling on the drain as well. The three of them together much more easily pulling the manhole off and onto the street. Water came flooding out as JJ pulled Kiara out, she was sputtering the disgusting muck out of her lungs, begging for air.

“Kie, Kie! Are you alright?” JJ asked.

“She’s still down there,” she struggled to get out, still filling her lungs with clean air.

Rafe was in panic mode, he nearly dove into the water, reaching his torso as far down as he could. He had to find her. He had too. Rafe's head below the water and into the drain, reaching out for her. After what felt like hours, he felt something, grasping on with all his strength and pulling her body out of the sewer.

"Fuck, Pope! She's not breathing, Pope, I swear to god you better know CPR," Kiara was screaming, still in the arms of JJ.

Rafe began pumping his fists down on her sternum in a steady rhythm. All hell broke loose when he plugged are nose and connected his mouth to hers, blowing air into her water filled lungs.

"What the fuck are you doing!" JJ viciously pulled Rafe from her body, throwing him back onto the concrete.

"Saving her fucking life asshole," Rafe pulled himself back up, rushing back over her and continuing to do what her boyfriend could not. He pushed another breath into her lungs, pleading with himself that she would survive.

That was when y/n began coughing up the sludge lodged in her lungs. She was nearly throwing up her lungs as Rafe stared at her, a look of relief washed over his face. He was the first thing she saw when she came to. Then she saw JJ, clinging onto Kiara in a way she'd always knew would happen.

"Y/n! Fuck I'm glad you're oka-," JJ tried reaching out for her.

"Get the fuck off of me JJ," y/n pushed him back, disgusted yet not surprised by his actions. She had just been brought back from the dead and it felt like he didn't even care. The one person who did care was supposed to be her mortal enemy. A million thoughts were trying to process in her head all at once. Having no idea what to do, she picked herself up and began walking as fast as she could away from the group. On her heels was that same kook, the one she hated, the one she couldn't keep off her mind, the one who ruined her life, the one who saved her.

Y/n only made it 30 feet before hunching over and resting her hands on her knees as she heaved onto the sidewalk. Rafe had chased after her, now pulling the drenched hair from around her face. Once she had emptied her lungs of the filth, she only had one thing to say.

“Get the fuck away from me Rafe,” she said, still hunched over. He stood in shock, not knowing what to do next.

"At least let me take you home, for the love of God I literally just pulled you out of a sewer." She hesitated for awhile, finally recognized the car she had been throwing up next too. It was Rafe's truck.

The truck was filled with nothing but silence as they drove, y/n ignoring every word Rafe said. They had been driving in a giant circle around the island with no destination for hours. Finally Rafe pulled over on the side of the road, hazard lights on.

"Listen, y/n, we can't stay in the car all night, and it seems to me like you don't want to go home, I can take you back to Tannyhill, you can take a shower and get cleaned up, we have a guest room, stay the night if you'd like," Rafe said, hoping she would say yes. Y/n let out a deep sigh before speaking.

"Fine," it was all she could muster up. Her heart was hurting. Y/n had come to the realization that her boyfriend instinctually went for Kiara, and that she would always be his second choice. She never wanted to be a second choice, she wanted to be the only choice.

His house was enormous, probably bigger than any she had seen on figure eight. Rafe hopped out of the truck, racing over to the passenger side door to let her out. He led her into the massive home, before arriving at the guest room.

"There's a bathroom through that door, I'll bring you some clothes to wear," he said. She barely let him finish before bolting towards the bathroom door, locking herself in. She laid her back against the door, wondering how in the world she ended up here. It took a moment to take in the beauty a bathroom could hold. She'd never seen anything like it. Marble floors and brilliant gold detailed fixtures. It was easily the nicest thing she had ever seen. Finally, she reached her hand to the shower faucet, turning on a beautiful cascade of water. There was nobody in the world she believed needed something so fancy. Y/n stripped out of her muck caked clothing, tossing it onto those beautiful floors. Stepping into the waterfall was exactly what she needed.

Meanwhile, Rafe ran upstairs, grabbing whatever he could out of Sarah's closet. He ran over and over again in his head what to do next as he raced back down to the guest room. Leave the clothes next to the door? Wait for her to come out of the shower? Before he had a chance to decide, y/n came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her body. Rafe had a look of shock in his eyes, he never thought he'd see the girl he couldn't keep off his mind here, in his home.

Rafe stuck his arm out, holding the clothes just in front of her. She looked Rafe up and down before gently reaching out for the clothing.

"Thanks," that was all she said before turning around and locking herself in the bathroom again. Y/n struggled to hold her tears in, knowing what she would have to face in the morning. It wasn't an easy decision, but it needed to be done.

It was possibly the best sleep she had ever gotten. The satin pillowcases soft against her cheeks as she slept, the warm comforter encasing her. No interruptions or pogues banging on her bedroom door for her to wake up. Just peaceful sleep.

Y/n laid awake in the bed, sunrise creeping through the curtains, dreading the next few hours. She left the massive home as soon as possible, sneaking out at daybreak, making the nearly hour long walk back to the cut.

Rafe found no trace of her left behind, everything was in its place just as it had been before y/n occupied the room. She couldn't have gotten far.

He caught up to her in his truck, she had only made it maybe a quarter of the way to her destination. Wearing Sarah's clothes he had lent her, she fit right into the neighborhood. She kept her head held high and determined to ignore him.

"Y/n, what the hell are you doing?"

"Fuck off Rafe," she shoved her middle finger towards his window as he drove along side her.

"So I save your life, let you sleep at my house, lend you Sarah's clothes, and now I can't offer you a ride?"

"Correct, I don't need your help, the only thing I know you to be good for is hookups and rebounds," she said rather matter of factly. He couldn’t lie to himself, hearing her say that made his heart hurt a little bit.

“Whatever, there's a party at Topper’s tomorrow night if you’re interested, but I’ll go ahead and guess your answer is a no,”

Y/n stopped in her tracks, causing Rafe to slam down on his breaks. She finally turned to look at him, a smile growing on her face.

“You’re absolutely whipped.”

Rafe hesitated before driving off, this girl left his head spinning in circles.

Once she reached the cut, y/n made a B-line for the chateau. Finding the rest of the pogues wasn’t hard, they were usually out back up to whatever shenanigans they had planned. JJ especially came up with bad ideas, somehow convincing the rest of the group that they would work. Y/n rested her body against a doorway, finally making eye contact with JJ, then nodding her head back gesturing for him to follow.

They creeped back towards the front of the shack, still trashed from the hurricane.

“Jesus, where were you y/n? I was worried sick that fucking kook hurt you,” JJ hugged her, squeezing as tight as he could. When she didn’t return the enthusiasm, he knew something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” He questioned.

