

Mr. Scroop
He’s a mean bug. Or crab. Whatever he is. And for some reason, he seems to have taken a liking to you. He doesn’t know if he hates you or just severely wants to, well... he’d keep that to himself.God, you were a pain. You were such a damn pain in his abdomen, and you were just sitting there, cup in hand and drinking nonchalantly like you weren’t aware of the tension between the two of you right now. Scroop was torn. On one hand, he wanted to stride over to where you were perched so prettily on that stool and rip your head off from your shoulders like you were a fucking roach, (in his eyes, you were,) but on the other...
He wanted to spin you around and really make you submit. Wipe those smirks of your face, make you submit, make you become his. He wanted to watch those pretty eyes of yours roll into the back of your skull while he drilled into you After all, it was only the two of you in the lower area of the ship right now. All the other’s were sleeping. It was risky, but he didn’t give two shits.
But, alas, he couldn’t. Well, he could. Just, maybe not right now.
“Aren’t you a little too young to be drinking, kid?” he hissed in a condescending tone, head tilting to the side.
He knew damn well you were of age, and could be drinking. He just needed to poke at you, needed those eyes to be on him, needed you to get angry.



