#i am trying so hard to nail down who is who for this au

[rubrumacai]

Cooking .... Something here. Woe, sif-yi be upon ye

[rafecameronssl4t]

My say || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: an argument between reader and rafe about having a nanny for your son.

Warnings: heavy angst!!! Mentions of breastfeeding

Word count: 1,283

A/n: I hope this kinda gvives you a better insight of what reader x rafe's relationship is like!! I AM SO EXCITED TO CONTINUE WRITING FOR THIS AU!!! send thru any requests you might have :)

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“Y/n, you can’t be serious,” Rafe says, his voice laced with disbelief as he stares at you, searching your face for any sign that you might be joking. But your expression remains unyielding, eyes steady as you readjust Leo in your arms, his small hands clutching at you as he feeds. “I’m serious,” you say, your tone casual as you shrug, though the gravity of your words lingers heavily between you.

The tension in the room is palpable. Rafe scoffs, a bitter sound escaping his lips as he shakes his head in disbelief. Without another word, he pushes himself up from the couch, his movements stiff with frustration. He crosses the room with purposeful strides, heading straight for the bar cart. The clink of the whisky bottle against the glass is sharp in the silence, followed by the harsh slam of the glass hitting the cart, the sound echoing through the stillness of the room.

“He hasn’t even turned one yet, and you’re already considering leaving him in the care of someone we don’t even know?” Rafe’s voice is strained with disbelief, his eyes narrowing as he struggles to grasp your logic. . “What is this really about? You want more time for yourself? To get your hair and nails done, meet up with your friends, take boat rides?” His voice is laced with incredulity, each word carrying a mix of accusation and frustration as if he can’t believe you would even consider such a thing.

“You want to hand him over to a stranger—someone who doesn’t know his little habits, his cries, the way he needs to be held to fall asleep?” Rafe’s words tumble out in a rush, his voice thick with a blend of incredulity and concern. It’s as if he can’t even comprehend how you could entertain the idea, the very thought seeming impossible to him.

You let out a soft, disbelieving snort, shaking your head. “And you do, Rafe? You think you know him better than anyone else?” Your voice drips with sarcasm as you meet his gaze, your eyes daring him to challenge you. “When was the last time you were the one pacing the floor at 3 in the morning, trying to calm him down? When have you spent hours figuring out his cries, trying to understand what he needs?”

Rafe stares at you, his expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. “You’re his mother—” But before he can finish, you cut him off, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. “And I’m trying, Rafe! I’m trying so hard, but it never feels like enough. I can’t seem to get it right, no matter what I do.” Your voice cracks as the weight of your words hangs between you, the raw vulnerability in your tone cutting through the tension like a knife.

“I’m 21, for heaven’s sake!” you exclaim, your frustration boiling over. “I’m still figuring this out, and every day feels like a battle. I’m doing my best, but it’s like I’m constantly failing.” The words spill out in a rush, your voice wavering with the pressure of trying to live up to expectations that feel impossible to meet.

Rafe’s eyes narrow as he leans forward, his voice biting, “Don’t sit there and pretend you weren’t raised for this,” Rafe says, his voice cold and cutting. “You knew from the moment your parents arranged this marriage that your role was to be a mother. They didn’t raise you to chase dreams or find yourself—they raised you to bear children, to fulfill your duty as a wife. So don’t act like this is some surprise or burden you weren’t prepared for.”

You feel a sharp pang in your chest as Rafe’s harsh words sink in, his coldness taking you by surprise. For a moment, you’re too stunned to respond, the sting of his accusation cutting deeper than you expected. You roll your eyes, more out of defense than annoyance, trying to push the hurt aside. Exhaling slowly, you steady yourself, refusing to let him see how much his words have affected you.

“Leo will have a nanny,” you say, your voice firmer than you feel. “This isn’t up for debate.” The words come out with a finality that leaves no room for argument, though the hurt lingers beneath your resolve. “End of conversation.” Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose, his frustration boiling over into raw anger.

“No, he will not!” he snaps, his voice sharp and intense. “I won’t have a stranger looking after our son—my son!” His words are a burst of anger, his eyes blazing as he struggles to contain the fury coursing through him. You roll your eyes again, your patience wearing thin as Rafe's anger fuels your own frustration.

“You’re being dramatic, Rafe,” you retort, trying to keep your tone steady despite your mounting irritation. “In my family, we all had nannies before we were even four months old—” But before you can finish, Rafe’s voice rises in a harsh yell that slices through your words. “This is our family, Y/N!” he shouts, his frustration exploding into full-blown anger.

“Our family! Not just yours. We don’t have to raise our children the way your parents did!” His voice echoes with the force of his rage, the intensity of his glare adding to the weight of his outburst. His voice reverberates off the walls, filling the room with a palpable tension as Leo starts to fuss.

His soft whimpers quickly escalate into full-blown cries, the sound piercing through the charged atmosphere. You flinch at the noise, your heart tightening with a mix of anger and frustration. “Will you lower your voice?” you snap, your own frustration surfacing as you hastily adjust your top, trying to soothe Leo by bouncing him gently in your arms.

Rafe runs a hand through his buzz cut, letting out a loud, exasperated sigh. His shoulders are tense as he plants his hands on his hips, watching you with a mixture of frustration and disbelief while you struggle to soothe Leo. “Look what you’ve done,” you say sharply, your voice cracking with frustration as you glare at him. “He was perfectly calm before you started yelling.”

Rafe’s eyes flash with irritation as he retorts, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Yeah, yeah, blame it all on me,” he snaps, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He turns and heads towards the door, clearly ready to escape the charged atmosphere. As he walks past you, you reach out and grip his arm, the strength in your hold betraying your desperation.

He stops and looks down at you, his expression softening slightly as he registers the plea in your eyes. “Please, just don’t argue with me right now,” you say, your voice dropping to a softer, more vulnerable tone. “Leo will be better off with someone who knows what they’re doing.” The earnestness in your plea hangs heavy in the air, cutting through the tension.

Rafe takes a deep breath, the anger in his eyes giving way to a more contemplative look. “I get to choose who the nanny is,” he says, his voice still firm but less harsh. You nod slowly, a quiet resignation in your expression as you release his arm, allowing him to leave.

[arafilez]

੭୧ ⼂ LOWKEY ﹗

ー☆ㅤㅤ [ cs x fem!reader ] ㅤ੭𓂃 ㅤmature, mdni , smut, fwb, college au 𓏧 wine, sex and your friend choi san- the aftermaths of a party and the dealings of your heart ㅤ warnings vanilla sex, praise kink, alcohol ㅤ﹢ㅤ3.7k wc ㅤ𓏧ㅤ req

You sip lightly on the wine glass while sitting on the couch as a couple makes out beside you. You can’t care less as your eyes scan the party for the person who is supposed to be present at the party. A whiff of smoke comes in your sight and you whip your head at the familiar deodorant.

“Searching for him again?” your brother Mingi speaks beside you blowing another smoke before pressing his lips to a girl clutching onto him. You make a disgusted face and look away saying, “I am.” He looks down at you raising an eyebrow and you shrug finishing the wine that matches the dark red colour of your dress.

“Maybe you should just confess,” he replies over the squeals of a drunk Wooyoung who has suddenly come over to replace the girl and is now trying to smooch him. “Accept his kiss,” you laugh getting up and dodging his question as you walk towards the counter.

He sighs loudly and then walks towards you as Wooyoung’s girlfriend gets a hold of him. “Don’t ignore my question y/n,” he whines and you shush his deep and loud voice looking around in suspicion.

“Maybe not yell that in a party full of gossiping college students,” you hiss at him and he rolls his eyes and is about to retort when a smooth voice cuts him off saying, “The party is wild, Mingi-ya.”

Your ears perk up and you look behind your tall brother to see San’s smiling. Mingi grins doing their personal handshake and replies, “You are going to help me clean in the morning.” You groan at your brother being an ass while San looks at him bewildered and Mingi casually leaves, walking towards Hongjoong who is now trying to enter the waste bin.

“He is really straightforward,” San laughs and you shake your head, cursing your brother internally. San and you make small take before you take your leave, going to meet your friends.

Your back hits the soft mattress as a whine builds up in your throat. You grasp San’s hair with fervour and tug on it deepening the kiss and San groans in your mouth, feeling himself getting hard with each passing second. The light hint of smoke on his lips paired with the alcohol could only do so much as make you go absolutely feral.

You gasp as he parts for air and takes in your form- hair messy from his fingers running through them, lipstick smudged and breathless, lustful eyes watching him in hazy delight. People talk about the seven wonders but he will pay millions just to see you like this, beautiful and raw- just for him.

You drag your nails along his collarbone and look at him whining, “Do whatever you want with me Sannie.” You are ready to be fucked senseless by him, to spill his name until you feel your mind-numbing so his next action surprises you.

San presses his lips to yours in a soft kiss that makes your insides melt and you feel his hand kneading through your hair softly. A foreign feeling rises in your chest and you push it down as you run your hand along his shirt sleeves clutching on it. A light whimper accentuates the air as you part as the kiss deepens and you feel him breaking all rules of your arrangement non-verbally.

Because San isn’t kissing you like he wants to ruin you.

San is kissing you like you are his only source of warmth on a cold winter night.

“What are you doing?” you whisper to him as soon as you part and he breaks into a smile answering, “You told me to do whatever I wanted to. I want to take my time.” Your protest dies in your throat as you feel him press a kiss on the corner of your mouth and trail it down your throat.

Your body tenses at his actions and his fingers run along your sides resting on your waist and tracing light patterns on it. You relax instantly and you feel his smile against the base of your throat as he kisses it. Slightly sucking on the area he earns a light gasp from you as he applies more pressure and pulls out.

He presses light kisses along your arm and you squirm, a giggle threatening to spill from your throat as he reaches your wrist and presses his lips and then presses feathery kisses on each one of your fingers. You feel the sensation tug your heartstrings and his actions surface your deep-rooted feelings for him.

Feelings you aren’t supposed to explore at all. Feeling that grew each time you had hooked up with him. Feelings that you deny every time.

You pressurise your mind to focus on the pleasure but the more San kisses your body the more you lose it. This was not part of the deal, fuck and leave was the deal. You’re still technically doing that, you think and you push back the reason on your conscience far back in your mind.

“You are so beautiful,” his deep voice sends vibrations along your body as he kisses down your chest and attaches his mouth to your perked-up nipples. You arch your back, San’s name rolling off your tongue as he licks over it and bites lightly. His tongue feels so good that you barely notice San’s fingers hooking your panties and pulling them down in a swift motion.

A shiver goes down your spine as the air hits your clit and San moves down kissing along your stomach. He goes painfully slow, pressing his lips on every stretch mark and your heart does somersaults. San has never ‘taken his time’ before and the way he is treating you almost makes you believe you are a domestic couple.

San kisses along your waistline before he hovers over your clit, his breath hitting your sensitive region and you scream in pleasure when he collects your arousal and pushes it in you.

“So wet baby, only for me,” he says and you gasp as his mouth attaches to your clit. He sucks on hit and your thighs close in instinct but he holds them down as his tongue rapidly laps in your clit. He licks and stripes and his tongue hits the right spots.

And elicit moans leave your throat and you feel like seeing stars as San’s tongue works wonders. Soon you feel the familiar coil in your stomach and it snaps. A string of his name leaves your mouth and San sucks in every one of your juice like it is his last meal. His eyes glisten as he looks at your panting state and kisses you right away.

You groan at your taste in his mouth and he pulls away angling himself over you. He rolls off a condom and pressing his lips to you again pushes himself in. A half-gasp, half-moan rips along your throat as he inches deeper and deeper and his feather-like kisses all over your face accentuate your feelings for him more and more.

“You taste so damn sweet love,” his late admission makes your throat constrict and he takes his sweet time exploring you with his cock. He hits the right spots and you moan into his neck, your nails digging into his skin with his every thrust.

“So beautiful and perfect, just for me,” he whispers in your ears, pressing a trail of kisses down to your throat and his words haze your mind, tipping you over the edge.

His thrusts become harder and faster as he realises you are close before his hips shake in pleasure. You feel your arousal approaching and whisper it out and you hear him say, “Let go, darling.” His voice and his loving gaze make you come undone and San follows soon after with a groan of your name.

His lips find yours and press on them, encasing them in sweet pleasure. It isn’t rushed or high from energy, instead, it is slow and sensual and it tugs your heartstrings more as you take relief from the post-coital bliss. San smiles as he leaves your lips and pulls himself out falling on the bed beside you.

His sentences from before roam around in your head as you feel him get up probably to leave like you guys had planned some months ago. Of course, he will do that.

You are so beautiful.

So beautiful and perfect, just for me.

The deal- fuck with no strings attached. You two had simply decided on it after you two couldn’t find suitable partners and good sex. So five drinks, an accidental hook-up with each other and a pounding head the morning after you two decided on it. Have good sex, never stay the night for aftercare and the universal rule- never fall for each other.

You have been actively breaking rule three for some weeks now. You have fallen for him, like him so much that it physically hurts you when he is with any other girl. It makes your heart clench when he flirts with others, lingers his touches more than usual and laughs in that beautiful voice of his at a stupid joke a girl makes to impress him.

But you guys had decided on this, you two can date whoever you want, this arrangement is only for pleasure purposes. And the sex you just had was nothing but one of his experiments you had consented him to. But the way he touched you, kissed you, whispered to you didn’t feel like fucking.

It was like love.

And you hated yourself for it. San’s hands on your knees jerk you back to reality as he makes a motion that he is leaving and you nod lightly. All the rules in the deal were settled by you, and San had simply agreed to them. So breaking them when the person who got roped into this is following it isn’t the ideal scenario.

And thus you have to get rid of these feelings.

You wake up the next morning and go to the living room to see Mingi already starting the cleaning. An empty glass of hangover juice is sitting alone on the countertop and piles of other utensils and cutlery are in the sink. Your brother has already mopped the floor and you admire him for his tenacity. At least something happened under the influence of Seonghwa.

“Where’s San?” you roll your eyes at the rhetorical question and don’t bother to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Mingi watches you as you pick up the lint roller and start cleaning the other half of the room he hasn’t touched.

“It’s so frankly annoying and stupid that you two try to deny everything between you two,” he sighs loudly and it works as your head whips in his direction. “How much delusional are you? We have nothing within us,” you reply nonchalantly but the tinge of sadness in your tone betrays you.

“Sure, that is exactly why he was so pissed yesterday and about to break a guy’s nose for calling you a ‘slut’,” he deadpans and you look at him in shock before quickly blinking and composing yourself, “Well at least they person’s nose is okay.”

“Nope, I broke it,” he states as if he did something as simple as eat cereal in the morning and your eyes widen as he shrugs. “But this is not about me, this is about San, do you know how many girls he has tipped off with the excuse of your ‘arrangement’? As far as I am aware you guys can date anyone despite the fucking.”

You look away from your brother’s penetrative eyes and try to focus on the cleaning. But your mind is anywhere but cleaning as Mingi’s words play over in your head. Your twin kicks your shin and you jerk in surprise. “When did you-“You get interrupted by him saying, “Stop pretending like you can’t hear me and do something about these unresolved feelings. They are so obvious that even the boy I tutor is catching up.”

“Right, of course, the boy you tutor, Hyunwoo, who comes to our house just one day every week. Do you not know eighth-graders are full of shit and hormones? He is obviously tripping,” you fake scoff three times before stopping as you feel his judgemental eyes boring into yours.

“Whatever sails your ship, y/n,” he says in a sing-song tone earning another eye-roll from you before you both get back to work.

You stare in distaste at your closet as most of your party outfits are in the laundry. You curse Wooyoung in your head for throwing a third party in the same week right after you send your outfits in the wash you pick up your phone. Your hand hovers over your call list and rational thinking is never an option before you are dialling San.

He is still a friend!

San picks up in a heartbeat, something Wooyoung calls “desperate” but you call “efficiency” and you hear his smooth tone over the line, “Hey y/n.”

“Hey San, I was wondering if you want to catch up for coffee?” you ask casually and you hear him chuckle over the line, “After or before we buy you a dress?”

“How did you know?” you ask and he snorts, his light laugh sending your heart in a frenzy. The warm sound over the line feels like a rush over your muddled brain as you smile looking at your feet.

“I always know, when it comes to you,” he replies and you bite your lips. The small, rational part of your brain telling you to stop is pushed far behind and you reply, “Being a bit too obsessed with me, are we now, Choi?”

“I can be obsessed with you any day,” he smoothly adds over and a half-snort half-giggle leaves your mouth which would be embarrassing if you already didn’t have heart-eyes in a voice call. The familiar day-dreaming returns as you imagine San kissing you, not for merely sex, but for the shy giggles, or him hugging you with his face into the crook of your neck or him tracing down-

“So I will pick you up?” he asks breaking you out of your love-sick trance and your ears feel warm as you reply with a ‘yes’ praying it wasn’t as shaky as it sounded in your head. “Great, see you in fifteen,” he replies and you hum before the call disconnects.