“Listen JJ, this, us, it’s not going to work,”

“What the hell are you tal-,”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about JJ, I've seen the way you’ve looked at her for months, you’re always going to choose Kiara over me, always. I am not a second choice. I know what I saw.”

“Did that kook get into your head or something?” She was sure the others could hear them now.

“It’s not about that JJ, I was fucking drowning and you didn’t even try to help me, I’d probably be dead right now if it wasn’t for him!”

“Oh so it is about him huh? Did you have fun last night curled up in figure eight? Wait wait, I see, he didn’t get into your head, he got into your pants instead didn’t he?” Y/n didn’t know how else to react, slapping him square across his face.

“Don’t you dare, fucking accuse me of that, or I swear to God JJ,” she could barely hold back the anger boiling her blood right now.

“Its over. Done. Have a nice life.” Y/n ran as fast as she could out of the chateau, tears pooling in her eyes, looking for any escape.

The next 36 hours were a daze, and before y/n knew it, she was getting ready for a kook party. What does a girl even wear to a kook party? A nice sundress? Little black skirt and a crop top? How fancy is this supposed to be? In the end she decided to wear a sleek black dress, knowing she would stick out like a sore thumb, regardless of what she wore. Being likely the only pogue in the middle of hundreds of kook's, it wouldn't matter.

Meanwhile, Rafe was already at Topper's house, making preparations for the oncoming chaos.

"Boys, if you see a little y/h/c pogue try to walk in here, let her in," Rafe said, handing each a $100 bill. The two door boys nodded their heads in understanding.

The easiest part was over, now y/n just had to get there. She didn't even know where Topper lived, well, figure eight obviously, but where? Actually, that's a stupid question, just follow all the BMW's and audi's driven by reckless teenagers.

Y/n knew something was off when the two kids stationed at the door let her through without question. Fucking Rafe. He was surely already here, and she was questioning what in the world led her to make the decision to come here tonight.

Rafe found her in the kitchen, downing shots of tequila.

"Didn't expect to see you here y/n," he slid next to her, pouring himself a shot as well.

"Didn't think I'd be here either, I have much better things I could be doing right now," she snickered back.

"So how'd it go when you got back to the cut?" Rafe asked, knowing something had changed.

"Well, I dumped JJ, so I am officially a free woman," she said, downing her next shot.

"And you're taking it well, obviously," he laughed, smiling as he watched her take the shot with ease. In true y/n fashion, she flipped him off before grabbing the bottle of tequila and disappearing into the house. He watched the way her dress clung to her hips as she moved, now more than ever aware of the ache he felt.

Only fifteen minutes had passed before Rafe went looking for her. Searching through crowds and empty rooms, finally finding a door on the second floor that was cracked open. Not locked out, but not to be unfound. He poked his head through the door, not seeing much at first, until his eyes landed on an open window. The cool breeze of the ocean drifted into the room. He climbed through the window and out onto a small section of the roof overlooking the backyard.

As soon as she saw him, she knew there was no escape.

“Ugh,” y/n rolled her eyes, taking another drink from the bottle she had smuggled.

“Excited to see me?” Rafe said as he settled onto the roof.

"How did you guess?"

"Just the fact that you even showed up, your actions speak for themselves," he said rather confidently.

"Do they now? Because it seems to me like you're the one who is stalking me," she let out a giggle.

"Well, I still need Sarah's clothes back,"

Y/n shoved his shoulder, the both of them laughing as she did.

"Mhm, I don't know, I think I look pretty good dressed in kook," y/n passed him the bottle now, he accepted her offer. He had to think long and hard about what to say next, his heart beating relentlessly in his chest.

"More than pretty good," there was a silence between the two, both reading into what he said.

"Y'know, I don't even know who I am anymore."

"And by that you mean?" Rafe asked.

"On this island, it's always kooks or pogues, no in-between, and I thought I was a pogue for the longest time, but I never quite, I don't know, fit in? It sounds fucking stupid, forget it."

"No no, it's not, I feel like we're actually having a conversation, not just bickering at each other, and it's, it's nice," his voice was becoming shaky now. She took a deep breath before continuing.

"I think I'm just in a rut, I don't know what I'm supposed to do with myself. All I ever did was for JJ, I gave him everything,” he understood the magnitude of what she had given him.

“And now that we've broken up, I have this new freedom that I don't know what to do with, it was the first relationship I'd ever been in, and at this point I don't even remember how to be single. I hate to say it, but I feel like he took everything I gave him for granted."

Rafe smirked at his thoughts, knowing exactly what she needed.

"Oh what's so funny?” She said.

“You desperately need a rebound.”

“I do not!”

“You do, and I know the perfect guy for the job.”

“And who would that be exactly?” Their witty banter had turned to flirtation, and they were now physically closer than ever. Rafe had his hand cupping the side of her head, fingers tangled in her hair, leaning in closer to her. Her breathing has quickened as his face came closer to hers, knowing what he was insinuating.

The connection of their lips sent shockwaves through her body. It was the first thing in a long time that felt like it made sense. They disconnected for a moment, staring longingly into each others eyes for permission. A sense of understanding overcame them as their lips smashed together once again. Rafe's hand moved lower down to her neck, tracing his thumb to the other side and giving a light squeeze.

"Rafe I, don't get me wrong, I want this, but I don't think it's a good idea right now."

"You're right," he whispered as a whirring noise approached in the distance.

It was maybe thirty minutes past 11, the sound of an approaching boat caught their attention. They both looked at the boat coming to dock on the Thornton's boat dock. Rafe and y/n climbed back into the home, recognizing the boat pulling up to the dock. Rafe raced out the back door, y/n steps ahead of him as anger and adrenaline rushed through her body. She ran down the dock, ready to fight the boy hopping off of the boat.

"JJ, please explain to me why the fuck you are here right now, and it better be a good reason or I swea-,"

"Y/n please, I just need to talk to you okay? I've been thinking about the other day and I just needed to-,"

"Not good enough JJ, you had your fucking chance, got it? I never want to see you again," she had tears of anger streaming down her face, that was when Rafe lodged himself between the argument.

"You heard her pogue," Rafe said threateningly.

"What are you gonna do about it huh?" JJ pushed his hands against Rafe, knocking him back only slightly, Rafe stood solid.

"What am I gonna do?" Rafe shoved him back with all his strength, knocking JJ onto his back.

"I'm only going to say this one time for you," Rafe crouched down, grabbing fistfuls of JJ's shirt.

"Stay," he landed to first punch.

"The fuck," and the second.

"Away from her," finally the third, then forcing him back onto the ground in a sheer competition of dominance. Crowds had gathered around the commotion, watching the kook and pogue battle it out. Y/n felt a sense of relief, someone had finally chosen her.