Your brain racks for the casual outfit you should wear now, should you go with the white flowery jumpsuit? Or maybe the yellow dress till your knees? Or just simply go for jeans and a cute top? Or a light cardigan? Stop it. It is not a date. Your mind kicks back in place as you blink lightly from your trance before getting ready.

A car’s honk resounds after a few minutes and you go to the door only to see San holding a bouquet of flowers and smiling at you. His eyes form a crescent moon shape under his hair, a few bangs touching his forehead lightly and you gasp.

“The florist shop was on the way, and I picked some up,” he says adding a casual shrug and then adding, “Figured you can just keep them in the apartment.”

Friends give each other flowers, right? Right!

“Oh, uh, thanks,” your voice becomes smaller with every word as you take the bouquet from his hand and keep it inside. You contemplate whether you should arrange them now but decide later since it won’t be too long.

“You look pretty,” San comments as you go out making you even more flustered and you stutter out a “Thanks.” He hums as you get in his car and drives over to the store he knows you usually buy from. He notices your look of confusion and asks, “Do you want to buy from somewhere else?”

“No, but how?” you ask gesturing him lightly, too much at a loss for words. “I am your friend, of course, I know it,” he smiles, his dimples popping out and you have to physically restrain yourself from leaning over and kissing his dimples. A tinge of red appears on his cheekbones and spreads lightly to his neck as he notices you staring at him and he tries to play it off by mildly coughing.

Choosing some dresses is a smooth process, occasionally San pitches in his choices, which you take for a few, and you get inside the trial room to finalize one.

After trying some and discarding them you pick up one San has recommended before putting it on. The zipper is in the back, unlike the others which had it in the side and you need help because god forbid you aren’t that flexible.

You don’t even hesitate and call for San since you know the boy will basically help anyone with anything without any malicious intent. Your mind slightly turns over the fact that your friends-with-benefits relationship is also because of his willingness to help, and you push it back further down. You do not need it in your mind right now.

“Yes?” San peeks through the door and you smile sorrowfully saying, “Can you please help me pull the zipper?” He nods, throwing in his dimpled smile and you sigh to yourself. If a smile can turn your insides to mush, hell you don’t know what you will do with his wordless rejection.

San's hands on your back make a stark contrast to your skin, and you feel heated up at his menacingly slow pace of pulling the chain up. You blame the confines of the trial room for feeling hot and bothered as his fingertips dance on your skin. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the chain is up and you look in front.

You look stunning and you have to give it to him to know your exact tastes. The lines between reality and dreams blur as you feel his head dip down, lips lightly encasing on your shoulder pads as he whispers, “You look absolutely gorgeous.”

You may have stopped breathing altogether and your heart feels like bursting at any moment as you lock eyes on him, and feel like you have seen a different emotion, other than pure lust and desire. You see love, like last night.

Your stomach churns in an unfamiliar manner and you abruptly push off him and murmur, “No, fuck we can’t do this.” Your skin feels cold with the loss of his touch and your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and searching your eyes for something. Anything, to lead him on.

“San, we can’t,” your breath falters as you look at his perfectly sculpted face and reply, “We can’t continue this, our arrangement, our every single thing, just no!”

“Why?” he asks and you stare at him incredulously and scream lightly, “Why? San why? Because I broke our third rule okay? Because I fell in love, and that is just me. You are exactly where you were some months ago, my friend, that is how you see me, so to save us from my idiotic feelings, we need to stop.”

“Friends give each other flowers?” San asks and you shut up looking at him, gasping from being slightly breathless. You watch his face contort into something undecipherable as he continues, “Just friends don’t offer to pick each other up, in every possible situation, just so they can look at each other. Just friends don’t give two shits about remembering every small detail about each other, just friends don’t look at each other like we do. Just friends don’t feel like ripping someone’s heads off when anyone else flirts with each of them, and just friends for fuck’s sake, do not have sex as if they want to make love.”

You look at him, eyes wide at his face as he runs an impatient hand through his hair, and in one short stride, he is hovering over you. He looks at you, locking your eyes and a beat passes before you whisper, “Then what are we?” “Whatever you want us to be, love,” he replies, his eyes flickering with every emotion, because it is all so damn confusing when it comes to you.

When it comes to you, his mind clams and he has no idea what should be done.

“Then let’s be the corny boyfriend and girlfriend,” you giggle but it dies as his lips fall on yours in a second. His hand traces along your waist and his kiss is just like you imagined it to be. Only better! The gentleman touches with a hint of craziness as you two lock your lips like the perfect puzzle piece. You run your hands through his hair lightly making him smile into the sweet kiss.

He pulls away, taking a second for your appreciation before his lips are on you again. This time, it is hot and heavy, full of passion, and you tug on his shirt, a soft whine leaving your mouth as he holds your cheeks and manoeuvres his mouth into yours. The kiss is messy and full of tongue and when you break for air he whispers, “Let’s get out of here.”

Mingi enters your apartment and immediately halts as he sees you and San cuddled up on the sofa, watching something on the television that neither of you is paying attention to. In fact, you are both too busy giggling and pecking each other to even notice Mingi. He smiles at you two, glad that you both came to your senses before clearing his throat.

“What?” you ask, the sound coming out muffled since your mouth is full of chips and San laughs pecking the side of your lips. Your attention returns to San and you giggle looking at him making Mingi gag. He is already so tired of this.

“Well, I am home, thanks for asking, sister,” he comments, his voice edging on the ‘sister’ making you scoff at him. He continues, “Glad you two are together now, saves every one of us from your blind misery.”

“Shut up,” you stick a middle finger in his direction and he doesn’t even bother to look before asking, “Hey what dress did you buy anyway for Woo’s party tomorrow?”

“Shit!”

“Fuck!”

ー☆ㅤㅤ [ ara's notes ] ㅤ੭𓂃 ㅤwanted it to be so perfect because it's my friend requesting, deleted drafts and re-wrote so many times TT hope you like it ㅤ𓏧ㅤ libraryㅤ atz shelfㅤ navi

੭ 𝅄ㅤ ꒰ TAGLIST ꒱ ㅤ⏤ㅤ @haneagerr ㅤ𓏧ㅤ fill this or comment or ask to be added

ㅤㅤ(ㅤㅤ© arafilez on tumblrㅤㅤ)

[whoreforjisung]

Pervy neighbor Jisung one-shot ✨

-Might continue the story in multiple parts if people are interested! I still have many ideas when it comes to pervy jisung

-Content / tags / warnings: smut / non-idol au / perv!jisung pining for new neighbor reader / masturbation (m,f) / ji is a little bit of an asshole / non-consensual pictures / one use of “noona” / drug and alcohol consumption / brief mentions of Felix, Minho, Changbin, and Seungmin

-Names are used as faceclaims only, and do not reflect the actions and personalities of real people

-Word Count: 6.2k

-I am very new to tumblr, and this is my very first time writing anything like this, so it is not proof-read or edited. Constructive criticism welcome!

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

As a full-time freelance artist, you luckily had the liberty to pack up your cherished belongings and move to wherever you desired whenever you liked. That’s how you ended up landing yourself in Seoul at the ripe age of 24. It might sound silly, but you had a lifelong dream of living in a cozy apartment with a decent-sized balcony area. When a listing popped up during an impromptu trip to Korea, in Seoul nonetheless, for a manageable price, you immediately jumped on it. It was game over as soon as you visited and saw the beautiful balcony with a wrought-iron spiral staircase. After reluctantly returning home, it was hard to contain your excitement in the weeks leading up to your move. You were already eagerly selecting furniture to buy, as well as decorations, and brainstorming ideas on how to use the space as soon as you finalized the lease.

As you finally pulled up to the new apartment, you couldn’t contain the wide smile that crept across your face as you shielded your eyes from the sun, admiring your spacious balcony. Just the thought of being able to curl up at dusk with that book you’ve been meaning to read for ages on the hammock chair you purchased for it, had you teeming with excitement. It kept you in a positive spirit as you lugged boxes containing your possessions one by one up the stairs and into your new home. That was, until you accidentally dropped the large framed painting you were attempting to transport, sending it tumbling down the stairs leaving hundreds of glass shards in its wake. The sudden noise startling your cat, Newt, from his peaceful slumber in his carrier. He reacted with a hiss and a few agitated meows.

“Would it kill you to keep it down? Some of us are trying to WORK here! FUCK!” You look up from your kneeled position on the stairs as you’re scrambling to pick up the glass shards, and your eyes meet a young man with a scowl on his face, leaning over the balcony opposite to yours. He has a pair of headphones dangling around his neck and is clutching a can of beer, fingernails adorned with black nail polish. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve been more careful. It won’t happen again!” You replied as you continued picking up the pieces. “Whatever. Can you do something about your hairball? It’s making my damn ears bleed.” He angrily snapped in response, pointing towards Newt’s carrier. You could tolerate the first comment, but who did he think he was to so directly insult your pet like that? “Just because I caused a minor commotion doesn’t give you the right to be so rude to a complete stranger. Since I’m no longer disrupting you, Why don’t you close the window, remove the stick up your ass, and get back to your oh-so-important work while I quietly move the rest of my boxes into my house. Sound good?” He didn’t seem to have a response for you, instead opting to toss back the remainder of his drink, crushing the can and tossing it directly towards your feet before shutting the window. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your dustpan from the box labeled “cleaning supplies” and swept up the rest of your mess (along with “mystery jerk neighbor’s” added trash) before moving the final few boxes, as well as the cat carrier inside.

You were so grateful the place came furnished, as you promptly slumped down on the green velvet couch, allowing yourself to take a quick breather before taking Newt out of the carrier, letting him explore while you unpacked his necessities and began assembling the cat tree. By the time sunset began to roll around, you had made a decent amount of progress unpacking and building a good amount of your living room and kitchen furniture, including your hammock chair for the balcony. After brewing yourself a cup of tea and grabbing the book you intended to read, you finally made your way to your new outdoor relaxation sanctuary.

After situating yourself in the chair, draping a thin blanket over your legs, and taking a sip of warm green tea, you let out a content sigh as you finally opened your novel, ready to immerse yourself into the story for the next hour or so. You made it through exactly 2 1/2 chapters before “mystery jerk neighbor” made his second appearance. This time, followed by a small white puppy and the unmistakable smell of weed. Now, you normally wouldn’t consider yourself to be the petty type, but his disrespect towards you earlier prompted you to throw some back his way in retaliation. When he took a long drag and proceeded to start coughing up a lung, you shouted “Keep it down would ya? Some of us are trying to READ here!” Mirroring his first words to you. “Oh that’s realll original” he replied with a pained rasp between coughs. Rolling your eyes, you redirected your attention back to your book, assuming that would be the end of the distraction.

A small handful of pages later, a loud “YOOOO FELIX” pierces through the silence as he starts a phone call. Placing a bookmark to save your spot, you close the book and set it on your small side table. After a few minutes you return , donning your noise cancelling headphones. You’d be damned if you were going to let him ruin your highly anticipated reading time after a long and exhausting day. A peaceful 10 minutes later, he retreats back into his own apartment- much to your delight. However, your joy is short-lived as he soon returns with an acoustic guitar slung across his torso and takes a seat. Unfortunately, you quickly realize his strumming penetrates through your headphones. So much for noise-cancelling. Completely losing your focus and not wanting to engage with him any further, you decide it’s time to head inside and get yourself ready for bed. After a much-needed shower to rinse off the sweat and dust that had accumulated on your body throughout the day, you continue your nightly routine. Slipping on a pair of panties and one of your many oversized sleep shirts, you head to the kitchen to finish your cup of tea while absentmindedly scrolling on tiktok. After setting your mug in the sink and brushing your teeth in the bathroom, you finally turn into bed and listen to Newt’s content purrs as he cuddles up to you, both of you quickly drifting off to sleep.

You curse yourself for setting your alarm so early as you’re jolted awake by the incessant, absurdly high-pitched beeping at 8:00 AM. You did have a specific reason for wanting to wake up so early though, as you remember your plans and reluctantly drag yourself out of bed. Your first task of the day was grocery shopping, so after brushing your teeth and twisting your hair up into a claw clip, you threw on a pair of sweatpants with a black cropped hoodie and began your walk to the nearest market.

Arriving after about fifteen minutes, you began working through your ingredients list. You stopped at an herb stall with a middle-aged woman behind the booth. One of your many plans for your balcony space was to install a fresh herb garden, so you engaged in small talk with the seller as you selected various herbs to purchase. “Do you sell cat grass?” You asked. Suddenly, a young man with blond hair springs up from under the counter. “You won’t find any here at the market, but I can show you where to get some!” You’re taken aback by the deep voice that comes out of him, as well as his strangely friendly offer. Sensing your apprehension, the woman adds “Oh don’t worry dear, you can trust him! Yongbok here is our designated neighborhood helper.” She smiles at him as she pats his back. “Oh uhh okay. I have a few more things to grab here first, if that’s okay?” You reply, setting your items down for him to ring up. A few minutes later, you finished picking up the rest of the items on your list and returned to the stall to let him know you were ready. “I’ll be back in about twenty minutes Auntie!” He called back to the woman as the two of you walked away.

You found it surprising how talkative he was. He told you his name was Felix, he grew up in Australia, but moved to Korea when he was seventeen, and he loves cooking, baking, and gaming. Even though you just met him, you were happy you shared some of the same interests, and honestly a little part of you hoped this wouldn’t be the last you’d see of him. The short walk led you to a large apartment complex. Felix told you his friend, Minho, is a huge cat-lover who grows his own cat grass, so you figured this is where he lived. It seemed like he spent a lot of time at Minho’s place, as the security guard immediately buzzed you both in as soon as he saw him, greeting him with a wave.

Felix knocked on the door as you arrived at, presumably, his friend’s unit. You could hear multiple voices from outside the door, and began to feel a little bit anxious. The door opened to reveal quite possibly the buffest man you have ever seen in person before. He quickly pulled your new acquaintance into a bear hug, shouting “FELIX IS HEREEE- and who’s this?” He added as he broke away, noticing you. You shyly introduced yourself to him, still standing in the doorway before Felix enters, pulling you both in. Feeling slightly overwhelmed by the amount of people present, you keep your gaze trained on the floor as he ushers you into the kitchen. “Hey Minho! This is the girl I texted you about. You know- the cat grass” He explained as he gestures toward you.

You pry your gaze from the floor to see an -admittedly, beautiful man holding a spatula and wearing an apron that says “world’s best Mom” on it in hot pink lettering. As you struggle to stifle a giggle, he quickly explains that he received it as a gift from his friend Seungmin. Since he can’t leave the kitchen while he’s cooking, he instructs Felix to take you to his study, where he has prepared a small pot for you to take home. As you enter the study, you notice a sleeping figure on the black leather couch in your peripheral vision. It wasn’t until you quietly retrieved the pot, turning to exit the room, that you recognized the person sleeping. He was your mysterious jerk neighbor! You had to admit though, as much as your very limited interactions with him pissed you off, he looked kinda cute peacefully sleeping like that- with his dark, curly hair cascading over the side of his face, cheeks all puffed out and lips formed into a devastating little pout. It was hard to believe this was the same man as the asshole that lived across from you. Once you realized you were staring at him, you shook your thoughts away and silently made your way back into the living room. Thanking Minho and bidding farewell to everyone else, you and Felix began your trek back to the market.

Arriving back home shortly after dropping Felix off and giving him your socials, you got to work putting away your groceries and began to tackle the daunting task of unpacking and organizing your belongings. In order to not burn yourself out, you made sure to take breaks every few hours. During your breaks you would work on artwork, watch an episode of the kdrama you were currently immersed in, play with Newt, crochet, and stretch- even doing a little bit of yoga in the evening.

After you were satisfied with the progress you made for the day, you booted up your computer and logged on to Miroh- a new labyrinth MMORPG you had found yourself getting absolutely sucked into lately. You didn’t find the time to game as often as you would have liked to, but when you did, you preferred to set aside a good four hours or so in order to ensure you’d make a decent amount of progress with every session. After several failed attempts to demolish the octo-cyclops boss of the S-Class dungeon- in order to acquire its exclusive armor set, you were about to call it quits for the night when a random player requested to join your party. You accepted the request from _doolsetnet, sending a gratitude emote as you entered the dungeon for the umpteenth time that night, this time with another player at your assistance.