"You already fucked her didn't you?" JJ struggled to spit out, coughing on the blood lodged in his mouth. Rafe promptly pulled JJ up by his shirt, making sure to look right into his eyes as he made his next threat.

"Stay off figure eight, or so help me God JJ, I will kill you." Rafe tossed the boy back onto the ground, watching as he struggled to pull himself back to his boat.

"Show's over everyone! Get out!" Rafe said, the crowd watching dispersed over fences and into cars, not wanting to face the same fate.

She was the only one who didn't leave. Y/n watched as he came closer to her, pulling her into an embrace.

"I'm sorry y/n, that asshole deserved it,"

"Thank you," her tears were staining his polo as they held each other.

"Also, neither of us are in any shape to drive, so what's the plan?" She asked.

They made the short walk back to Tannyhill, ending up in the same rooms they had been in the day everything changed. When morning came she stayed in her bed, enjoying the comfort she felt in this home. The sudden knock on her door awoke her from her daze.

"Hey, I uh, brought breakfast," Rafe said, holding up the bag of breakfast burritos. Y/n patted the empty place on her bed, inviting him to sit down. They sat and ate in silence, unsure of what to say to one another. Once finished, she ended up snuggling her head into the crook of his neck, arm tossed across his abdomen. Rafe wrapped his arm around her and they stayed there for awhile, simply enjoying each others presence.

Rafe placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, rubbing his thumb across her shoulder at the same time. Y/n looked up at him from her spot on his chest, moving herself up so their lips connected. The kiss was just as good as she had remembered. Rafe began deepening their kiss, pulling her in by the waist with his free hand.

I had woken up. For the first time in a long time I felt it. How it felt to be the only choice for someone, to be at the top of someone's priorities. Feeling his hand pull my waist into his sent lightning through my body, and I've never wanted anything more in my life than right now. I threw my right leg over his hips, anticipating to climb on top of him. I brought my hand up to the back of his head, threading my fingers through his hair.

"Think it's a good idea?" Rafe asked.

I simply nodded my head in response, bringing my mouth back to his. His hands began tracing further down my body, grabbing at my hips as he pulled me in closer. I got the message. I threw myself over him, sitting perfectly in his lap, hair hanging almost in his face. We reconnected and the speed at which we kissed quickened. My arms had snaked behind his neck, my entire body resting on his, legs straddled across his lap.

He was surprised when I removed my mouth from his, only to begin trailing kisses down his neck, towards the collar of his polo. He sat up, leaving room for him to pull his shirt up and over his head. I pushed him back down into the bed as I trailed lower and lower. Reaching the spot I needed most, I unbuttoned his pants, pulling them as far down as I could. He was already hard, clearly anticipating this when he walked into the room an hour ago.

I began leaving kisses down his clothed dick, teasing the throb. But I myself was too in-need to tease for long. I pulled his boxers down, revealing the eager member. Wrapping my hand around him, I pumped it a few times, leaving light kisses all around him. The taste of him spread in my mouth as I took him in. His hands pulled my hair back as I sucked on him, the pace of his breathing becoming more of a pant. One of my hands grasped onto his hips as the other pumped him in sync with my lips.

A shock ran through my body as he flipped me over on the bed. Rafe nearly ripped my shirt in half when pulling it over my head. He sat over me for a moment, taking in the sight of me like he'd been waiting to for so long. Just after, his hands came to either side of my head, propping himself up as he began kissing down my neck, surely leaving bruises. Moving lower to my breasts, he continued, tugging and pulling at the straps of my bra. He was now resting his entire body on me, his elbows at my sides as he started massaging my breasts through the fabric.

"You can take it off, you know," I said.

That was all he needed to hook his hand underneath me, tugging at the clip holding me together. Rafe popped it off with ease, not that I was surprised. His mouth attached itself to one of my nipples, teasing it with his tongue. The cool air hitting the wet spot he left behind causing me to gasp. Meanwhile, he had been rolling the other between his fingers, sending arousal between my thighs. The sensitivity rolling between my hips was begging for more.

Rafe's hands began trailing lower down my body, his mouth not far behind. The ache in my core was growing more and more with every inch he passed, until finally I felt a finger graze over my shorts.

"These need to come off," it was more of a question than a statement.

I nodded, because I needed more. He slid the shorts off of my legs, tossing them onto the ground, leaving my panties on full display for him. Then his mouth moved to my thighs, starting closer to my knees, slowly moving in towards my center. I could feel every breath he made against me, and knew he was just as in-need as I was. It felt like ages before he finally made contact with my core. His lips left kisses over my clothed clit, at this point I was begging for more.

He knew too, knew how much I needed him right now. The wetness soaking through my underwear as he played with me through them, thumb massaging little circles around my clit. My legs shuddered as he did, needing to desperately to be released. His fingers latched underneath the waistline of the fabric, and he pulled them all the way down my legs, exposing every inch of myself, and discarding them on the floor.

I was absolutely soaked, and he had barely even touched me. I could barely imagine what I’d be like once he had. When his fingers finally returned, I was a mess. He was eager too, not even waiting because I was already ready for him. His middle and ring finger teased my entrance, before plunging deep into me. The gasp that came out of my mouth was the loudest I’d ever had, causing my hand to close over my mouth in response. But Rafe didn't care how loud we got as his mouth came down to me, his tongue flicking at my clit, fingers beginning to thrust in and out.

My hips were rolling, legs shaking as the combination of his mouth and fingers pushed me closer and closer to the edge. Whimpers came out as his free hand was grasping onto my stomach, thumb tracing circles below my navel. I tugged at the sheets around me, needing some sort of grounding as he continued fucking me with his fingers. My pussy was aching for more, begging for something bigger to ease the ache.

"Rafe, I need you inside, like right now," I struggled to get the words out. But he wouldn't let up, he was determined. His fingers were moving faster and faster and his mouth was lapping at the wetness of my pussy. I couldn't take it anymore, and my legs closed around his head, squeezing as I came.

I barely had time to recover before Rafe was on top of me, lining his cock up with my entrance, then pushing himself all the way into me. My walls clenched around him as I tried to adjust to his length, but he wasn't waiting. Slowly he began thrusting in and out, plunging himself deeper each time. He reached down to kiss me as he pounded me, hand wrapping around my neck and squeezing.

"Fuck," I squeaked out.

It only got better when he threw my legs over his shoulders, they were nearly at my chest. He pounded into me at a hard but steady pace, and it was driving me to the edge once again. The whimpers coming from me were more than enough to tell him to keep going.

"You like that princess?"

"God, yes Rafe, harder," I pleaded.

He listened, but it was taking a toll on him, his breathing was now broken and unsteady as he thrusted. I could feel his body beginning to tense up on top of me, he was getting close. It was my turn now.

I used all of my strength to flip him onto his back, my legs on either side of him as I began riding him. Rafe's hands came around to my ass as I repeatedly moved up and down on him. Then I laid down on him, arms behind his neck for support as his arms held onto my waist tightly. Rafe propped his legs up for support and began thrusting into me harder than he ever has. The feeling of my walls clenching around him as he pumped into me, using me as a toy.

"Cum in me Rafe, please," but it wasn't a question. I nearly screamed as he released inside of me at the same time I came. We stayed that way for a few moments, simply taking one another in as our breathing steadied.

Finally, I slid off of him, releasing the tension of him inside of me. I could feel his cum leaking out of me as I laid on top of him. I could go to sleep right here if I wanted to. His hand laced into my hair, playing with the ends of it.

"I still need Sarah's clothes back," he laughed.

"Don't think so, consider it the start of my kook wardrobe,"

"To going full kook?" he asked.

"To going full kook."

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

#rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #obx #outerbanks #outerbanks imagine #rafe obx #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outerbanks smut

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djarinsbeskar · 3 years ago

Text

Foul - Boxer!Din AU

Definition - To break one of boxing’s rules (i.e. hitting an opponent below the navel, ear or while they are down), which can ultimately lead to point deductions if they are repeated.

A/N: The results of my Boxer!AU poll told me that the majority were interested in a jealous/protective boxer so I hope I have delivered! As always, relaxed fit = unedited, no beta. We also have a sneaky introduction to Paz in the Boxer verse which is super exciting! His concept art has been completed by the insanely talented @ronnieiswriting when I said I saw a mix of Jason Momoa and Winston Duke as our heavy. PLEASE heed the warnings in this chapter. There is nothing explicit but the topics hinted at might be triggering.

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! (unprotected sex), blood and violence, toxic masculinity and derogatory speech, hints at discussions of non-con, somewhat possessive behavior, spanking, dom!Din and everything that comes with it.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

He might as well have been in hell. A colosseum of decaying humanity and dirt floors that erupted in a burst of dust like poisonous ash every time his next opponent fell. The hollow thump of pure muscle meeting the ground of the makeshift ring only drowned by the cheers of spectators. Masked, shadowed—unseen as they dropped hundreds – thousands sometimes – on which gladiator would remain standing in the end.

He felt like a king, a god among men within the confines of his realm of rope and canvas. It was easy to forget—standing under the spotlights that highlighted the sweat and blood and sculpted beauty of primal masculinity that it was a hollow victory any time he fought in the seedy underground rings of Akiva.

Every gladiator was a slave. Even the victor.

Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to let you come to one of these fights?

“Enough!”

Paz’s unassailable strength banded around Din’s chest, pinning his arms to his side—attempting to contain lightning in a glass jar. Sweat, blood—it all dripped into Din’s eyes as he growled at his opponent, passed out in the middle of the dirt ring—face swollen and puffy from Din’s fists.

Laser focus and animosity spilled from charcoal eyes as he tried to break free of his friends hold with a vicious yank forward of powerful shoulder and an unfaltering purpose. The bastard had it coming. One round a few punches wasn’t enough to slake Din’s anger, the fumes of rage seeping into his skin and clouding his senses until all he could think of was making the asshole on the ground before him pay.

The practiced speed that Din wrapped his hands slowed at the rowdy group on the other side of the room. Dammit, for all the money they brought in, could these cheapskates not provide separate fucking changing rooms so he didn’t have to be subjected to idiots jacking themselves up on testosterone and false hope?

But pissing contests and fragile masculinity weren’t what caught his attention. He could tune that bullshit out like a fine art. What caught Din’s attention was the obvious death wish one of his possible opponents had – if he even managed to get that far up the ranks to Din – when he waved a red flag in front of the boxers’ metaphorical bull.

“See that one in the front row? You know the one I’m talking about.”

Bawdy agreements and asinine gestures raked up Din’s spine, thorny—and prickling nerves of instinct that made him pause the music blaring in his ears. He fucking hated the scum he came across in these fights. Gang members, criminals—the dredges of humanity he sometimes worried he was part of.

“Gonna get her on her knees choking on my cock before the night is out. Sluts like that love titles, champions—why else do they attend? Good excuse to win tonight, eh fellas?”

“Do you wanna completely destroy your career?” Paz yelled over the chortles and raucous cheers for more, for revenge—for everything under the poor fallacy of a sun that strung in dim, bald bulbs along the notoriously infamous Avika fighting ring.

Din thought you would be safe, arrogantly assuming people would avoid even looking at you once they saw who you were with. And you had been—you were safe, but even he couldn’t protect you from the thoughts of others.

The larger man struggled with him, dragging him out of the ring when it was obvious his words were falling on deaf ears. All Din could hear was the little pricks voice in his head from hours before.

Din stood.

Inhaled, exhaled—tried those bullshit breathing exercises that were supposed to focus his mind before a fight. Help to rein in a temper like his from overflowing in devastating tidal waves to destroy all around him. Din didn’t lose his temper often—but when he did, it was lethal.

The breathing exercises didn’t work.

Because the idiot kept talking.

“Did you see the ass on that?”

Leers sounded from his group of friends. Encouraging the vile words that Din always knew came from a man who felt entitled to a woman’s body. He had seen enough of the underbelly of the world to know what that led to time and again. Din might have been shameless in his youth and even until recently when it came to sex, to one night stands, to women—but he fucking respected the girls he fucked or didn’t fuck.

“Traipsing around in a dress like that? She’s looking for the attention,” the asshole defended himself when one of his party voiced an alternative point of view. They were promptly shut down and didn’t speak again.

Din’s blood turned to ice. An image of you running a hand down his arm on your way to your seat when you parted ways for him to get ready, dress sinfully tight but effortlessly classy—a zip front he was dying to pull open with his teeth later that night.

“It’ll look so good with my cock buried in it…”

The ice in his blood turned to fury, white hot and molten as he tied off the tape at his wrists—throwing the roll into the dingy locker he had been given for the evening. The clatter of noise from where it slammed against the metal back was the only warning he was planning on giving them. The lull of conversation was fleeting, his warning going unheeded—when dim-witted morons didn’t read the murder in his gaze.

Looks like they weren’t nearly as intelligent as the pigs he thought them to be.

Grabbing his water bottle and phone, Din stalked towards the chipped door—distracting himself with a text of “don’t go anywhere alone in this place, sweetheart. Ask Paz to go with you” sent to you without a second thought.