Your morale was high as you successfully cleared the second stage almost flawlessly, mentally preparing for the third and final stage. It started off well, but as the boss’s rage intensified, so did it’s attack speed. You both took a few good hits, your health bar depleting rapidly. Your helper still had a good three-quarters of their health to spare, and enough mana to cast one spell. The boss only had about a quarter left on its health bar- two more good hits and it would go down. You unmuted your mic to request a heal from your partner, which they promptly offered. With your health bar restored to half-full, and your mana charged for two attacks, you were finally able to hear the sweet, sweet cries of defeat as you slayed the beast. You jumped out of your chair, raising your fists in the air and letting out a loud “FUCK YESSS! TAKE THAT YOU ONE-EYED SLIMY CUNT” as the game rewarded you with the gorgeous mother-of-pearl armor set you’ve been ogling for months- complete with an iridescent helmet showcasing the monster’s eye. You sent user _doolsetnet a thank you message, and attached a gift containing a couple hundred gold along with a few of the rare armor dyes you had extras of. They responded by shooting you a friend request, which you accepted, and a rare weapon skin you also had your eye on. After logging off for the night, you hopped in the shower, brushed your teeth, crawled into bed with Newt in your arms, and fell asleep.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+* 🐿️

The day you moved in was a rough one for Han Jisung. All morning he worked tirelessly, trying to perfect the song he was commissioned to produce for a high-profile client. Each time he finished editing and emailing the file, he was always met with a problem. The beat overpowers the vocals, the guitar is too quiet, the bpm is too fast, too slow- it was impossible to please them with this song, and he was going to absolutely lose it. As a perfectionist, he couldn’t let it go until both him, and the client, were both one-hundred percent satisfied. He was running on about six hours of sleep in the past three days, with a concerning lack of food and over-dependence on coffee, energy drinks, and beer. He could barely rip his focus away from the project long enough to shower and make sure his beloved puppy, Bbama, was still well taken care of.

When the blaring hisses and sharp beeps of the moving trucks breached through the music he was working on, he nearly screamed out the window at them to shut the fuck up, but he still had self control. Honestly, it was his fault for procrastinating even though he knew someone would be moving in across from him today. He tried to drown out the noise for the next hour, and when the trucks pulled out, his focus finally pulled in again. He locked in- diligently toiling away at the project, until two hours later, he had the latest revised version complete. Making sure he took all of his client’s requests into account, he submitted the file and began the waiting game. Anxiously pacing around his apartment and biting his nails for another hour, he received an email notification. He sprinted to his computer, not even bothering to take a seat as his hand hovered over the mouse for a few seconds in anticipation. He slid the cursor over the most recent email in his inbox, squeezing his eyes shut and chanting a quiet “please, please, please..” he clicked the mouse and slowly opened his eyes, scanning the results. “Mr. Han, We always appreciate your hard work, and are nearly content with the song. There are just a few small tweaks we would like to- “MOTHERFUCKER” he threw himself onto his couch and muffled an anguished scream with his pillow. He nearly started bawling due to the overwhelming frustration and crippling exhaustion.

The deadline was tomorrow, and he would have to rework the godforsaken song for the sixteenth and last time. He had to make his next submission perfect- or risk losing one of his most important clients. He peeled himself off the couch, sauntered over to his fridge to grab yet another can of beer, returned to his desk, took a few deep breaths, and got to work. There was one specific part of the song that needed reworked. He began playing the same fifteen seconds repeatedly, closer and closer to losing his sanity as he just could not pick out what was wrong with it. Another ten times- still couldn’t place it. Twenty more times, and then he caught it- at the very end of the segment. His full focus on the next loop, he cranked the volume and listened intently, not even daring to breathe in fear of it disrupting his flow. The last five seconds coming up- this was it.

A loud crash broke his focus, followed by the shrieking howls of an agitated cat. That was his last straw. He slammed his left fist down on his desk, still clutching his beer can in his right hand. Shooting out of his chair he flung open the sliding door and stormed to the edge of his balcony. He started yelling before even thinking, just letting all of his pent-up rage out on whoever his new neighbor was. Once the red-hot fury died down, and he actually saw the unfortunate victim of his outburst, he retreated in embarrassment. She was a girl who looked to be in her early to mid twenties, around the same age as him. Kinda cute too, and he threw his fucking beer can at her! God, what the hell was wrong with him? He wanted to crawl into the fetal position and just disappear forever. Unfortunately for him, though, he still had the grueling obligation of completing his wretched assignment. He stretched, cracked his knuckles, and got to work once more.

A painstaking six hours later, he checked over the email again, to refer to his clients requirements. Making damn sure he remembered EVERYTHING this time, he went through a mental checklist. He listened to the full song one more time, paying close attention to the fifteen second segment he had reworked dozens of times. This time, he had swapped the guitar for a bassy synth to create a break at the end of the pre-chorus, and he honestly felt satisfied with the outcome. He might’ve entered a state of delirium after twenty-four restless, stress filled hours, and slipped into a rather cocky mindset. He was happy with the song at last, and the client would be content with it too. Honestly, they were lucky to have a producer like him working with them. He was a musical genius. After confidently re-submitting the file for the final time, he rolled himself a much-deserved joint. He gave little Bbama all the belly rubs and smooches he had missed the last few days as he made his way to the balcony for a stress-relieving smoke.

Jisung took a few deep drags, feeling increasingly calm with every exhale, until his breath caught in his throat upon noticing you lounging on your balcony straight across from him- seemingly deeply invested in a book. The smoke in his throat burned, launching him into a painful coughing fit. He silently prayed that you wouldn’t notice, and mentally cursed himself when you did- repeating his same harsh words to you earlier, absolutely dripping with sass. He threw back a half-assed reply, wishing he could’ve put more effort into it, and was rewarded with a nonchalant eye-roll. Oh, it was game-over for him now. One thing Jisung could never control himself around, was a person who simultaneously gave off the vibes of a dom, while exuding just the perfect amount of brattiness- just enough for him to want to mercilessly fuck the attitude out of.

He decided right then and there to “test your limits”- so to speak. He dialed up his buddy Felix, making sure to greet him as loudly and obnoxiously as he could possibly muster. Only to be met with disappointment, as you just sighed and closed your book, withdrawing back into your living space. Maybe he jumped the gun- and assumed too much too soon? Oh well, he’d have plenty more chances to get a rise out of you, and began plotting his next move as he continued his conversation with Felix. When you returned wearing headphones, and sat back down to resume your book- completely ignoring him, he immediately felt his dick tightening against his pants, begging to be freed. He didn’t have you all wrong- quite the contrary. He had you just right, and the little bit of tantalizing cleavage your tank top revealed to him was the perfect tease, your breasts slightly squeezing together with every page you turned.

He attempted to mess with you a little more, even bringing out his guitar, in the hopes of disrupting your reading just enough to prompt an annoyed outburst. (And maybe even impressing you a little bit with his skills). When you once again retreated inside, and didn’t return, he figured you just went to bed this time. It was like all of his pent-up frustration throughout the week sent itself straight to his manhood. He was throbbing as he fell back on his couch, palming himself over his jeans. He had to use his imagination, having only his limited view of your cleavage to work with, but that wasn’t a problem for him.

You were straddling his lap on his couch, plush thighs squeezing either side of his as you slowly and tortuously ground yourself against his aching length. In this scenario, you had caught him sneaking a peek at you through the window and stormed over, angrily knocking on his door to confront him. You were yelling at him with your arms crossed, squeezing your tits together and giving him the perfect view. -He finally released himself from his denim prison, wrapping his hand around his thick, hard length, and letting out a sigh- When you noticed where he was staring, and looked down to see the prominent bulge in his pants, you forcefully pushed him down on the couch, climbing on top of him. Yanking the nape of his curly hair, you compelled him to look up at you, chastising him for being a dirty pervert. “You disgusting piece of shit- can’t even be scolded by a woman without getting yourself all hot and bothered.” You spat at him as he let out a whimper. “How pathetic” the way you breathlessly enunciated that word had him fisting his angry cock furiously, thighs twitching and breaths panting as he felt his chest tighten. He was so close already- probably due to his lack of jerking off for the past few days.

When you crept your hand up his chest and around his throat, harshly squeezing your fingers around it, he came. All over his hand, shirt, pants, couch, and even spilling a few drops onto his floor. He can’t even remember the last time he came this hard- it was probably one of the first times he ever masturbated. He didn’t even get to the best part in his scenario, the part where he takes over, flipping you onto your back and burying his face between your legs, eating you out like you’re his last meal while you’re whining and begging him to take you, as you release all over his fingers and face. He felt himself twitch, and looked down in disbelief to be met with yet another raging boner. God, the things you did to him, and you didn’t even know him, or his name. It just made the whole thing that much hotter. He’ll make sure you’ll find out soon, though, so the you in his fantasies can scream it for him.

After cleaning up his mess, and slipping into a clean pair of sweatpants, he made his way over to his fridge, and grabbed himself a cup of water. Chugging it down to soothe his dry throat, he glanced out the window- his eyes falling on you. You were wearing nothing but a large t-shirt, barely covering the curve of your ass, as you leaned over your kitchen counter. Sipping on a mug in one hand and scrolling on your phone in another, you were unknowingly giving him some quality material to work with. He made sure to engrain that image of you in his mind, taking note of every detail of your legs, including your tattoos, for next time.

The next morning, after getting a few hours of sleep and clearing his brain fog, he was mortified to say the least. He made himself out to be a complete asshole to his new (hot) neighbor, and immediately proceeded to ferociously pump himself dry to his imagination of said neighbor. Embarrassed was an understatement. He groaned as he got out of bed, heading into the bathroom to brush his teeth. As he refilled Bbama’s food and water dishes, he decided he should apologize to you for his rude behavior.

A little while later, he found himself standing outside your door, preparing his fist to knock. As he heard your footsteps nearing increasingly closer, he panicked and made a beeline to the end of the hallway, tucking himself around the corner. He caught his breath, noticing you exiting your unit and heading down the stairs. He was startled by his phone buzzing, pulling it out of his pocket to read a text from Minho. “Get your ass over here NOW. I know you haven’t eaten well in days and I’m preparing some bulgogi.” He honestly didn’t even notice just how hungry he was, being too distracted by this work, and- well, you, to care. He pulled himself up and made his way over to Minho’s.

He immediately flopped down on the couch in the study after greeting his friends. They knew him- and his current work dilemma, well enough to understand he didn’t have the energy for socializing until he got a good rest, so that’s exactly what he proceeded to do. Seungmin kicked open the door when their meal was ready, jolting Jisung awake. He drug his feet to the kitchen, joining Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Suengmin at the table and taking his seat. While quite literally stuffing his mouth, he listened to his friends converse and argue, adding in a few comments muffled by the food stored in his cheeks. His interest piqued when Changbin mentioned the girl that came by, turning to Minho and sending him a puzzled look. Since when does Minho invite girls over? His older friend noticed his expression, and responded by explaining that Felix had brought her over because she was on the hunt for cat grass. “I can’t deny though, she was just my type. I’ll have to ask Felix if he got her number.” Hyunjin piped up, wiggling his eyebrows.

Seungmin shot him a side-eye, pinching his arm and causing the other to yelp while chastising him for his fuckboy attitude. Jisung on the other hand, was intrigued- asking Hyunjin to describe her appearance, practically begging, honestly. Who could blame him? He was currently down bad- astronomically, even. After listening to Hyunjin’s description, agreeing that she did, in fact, seem very attractive, he rewarded his friend with a description of the goddess that had just moved in next door to him. Hyunjin was practically drooling as he described her perky tits and thick, tattoo-adorned thighs in great detail, prompting Seungmin to manually shut his jaw. “No more horny talk over the meal I slaved away at all day, to prepare for you ungrateful degenerates!” Minho shouted, bringing the conversation to an abrupt halt. After finishing the perfectly-cooked bulgogi and cleaning up after themselves, Jisung walked home, with Hyunjin in tow, begging him to let him crash at his place. Hyunjin lived only a block away from him, so he knew the only reason was so his friend could get a look at you. Cursing himself for his overly-enthusiastic recounting of your gorgeous body- only having seen the lower half so far, he pushed Hyunjin towards the opposite end of the fork dividing the paths between both of their residences.

When he returned home, he cracked open a can of beer, bringing it to his lips as he looked out his window, once again catching a glimpse of you. He quite literally spit out the liquid he was holding in his mouth, as his gaze was met with your ass pointed directly towards him, your back arched towards the floor, and arms outstretched while you contorted your body into what seemed to be a yoga pose. He silently praised whatever god might exist for you leaving your curtains open, and wearing the shortest compression shorts, as he stared- dumbfounded. He could literally see the outline of your pussy, leaving barely anything to his imagination. He wasn’t proud of it at all, but simply his memory would not suffice. He just had to snap a pic. He laid down on his bed as he pulled down the waistband of his joggers. Staring at his new favorite picture,

He began to slowly stroke himself as his imagination ran wild.

This time, you were doing yoga on your balcony when you caught him staring. You didn’t seem mad, quite the opposite, however, as he watched you sit down and part your legs, not breaking eye contact as you shoved your fingers in your mouth, slowly sucking on them. He watched you leisurely trail your other hand down your chest, squeezing your right breast, and releasing a pretty moan muffled by your fingers as you grazed over your nipple. He wondered how your moans would really sound. Would they be as needy as he’s picturing them right now? He hoped he would get the chance to find out. He imagined you releasing your spit-covered hand from your mouth, placing it on your inner thigh and leaving wet trails as it inched further and further to your puffy cunt, obstructed by your tight compression shorts. Still not breaking eye contact with him, you slid the garment to the side, as well as the tiny red thong you wore underneath in his fantasy. Giving him a mouth-watering view of your dripping heat, you plunged two fingers in, gasping at the feeling of fullness. You closed your eyes as you slowly pumped in and out, letting the quietest whimpers grace his ears. You lifted your head and offered him a sexy smirk, beckoning him to “come here” with your two glistening fingers. He brought his hand to his mouth, spitting into it and resuming its position wrapped around his needy cock. The added lubrication allowed him to increase his pace- still careful not to go too fast and risk missing out on the best parts of his scenario again.

He started to let out a few breathy whines as he imagined himself knocking on your door. You answered quickly, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him in before closing the door, and leading him to your bedroom. He kicked off his shoes somewhere along the way, and you sat on the edge of your bed, instructing him to kneel on the floor between your thighs. He trailed sloppy, open mouthed kisses up your inner thighs as you tangled your hand in his curls. He broke away to remove your shorts and thong, giving him a clear view of your arousal. He caught a whiff of your sweet scent, flattening his tongue and slowly lapping up towards your clit. You responded by pulling on his hair and grinding yourself against his face, causing him to release a deep moan, the vibration had you shuttering against him. He slipped his ring finger in, the cold metal of his ring contrasting with the warmth of your walls caused your eyes to roll back. You let out a loud moan as his middle finger joined the other inside you, relishing in the juxtaposition of slight pain and pleasure, as he stretched you out. You used his fingers to fuck yourself towards him, allowing his undivided attention to focus on sucking and circling your clit. This had you absolutely reeling, crushing his head between your thighs and coming undone, rewarding him with the most filthy, sinful, screams as his face was coated with your sweet nectar. He looked up at you as he sensually plunged his fingers into his mouth, licking up your release, and groaning at the taste. Your eyes glistened as he stood up, looking down at you as you returned his gaze through your lashes. You lowered your focus to the tent in his sweatpants, taking in the perfect outline of his curvature as you parted your legs and begged- no, pleaded with him to fuck you. You promised you’d be good for him, make him feel good, let him use you. The incoherent mumbling faltered as he sandwiched himself between your legs, and pulled his waistband down- his hard, leaking dick slapping against your abdomen. He hoisted your legs over his shoulders, keeping a strong grip on them as he finally plunged himself deep into your soaked cunt. He allowed you to adjust yourself to the stretch, choking out a guttural groan and a “fuck.. noona!” (He has no idea how old you are, he just has a little bit of a fixation on the idea of you being slightly older than him. He’ll unpack that another time.) As he imagined feeling you clench around him- and he felt his cock twitch violently in his hand- he blew his load all over himself, feeling the warm liquid coating his fingers and abs.

Panting heavily, he still couldn’t look away from his phone in his grip, displaying the picture he took of you. He wanted -needed- to know what it was like to see you up close in the same position. After taking a few moments to collect himself, he walked past his window on the way to the fridge. Seeing you sitting in front of your computer, back tensed in what appeared to be frustration, he tried to maneuver his vision around you to get a peek at what you were working on. He figured you were an artist, as you had all kinds of equipment set up around your living room- canvases, easels, and a cart full of what appeared to be paintbrushes and paints. He wanted to see if you were working on a digital art piece, and nearly came in his pants when he finally caught a view of your computer, instantly recognizing the images on your screen. You weren’t working on art, you were playing Miroh- his current favorite MMORPG. He opened his phone camera and zoomed in to try to get a better view of the game. Adrenaline surged in his chest as he saw the familiar Octo-Cyclops he has beaten countless times. In fact, he helped many players through that dungeon in the Miroh discord server he was an active member in. This was his time to shine. He captured a picture of your screen, hoping to make out your username. Sure enough, it was legible.

He practically sprinted to his computer and logged into the game, quickly typing in your tag and requesting to join your party, which you immediately accepted. He got to work preparing his inventory and chuckled to himself when you sent him a cute emote to thank him in advance for helping. At the third stage of the boss fight, he was playing defensively- letting you take the brunt of most of the attacks while he conserved his mana for a healing spell. As he watched your health bar start to deplete, he was preparing to heal you when you unmuted to beg him for help in the sweetest voice. He smirked as he released the spell, effectively restoring your health and mana, allowing you to fire off your last two attacks, defeating the boss. He smiled to himself as he heard your sailor-mouthed victory chant. Browsing his inventory for his rarest extra weapon skin, he attached it to the friend request he sent you before logging off and heading to bed. He was overflowing with pride with himself for being able to send you a nice gesture, even if it was anonymously.