The immediate response of “Yes yes I know, for the thousandth time. Don’t worry and focus on yourself” did little to assuage the roar of blood in his ears. There was only one thing he heard over the noise, one thing as his vision became hued in red and fixated on a single target.

“Wonder if she’ll let me fuck her there too—can’t imagine she’s a virgin but her ass will still probably be tighter than her cunt.”

Bald headed and littered in scars and tattoos of a gang known for their viciousness, the other boxer – if he could even be called that – thrust vulgarly into the air, mimicking the hold he would have on the girl. Din’s girl.

The fucker had a death wish.

And Din was only too happy to play the part of the grim reaper.

His friends voice hardly registered over that same ringing in his ears, the roar of protective aggression at the lecherous sneer on the other man’s face who now lay in a heap in the dirt, the filth he spewed about his masseuse, his girl. How beady eyes, cold and villainous dared to drift away from Din before the bell sounded—over his shoulder, to where he knew you were sitting. Knowing your body had been tainted by the gaze of a man who would sooner take what he wanted from you by force than look at you with anything akin to the respect you deserved—it made something snap inside of Din.

And he attacked.

He was lucky he had only been disqualified.

He was damn lucky no one called the cops.

But the perks of underground fighting, was that everyone who attended had something to hide. And no one wanted to be caught in the middle of shady transactions or betting on fighters to beat each other to a pulp. Hell, the savagery Din subjected the other guy to was exactly what half the fuckers who showed up hoped to see.

Din wasn’t just a nameless street fighter though, not anymore. He had something to lose. Any smear on his record for assault and he would be suspended from tournament participation quicker than the asshole’s body dropped after a crushing blow under the jaw by Din’s right uppercut.

Thank fuck Din’s main sponsor was equally as shady. A good man by Din’s logic, but merciless when it came to succeeding. Din being benched was the surest way to make his benefactors patience run out. No, Paz was right—Boba even more so when he clocked Din good in the cheek after Paz wrestled the irate male out of the ring.

“You fucking idiot, bloodlust is an ugly image, boy—”

“I am not a boy—” Din snapped at Boba, teeth bared and bloody from his split lip, neck straining when he spat the words viciously at his long-time coach. He ran his tongue over the metallic tang of blood before spitting it out of his mouth onto the dirt flooring by the chaotic rows of metal seating.

“You almost killed a guy in the ring, you little shit,” Boba snarled with equal venom, matching the anger reflected in Din’s gaze with furious sense Din didn’t want to witness.

“Let me go,” was all Din growled, eyes never leaving his coach’s even when Paz loosened his arms around his chest. Heaving, coal black eyes darkened dangerously and stabbed the former boxer with a dare to try and restrain him again. The other man shook a rope of dreadlock that had come loose from the strip of leather he kept his hair tied in and made to say something when Din interrupted,

“Where is she?”

Paz closed his mouth, heavy brows furrowing over his eyes as recognition dawned in their dark hues,

“Is that what this is about? Dammit, vod—it’s not like she’s your girlfriend, isn’t that what you always say?”

“Don’t fucking try me tonight—” Din snapped aggressively, the threatening hum between the two men charged to dangerous voltage.

“Din?”

Your voice washed over him – aloe on the burns his fury had scorched his skin with – and he was making his way over to you in the next moment, mind battling with instinct as he ignored the calls and curses of his friends.

Mine.

Not yours—

Mine.

He moved with feral grace, parting the sea of people who bleated from the sidelines but cowered in his presence once his attention was facing them and there was no canvas or rope to separate boxer from spectator. They were lucky. He didn’t see them. Would step on them if they were stupid enough to stay in his path. All he could see, was you—watching him with confusion and concern marring those pretty features, absent of fear in the face of an incensed, adrenaline fueled boxer post fight.

He exhaled a growl as he came to stand before you, the sound cavernous and deep in his chest—the hands you had lifted to examine his face intercepted by his own when he grabbed them. His fingers wrapped fully around your wrists, and he was reminded of how fragile you were – even if you worked out whenever you could and had a will of iron that would make you whack him for saying that – and just how easily a man like him, any of the fighters here tonight—could hurt you.

Never.

They wouldn’t dare.

Not with him around.

But how could they know?

How would they know to stay the fuck away from you?

Knuckles stained with dirt and blood; his hand rasped against the softness of your palm as he dragged you in the direction of the unused backstage waiting room fighters had been offered as a changing room. Where this whole fucking thing started.

“Din—Din, what the hell happened up there?”

You jogged behind him to keep up with his pace, long legs taking him farther than your shorter ones could when confined to the heels you had worn for the night out. He stalked through the dimly lit corridors to the flaky, chipped door with a temporary sign on lined paper with “ATHLETES” scrawled along the front of it like some ironic joke.

He almost bent the worn, cheap metal handle in half—nearly pulled it from its socket with how hard he tore the door open and dragged you over the threshold inside.

You whirled on him with a huff, eyes flashing and hands planting on your hips in growing annoyance.

“Din will you just—”

You didn’t get another word out.

His wrapped hands cupped your cheeks between them, his mouth on yours hungrily when he bent over you. Biting, clawing, desperate—the kiss was more a battle of tongue and teeth than anything else. There was nothing soft, nothing slow or affectionate about the way his teeth sank into your bottom lip so hard you gasped. The way the blood seeping from his split lip painted yours in a crimson rouge—smeared and varnishing you in a visceral mark of his claim.

“Mine,” he snarled unknowingly into your mouth, lapping his tongue along the prairies of your tastebuds, plundering the depths of your mouth to brand every inch of you he could reach. Inside and out. His hands had the same idea, forming down over the shape of your curves as he walked you back blindly to the disused vanity pushed against the closest wall. Topped with a row of mirrors undoubtedly used by performers for whatever this place had once been used for, the glass was now aged with discoloration.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t have eyes for anything but you as he hiked your legs up to perch you on the edge, your fingers curled into the taut muscles at his neck and clawing down over the sweat slick muscles of his pecs—catching on flat nipples that made ripples of pleasure heat his body further. Mad him tangle a hand in your hair, yank your head back harshly and meet your eyes with dark desire before dropping to your neck. His newest target.

“Din…” your irritated, questioning tone had morphed to fervent sighs. His tongue mapped a trail from the corner of your mouth – tasting the tang of his own blood – to the rapid tattoo of your pulse, a delicate sheen of perspiration beginning to shimmer on your flushed skin from the arousal. Another layer of flavor for him to get drunk on.

So fucking hot under his hands.

So beautiful.

So his.

“Mine,” he repeated into the curve of your neck, framed by tremulous stretches of muscle either side that he carved with scrapes of his teeth to leave tracks of slow fading pink grazes before he bit into it. Your legs – already open and inviting him to settle between them – crossed at the ankles around his narrow hips to keep him close. It was fucking intoxicating the way he could make you feel, the desperate need he had for you.