[blue-sadie]

Second Star To The Right

Harry Hook x Darling Reader

Summary: being Wendy Darling's daughter, traveling along with the few vks to retrieve Mal now to save ben and finally meeting the hooks son, he's more handsome then you expected.

Warning: soulmate au

Yn/2rd person pov

The cold winds of the Isle sent chills down your spine, the salty small of the ocean and rotten fish made your nose crinkle it was very different to auradon.

"Evie" my eyes frantically looked around "Carlos" my voice started to waver they were no where in sight I starting backing up until I hit a hard surface my breath hitching.

"well hello there darling" I slowly looked up to see deep blue eyes staring down into mine, I quickly moved away turning to the mysterious man my eyes immediately finding the hook he was holding in his hand.

"your hooks son" my eyes narrowed as I spoke slowly stepping back until I bumped into a wall he chuckled bowing his head his eyes staring up at me with the glint of amusement he nodded before walking up to me and leaning against the wall his hand right next to my head.

"and who might you be princess" he purred bringing up the hook to caress my cheek but I turned away and pushing him away causing him to stumble a bit "feisty aren't we princess" he smirked.

I growled before quickly grabbing my dagger from its holt and bringing the tip of the blade to his neck "I am no princess hook" I spat his eyes flashed with fear before returning to the glint of amusement.

He tilted his head while laughing "by the dagger I can tell, you must be the darlings daughter, I should kill you where you stand" his eyes looked me up and down slowly as he spoke, I growled grabbing him and pushing him up against the wall he had me against.

I pressed the dagger along the skin of his neck "I dare you to try" the sneer on my face was clearly shown as I pressed the blade harder to his skin fear starting to appear in his eyes.

His eyes flickered around looking for something to help him his eyes locking onto the small symbol that was bearly covered by my hair "I that your mark" he asked tilting his head to get a better view.

"And so what if it is" I muttered using my other hand to move my hair a low chuckle radiated out of his throat as he cocked his head to the side his eyes holding amusement.

"so your my soulmate" his voice held a hint of venom as he my eyes widened but quickly narrowed as I pulled him away from the wall and slammed him back into it.

"don't you dare lie" I snapped my nails starting to dig into his skin making him wince in pain his chest starting to raise and fall bit faster at the increase of his breathe.

"look under my shirt and you'd see for yourself love" he said the one side of his mouth twitching upwards I grunted letting go of his hands and almost ripping his shirt open.

My breathe paused as I saw it right infront of me "I think I deserve an apology don't you think" but I couldn't respond I was frozen my mind whirled with millions of thoughts and scenarios how was he my soulmate.

I heard him sigh in annoyance before his hand to my chin and forcing me to look up at him "I guess ill just take it myself" he said before pushing his lips to mine my eyes widened in shock and he chuckled once he pulled back.

His eyes flickered between my eyes and lips his tongue darted out licking his lips slightly before turning to leave, he started to walking back where he came from.

"enjoy your stay darling"

[axelsagewrites]

Jamie Lannister*Extra Credit

Pairing: proffesor!Jamie x f!student!reader

Kinktober Day thirty: teacher student au with Jamie Lannister – he knew it was wrong to ask you to stay after class but after one too many short, short skirts he could no longer keep his thoughts at bay

Word count: 3014

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

There was not a student who didn’t groan when they realised, they were stuck with Professor Lannister. The only saving grace was hot fit he was, well that’s what he heard the students whisper about him while they waited for him to begin the lecture. He was strict, he knew that, but he thought fair. After all, if you just did the work what is the issue? Even if he pilled the work sky high.

He’d been teaching here for five years now with no issues. Not a single problem. That was till your flashy legs waltzed into his class with a short, pleated skirt and iced coffee in hand three minutes late. “Sorry professor,” you said, squeezing past him as he went to lock the door like he did at four minutes past every lesson. He had no time for late commers.

The students who saw his eyes follow you assumed it was a glare of contempt and feared for your next mark, but Jamie was trying desperately not to let his eyes wander down before turning his attention back to the door.

“Welcome to Military History 101 I am Jamie Lannister, your professor, and I accept nothing but greatness so if you came here for an easy pass,” he said, letting his eyes wander around the room, basking in the scent of nervous freshman sweat, “you are in for an uphill battle,” he said, his eyes landing on you. “And don’t even think of trying to make up for mediocrity with extra credit since I don’t do it,” he added making half the freshman groan.

You however seemed unfazed. You were scrawling in a notebook, pink pen with fluffy top in perfectly manicured hand, and a smirk tugging on your lip at the last line. Jamie felt himself swallow hard as he realised it was not just his students who’d be fighting uphill this year.

Every lesson you did not fail to disappoint. You came in exactly 3 minutes past with a coffee cup in hand just before he would lock the door. he wondered if it was deliberately spiteful or if you just enjoyed squeezing past him. Only once did you ever show up in sweats and the way the juicy letters hung over your ass had just as much of an affect on him as your favourite short skirts.

Usually, you left as the bell rang however as all the tired zombie freshman shuffled out, he noticed you lingering back with a friend before waving them off and walking up to him. “Sir?” you asked, not noticing the shockwave the word sent through your professor. “I was needing some help on something,”

Jamie however was thinking of the ways you could help his growing trouser problem he discussed by pulling his chair closer to his desk, “What seems to be the matter?”

“It’s the assignment due Monday. I was wondering if I could submit it Friday instead?” you asked, no reasoning, no added context. Just asking with a pretty smile.

Usually, Jamie would scoff or roll his eyes but for a moment, perhaps just to be able to see your face up close a few moments longer, he entertained it, “May I ask why? Do you plan on nursing a hangover this weekend?” he asked, raising an eyebrow but you only chuckled at his words.

“No professor. It’s basically done I just know I can make it perfect with an extra couple days. After all you said you expected nothing but greatness,” the smirk on your lips should’ve been your cocky nail in the coffin but Jamie couldn’t tell if he respected your thought process or just wanted to feel what those lips could do.

He chuckled lightly, leaning back in his chair, “Do you think the Targaryen’s got an extension when they decided to conquer Dorne?”

“No,” you said, tilting your head to the side, “but I thought setting the classroom alight would send the wrong message,”

Another chuckle left him. Gods he was mentally hitting himself for that. At least no one else was here to watch him grow soft because of a random college girl. He paused, allowing his eyes to scan your face before snapping himself from his daze, “Fine. But you better deliver on your word,”

“I always do,” you grinned, “Thank you sir, I’ll see you later,” you said before turning to leave. Jamie allowed himself to watch how your hips swayed out the door however as soon as it closed his head fell back and he groaned loudly as he contemplated whether the things, he imagined doing to you were morally wrong. After all you were his student.

Sure, as fate he got your essay in on Friday and decided to mark it as soon as the class had ended. He sat back in his chair shocked at the 99% he wrote in red ink on top of the paper. When Monday came the freshman nerves raced through the room as the waited for their papers to be handed out. Jamie usually delighted in telling them he’d hand them out as they were leaving but today, he was bored and hungover from a long weekend with his brother who had tried to find him girls to get his mind off of you.

However, as he was calling out names and handing them their papers as they scurried out the door Jamie found himself moving your paper to the side. “Robb Stark,” Jamie called the second last name and the Stark boy all but flung himself out his chair to grab his paper, sighing of relief when he saw the 89% on the corner.

“Its okay if you didn’t get round to mine,” You said, standing from your chair as Robb left the room.

Today it was a short red, black plaid skirt that clung to your hips that swayed as you walked down the stairs of the lecture hall to his desk. The black high neck top should have in theory been modest, but it made your chest pop in a way he wondered if was intentional. “I did,” he said, letting his eyes scan your body for a moment, as discreetly as a desperate man could. “I must say you live up to your word,” he said as he held out the paper.

He saw a real smile, though small, cross your lips at the red pen. “Thank you, sir,”

“Don’t thank me, you did the work,” he said, moving to sit on the corner of his desk, “Though next time I expect it to be in on time,”

“Of course, sir,” you said, moving to tuck the paper into your backpack which gave him another chance to look at the curves of your hips. however, your light laugh snapped him out of his dirty thoughts as he realised, he had been caught. Before he could stutter anything out you spoke again, “Do you have a girlfriend sir?” you asked, eyelashes batting.

Jamie stammered for a moment before laughing, trying to cover himself but failing miserably, “No I don’t um why do you ask?” he eventually managed out.

You shrugged, shoving your backpack over your shoulder, “Just wondering is all,” you smiled before turning to leave. Like second nature his eyes moved to your ass however just as you turned back to say, “Bye sir,” with a smirk before shutting the door behind yourself. He was officially fucked.

A few weeks had past, and Jamie wondered if everyone in the room could feel the tension or if it was just him. He was sat in his office grading papers for his post grad class when a knock came from the door. “Come in,” he called, not looking up from his papers.

“Sir?” his head snapped up at the sound of your voice, “I was wondering if you could help me with something,” you said, holding an open notebook in your hand. Jamie nodded but you had already came in, moving to stand beside him behind his desk. Even when not in class you were still in one of those schoolgirl skirts and Jamie wondered how many you could possibly own.

“I was wondering if this argument seems right,” you said, placing the notebook on his desk. Jamie leaned forward, his eyes attempting to scan the page, but he could feel the way you leaned in, watching his movements. However, he didn’t see the way your eyes scanned his body and the way his perfectly tailored trousers showed his bulge or how sexy his arms looked with the sleeves messily pushed up.

Jamie did his best to talk his way through the argument, explaining in monotonous details where you had gone right and wrong all while feeling your hot breath tickle his skin. “Does that help?” he asked, looking up at you before realising how close your lips were.

They curved into a smile as you leaned in only to grab your notebook and stand up. He knew you were teasing him, he just knew, but how was a man supposed to cope with this? “Yeah, it does. Thank you, sir,”

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asked, leaning back in his chair as he looked up at you.

Your eyes fell from a moment, your tongue briefly wetting your lips, “I don’t know sir. Is there?” you asked, looking up again through heavy lashes.

Jamie felt something snap in himself. he moved before he thought and soon his hand was on the back of your neck and his lips were slammed against yours. the kiss had caught you off guard, but it didn’t take long for you to catch up, your hands moving to pull at his hair making Jamie groan into the kiss.

He moved the chair back, not breaking the kiss, as you moved to climb into his lap. His hands moved to squeeze your ass, moaning against your lips as his tongue slipped in not that you would have stopped him. Your hips moved, grinding yourself down onto his hard bulge making his fingers dig in deeper.

Jamie broke the kiss. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked, his voice ragged as his hot breath fanned across your face making your skin tingle.

“Do you not want to?” you asked, your lips moving to kiss along his sharp jaw.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hands slipping up to the small of your back, pressing your body against his, “You know you won’t get extra credit for this?” he asked.

You giggled against his skin, lifting your head to face him as your hands slid to his shoulders, “I don’t need the extra credit. Just you,” you added, your eyes flickering down to his shirt, your hands slowly moving the unbutton the top button.

Jamie watched you silently as you undid 3 of his buttons before suddenly standing, his arms hooked around your thighs. You gasped as you felt your butt hit the desk and Jamies bulge press against your clothed core. His lips crashed down onto yours, his hands sliding beneath your skirt to finally feel your hips properly.

Your legs wrapped around him, pulling him in closer making him grind against you, his bulge rubbing against your clit. Your fingers scrambled to undo his buttons, quickly making there way down till they were all undone and you were able to run your hands along his toned abs.

His hand squeezed your thigh before slipping between your legs, rubbing your clit over your panties making you moan lightly into the kiss. This only made him want this more as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric, running a digit up your slit, “So wet for me,” he mumbled against your lips, “Such a good girl,” he praised sending a spark through your core.

Before you could try come up with a sassy comment or teasing remark you gasped as he pushed two fingers in slowly, stretching you out perfectly. His lips moved to your neck, kissing down all the exposed skin he could as his fingers began to curl perfectly as his thumb moved to rub slow circles onto your clit.

You felt your hips begin to buck, his free hand moving to hold them down against the desk as you felt a growing knot in your stomach. You could feel your orgasm quickly approaching but you didn’t wait so long for a bit of fingering. Your hand moved to grab his wrist, feeling just how strong he was as you did. He lifted his head, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, “I need you. please sir,” you whined, your voice strained as you felt yourself clench around his fingers.

Jamie muttered curses under his breath and if you didn’t see him unbuckling his belt you’d wonder if you had taken it too far. Suddenly a look of defeat dawned on his face, “Fuck I don’t have a- “

“I’m on the pill just please,” you practically begged, grabbing his bicep and squeezing it lightly, “please just fuck me already,” you’d barely got the words out before he had his cock in his hand.

It looked painfully hard, but you didn’t look long as you felt his lips against yours again and felt him line himself up, rubbing his tip over your clit making you whimper against his lips. He knew what he was doing, you realised, but so did you. perhaps the way he slowly pushed his tip in then out again was pay back for all the short skirts you’d deliberately worn just for him.

“Please,” you whined against his lips.

You felt them curl into a smirk, “I like when you beg,” he mumbled, pressing his tip in again. “Been imagining this all semester. Bending you over a table right in the middle of class,” he said, finally pushing in deeper making you whimper, “Bet you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Yes sir,” you moaned as you tighten your legs around his waist, trying to pull him in deeper.

“Fucking love when you call me that,” he said, his eyes closing tight as your cunt squeezed around him, still not fully in, “and these skirts of yours. tiny fucking skirts. For a good girl you really are such a tease, aren’t you?” he said, finally pushing all the way in before giving you a second to adjust. He waited a moment before adding, “I asked you a question,”

“Yes sir,” you said, your voice shaky as he got his revenge on all your teasing.

Jamie smirked again, that annoying cocky smirk you loved so much, “Good girl,” he said before suddenly beginning his thrusts. His hips snapped at a perfect pace, deliberately hard so he could watch your tits bounce under your shirt.

Deciding he’d looked at them over the fabric too long he reached out, pulling the t-shirt up above your tits to reveal a pretty red bra you’d chosen for the occasion. It only made his pace grow harder.

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, trying to keep your moans down but it became hard as you felt his hand move so he could rub quick circles into your already sensitive bundle of nerves. You could feel orgasm rapidly approaching as your legs wrapped tight around his waist, making his thrusts even deeper.

The groans and grunts coming from his lips only worked to spear you on as Jamie felt his eyes tighten as he desperately tried not to cum in two seconds. His hands moved from your hips to your tits, groping them over your bra and seriously wishing he had done this sooner. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold off for as he felt your walls tighten around him.

“Fuck I can’t I’m gonna,” you panted, your moans hard to contain. His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you forward so your head landed in the crook of his shoulder. The new position allowing him to hit a new spot that had you muffling moans into his skin. You felt the knot in your stomach explode as your teeth sunk into his skin as your orgasm crashed down around you.

Jamie however was not far behind, and his thrusts became more sporadic as he chased his high. As you came down from your own you could feel his muscles tighten. You placed a kiss to the skin you had bitten just as you heard Jamie gasp out curse words before feeling him finish.

His head crashed into the crook of your shoulder as he caught his breath. “That was- just fuck, wow,” he panted, his voice hoarse as he lifted his head to look at you.

“Yeah,” you smiled, a dopey fucked out your mind smile that just made Jamie wish he could do this over and over again.

Suddenly Jamie remembered where he was though with a panicked, “Fuck,” as he quickly opened his desk drawer and grabbed some tissues to help clean you up.

As you jumped off his desk, readjusting your skirt and pulling your top back down, he quickly worked on the buttons of his shirts. You glanced at his desk, noticing the crumbled paper you had accidentally ended up on, “Sorry about that,” you grimaced but Jamie just laughed.

“Don’t worry about it. that kids a cunt anyway,” he said making you laugh as well.

You picked up the notebook you had used as an excuse to enter his office in the first place and headed for the door, “Thanks for the help, sir,”

“Anytime love,” Jamie said, settling back into his chair like nothing had happened. Part of you wondered later on that night if it had really happened or if it had just been one amazing sexed out fever dream. That was until you got the email saying extra credit had been applied to your course. you couldn’t help but laugh as you settled in for the night, wondering what else you’d pretend to struggle with to end up in that office.

Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy @valeskafics @asgards-princess-of-mischief

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

[22:45]

AN: Maybe I should actually challenge myself to write something with Josh being a genuinely nice/good guy lmao. Also, I finished and edited this while sleepy sooo.

General tags and warnings: Joshua Hong x Fem! Reader, roommates AU, enemies to enemies who fuck and cheating is brought up but, no actual cheating occurs.