Months of sleeping together, of knowing his body so intimately had given you a rare insight to his emotions whether he knew it or not. And you knew he didn’t need to talk right now, he needed to fuck. To work through whatever had affected him so badly in hard kisses and rough hands on your soft flesh. It didn’t stop your stomach from flipping at his possessive words though, deliriously spoken but whispering the unacknowledged desires you had for him beyond his body.

“Yours,” you admitted before you could stop yourself, your hand cupping under his jaw to lift his mouth back to yours. His raspy moan at your agreement turned positively filthy when you carded short nails through his damp hair. Din was weak to having his hair stroked, his staunch dominance buckling in violent shivers of pleasure when you dragged those skilled fingers down the back of his skull and neck.

Traipsing around in a dress like that…

His eyes flew open, and he broke the kiss—ripped his mouth from yours to press his forehead to yours, eyes searching while his free hand ran indulgently up your torso to the neckline of your dress,

“Never let anyone disrespect you, sweetheart—” he rumbled, his fingers already undoing the zip of the dress, the nude pink material tempting to the eye and celebrating those features you were most proud of—that he found irresistible to know you loved. That someone could make you uncomfortable in those clothes… fucker. He snarled and pressed a long kiss to your mouth, large hands spreading the sides of the dress open wide – no underwear, baby? – and shucked the material down your arms to leave you bare before him.

His appreciation for your body – fucking gorgeous – was only tampered by the frustration he had with himself at the noise of confusion you made at his words. Of course, you hadn’t heard anything that asshole had said thankfully—but fuck, he couldn’t get it out of his head. You read his desperation somehow, and nodded slowly with puzzled eyes, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip as you leaned back on your hands.

So trusting…

Fuck.

It made alarm and something akin to fear rise swell uncomfortably in his throat.

He tried again.

“Never let anyone take advantage of you,” he whispered against your mouth in earnest, his hands running up your bare thighs to press his thumbs into the seams of your legs and hips, “tell me—”

His mouth dropped to your collarbone, funneling those feelings into lapping down to your heaving breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a groan and befuddling your mind to his request until he nipped the swollen peak – say it, baby – and caused your head to fall back against the mirror,

“Yes—yes,” you moaned, “I won’t—”

He snarled internally, dammit. Hearing you say it didn’t help. He wanted to say how he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you, how he wouldn’t let anyone ever take advantage of you. But he couldn’t. Had to frame it like advice he would give any woman he knew instead of speaking it like the promise he wanted to make.

Din had been fucking you for the last few months now, exclusively after only a few months—but it never went beyond that. He had no reason, no excuse to be worried over your life or safety or what you did when you weren’t in his bed. He wasn’t expected to be involved in your life the way a friend or family member was. Not the way a boyfriend was.

He didn’t do relationships. Never had. Too much trouble and frankly—he liked his privacy, his space—and liked not being accountable to anyone but himself. The consequences of any shitty decisions he made would fall on him and him alone. If he demanded that of the women he slept with and then insisted on inserting himself into their lives in the next breath, he would be a hypocrite. And Din hated hypocrites.

He couldn’t.

But fuck. He never wanted to hear someone speak that way about you, never wanted them to think they had the slightest chance with a woman like you. His blood boiled at the notion of someone else’s hands on you, his tempered flared when he imagined your pleasure or smiles, or laughter give to someone who didn’t deserve you.

Like he did?

Fuck no, he knew he didn’t.

He never said he wasn’t selfish though, and he coveted you with sinful greed.

“Fuck me, baby—please, please—” you mewled into his neck as your hands that had started all of this with that first massage, fit into the sliver of space between your bodies to stroke along his cock over his shorts impatiently. His head fell back, and his mind blissfully emptied for a moment, grunting your name at the frisson of pleasure before those damned memories resurfaced again.

Look at the ass on that.

That.

Her. You weren’t a thing, a possession. You were—

He snarled. Misplaced anger manifesting in aggressive passion as he grabbed your wrist from where you stroked him to pin behind your back on the vanity.

“Always so eager, aren’t you—” he grinned darkly when you nodded, “turn around.”

The command was delivered low and dangerous, more a rumble of noise—deep echoes of jungle predators crackling like the kindling of threat, inspiring awareness that one wrong move would be fatal. But you never made a wrong move—not for as long as he had known you. Whether it was alleviating a pain deep in his muscles that had bothered him for months or pushing yourself slowing off the vanity to your feet as you were now—you always knew what he needed.

Wisps of hair fell into his eyes as he watched you—the decided turn of your naked body to dace the mirror—eyes never leaving his even as they caught them again in the aged glass. Bending forward, your ass pressed into the front of his shorts, and you rested your elbows on the vanity.

Perfect.

He didn’t realize he had whispered the word as he pressed his mouth between your shoulder blades, tongue trailing down the arch of your spine while his hands kneaded plush cheeks—spreading them and exposing your slick cunt to the cool air. The hitches in your breath, small squirms of your hips for relief—they all fed into his desire for you.

And he desired you. Constantly.

“I’m gonna eat your pussy until you can’t stand, baby—and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t speak,” he muttered against the shell of your ear, massive bulk bowed over your back and shadowed eyes – the duality of warm walnut and lethal obsidian – bore into yours through the glass.

“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he nipped your ear, flicking his tongue along the cartilage—the black ink on his back catching the light as his muscles rippled with movement, a roll of pleasure from your ass grinding back against him with a whimper of his name, “so don’t be quiet this time, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fluttered open molasses slow from where they had dropped closed at his words,

“What—what hap—” you tried to turn your head, the concern mingled with lust in those gorgeous, honest eyes making warning bells blare painfully – too close – and he silenced you with a kiss. Swallowing the worry that hinted at feelings that surpassed those expected from a fuck buddy, he buried it deep inside himself, in the shadows like a coward. To be locked away where he would remain safe from it.

Your tongue grew sloppy with a moan when he ground his crotch into your ass—dragging the solid thickness of his clothed cock between your soaked folds and up against your tight rear entrance.

Wonder if she’ll let me take her there…

Bastard.

He sucked on your tongue with a groan of your name, hand releasing your cheeks to fan up your ribcage and cup your breasts. You jerked in sensitivity when rough hands pinched sore nipples – he fucking loved how sensitive your tits got just before your period. The cry you released was nothing short of musical, tempting him lower as he kissed down your spine—wrapped hands sanding down over your ribs again when he lapped around the rim of your ass, circling it before he traced lower.

You were dripping.

He dropped to his knees behind you, eyes drunken with an ingrained pride that he was the one in this position, looking at the petals of your swollen pussy glistening with arousal he inspired from just a few kisses and rolls of his hips. He kept his eyes on the steady trickle of wetness from your twitching entrance, his teeth grazing distractedly down the back of your thigh as he did so.

A finger ruddy with flecks of dried blood caught a string of your arousal – don’t waste a drop – and he sucked it between his lips with an approving groan, the noise of your whimpers the perfect accompaniment. Blood and lust. The essence of humanity, that was what he tasted when he sucked his finger clean. It tasted like life. And he wanted more.

A sharp crack echoed through the room when his hand came down hard on one cheek, and again... and again—each strike making that dripping wetness gush until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried his face in your cunt, nosing at your entrance and tongue spreading puffy lips apart so he could trace in pitter patter swipes through your folds—greedily gathering anything he could get on his tongue before swallowing. Dehydrated on the sands of depravity and sordid company—your cunt was an oasis of relief where he eagerly drank his fill.

You tried to move, your hips slamming up against the edge of the vanity – that’ll bruise – and you keened with a shuddering cry when his mouth simply followed your attempt to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was too much too soon.

“Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—” you gasped, dropping a hand back to tangle in his hair, dragging him closer despite your protests. Mm, he loved when you got like this—overstimulated from the first touch. No matter how much you whined, no matter how many times he wiped tears that smudged your makeup when he unraveled orgasm after orgasm from the knots inside you—he knew you loved the intensity as much as he did.

He spanked you again – take it – your cheeks red and beautiful when he spread them side for him to spit directly onto your quivering cunt. His saliva dribbled and mixed with your juices to gather over your clit, his mouth forming over the little bud enthusiastically, urged by your slow ruts back against his face to streak his face with your essence.

“More—” you whimpered.

“Greedy—” he growled back.

The sound of your breathless laugh meshed delightfully with the swallow of a moan – guttural and primal – and made his cock twitch in his shorts. His hips snapped up uselessly from where he was kneeling—finding no purchase or warm embrace to bury itself in as his tongue took that pleasure for itself.

It licked and curled with practiced, seemingly illogical strokes along your clit and up to your entrance—sloppily kissing it before his tongue dove into your tight depths, thumb working in quick circles over your clit. He knew exactly what to do to make you come undone.

Your first orgasm was sudden—strong and surprising. He hadn’t even fucking fingered you and you were already spasming around nothing. Your muscles tensed as you went on your toes to lean even further on the vanity, trying to escape his tongue that worked you through each wave—drowning you in the pleasure he knew only he could give you. You were his. His his his his h—

You sobbed his name, a raw answer to his internal mantra his mind struggled against and failed to overcome.

Din wanted you.

He wanted your body, your mind, your time—he wanted what Paz had.

Fuck.

The way the older man mooned and gazed with shameless adoration for the little baker he had fallen for in so short a time. Hell, Din teased him over it constantly. And maybe he didn’t want that—but he wanted something. Din wanted something with you. Wanted you to visit him in the gym and stop him mid set just to kiss him and tell him that you would wait for him to finish so you could go home together. He wanted to buy you flowers without having to think of a fucking excuse like last time to distance himself from the sentimentality. He wanted to open his front door and feel our presence as more than just a visitor. That a toothbrush and the stray pieces of clothing you forgot at his place would turn to shoes at the door and your taste in décor mixing with his.

Din wanted you.

But he had no idea how to do anything but fuck you. He didn’t know how to date or be romantic. Was clueless to things like companionship—to the softer emotions he knew you craved. That all people craved. Din had no idea how to do any of it.

You lay with your cheek on the wooden surface of the vanity, eyes half-closed and spacey as you watched him lift his head from your pussy, face shiny from your release and when he licked over his lips, still hungry for more—you mewled.

“Don’t tap out on me yet, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, a whimper and almost childish refusal while your cheek remained plastered to the vanity, all strength having left your body and an adorable pout trying to lie and tell him you couldn’t take any more.

“Mm, yes you can—” he answered you, dragging his mouth back up your slit and along your tight ass where he lapped at the rim again. Later. It took time for him to stretch you to take his size—it was better left for when he had you in his apartment and could take his time.

His hand followed his mouths direction as it continued up to meet your mouth—smirking against your lips at the whimpers you made from the slaps he gave your pussy—the obscene, wet sound filling the area with each slap slap slap until his hand was damn near slipping every time he struck your cunt from how wet it was.

A bang on the door—a harsh slap to your pussy so you would moan just right for him, and he growled out a threatening “occupied” to whoever was outside. You were too high strung to even notice.

“No one else can have you,” he rasped darkly into your temple, his free hand tangling in the strands to pull your head back against his shoulder—the position no doubt edging on uncomfortable with the way your spine and neck were arched back—moUlded into his hard frame. Your eyes fell to half mast even as your lips parted—still smeared with specks of blood you hadn’t yet licked or chewed off—and he bit your jaw in warning.

“No one else—” you parroted, your hot breath fanning over his cheek even as you rocked back against him, a steel confidence entering your fucked out gaze—mercurial in the swirling heat, “just like no one else can have you.”

The boldness of your words, the conviction spoken in that voice of wooden flutes and bubbling creeks made his blood light with fire—yes. As much as he anted you, he yearned for you to crave him in return.

“No one else,” he repeated your words back to you, rutting his hips against you when his cock pulsed with a negligent ache that demanded to be addressed. He kept one hand in your hair when he pushed his shorts down enough to free his leaking cock, the turgid length swollen and angry as he rubbed the tip between your lips.

Maybe he would buy you flowers tomorrow, after all.

Din gave you no time to prepare yourself – that’s my girl – sliding inside you with one brutal thrust that had you pushed up against the mirror and his cock engulfed in fiery bliss. He felt the heat run up his spine, a volcanic metamorphism into marble as his muscles froze in an immediate pause to stop himself from spilling inside you after one damn thrust.

You weren’t doing much better—one hand clawing for purchase on the mirror and the other digging your nails into his hip as you panted his name, an incoherent string of curses and praise as your sensitive walls convulsed around him. The position had him pressed right against that one spot he cock curved up against that could make you see stars and your care for being caught dissipate in cries of ecstasy.

“Baby—fuck please, so—too deep—” you whimpered in inane babbles, tightening in residual spasms from your orgasm and the sudden intrusion of his cock, still a stretch after all these months. Too deep… he snorted, rolling his hips hard to try shove himself deeper still. He could never get deep enough, always wanting more—always seeking to conquer the untouched lands of your body.

“Mm, want me to stop?” he teased, dragging his hips back with a smirk at your immediate rejection of no no no fuck—please, no—hand pathetically trying to drag him closer to you by the hip. Lovely little thing… thinking you were strong enough.