Smut tags and warnings: Sadistic Dom! Joshua, masochist sub! Reader, edging (f. receiving), face slapping (f. receiving), Reader cries a bit, Daddy kink, thigh riding, degradation (f. receiving), humiliation (f. receiving), choking (f. receiving), Josh has a cheating kink sort of and dirty talk.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You're late. You know you've been running late for some time now. The momentary vibrations you hear from your phone on the coffee table lets you know that your friends are likely wondering where you are. You can practically see Mingyu's frustrated face in your mind. 

“I'm sorry, am I boring you?” 

Joshua's sarcastic tone snaps you out of thoughts of your friends and all of the alcohol you're missing out on. A long anticipated night of catching up interrupted by your aggravating roommate and your inability to say no to him. 

“Shu–Shut up,” you hiss, digging your manicured nails into his broad shoulders. His responding chuckle lets you know that he couldn't care less about your little retaliation tactic. The large hand on your ass remains firm, forcing you to rock yourself on his dress pant covered thigh. The same thigh he's been edging you with for god knows how long. It's covered in your wetness. The evidence that you don't quite hate Joshua as much as you'd hoped. He doesn't seem bothered in the slightest that you're likely ruining his too expensive pants. His attention focused on making you ruin the panties he hasn't let you take off yet. 

“What?” He starts, flexing his thigh and delighting in the way you gasp and chase the more tangible friction it offers, “Are we going to pretend you don't get off to my voice now?” He asks, lidded eyes never leaving your face. Determined to drink in as many of your fucked out expressions as he can. 

“I don't–” 

A sharper gasp leaves your bruised lips when you feel the familiar smack of his hand on your cheek. It stings. Tears welling in your eyes while your pussy is forced to clench and unclench painfully around nothing and dribble more of your arousal onto him. 

The knot in the pit of your gut tightens when that same hand grabs your face, forcing you to meet his stormy gaze, “I thought you knew better than to lie to me,” he coos condescendingly, his thumb wiping away the few tears that spill from your eyes. Fuck. This is always the worst part. The juxtaposition. The pain radiating from your cheek coupled with the gentle way he touches your face makes your head spin and your clit throb. 

“I–I'm sorry,” you whimper out once the words find you. Grasping at his pristine button down while your hips chase the barest bits of friction his thigh offers. You can see his smile clear as day even through your teary eyes. If he wasn't such an asshole, you'd think it was cute. However, you learned a long time ago that nothing about Joshua is cute. Your nails dig into his shirt when he presses into your freshly slapped cheek, eyes glinting when you shudder on him and grind your pussy harder against his thigh. 

“I'm sorry what?” 

Embarrassment burns hot in your gut and, the shame mixed with the pain pushes you so close to cumming that you can taste it if you try hard enough. 

“Come on, are you really going to get all shy on me now?” He asks with a raise of his eyebrow, an expression that would look incredibly stupid on anyone else in this situation. You feel his blunt nails dig into the thickest part of your ass, halting your movements and you've never wanted to cry from frustration more. That would just get him off though. “You do know I can feel the way you're soaking and humping my thigh like a bitch in heat, right? We don't have to play this game.” He finishes, relaxing against your shared couch and waiting for you to just say it. 

You've said it before. You know you like it. Maybe he'll even let you finally cum if you do. The thought more than enough to send your walls fluttering and your heart hammering in your chest. 

“I'm sorry, Daddy.” 

His grip on your face grows harsh and he drags you into a messy kiss while his other hand relaxes and lets you continue riding his thigh. “See,” he pants against your mouth, his eyes heavy with want, “Was that so hard?” 

‘Yes. Yes, it was’ you want to snark back but, you know better. You know he wouldn't think twice about leaving you like this for days and not letting you cum until you're banging at his door and are forced to face his obnoxiously smug expression. 

“N–No, Daddy,” you pant, the tangled mess of tension in the pit of your stomach growing taut with every drag of your clit on him and, the way his fingers map their way down your face. 

“See, it's so easy when you shut the fuck up and do what I tell you to,” the sweetness in his tone makes your head spin, worsening the haze in your mind. Which isn't helped by his fingers wrapping themselves around your neck and applying pressure. You're pretty sure your eyes roll into the back of your head and your movements grow more desperate, more pathetic. 

“No cumming yet,” he orders into your ear, his other hand appreciatively kneading your ass. Despite your best efforts, a whine of frustration leaves your swollen lips and the glint in his eyes returns. 

“Are you complaining?” He drawls, pressing down harder and delighting in the way you quiver on his thigh and attempt to steady yourself with his broad chest.

“N–No, Daddy,” you rush out because you really don't know how much more of this you can take. You're so wet and swollen and, everything hurts. 

“Good,” he responds. “Maybe I should edge you for another hour,” the thought makes tears well up in your eyes and your stomach drop in a way that isn't wholly unpleasant, “Send you wet and aching to your little boyfriend,” he muses into your ear, thumbing your jugular. 

“He–He's not m–my boy ah friend,” you respond in frustration, hoping the image of your friend that pops up in your mind vanishes quickly. You'd rather not think about him right now. 

“You sure about that? The way he trails after you like a lost puppy would say otherwise.” 

“Ch–Cheol doesn't do th–that,” you huff, the knife in your gut twisting when he nips at your earlobe as you maintain a pace that doesn't send you careening over the edge before he permits you to. 

“You can't be that naïve,” he says with a smile, “He practically looks at you with hearts in his eyes. He'd be so crushed to see his precious girl getting wet from a few slaps and making a mess on my thigh,” he continues with faux sympathy for Seungcheol. He doesn't give you a moment to think about the idea of Seungcheol having feelings for you. Joshua has always been fond of pushing you just to see how you break. “I bet he'd treat you so nicely. Make love to you in missionary while whispering sweet nothing in your ear about how much he loves you and how pretty you are,” he whispers, “but you don't want that right? That's why you keep crawling back to Daddy. You want someone who'll treat you like the slut you are. Who'll choke you while you cry on his cock. Who'll make you call him Daddy knowing it makes you feel embarrassed. Who'll fuck you nice and hard until you're sore and leaking with cum.” 

You fucking hate him.

You hate the way your mind grows hazier with every gravelly word he whispers into your ear. You hate the way your pussy clamps down fiercely around nothing. You hate the way that you're so close and you need to fist his shirt in your hands just to help ground yourself and not cum because he hasn't said you can yet.  Air rushes to your brain almost too quickly for you to handle. His hand drifting from your throat to the apex of your thighs. You choke on a jumbled mess of ‘Daddy’ and ‘fuck’ when his thick fingers drag themselves along your ruined panties, “I have a much better idea. I'll send you to him with your pussy filled with my cum.”

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Seventeen Masterlist | Ko-Fi

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Tear You Apart Prequel✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: The prequel is finally here! It came to me out of nowhere today while I was listening to “Wait” by Knuckle Puck on a loop. Now that, my friends, is the power of music. I love this little series so much, and it’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever written! I love getting into the pit of Joel’s grief and showing that underneath all the hardness is just a soft man that wants someone to understand him 🥹 He deserves all the love.

Pairing: Outbreak! Joel x fem! reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Word Count: 2.3k

Chapter Summary: This is where it all began, the first time you ever met Joel. He’s mean, rough around the edges, but you see through him. You feel his grief as much as you feel your own.

Chapter Tags: Outbreak au, Joel captures reader, dark! Joel, tender moments, grief, angst, tension, Joel needs a big hug

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

 The sharp rope scratches at your skin as you try to free your bondaged wrists from behind your back. You rock against the wooden chair and grit your teeth together as you bite back the urge to scream. It’d be no use. You’re under his watch, under his control, under his eyes. Those dark black pits that are filled with nothing but regret that devours his eyes, feeds on his soul like a pit of ash and nightmares. A monster that devours anything he can control, anything he can get his calloused fingers on. 

   He wants control, he thinks he has it, but that’s not the case. Not exactly. Because control is a weakness. He’s just a man that’s ruined from a dark world who has nothing left but his own misery to spread to anyone he can claw his jagged nails into. He wants others to feel exactly how he feels. Grief can do that, can change a man into a blood sucking monster. And that’s exactly what he is, the worst kind of them. Vengeful, disconnected, full of regret, used. Just like you are. 

   You watch him stalk around you, circling you like a vulture as he glides his calloused fingers over your skin. You see the way he moves. Slow, concentrated, shoulders hunched as the green flannel clings to his broad chest. Dangerous, dark, unkind. That’s all he shows, all he knows. 

   “Let me go,” you demand as you scrape your skin against the rough bindings and hiss when you feel blood against your wrists. 

   He clicks his tongue and ends right in front of you as he picks up a piece of your hair. “I don’t think so,” he chuckles darkly as he continues circling slowly. “You gonna tell me what you were doin’ outside my house in the middle of the night? Tryin’ to steal somethin’ from me, hmm?” 

   “No, I wasn’t stealing anything…”

   “Liar!” His voice is blaring, echoing through the tiny basement that’s dark and filled with cold cement walls. Only a little light shines in the center of the room. Just enough to see the scowl that’s stretched across his angry face. 

   “I’m not lying, if you’d only just listen to me!” You fight back, your face burning fiery red as you try to pull free of your bindings again, but it’s no use. You’re stuck.  

   “I don’t listen to filthy little liars, sweetheart. Should’ve never come around these parts of the woods. It’ll only get you hurt,” he grins as dark eyes fill the dim room. 

   He slowly slides his fingers down your arm like a sly snake as you feel the bristles of callouses catch against your glistening skin. His skin is warm, burning into yours as you feel the fingerprints imprint into your forearm. He kneels down in between your legs as he rests one hand on your thigh, slowly opening the other as he settles between your legs. And then he looks up at you. That same unattached stare that belongs to the skin of a lone wolf. 

   “So, jus’ what am I gonna do with you, hmm?” he asks as he glides his fingers over your dark denim jeans. “Maybe paint the inside of your thighs white? Maybe sit you on my lap and have a little fun with you? Maybe…”

   You shut him up as you inhale and spit into his face as a glob of your saliva lands in one of his eyes. You see him flare his nostrils as he wipes the spit off with his flannel sleeve and starts chuckling under his breath. “Oh, I like a little fight in a girl. Kinda turns me on more.”

   Before you can react, he shoots up and grabs the back of your hair as he pulls hard and forces your eyes up. You grimace in pain as he pulls tighter. You look anywhere but at his eyes, so you just stare at his worn leather boots. 

   “Look at me,” he demands with gritted teeth as you feel his hot breath blow against the side of your neck. You turn your face and shake your head as you refuse to follow his strict orders. 

   He pulls tighter against your hair as you cringe and feel a cold teardrop lick at the corner of your eye. You can’t give in, can’t give in to him. You hear him growl loudly as he pulls and snarls a harsh order at you, “LOOK AT ME.”

   You feel the tear run down your cheek as you carefully move your eyes to look at him, your eyebrows knit together in frustration as you stare coldly at the man that holds you captive. His nostrils flare, dark eyes burning into yours as you take a real good look at him for the very first time. 

   He’s so run down looking, tired, just like the broken watch that sits clasped around his left wrist. The hard lines paint maps across his wrinkled forehead, an old scar sits burning across the top of his right eye, his salt-and-pepper scruff is rugged looking as some of his thick, tousled strands of hair fall down into his dark eyes. His green flannel is worn, just like his dust covered boots weighing him down to the ground. And his eyes. There’s sadness, remorse, regret lying in those chocolate eyes. Eyes that beg for someone to take him out of his misery. Eyes that plead for goodness but are weighed down by the hardness of the sick world. Eyes that beg someone to feel everything he does. Eyes that scream for help. 

   He keeps a tight hold of you, fingers still locked around your hair as he pins you in place, the weight of his body sinking against yours as you feel the roughness of his beard slide against the side of your cheek. Before you know what you’re doing, you speak. “It’s all about control with you, isn’t it? You want someone to control because you can’t control what’s going on around you in this apocalyptic world. You want someone to blame, someone to use to take your own misery out on. Is that right?” 

   His dark pupils expand as he snarls against your face, his fingers gripping harder as your head snaps up and pain radiates through your skull. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ ‘bout, sweetheart. Better watch your mouth,” he growls as pain shoots down your neck.

   You see the glisten of the broken glass on his watch, wonder why he wears a broken watch in the first place. It hits you like a hurricane crashing against a weak structure, spiraling your insides as if you feel his pain radiate down your body. He lost something dear to him, went through waves of pain you can only imagine. Just like you lost everything in your life. 

   He grabs another handful of hair until you shout into his weathered face. “I know what it’s like to lose something! You’ve lost someone, haven’t you?”

   His snarl lessens as his narrowed eyes relax, his grip on you growing lighter as he breathes in steady breathes. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he bites back as you see pain as clear as day in his distant eyes. The dark flecks floating around like pieces of the past as loss is etched in shades of dark brown throughout his irises.

   “That’s why you do this, isn’t it? You need the control, need to feel something other than the loss you carry. Need someone to fasten yourself to as you let the pain slip from your fingers so you can pour it out to strangers so they can feel that bit of pain you carry every single day.”

   His eyes widen, his breath hitching as the weight of your words crashes over him. A realization taking form as his jaw ticks and his thick fingers run down to the edge of your hair. There’s no more pulling, just the mere brush of his fingertips against your thick hair. 

   “You want to do something to me? Fine, do your worst. But at the end of the day, it’s you that chooses to be a monster. You are the one in control.”

   His eyes grow large as his breathing goes shallow. He drops the grip on your hair and stands abruptly as he paces the floor while raking a large hand through his scruff. He looks conflicted, torn up, ruined as he paces and paces the cement floor. 

   His body stills as he turns and looks at you, his eyes full of regret and sadness as the glint of tears wash over his deep brown eyes. He flexes his hand into a tight fist and clenches his jaw as he huffs out frustrated and grabs a sharp knife from the corner of the room. You freeze up until you realize he’s cutting your bindings free as the tattered rope falls to the floor. 

   “Go on. Get out of here. Leave,” he growls as he nods his head toward the rusty stairs and gives your shoulder a slight push.

   “But I…”

   “LEAVE!”

   You stumble over to the staircase and start to move, but after the first rusty creak of the stair you can’t help but to look back at the man that burns with pain. You see him pacing back and forth slowly, his face is so tormented. You almost feel bad for him. Almost. 

   You cautiously step back off the stairs and slowly walk over to him as you shakily reach out a hand. You see his tense shoulders, his lowered head as he holds his hands over his face. That’s when you feel it. The sheer grief that plagues him night after night. You feel it burning deep in your soul as you stare at his weathered features. He’s so lost, scared. 

   You ever so slowly lift a hand and place it softly over the back of his shoulder, holding your breath as you’re sure he’ll knock you down to the floor. He turns sharply your way, and that’s when you see the glisten of tears in his eyes, a shade of dark blue that covers his entire being. Wrecked. He’s so wrecked. 

   “I see you. You’re not as alone as you think you are,” you whisper as you let your hand linger timidly on his broad shoulder for just a few more seconds. He stares at it, conflicted features running over his worn face and then slowly turns toward you, eyes the color of chestnut brown. He flinches when you finally drop your hand to your side and step back out of his reach. 

   His lip quivers, jaw clenching as tight as a fist as he stares at you with big chocolate eyes that glisten with held back tears. You know this pain, the unbearable agony of losing someone so close as they slip through your fingers and never return to the light of day. You know he’s hurting. You know.

   You think of running your fingers over his patchy scruff but quickly talk yourself out of it, afraid he might snap at you again. One more look at dark eyes and you’re backing up, turning back to the staircase as you start to tread up heavy steps. 

   You hear him take a step toward you, hear his leather boots scuff against the hard ground as you look down and see the man with burning eyes. He looks like he wants to say something, looks like he might ask you to stay, but he stays silent. So you go, flee up the stairs, back to a semblance of peace.

   Before you turn the old brass doorknob, you look back and find him looking in awe at you, his breathing ragged and his mouth parted open with bloodshot eyes. Eyes that beg you to stay. 

   “You know, you’re not really the monster you think you are.” His jaw goes slack, his arms heavy at his sides as he stares wide-eyed at you. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch, he just stares. Weepy eyes that cry out for just one soul to listen. You hear him though. You hear him.

   You grip your raw, torn up wrists and feel the pain simmer down to your bones. This is the pain he must feel, too. The pain you might just understand. Maybe that’s why you almost stay, almost turn and reach for him again like you could take his pain away. But you don’t. At least not this time.

   Before you overstay your welcome, you turn the cold doorknob and push past the opening as you flee the house that holds pain and regret. You slip your way outside and disappear into the thick trees, leaving just enough traces of footsteps for him to find you again. 

   This wasn’t the end. No. This was the very beginning, a beautiful cycle that’d keep spinning, a whirlwind of you and Joel. The moment everything changed. He claimed you from the beginning, the very minute he let you out of those ropes. It wasn’t over. 

   He’d find you again, hunt you down till he got his hands on you again. A little lamb that would feed the hungry wolf. A lone wolf that needed to feel again. And you were it. The undoing to his starving form. For he was just a man who longed to rid himself of all the suffering and pain he experienced day after day. You were exactly what he needed. It was you. So he’d follow you through the trees, track you down till he could taste nothing but you. You were the little lamb he desired, craved. And god, did he need you. He needed you…

Tagging some of you that read part 1 🩷 @janaispunk @amyispxnk @mountainsandmayhem @littlevenicebitch69 @lotusbxtch @keylimebeag @untamedheart81 @bbyanarchist @bishtrouille @vividispunk @vivian-pascal @survivingandenduring @wannab-urs @pedrostories @docharleythegeekqueen @rav3n-pascal22 @my-favorite-reading @silk-spun @fanfictilltheend @tuquoquebrute @beardedjoel @msjarvis @syd-djarin

If you liked this, consider reblogging or sending me an ask 💕

[oh-no-its-bird]

TMA naruto au time buckle up,

Jon should get to be a half Uchiha bastard who has an infamously hard time controlling his sharingan.

His mangekyo (which he gets very very young when he accidentally leads a bully to their death at the hands of a nukenin with a love of spiders) basically acts as his beholding abilities and can allow him to compel people to sit still and answer anything he asks of them, which gets really messy when you consider a) shinobi society is built on secrets, and b) he has a really hard time turning it off

His visions absoloutley fucked but whatever bloodline his father was from seems to have caused the deterioration of his eyes to stop where it is— and is also the cause of why he has extra difficulty w it's flip switch

Anyways, Inuzuka Daisy or Hatake Daisy, I can't decide. Either way shes wolf coded as fuck and also in a similar boat of being absoloutley shit at controlling her bloodline. She and Jon are so problem child coded, and I think part of the reason she hates him as kids is bc she sees a lot of herself in him but like, at her worst. All of her issues but he just lays down and takes it when she fights tooth and nail against anyone who so much looks at her wrong. They are opposite ends of the spectrum and she's hyper aware of it

I think that when they're older they should get to go on a mission together and basically the whole coffin thing happens but with like an enemy nin w an earth chakra type.

Mmm alternatively tho, sprinkle in hints of the dreaded fears and play w the beasts and yokai of naruto canon, pull some spooky shit.

They get in over their heads, coffin happens, Jon goes back for her then we end with them both just kind of looking at eachother like "there are things in this world we can not comprehend."

Mmm, naruto version of the fears,,, that could be fun. Incorporate the bijuu maybe, idk

Anyways, Daisy hates Jon, coffin time happens and Jon escapes but then goes back for her (if she's a Hatake, this could also play interestingly w parallels to Kakashi) and they come out of the whole thing having Seen Thing(tm) and are irriversably changed and also now very much edging into co-dependant besties territory

Can u tell I'm a big fan of the Daisy and Jon besties agenda bc I so am

Moving on to the others ->

I want to say civilian Martin? I don't have much for him tbh, it'd be cool if he was like distantly related to Haku tho. Give him the cool ice mirror bloodline limit or whatever bc smthn smthn the lonely.

Mmm ok acrually hear me out: civilian Martin who's trying very hard to avoid shinobi things. He's actually a defected Kiri nin who forged a new identity for himself and fled to Konoha to start a new life after the bloodline hunts back in Kiri killed his whole family (except for Haku, but he doesn't know he's still alive) He's trying very hard to fly under the radar, but I doubt he'll succeed for long

I want him to look like all those fun lonely avatar fan arts of him w the sharp teeth, white streaked hair, dulled looking skin and kinda fishy vibes overall actually, but like he uses a seal to keep a permanant henge on him to look normal bc hes very visibly Kiri otherwise

Tim is giving me Yamanaka vibes for some reason. I like that also bc then we could possibly get him and Jon working together in T&I, which like yay parallel to how they used to work together before the archives

Sasha is giving me civilian born shinobi vibes, I think she should get to work in the hokage tower. Paper pusher with big dreams of moving up the latter and really being someone one day. She has her eyes dead set on a position in the Hokage's office

Basira is ,,, somewhere. You really can't have Daisy without her that's just illegal but I'm not too sure where to put her. Civilian born Basira kinda suits her but I'm ngl I'm kinda eyeing Nara Basira. Wait no fuck ok, Nara Basira and she was on a 3 man unit with Tim at one point, now they just need a Akimichi to complete the narashikacho trifecta there

She totally works in T&I now, or maybe with the Uchiha police force? It's like 90% Uchiha but I'm pretty sure some other clans are spotted here in there among them, and if they're not, I mean, I don't actually give a shit so .

I don't know if this is one of those aus where canon is still there but we're just adding tma characters into the mix or if it's just vague naruto setting but tma characters are our focus / replacing the main cast. But I think it's the first. If it was the second tho I'd say Elias as Danzo in a heartbeat

But since it's the first, Nara Elias who got a mysterious eye transplant years ago that seemed to have changed his personality entirley (were totally keeping the body hopping shit, rip the real Nara Elias who's been dead for years)

He's a slimy politician who works closely with Danzo

Ok so main narrative:

I'm thinking the coffin thing happens with Daisy and Jon, and now they're kind of eyes open to the existence of whatever version of the fears exist in this world. Jon is Jon and can't let sleeping dogs lie, and Daisy is Daisy and does her twitchy "there's something dangerous out there I can't control/don't know about" thing so she's really not stopping him, but she is helping him be more smart about it. Sometimes. They're both kind of lose canons tbh holy shit this is gonna be a disaster

So Jon gets kind of obsessed w whatever the FUCK that was, and Elias smells blood in the water and approaches

Idk what's going on with Elias but he's still body hopping bitch boy Jonah here. He's very involved in the fears, and he's had his eyes on Jon for a while. You see, the way that avatars manifest in Naruto world is that sometimes they'll often show their influence through bloodlines— Nara the dark, Yamanaka the beholding, Inuzuka the hunt, it's all there if you look for it.

Those in 'the know' believe that all bloodline limits came from the fears— sometimes their influence shows more than others. And very very rarley, that influence becomes a a bit more... potent, than in others.

Elias believes that Jon is one such instance of this, his strange mangekyo being so painfully and terrifyingly beholding coded, far more than his clansmen who's own mangekyo tend to branch off lightly into territories of different fears.

Jon (and Daisy, but Elias has a clear favorite here) running into such a strong instance of the buried, which is rare on its own, has only made Elias even more interested, taking it as some sort of sign that there really is something especially odd about Jon's unusually strong link to the fears.

Anyways, Elias sponsoring Jon's investigation into the fears, their links to the bijuu, how they interact with chakra and if they might truly be the source of modern bloodline limits.

Konoha secret supernatural task force (not to be confused with ROOT or ANBU) meant to monitor the fears influence in Konoha,,,

(God, of course Elias couldn't help but make his own fucking secret service in opposition to ROOT. He couldn't let Danzo upstage him)

Just like how ANBU has their shoulder seal and ROOT the tongue seal, I'm thinking their seal is a stylized eye on the back of their neck, which ofc Elias is always watching through, rip

Oh fuck, actually give me seal master Elias and his special spy seals he can watch and listen through. It's not a power thing it's just a specialization thing— he has his own eye tattoo that allows him to directly see through all his seals at any time.

Anyways we're calling this organization ARCHIVE bc I am a simple gal. Don't ask what it's supposed to stand for in verse, idk

Idk who else should be in it, or if it should be like ground up and Daisy and Jon are the first. Wait what the fuck am I saying, Gertrude and Gerry obviously. Michael Shelly too, can't forget him

Toss in Mike Crew and Jude Perry also just bc I like them. Maybe Nikola and an Aburame Jane Prentiss? But also idk if I'd want to put them in the position where they're technically working under Elias, I feel like that just doesn't fit. Better to leave them out in the wold to run into instead for conflict. Except Mike Crew, who is my favorite little guy and who should get to be here on loan from Elias' friend and Daimyo's court shinobi, Simon Fairchild

Honestly be funny if Kakashi was in it at one point just bc then he'd have been in all 3 konoha secret services and honestly? Hilarious. Someone give that guy a fucking break oh my god

Obviously Tim, Sasha, Martin and Basira all eventually join in, tho idk how. Maybe Jon is actually asked who would be a good choice for it? Jon says Tim and Daisy says Basira, then they both kinda eye Sasha who's been very fucking vocal ab needing just a chance to get her claws into the hooks of the Konoha power ladder and reccomend her too

Martin is the tricky one, I'm thinking Elias somehow finds out ab his Kiri background and has always wanted to poke more at the lonley's very visible connection to many kiri bloodlines— but Martin's in particular. So he kinda blackmails him into it, but framed in a more friendly "I'll make sure you don't have to hide anymore, I can secure your place in Konoha even with your ancestry :)"

Also maybe he was impressed by Martin's disguise seals, that'd be neat. Seal master Martin but he's Martin so he's like "Ah, I'm really not that good at it :("

(Jon is infuriated by his seemingly natural talent then even more infuriated when it becomes clear he's actual shit at most other shinobi things)

Ok so peddle it back to Mr Jonah eye fuckery Magnus here -> he was once like Jon. A man born into a clan w a link to the beholding, with a light eye themed bloodline limit. But he was born with a stronger tie to their patron than the others, strong enough to recognize they had a patron at all. And by feeding into it (don't ask me how I have no clue) he was able to strengthen that tie, gaining more power, and the ability to body hop through eyes

And he looks at Jon and wonders if he can replicate that in him. Groom him into something closer to their god, then feed him to the beholding to further his own power, which seems to have stagnated in growth.

I think also there's just a good amount of spite for ROOT and hunger for political power that he might get from ARCHIVE, and Jon is a clear fit for it, so like. Add him to the pile !!

I have a couple more vague thoughts for this -> the archive tunnels correlating to ROOT tunnels, the real Elias being childhood friends w Danzo and Hiruzen before Magnus took his body, Madara off in his cave somewhere being influenced by a Zetsu who serves the fears instead of Kaguya, etc.

But I'll leave it here for now, thank u for ur time

[lemony-and-zesty]

Your au has hit me with the hyper-fixation stick. If I became annoying, I’m sorry.

How does everyone react/feel about JD being a hitman and him being so different from the brother they knew

And how does JD feel about himself being so different

I am sorry for taking a while to get to this but man I am so devastated by this question - especially the last part. And I wanna do right by it so I’ve been thinkin about it really hard.

I’m putting it under the read more, not just cause it got long, but it also got kinda,,, sad haha.

I’m thinkin they all have that initial reaction of “You’re a WHAT” ofc but it’s what comes directly before and after that that i really wanna nail down right.

Honestly I don’t even know which brother to start with 😭,,

I guess Floyd.

He’s shocked, of course, when he sees JD for the first time. Why’s he covered in so many scars? What could’ve possibly happened to him?

Why does Floyd feel like he’s seen him like this before

The main thing is trying to speak with him beyond just hellos. JD always seems to find some excuse to run off when Floyd’s involved.

It’s almost like he has to treat his oldest brother like a scared animal that’ll flee if he moves too quickly.

Floyd doesn’t know how he feels about that.

Once he finds out about it, he’s horrified. Both of and for John Dory. They’ve all been through so much, but this feels like something else entirely. He can see how affected he is and he’s devastated.

—

Next up is Clay.

He’d be the most,, angry,, about it all I think.

When he first sees John he’s quick to brush him off (like in canon) and that’s about the extent of it for a while. He honestly barely notices cause he’s too focused on his other brothers - especially Floyd.

It takes a long while for him to warm up to JD, and it doesn’t help that a lot of that bossiness JD had is still there. But he can tell he’s trying. Hell, they’re both trying. But Clay can’t help this feeling of unease that he gets around JD.

When he finds out,, god I can’t imagine anything but him getting furious and screaming at him. I feel like he’d storm off before even hearing JD out. He’d probably only be able to be calmed by one of his other brothers or Viva.

—

Bruce is mostly shocked at how quiet his older brother is. JD was a lot of things, but quiet was never one of them.

Honestly, much like Clay, a lot of things fly over Bruce’s head cause JD tends to just,, fade into the background when they’re all together.

And, y’know, it’s not easy to talk it out when he deflects and runs away from anything that gets anywhere close to what he got up to the past 20 years.

Bruce doesn’t want to pry, but he’s worried. The man before him is so unlike his older brother and it makes him nervous.

Once he finds out he’s devastated for his brother. Especially once JD explains the situation with the boss. And though it sounds kind of awful, Bruce can’t help but feel happy when JD finally cracks and explains it all to them, cause that’s the most like himself he’s seemed in a long time.

—

Branch is a bit of a tough one. Especially since she finds out well before the others,, what with JD being hired to target Poppy and all.

She’s furious when he first shows up, and even more so when she finds out who he is. Cause how could he do this? How could he leave her for twenty years only to come back and threaten to take away the one person she cared for most?

But, she needs him to help save Floyd, so she buries it and moves on. Still never letting herself be comfortable around him.

During the journey she finds herself noticing little things about John Dory. The way he carries himself, the way he tends to get lost in his thoughts. How he always seemed to be on guard.

She can’t help but feel a twinge of,, something.

He seems so much like she did back before she got her colors back.

She really doesn’t know how to feel about that.

When the truth comes out she’s horrified, but she can’t find it in her to blame JD too much. Not with how he describes the boss.

—

Overall, they’re just,, worried about him.

As for the target of all their worries? How does he feel about it all? Honestly, it’s pretty simple.

John Dory hates himself.

He hates every single thing about himself.

He tore his family apart, and almost like that wasn’t enough he just had to tear everyone else’s families apart too.

That’s the worst part, he thinks.

Every target, every hit, every kill. They had families. And all because of John’s mistakes, those families are ripped to shreds.

He can’t even stand to look at his own reflection cause every part of him just serves to remind him of everything he’s done.

Sometimes, especially after fleeing his boss and saving Floyd, he considers running again.

He considers just,, leaving and going back to the Neverglades and just letting the beasts tear him to pieces. At least like that he couldn’t hurt anyone else.

—

But yeah. That’s the gist of it :]

It’s a rough situation but I like to think they manage to navigate it.

Eventually,,

[reiluvr]

🏁 jump start

you just wanted to wallow in peace. a bit hard to do that when two random men ask you to be a "grid girl"?

racer au!! been craving this. pretty much just setting up. this is definetely going to be split up into parts. also i haven't decided whos gonna be the main guy in this so lmk who you like!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

If someone had told you a few months ago that you'd be standing in the middle of a huge abandoned racing track in the peak of winter while wearing practically nothing, then you would've probably combusted from laughter. You had never been the type to step out of your comfort zone, living by the motto "slow and steady wins the race". You focused on yourself and your grades all throughout high school, the only happiness being when you got accepted into your dream university. It was nothing like the movies though, you didn't immediately fall into the hands of the popular group and have the best university experience. Actually, university ended up being just a more complicated version of high school, you kept your head down and your grades up. It was in the dead of the night, where you were sure no one could possibly glimpse at this side of you, that you’d curl under your covers and pray desperately to any god that would listen, that you wouldn’t feel so alone anymore.

You had, unfortunately, adopted the “I don’t need friends” attitude, but that’s only because you had none. You could scream it off of the edge of a cliff to convince yourself that it was true, but at a certain point, everyone craves attention. For the first time in your life, your grades dropped. You had always been a top student, the slightest drop felt like the end of the world. That’s what lead to the start of your current predicament. You went out one night, pretty late considering you liked to be tucked and asleep by 10. You scoff bitterly to yourself, a bit amused at the irony of going through your teenager phase when you were almost 20. This was what ended up being the fuel for you to impulsively buy a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, walking cluelessly through the streets as you cough at each puff. In hindsight, it might’ve been a bit of an overreaction, especially considering that the ‘horrible’ grades you’ve been receiving recently would be some other student’s dream grades. Yet, it was hard not to be depressed when your entire self-worth was based off of these numbers.

It was nearing around 2 AM and you were…actually, god knows where you were. It seemed as though, in your self-deprecating thoughts, you had walked yourself to the point of being lost. You only snapped out of it because you could hear two very loud men. You hesitantly round the corner, coming face to face with two boys, who couldn’t have been much older than you. They both seemed to be locked in a very heated argument. At a closer look, it was clear they were twins, albeit they couldn’t look more different. The only thing they had in common was their bright pink hair. One of the twins seemed to be trying to calm the other down. You observe him carefully, noting down the washed-up yellow colour of his hoodie and the chipped blue nail polish. You turn to watch the taller twin now, eyes widening slightly as you take in the spiky hair and what looked like tattoos under his eyes? You wince as his words only increase in volume, turning to get away when the smaller twin makes eye contact with you. It feels as though your heart stopped when that prompts the taller twin to look at you as well, his eyes seemingly glowing red.

If you weren’t fearing for your life, you’d be embarrassed at the pathetic squeak that escapes your lips when he starts making his way towards you. You stumble back, each of his steps seemingly equal to ten of your own. You only manage to take a few steps back, eyes blown wide in panic before he’s towering over you, one hand roughly grasping your waist to stop you from stupidly falling over from your desperate scrambling. His grip is nothing soft, fingers almost digging into your hip as he stares down at you. He seems to be analysing you, his- were his eyes red?! You barely even get to process how weird that is before he tugs on your waist, making you stand up straighter as he looks you up and down. You finally manage to find your voice, your mouth opening to tell him to let you go…or maybe beg him. He beats you to it, a sharp grin gracing his face, making his already terrifying features seem even more predatory.