“That’s better…” he purred, relief washing over him when he pulled out—the walls of your cunt stretching around him, refusing his exit, and trying to keep him nestled inside you. The pace he chose was brutal. He fucked you like he fought tonight. Violently, mercilessly—and deaf to the calls to relent. But where he wanted his opponent to suffer, he wanted to devastate you with pleasure, enrapture you with ecstasy and leave you moaning his name where others would curse it.

Wet cock slapping as he pounded into you in short, frantic ruts – need you baby… fuck I need you – there was no time for you to catch a full breath before he was knocking it out of you again. His fingers had to tighten in your hair to keep you up – your body trembling under his as he sank his teeth into the taut muscle at your neck and his cock sank into your welcome body – exposed and waiting for him to litter in his signature.

He would never get enough of the way his marks looked on your skin—the way you decorated him in yours. You were powerless to do much else than accept them right now – likely getting him back later – boneless and weak under the attack of his mouth and the dominance of his body.

He would make sure everyone in this fucking shithole of a place knew who you were with. They would have to be blind not to notice the blotches of poppy bruises snaking down your neck with the elusion to more hidden from unworthy eyes. The smudge of your mascara as tears pearled like crystals in the corner of your eyes when you glanced at him in strung out bliss.

“M-more—” you begged, dropping one of your hands between your legs to rub at your clit—fingers splitting around the girth of his cock as he fucked you to feel the thick length disappear into you over and over, the soaked mess amassed from your frantic desire for each other trickling down your thighs.

“Yeah?” he grinned, breathless and sweating for much more pleasing reasons than he had been in the ring, a languid kiss to your neck as he hiked one of your knees up onto the vanity—spreading you wider for him to sink deeper.

You spasmed, your head falling back against his shoulder with a cry.

“Yes—there, there baby, fuck you feel so good…” you rambled, fingers working feverishly over your clit in wet strokes, grazing his balls every time they slapped against your skin and making him muffle his moan in your neck.

Rolling a nipple between his fingers, his large—bloodied hand completely swallowed your breast, squeezing it and tickling sounds that belonged to him from you and into his mouth when you kissed him. One last kiss before you collapsed back onto the vanity, and he stood to his full height so he could ruin you with his cock.

His name was the only thing you remembered as he split you open with full, hard thrusts—the entire length of his cock stretching your tight walls around it and playing along raw nerves already on the brink of another orgasm.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart—” he strained, desperate for release as he watched himself fuck you in the mirror—him behind your smaller body, squirming under the pleasure while his muscles bunched and relaxed with each snap of his hips—the veins in his forearms prominent and tendons taut as he poured all that training and dedication and determination into you, into pleasing you.

“Inside—inside, Din fuck, please—”

His mind emptied. Nothing else mattered about tonight—not the fight, not the disqualification, not the rage. Your eyes—cloudy with lust and achingly trusting as you looked back at him were all he could think about. Nodding without even realizing, the thought of filling you running in his mind on a loop.

“Fuck—!”

He wanted you to cum before him, he always did—but he was so high strung, so tense that he couldn’t stop himself, burying himself to the hilt with several punched out moans—exhaled rapture with every pump of his seed against your waiting womb. Your eyes rolled closed at the amount, bloating you with his release and as he came, you worked your clit frantically—chasing that addictive edge you gladly hurled yourself over at just the thought of him coming inside you.

Din dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp, your spasming walls too much on his sensitive length but he had to stay inside—the contractions of pleasure, the gush of your release might push his out. He couldn’t have that. So, he gritted his teeth, mumbled husky praise – good girl, that’s it—just like that, soak me – to work you through your orgasm and pressed open mouth kisses to sweaty skin, the salt tickling his tongue as he caught his breath.

His mouth worked over the sweep of your shoulder, up your neck to your jaw when your orgasm subsided, purring your name and nonsensical strings of words he had no idea made sense or not. He finally eased his softening cock out of you slowly when you shifted your hips—testing your strength and finding it lacking when you realized both he and the vanity were what kept your legs up.

“Feel… feel better?”

“Mhm…” he confirmed noncommittally, nuzzling the marks beginning to bloom and darken like a forbidden garden only he was allowed indulge in the scent of. One of his hands ran absently down the back of your thigh, feeling for his release—pleased to feel nothing but your sticky arousal, his own still nestled inside your sore cunt.

“Want one of those crepes you’re always raving about from that twenty-four hour place?” he purred, helping you stand—going so far as to pull the straps of your dress back up so that zipping the metal teeth would be easier. Your eyes brightened despite the lazy, satiated fatigue hiding in their orbs.

“Gino’s?”

“Mm,” he nodded, looking down from his greater height and lips quirking in an annoying desire to smile when one – bright as daylight – broke out on yours.

You nodded quickly, looping your arms around his neck to drag him down to your mouth, kissing him good and proper while his hands fell under the still open sides of your dress to settle on bare hips,

“Are you ever going to tell me what set you off tonight?” you mumbled against his lips cautiously, the ghost of a smile from the promise of dessert still lingering but a hesitant worry entering your gaze, unsure if his mood would sour again.

It didn’t.

He nudged his nose along yours, aquiline curve slotting along yours as he hummed in thought, thumbs rubbing lazily into your hips,

“Maybe later,” he settled on and captured your lips again.

You left the changing room together, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his free arm wrapped around your shoulder—nose never leaving your temple or nuzzling into your hair with blatant affection as you blushed at how obvious it was to anyone who saw you what you had been doing.

You had both tried to tidy yourselves—cleaning the corners of your makeup and trying to flatten your mused hair was about all you could do. Din didn’t even attempt to cover the freshly fucked look of messy hair and heavy eyes as he pulled an unzipped Mythosaur Gym hoodie on over his muscle shirt.

A group were passing in the corridor as you asked him something—his former opponent with one eye swollen shut from the bruises forming around his eye, jaw, and cheeks. Din answered you easily, an automatic response to whatever you were asking as his eyes met his opponents, cold fury and arrogant pride flashing in their depths.

You remained none the wiser as you passed the group, Din’s body protectively placed between you and them. He probably should have told you; he knew you wouldn’t be swayed by it—comfortable in your body as you were, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could protect you from slander and toxicity at the very least—and he planned to. Even if he had to do so in the shadows for now.

For himself, the swelling and bruising on the idiots’ face weren’t the only thing he had to satisfy himself with. He was the one whose cum was still buried inside you, clinging to your thighs and keeping you slick and wet for him to add more to later when he got you back to his place. And as you glanced up at him with a disarming smile after he dropped his hoodie over your shoulders without a thought once you both were outside in the crisp air of the early morning darkness—he secretly hoped that he would be the only one to have that privilege from then on.

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