“You wanna make some cash, girl?”

Fuck no. You should have brought something with you, a taser, pepper spray, maybe a knife, anything. The other twin immediately picks up on how your face pales and he jumps in, gently pulling his brother back and shaking his head frantically.

“That is not what he meant! Ryo, you fucking idiot!”

It feels as though you can suddenly breathe again when his hands are off of you, your eyes trained on the taller one, ready to run for it in case he makes any sudden moves. They both let you calm down, the taller one, or Ryo, scoffing at your form. IT’s when you look at least a little more calm that the younger one approaches once again, hands up as if he were approaching a stray cat.

“I'm Yuji, you can call me whatever, and this is my stupid older brother. Sorry about him, he doesn’t speak to girls much.”

Ryo doesn’t hesitate to land a harsh hit against the back of Yuji’s neck, Yuji stumbling forward as he cackles. The display lets you settle down a bit more, an awkward smile on your face as the other one mumbles.

“Call me Sukuna.”

Okay. Not Ryo then.

“Anyways, what he meant was that…Um, okay. This might sound like were trying to kidnap you or something so please just trust us, ah, but even that is a big ask considering you don’t kno-.”

Sukuna grumbles, tugging on Yuji’s collar and pulling him back.

“You talk too much. We have a race starting soon. We’re missing a grid girl. You in, or nah?”

Never in your life would you have agreed. Especially not without asking at least a few questions. A little bad luck on your grades should not have dumbed you down…but apparently it did. You sigh, nodding hesitantly. Yuji practically lights up, immediately calling someone on his phone as Sukuna grins.

“Don’t go home, warm your tires!.....Hmm? Hell yeah we got a girl!”

He seems to listen to whatever the person on the other end is saying. He hesitates, looking you over once before mumbling something into the phone. Sukuna groans once again, snatching the phone out of his hands and mumbling a quick what. He also looks you over, the same way Yuji did before he grins.

“ She could use some work, honestly. Let Shoko know.”

[horuslupercal]

got asked on the Guilliman post so

How Primarchs Cry (To Me)

Lion: represses and represses and represses and then hides away in a closet squished into the corner like a cat on its deathbed but otherwise cries pretty normally. do not point it out to him. gets defensive if you point it out

Fulgrim: gets headaches from crying so hard. keeps a handkerchief nearby because his face gets all gross. at some point in every hardcore crying session he verbally says, "enough." because it annoys him

Perturabo: trying everything in his power to give off the vibe that he never cries. takes every breath very carefully to make sure it's silent, confidently strides off away from this shit (hides away), etc

Khan: is fine, is fine, is fine, and then he's laying in bed and suddenly has to bolt upright to cry into his hands because holy shit that's sure a wave of emotion. it's okay, it'll pass, but hooooly shit at this exact moment it hurts. doesn't want to be seen but it's not the worst thing in the world if he is

Russ: crawls under Freki and Geri like when they were pups and cries for a good while. at some point he rolls over and runs his hand over his face and then grabs one of his brothers around the neck for a wrestle session and he's either fine or he's fine enough to keep on keeping on

Dorn: goes to a private room, does the "I am in control of my emotions" like Spock in that one TOS episode, and then spins around and puts his fist through the wall. opens the door with a hole in the wall and his hair no longer perfectly coiffed and his face blotchy and red and tells you he wasn't crying

Konrad: either silently weeping or wailing like a banshee. never in between. he doesn't choose which.

Sanguinius: the only primarch who can pretty cry but only up to a certain level. at some point he starts screaming and wailing like a fox caught in a bear trap and doubling over in pain and his hair gets all stuck to his face

Ferrus: throws tantrums. doesn't collapse to the floor like a toddler but does start breaking things. makes fun of the reason for his upset -- the mid-funeral roast session in some au where Fulgrim dies pre-heresy would get him cancelled on twitter because it's the only way he can deal with something that shattering. I'm pretty sure I got that headcanon from @luwupercal actually

Angron: cries for all sorts of reasons. sometimes the nails make him cry, not because they hurt or because he hates them but just because they're directly fucking with his brain chemistry. that's the kind of passive cry where he's crying but it's not an event, it's just his tear ducts doing their thing. used to seek out comfort from his siblings in the pit when he was crying from emotion, now he flips tables and screams

Guilliman: an asthmatic pug caught in a plastic ring. gasping for air, sounds like he's being strangled, the works. sounds like he's dying

Mortarion: also sounds asthmatic, on account of the asthma. his tear ducts don't work right so he doesn't really "cry" so much as hyperventilate and occasionally dry heave

Magnus: the crying is what it is, the psychic crying is the real event. his aura gets real sticky and slow and sad, like syrup, and has a tendency to kind of. contaminate other people with his grief unless he specifically stops it from doing that. I feel like he cries when he's mad, too

Horus: sits down and covers his mouth with his hand and puts his elbow on his knee and cries like that. for some reason I feel like it's especially weird for the luna wolves to see him cry -- it's always weird to see your parent cry, but it's extra weird for them and I'm not sure why. horus sitting on a couch crying with his head in his hands and two luna wolves sending panicked looks at each other 👍

Lorgar: compresses/hugs himself so hard he can't breathe, digs his nails into his skin, etc. we saw in the first heretic that he makes himself physically uncomfortable about grief and that's really stuck with me tbh. doesn't really.... know how to cry without also being in physical pain about it

Vulkan: bows his head and weeps, standing right where he is. weirdly bad at being okay with his own grief specifically -- he'll comfort a brother without issue, but his own makes him feel on edge and sedentary and he needs to move and do something and not stand here being sad, he needs to take action, he can't let it be sticky and slow

Corvus: repression king. he can't cry right now he's too BUSY. fuck this shit. and then there's a trigger and he shatters like a popsicle bridge with too much weight on it. the year of isolation before his departure definitely involved a blanket burrito

Alpharius Omegon: how do they need to cry for this scenario?

[ugh-yoongi]

can i request Yoongi drabble? where a random member is Y/N's brother and Yoon is his best friend, but Y/N has a big fat crush on him

hiii, thank you so much for the request! it gave me an excuse to get rockstar yoongi out of my system (and make an actual banner for once), so i hope you enjoy. <3

playing with fire

pairing: yoongi x f. reader genre: brother's best friend au, rockstar au; suggestive warnings: extreme thirsting. a moshpit and moshpit-related injury. mentions of blood, alcohol, and weed/cigarettes. swearing. an unrequited crush (or is it). tension. unedited. rating: this is slightly suggestive but not explicit so 16+ wordcount: 1k listen to: i'm on fire by bruce springsteen

with this, i am finally done with bee's birthday drabbles! a huge thank you to everyone who sent in requests. i did save a few, so if i didn't get to yours this time, hopefully some inspo strikes in the future.

see all beeday drabbles here

have a favorite? let's talk about it!

It’s been a while since your brother’s band played in a nice venue.

Been a while since your boots didn’t stick to the floor, each step feeling like a glue trap. Since you could go home at the end of the night and pull a t-shirt over your head that didn’t reek of weed and cigarettes and someone else’s body odor. Been a while since you could just exist in peace; not feel like you were taking up room in a space that didn’t belong to you.

Been a while since you’ve seen Yoongi, too.

His hair is longer—half-formed curls framing his face, some trendy kind of shag. Chipped black lacquer on his nails. Fresh ink up and down his arms. Silver hoop through his nostril. A leather jacket and heeled boots, because he doesn’t have a thing to prove to anyone who might have something to say about it.

(You, least of all.)

Somehow, you’d forgotten that some people are magnetic. Some people are meant to be looked at, put on all those impossibly high pedestals, and that Yoongi is one of them. False idols be damned, everyone in this fucking room is wrapped around his finger. Even as he screams into a mic, shoots a sleazy grin at your brother to his left, every single person in this place would drop to their knees as soon as he gave the order.

(You, most of all.)

And you know it’s dangerous; know where that particular road dead-ends. You know that if you try to reach out and touch him all you’ll do is scar, but it doesn’t do a damn thing to quell the urge. There’s still just Yoongi and you and the millions of daydreams that have played out in the dead of night and the boundless distance between you.

The haze makes him beautiful, ethereal, like some kind of demi-god. Imposing, you think, because Yoongi’s up there looking down on you, as stable and immovable as all those shrines they built centuries ago. Places where people would gather to worship, just like now.

You’re distracted. Don’t hear Yoongi when he commands the crowd to move, and there’s a split-second just before the chaos where he finds you—sets his siren gaze on you and smirks out of the corner of his mouth, presses his tongue into the fat of cheek—and then there’s a searing pain blooming in your skull.

It’s hard to say what happens after. Hard to see through the fog and the frenzy, let alone make sense of amorphic shapes. There’s just the aching in your head and the jarring, dissonant ringing in your ears, and someone’s arms wrapped tight around your shoulders.

You come to in a bathroom.

Stinks of piss and disinfectant. Has one flickering, fluorescent light strung above the sink. Dingy tile on the floor and the walls. Paper towels overflowing from a trash can by the door.

“You with me, darlin’?”

Yoongi’s voice. He’s the only one who calls you that. Puts some exaggerated twang on it because he thinks it makes him sound cool. Doesn’t give a fuck about anything, especially what people might think, and he doesn’t have to.

“Not sure,” you answer truthfully. “What happened?”

“Some piece of shit elbowed you pretty good in the side of your head. Got a nasty gash—don’t look, doll. Got fuckin’ blood all over the fuckin’ place.”

You exhale. Nod your head as best you can. Unsteady. Find it hard to breathe when Yoongi’s fussing over you like this, calling you these little pet names. When he gently cradles your face in his ink-stained hands and says, eyes on me. Like you could look anywhere else. As if you’ve looked at anything else in years.

“Wha—what’re you doing?”

“Cleaning you up. Deep breath, darlin’, this is probably gonna sting.”

You barely react, still too dazed by the feel of his hands on you. You wish, briefly, that whoever had hit you had done so harder. Just enough to rewire a few things. Get rid of this juvenile crush you’ve let go unchecked for far too long. “Where’s Hoseok?”

“Went after that guy.”

You scoff. Roll your eyes. “Hoseok can’t fight.”

“Nah,” Yoongi agrees. Bites his lip as he concentrates. “But Jungkook can.”

Another press of an alcohol pad. This one stings, has you sucking in a breath through your teeth. “Don’t you think this is a bit much? I’m sure it was an accident.”

Yoongi is so close. Fits himself in the space between your thighs, presses you further into the sink, the faucet digging into your back. Doesn’t matter. Not when he’s close enough for you to count each individual eyelash, the scars that dot his face. Yoongi’s close enough for you to smell the nicotine that clings to his clothes, his skin, his hair. Close enough to smell the cheap beer lingering on his breath.

“Too much?” His brows knit together, head tilts like a confused puppy. “Why would it be too much?”

“S’not the first time I’ve nearly got my teeth kicked in at one of your shows. I just—is it worth all this fuss? My brother’s gonna get all fucking weird about it, and fuck knows what Jungkook’s gonna do to that guy.”

Yoongi’s close enough that you nearly speak the words against his mouth. Fuck, it’d be so easy to kiss him. So easy to give in and let the world burn down around you, the consequences be damned. It’d be so easy to be ruined by him that it has your hands twitching at your sides, wanting so badly to reach out and touch. Grab him by the belt loops and learn how he feels when he’s pressed flush against you. Learn what he sounds like when he moans, whimpers. What he looks like when he’s hurried and desperate.

"Stupid girl." But Yoongi doesn’t look hurried and desperate—he looks like he wants to devour you. “I would’ve done much worse.”

[goodolddumbbanana]

[SUPERHERO AU] Pre Dazzle - A fight

Solar was pushed hard against the wall, his right shoulder was damaged to the point he was unable to move. He got stuck, with SUN's shadow pressed against him, leisurely like a cat playing with its prey.

That freaking bastard, they didn't even need to use their hands to hold down Solar. The villain hummed some silly tune, the sunlight vaguely drew gold streaks on SUN's face. Their hands waved, the metallic silver flashed, signaling to Solar that his future would be filled with pain.

"Torture me all you want, I won't tell you jack!"

Solar laughed, his whole body was filled with pain. It was hard for him to breathe, especially with the way SUN deliberately choked his airway while staring like an excited child who didn't want to break its toy, yet.

SUN's clown-like face twisted into a cruel expression. Theit voice hummed.

"Oh, I don't want you to tell me anything. No no no... Not yet..."

The sadistic excitement in their voices leaked into Solar's ears.

"I want you to beg, I want you to whimper, I want you to sing like I want you to talk."

SUN grabbed Solar's chin, forcing him to look into their eyes.

The distance between their faces became too close. Solar could see the sun-like rays of light from behind the glasses reflecting SUN's eyes.

A pair of long, curled, pale yellow eyelashes looks so gentle. Pupils like the rising golden sun should not appear so magnificent like that to a wicked person like them.

"I want to hurt you, and I want to enjoy it."

Their voice was too soft to make the monster's words into a promise.

Their eyes were bright, crescent moons, looking at him with the fondness of a madman who wanted nothing more than to see the world engulfed in fire and blood.

Moon had not yet responded, the transmitter they had created having been destroyed shortly after SUN had thrown him three blocks away.

Hopefully by the time he bought, Moon would have found where they were shipping the bombs.

"It's gonna take a lot to get me there. Maybe you can make your whole world believable happen in your dream, asshat."

Drawing the toughest smile on his face, Solar spat on SUN's shirt.

SUN wiped out the dirt, their faces twitched. Perhaps for the first time all afternoon, this was the first time he saw SUN express a little bit of annoy.

"Heh--" They laughed. The fire was burning bright in their hands. "I can't wait to hear you scream."

Solar almost wanted to close his eyes as the burning sensation threatened to melt the orange plating on his metal shell but then... That sly smile on that bastard's face... He couldn't let this asshat get the satisfaction.

Suddenly someone walked in. A petite girl who looked like she had no external strength with long green hair tied in two pigtails.

"Hey boss~~~ Bossue!!! Boss~~~ Baby boss~~~ Cutie Bosss~~~"

The girl without a trace of fear poked at SUN, who looked like he was trying hard to contain his anger.

"For Chris' sake, what is it, MIKU?"

'Uh, yeah, so I just have a question, me and for the big spaghetti boy over there, ya know~~"

"What, MIKU?! Just tell me quickly, don't you see I am a little busy here!?"

SUN pointed at Solar, which was honestly quite insulting, especially since the bastard was half a head shorter than him and always hovered in the air unconsciously.

"Oh right, so big boy and I are all back here and we are just wondering..."

Miku looked at her nails, there were some clicking sounds as if she was posing for the camera.

"Uh... When are you guys gonna fuck?"

Sometimes, there are words that can shock people's spirit, making them stand up to the challenges they face. Make them to not give up, even though they had been through a lot of hardship.

And sometimes, there are words that, when spoken, make Solar fall off the ground, and the person who tortured him is about 20 meters away from him.

"What?"

"Yeah... What?"

His head was still shaking, but he still had enough intelligence to understand what the fuck that henchman was saying.

"Like I get this is the torture session and all but sounds like y'all gonna bone or something."

SUN took a deep breath, and his voice hissed through his teeth.

"This is my ARCH NEMESIS, WHAT THE FUCK, MIKU!!!? WHAT WAS WRONG WITH YOU???"

"This isn't like an enemies slash lovers thing because I am down for that if you were--"

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, MIKU!! IM BUSY!! DON'T INTERRUPT ME EVER AGAIN!!"

"Okay okay I'm sorry my bad. I will leave now. Don't be a bi-atch like that, boss."

"Jesus Miku!! I will be very honest. I will literally feed you to your pet tonight if you don't shut up and LEAVE!!! RIGHT NOW!!!"

The dizziness passed pretty quickly as you saw a miniature sun explode above your head.

SUN's entire body hissed angrily like a wet cat, before stopping and looking at Solar. It felt so awkward that neither of them could continue, and before he could say anything, SUN disappeared.

"Solar!!! Are you okay!!! I am sorry for fixing the walkie talkie too late. Where are you!!! Are you hurt!!!!"

Moon's voice came over the walkie-talkie in a completely anxious and terrifying tone.

Solar looked at the sunset and at the broken tiles at his feet.

He ignored the sharp pain in his ribs and shoulder blades, his voice rough as he replied.

" Yeah... I am okay..."

[deer-hearted]

Okay, ages ago I had an idea that was quite similar to @jellynut 's AU, but since it wasn't used like I intended it to, I decided to write it down now as a form of a gift.

I had it in my head for, like 7 years. Now it's your turn to get stuck with it.

Do demons have dreams?

He isn't sure when exactly has it all started, but it had to be something minuscule, not important enough to notice at all. Laughs that were just a tad more loud than usual, sudden waves of anger or annoyance he paid no attention to: he was a moody old geezer, after all, what's so special about it?

But it was special, in a way he absolutely didn't want it to be. Because the estranged emotions rolled out a red carpet, and the dreams followed suit. Places he had never been to, worlds he could never even try to imagine washed over his mind every night like waves licking the board of their boat. Some dreams were light as a feather, some left him nauseous and with a strong desire to take a shower. A crustless sandwich on a spotless white plate. Creatures with faces that didn't even look like faces. The wheel of a fancy car gripped tight by his own fingers. Strange magic rituals performed in a smoky haze. Piles of human hearts, apparently fresh-cut and still bleeding. A young man wearing a genuine smile and hope for the brighter future on a face identical to his own.

Oh, they were not just dreams. And Stanley knew who had to be the owner: sure enough, their mom made them sandwiches too, but not so... flat. Yeesh.

He had punched that triangle bastard so hard, that something must have started to seep through cracks. Something that could either poison them both, or, possibly, give him the upper hand.

Stanley sucks in a deep breath, staring at the waters below. Here we go.

"You there?"

Sharp pain strickes him right between his eyes to remind — yes, he is. He's always there, like some sort of parasite, waiting desperately to be surgically removed.

Oh, that's new. Now you wanna hear me? What's the matter, sailor? Got bored on that teeny-tiny boat of yours? Finally built the gut to eat your twin and don't know where to begin with? I could gladly instruct you, you know.

What? No. Concentration is the key. His fingers clench into fists tighter, knuckles turning pale white. He has to try it, he's running out of options. But could the parasite be even reasoned with?

"I have seen your dreams."

Pause. His breath hitches — and then turns into unwanted laughter, echoing a much louder one from the inside of his mind, shaking him to his very core.

No you haven't. I get it, you have been forgetting a lot of stuff lately, so let me get this clear for you: I AM A DREAM DEMON. How would it look like if I myself had dreams? Who would've haunted them? Me?

"Right, so instead of that abracadabra our subconscious brings up you see your own memories stuck on repeat, no?"

Pause. Waves hit the boat again and again.

Nonsense. Now you're just making stuff up about me. Obsessed much?

"How else would I know about that wonderful "All 70s Greatest Hits" sing-along you had with my brother?"

No response. Disgust coils inside him heavily, empowered by a single fact: all of it must be true indeed, then. But he must go on.

"He'd never tell me about that shit. You're inside my head, smartpants. You can check for yourself."

This time the deafening silence is different, for it is pregnant with meaning. Bill had no idea. He didn't know he knew and, what's more important, what he knew and if there's more.

He hit the nail. All he has to do now — to pull it through. Stanley grits his teeth with angry determination that might not be entirely his own and spits into the waves below.

"Alright, listen here, ya mama's boy. If I tell Sixer about you..."

Pain blinds him again, forcing to hiss. It's always ugly when Bill wants to emphasize his point.

You're not going to, we both know it.

"Shut it! WHEN I tell Sixer about you... I don't have to fill him on everything, ya know."

If the subsiding pain doesn't indicate Bill is listening intently now, he doesn't know what else to make of it.

"You can keep your awful memories to yourself, and whatever it is that you felt, too. That is — if you leave my memories alone. No messing with them, no deleting, no overwriting, no nothing. One slip up, and I stomp your goddamn pride into the ground. Am I clear?"

He's so tired, he wants to dive right into the ocean so the cold waves could wash away all the pain, the stiffness in his body, the images that are now bound to reside in his mind forever. But he also won, because the voice in his head is now steel-clean, and the words feel like a searing brand.

It's a deal, then.

[simplydannie]

Previous: Back to the Underground || Find Them ||Poisoned || Side Effects || The Troll || The Hideout

OC: Tye || Vaughn Montegue

This part of the story will contain an update to the Under Rageous AU! As well as beginning to feature some various kinds Rageons you will find down there! Thank you all for your patience as I finally update the story!

After avoiding Shank and his gang, Branch and the twins find themselves in an under-city Troll hideout where they come across the leader: Creek.

Branch doesn’t trust him… He knows Creek is always up to something…. And this time, it involves the twins.

Branch squirmed and squirmed underneath the tight barbed wire net.

He felt the twins squirming beside him, he felt their anxiety grow…Especially Veneers. He turned to look at the Rageon….He was shaking, tears forming in his eyes….He was afraid.

“Veneer, you have to calm down.” Branch told him.

“Oh yes mate! Calm little Rageon. Caallllmmmm.” Creek mocked.

“Shut it Freak!” Branch spat.

“After all this time, same old Branch. Tell me, hows my lovely girl Poppy? She still miss me?” Creek smirked.

A scowl grew across Branch’s face, “Don’t you DARE say her name again. After what you did?”

“I hate to interrupt the formalities, but….LET US GO!!!” Velvet yelled, her voice echoing in the sewage Troll hideout. The Trolls stood there guard, some pulling out tiny little weapons and pointing them at the twins. “Seriously? I can use those to pick under my nails.”

“V-Vels, I d-don’t do well in tight spaces.” Veneer’s breathing began to quicken.

“LET US OUT TROLL!” Velvet spat.

Branch looked at Tye. He stood behind Creek rubbing his arm; his eyes quickly met Branches before he averted them. It was then Branch spoke, “Tye come on. Tell them the twins are fine. That they mean no harm. Veneer actually saved me…and Velvet, well shares bearable at the moment.”

“I will squash you.”

“You’re not helping!”

There was a moment of silence between them, Tye was about to speak before Creek interrupted, “Now Branch, you don’t fool us. We known who these guys are. The infamous Velvet and Veneer! Mount Rageous’s most prized possessions…as well as Under Rageous am I right?”

Branch looked up at the twins with a questionable look, “Under Rageous? I thought they hated you guys down here?”

“….They do..” Velvet responded.

“Oh what’s this? I see they haven’t told you the whole truth have they, mate? Think they’re the lonely orphans that survived down here all on their own?”

“We did.” Velvet’s tone was calm, serious, yet there was an anger behind it…The words Creek was saying was hitting a sore spot, but Branch was having a hard time figuring that out. The conniving, purple Troll giggled, there was a malicious look in his eyes…Branch saw it, and so did Tye. The young gray Troll stared at him as confusion struck his face…

“Floyd thought he knew the truth about you too, but oh boy did you surprise him.” Creek smirked. At the mention of his brother’s name branch snapped.

“Hey leave my brother out of this…” But then a realization hit him, “You know him? H-how?”

“All thanks to these two lovely Succubi here.”

“DON’T CALL US THAT!” Velvet screamed. Veneer turned to his sister…he could see the pink glow beginning to form in her eyes…

“…no…no…no. Vels? Vels? Come on, Vels stay with me. Ignore him. He’s trying to get to you.” He warned. Branch looked to see what Veneer was talking about…he saw it too….

“What’s happening?” He asked.

“Why my dear girl do you try to hide your roots? You two are part of an empire here in the under-city! An empire of course that could’ve made it to the city-line if it wasn’t for your stupidity, mate.” Creek looked at Veneer, “Pity. You were always the screw up though.”

Veneer stayed silent, he knew more than to answer this Troll. He wiggled and moved but couldn’t break free of the snare they were in…the more he moved, the more it tightened.

“DONT YOU DARE CALL MY BROTHER A SCREW UP! DON’T YOU DARE!”

“Oh! Did I hit a sour spot with that one? Why did someone else maybe call you a screw up?….Close family relations perhaps?” Creek kept pressing on. So that’s what he was doing….He WAS trying to set Velvet off…He was trying to anger her….

“Creek enough! Leave the kid alone!” Branch defended.

“Mmmmm no. I don’t think so.” He smiled viscously, “You know who you remind me a lot of….

“Don’t you DARE say it.” Velvet warned as the glow in her eyes grew. Veneer tried to reach out for his sister. He tried to touch her, to soothe her…but he couldn’t.

“…..Your father…”

….She lost it, “YOU STUPID TROLL!!” With glowing eyes, she began to tear at the barbed wire, cutting her hands as she attempted to break free. The poisons effect allowed for the feeling of pain to diminish, she kept clawing and tearing, swearing under her breath at the purple Troll…

Velvet began to go on a rampage underneath the snared trap. Tye and the other Trolls watched in fear as she did so. Branch had no where to move, he was stuck. Veneer quickly put a protective hand over the little Troll as Velvet began twisting and squirming in an attempt to set herself free. As she lashed out, she felt her hand come in contact with something…her nails dug in…She didn’t realize what it was until she heard the horrid cry of pain and a name being called out…

“Ven!” She heard Branches voice yell. Veneer still had one protective hand covering Branch, with the other he held over his eye…it was his face her nails had dug into….she could see where she tore off his skin…blood dripping to the ground.

“….Ven?” The poison began to diminish at the realization that she had just hurt her brother, “Oh…My god….I’m….I’m sorry….”

Creek watched and observed every little detail, “Interesting. Very interesting…..Insomnia seeds. NOW!” The Trolls at his command launched some seeds towards the twins.

“Wait. NO! Guys hold your breath!” Branch warned…but it was too late. The seeds had already landed by their feet, releasing the spores into the air. They began taking effect on the twins as they swayed under the snare trap…They both landed with a giant THUMP on the ground, shaking it under Branch’s feet.

“Velvet! Veneer!” Branch called out again…but they were out under deep sleep.

“Grab him.” Creek said. Two Trolls rushed to Branch pulling him from under the trap and out of Veneer’s hand.

“Let me go! Let us all go! They didn’t do anything wrong! This idiot caused her to do that! It wasn’t her fault! He’s bleeding! Come on man, the kid is still bleeding!” Branch protested. He fussed and squirmed until eventually he landed a kick to one of the Trolls causing him to let go. He ran back towards the slumbering twins under the snare.

“Guys! Guys! Come on you HAVE to wake up!” He reached through an opening. Grabbing hold of Veneer’s red hoodie, Branch shook and pulled attempting to wake the Rageon up. “Veneer!” A firm grip grasped his shoulders and pulled him away from the Rageon. He kicked and fought again, but this time he had no luck. The Trolls who held him brought him to Creek. Branch looked up at the purple Troll who only held a triumphant smirk.

“Word advice mate, you need to stop picking the loosing side. It never works out.”

“What the heck are you talking about?” Branch demanded.

“You’ll see mate. You’ll see. These two are no longer your concern. I’ll take care of it from here thank you.” He waved them off.

“What are you talking about!” Branch demanded as they pulled him away. They dragged him by Tye who only carried a sorrowful look.

“I’m sorry. I tried warning you…” He told Branch.

“Whatever you do kid, don’t believe him. He’s a liar and rat.” He got dragged away, “A liar and a rat you hear me!” He called out before disappeared. Tye felt a pat on his shoulders.

“Now, don’t worry about him mate. He’ll be fine. He’s one of us after all remember!” Creek smiled.

“Right….What about these two?” Tye motioned to the giant sleeping Rageons underneath the wired netting…Veneer’s face still freshly wounded. “Maybe we should bandage him up?”

“Naw, he’ll be fine. Now let’s get word out that we have them….we have their precious twins.”

Branch had been throw into some type of cellar…somewhere they throw there captives or prisoners, he assumed.

“Typical Creek.” He murmured to himself. There were openings to the skylight way above, but Under Rageous was always so gloomy, Branch couldn’t tell what time of day it was, all he knew was that he had been stuck for hours. No food, nothing to drink… Being trapped by Creek was not a good sign. What went over and over in his mind was how well Creek made it seem that he knew the twins, that he had known Floyd too. Was there more to the twins that Branch had originally thought? Were they still here?

“I have to get out of here and find them.” He told himself…funny…early on he would want nothing to do with the twins. He’d would’ve want to get as far away from them as possible. But something in his gut was telling him something else…that he had to find them…Something about them reminded him of the relationship he had with his brothers…oddly enough. He walked to the prison door and peeked around…no guards…no one…. He shook the bars, hoping they’d move or budge, but they were solid. Branch leaned his head against the prison bars and at that moment Poppy crossed his mind. He closed his eyes as he recollected his memories of her: her smile, her laugh, her voice, her touch…He missed her and he could only imagine how worried she was. Branch knew Poppy was the type to go out and look for him, and he did not want her coming to this horrid place…He had to make sure she didn’t…but how was he going to get to the twins then back to her?

The sound of a door being open was heard. Branch backed away from the prison bars…to his surprise his eyes fell upon a young gray Troll….Tye.

“What are doing down here?” He asked, his tone coming out more vile than it should have.

Tye took note of that, “…I’m sorry…I didn’t mean….I didn’t think this was going to happen.”

“Well look around kid…It did. You betrayed me, and you betrayed those kids too.”

“They’re Rageons….”

“They’re kids! Just like you! Troll, Rageon…it doesn’t matter.”

“….They hurt your brother. How can you not hate them?”

“I do!”

“Then why did you help them?”

“…..I don’t know…..”

“Why do you want to help them now?”

“….I don’t know!” And that was the truth….Branch didn’t know. That small moment he had with Veneer told him more about the kid than the fight he had with him up in Mount Rageous a year ago now….There was something more to the story…there always was. And the way Veneer talked about Floyd…there was history.

“…It’s a mystery. Something I want to figure out.” Branch finally admitted.

“But what about your girl?…Don’t you want to get back to her?” Tye asked.

“I do. More than anything…”

“…..But…..You don’t want to leave the twins behind….”

“……No…..”

Tye sighed. He didn’t understand, he didn’t know how to. But one thing was for certain….Something strange had been happening around The Hideout ever since he was younger, Tye couldn’t put a foot on it…till today…He pulled out a key from his pocket and opened the prison gate. Branch’s ears perked up.

“…You’re…Letting me go? Did Creek allow this?” Branch asked.

“He doesn’t know. Come with me…you have to see something. But we have to be quick…or we’ll miss the call.”

“Call? What call?”

Tye had lead Branch in the upper air systems of The Hideout. No Troll would really roam through there, except for Tye of course, “We’re almost there.” He whispered as Branch followed. After a while Tye came to a stop. He pointed down. Peeking through the open airway Branch saw they were looking down into a room: a communications room.

“Whoa. We have none of this stuff back home.”

“We’re in Rageous, we take advantage of the tech they have lying around.”

Branch could see Creek pacing back and forth, his arms were crossed, he kept on murmuring to himself, “What’s got him all turned up?”

“Shh. You’ll see.”

Within moments something beeped, a red light flashing on a small computer. Creek took a deep sigh and pressed the button.

“Just in time sir….” Creek responded. There was no picture, just a deep voice booming from the speaker.

“What happened to his face?”

“H-his what?” Creek stuttered. Branch knew Creek, he wouldn’t stutter unless he felt threatened…or intimidated.

“….My son’s face. Why is it scratched up?”

Son?

“…Well his sister had a bit of a manic episode sir….”

“….Something you caused I presume.”

“N-no sir, I would never…”

“DONT. YOU. DARE. LIE. I know my daughter.” The voice warned.

Daughter, wait…that means… The voice on the other line, it could only be one person. But how?

“….I’m….I’m sorry sir.”

“She’s after them isn’t she?”

“I think so, mate, I mean sir! They were running away from someone who worked for her.”

“She’s not going to stop.”

“Why do you just let her have the boy? I mean, he won’t benefit you much. He’s a bit of a yapper if you don’t mind me saying..” But Creek had too much, he knew, because dead silence fell on the other side of the line…. Creek had angered him.

“If you ever say another word like that about my son….you will regret the day I let you live. Don’t over extend my mercy on you and your little group of ants. I know where you dwell. I know where you are all located….Have we forgotten?”

“N-no, sir.” Branch could see Creek beginning to shiver in fear.

“The only reason you serve my benefit is you knowing the location of the Trolls around the Troll kingdom. Do we have a location for more Trolls?”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Good. Send them my way. We’re done….For now.” The line fell silent. Creek buckled and fell to his knees. Branch’s fist tightened into a ball, he made his way back out of the airway system.

“Branch!” Tye called after him.

“That….low life…little weasel…” Branch began to murmur.

“Branch wait!”

“He’s the one who’s been selling us out! He’s the one giving these Rageons our location! That’s how they knew where Pop Troll Village was! Oh my god. Oh my god! Poppy, my brothers, they’re not safe! They know…They all know. No Troll is safe…” Branch paced back and forth, his anxiety building.

“Then we go! We go warn them!”

“That man….on the other line…” He looked towards Tye, “…..He’s the twins dad isn’t he?”

Tye nodded, “….He’s the meanest Rageon you’ll ever meet Branch. You DON’T want to come across him…or that family…at all.”

“…Floyd said that their parents were dead…”

“…They lied. The twins have lied about a lot of things…obviously.”

“…I….I have to go get them…”

“What?!”

“I know it’s crazy! But something isn’t adding up. I don’t think….I don’t think they wanted to be found. Where are they? Do you have an idea?”

Tye twiddled his thumbs, “….Yes…..”

“Where Tye?!”

“…They’re in the one place in Under Rageous you don’t want to go to Branch….”