#all lives will matter when black lives matter

[wineauntie]

WEAR THE HAT (RIDE THE COWBOY) — quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary:in which, Quinn Hughes thinks you should save a horse! (…and ride a cowboy)

note: oh this is a longggg one! Also confident + cowboy quinn is superior >

warnings: 18+ content, MDNI, sexual content, p in v, nicknames like pretty girl, baby and sweetheart, use of y/n, pining galore, enemies to lovers realness, Quinn with a dirty mouth that loves to praise you.

word count: 4.3k

You very much, very disliked Quinn Hughes. You always had and you could pinpoint the exact moment where it all began.

You had moved next door to the Hughes family when you were eleven. You’d cried the entire journey, sad to leave your old friends and old house. This misery stayed with you, even as you spotted three kids playing in the street, and even when you’d spotted your new home.

You’d hurriedly dried your eyes as your Mom had parked the car, desperately trying to hide your sadness. You’d plastered a smile across your face, but as soon as you’d stepped out of the car, you found yourself tumbling backwards onto the gravel, due to a plastic puck to the forehead, shot at you by none other than Quinn Hughes himself.

You’d carried a bump, a bruise and a pure dislike for the boy at that very moment.

His brothers on the other hand were great. Jack, who was only a year your junior, was one of your closest childhood friends, the two of you as thick as thieves when it came to neighbourhood shenanigans. And Luke as a child was obsessed with you. In his mind, you were his sister and he wanted to do everything by your side.

…but Quinn?

He never apologised for the rogue puck, nor had he made any attempt to be nice towards you or make conversation. In fact, every time you were in the same vicinity as him, he acted like your presence was the biggest inconvenience, ignoring you at every turn and fleeing whenever you showed up.

And so the silent feud persevered and the thorough dislike felt was an emotion well-shared.

You rid your head of all those thoughts as you climbed out of your car which you had parked just down the street from the Hughes’ lake house. It was Halloween at the Hughes’, despite it being the middle of July.

Halloween was always a big holiday in the Hughes’ household, so when the brothers couldn’t celebrate it together in October due to their demanding careers, Jack had come up with the clever idea to hold a costume party once a year in the midst of summer to give everyone a chance to let loose and have a bit of fun.

So here you were, in the middle of July, dressed in denim daisy dukes, a brown tank top and brown, leather cowboy boots. You’d thrown together your costume in a matter of minutes, hell-bent on borrowing the brown cowboy hat you regularly saw hanging on the coatrack in the Hughes home.

Your boots clattered against the pavement as you approached the lake house, the sound of music and people talking, singing and dancing seeped out into the night air of Michigan. You pushed open the door, being instantly greeted by a wave of heat and a faint smell of alcohol wafting through the air.

“y/n!”

You whipped your head towards the crowded living room where Luke had clambered over the couch, to reach you. You stumbled backwards as he threw his arms around you, your chuckles radiating as he rocked you side to side in joy.

“I thought you weren’t going to come,” he whined as he pulled away, finally letting you look at the costume he adorned.

“And pass up free drinks?…never,” you hummed, fixing his black robe. “Also, I’m loving the costume, Anakin.” Luke grinned and scratched his head as he glanced down at his costume bashfully.

“I love your…oh my god,” Luke trailed off as he read your tank top, his eyes widening and cheeks blazing as he slapped a hand over his mouth.

You beamed from ear to ear as you glanced down at your shirt which conveniently read “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”

“I’m a cowgirl, Luke,” You laughed, “actually, where’s that cowboy hat I always see when I’m around here? And can I borrow it please?”

Luke’s look of shock and amusement remained laced across his features as he glanced around the party.

“What?” You asked in confusion, following his eyeline only to freeze where you stood. “No…god, no, Luke!”

“I think the hat’s already in use,” Luke spoke, lowering his lips to your ear so you could hear him as he shuffled to your side. “Bye!”

Luke laughed heartedly, patting you on the shoulder before he returned to his friends in the living room, leaving your eyes locked on the sight ahead of you as a scowl crept onto your face.

Standing right ahead of you, sipping a drink as he talked to friends was Quinn Hughes…dressed from head to toe as a cowboy.

Fuck. Your. Life.

This was great, this was just fantastic. You wanted to rip your hair out in frustration, especially when you saw how good he looked in it.

One thing you refused to ever mention, was that despite your deep-rooted dislike for him, the eldest Hughes brother had been one of your first crushes because let’s be honest, objectively, Quinn Hughes was a good-looking man. You’d have to be a fool not to notice it. Your childhood crush on him had faded, yet every once and a while, it poked its ugly head out and caused you to go into full lockdown mode.

And now, seeing him in denim jeans, a grey shirt that stretched around his thick biceps and the cowboy hat you’d intended to steal, the ugly head of your childhood crush flared up, screaming at you to act on your desires.

With a huff, you folded your arms over your chest and headed towards the kitchen to grab a drink to wash Quinn out of your mind.

Hours later and a few drinks in, you found yourself sitting on the couch, with your legs strewn across the cushions, a plastic cup in hand, and a mind buzzing with alcohol-induced courage. The party had escalated into chaos as the night wore on, with laughter, music, and questionable dance moves scattered around the home.

Despite your initial annoyance at Quinn's unexpected presence, you had managed to avoid any direct interaction with him throughout the evening, skilfully avoiding him. However, as the night continued, you couldn't help but find yourself stealing glances across the room at the eldest Hughes brother. He seemed relaxed, chatting effortlessly with his friends, his cowboy attire adding a rugged charm to his usual demeanour.

Lord, you needed to get a grip.

But each time your gaze lingered on him, a vicious and conflicting mix of irritation and attraction stirred within you.

On your latest trip to the kitchen, you had glanced backwards and the party’s noise dulled as Quinn's eyes met yours. Even from across the room, you could see his nostrils flare and his eyes flash with an emotion you couldn’t place. For a brief moment, the world completely stilled as the intensity of his gaze pierced through the crowd. You quickly averted your eyes, heart pounding in your chest, but the memory of his piercing stare lingered, igniting a flame within you.

You’d abandoned your mission of heading the the kitchen and had swiftly taken back up your residence on the house’s couch, lounging back into the cushions, feeling rather flustered from the minimal interaction.

"Hey, y/n!" Jack's voice boomed over the music, snapping you out of your thoughts. He plopped down on the couch beside you, a wide grin plastered on his face. "Having fun?"

"Yeah, it's been a blast," You nodded, offering him a lopsided smile as your head lolled toward him. He had chosen to be a football player for the evening, adorning a jersey and eye black smeared on his cheekbones.

Jack chuckled, nudging your shoulder playfully. "Glad you could make it,” he spoke up, raising his voice to be heard. “You know, Quinn's been asking about you."

"Really? Why?" You asked defensively, as your eyebrows shot up in surprise, a mixture of scepticism and intrigue swirling in your head.

"Who knows?” Jack shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “Maybe he wants to bury the hatchet or something."

"I highly doubt that."

But deep down, a small glimmer of hope flickered within you. Could it be possible Jack was telling the truth? The thought sent a strum of anticipation coursing through your veins and straight to your beating heart.

Before you could dwell further on the matter, Jack grabbed your hand, excitement evident in his eyes. "Come on, let's get a drink!" He urged, pulling you onto your feet as you allowed Jack to yank you towards the kitchen and straight past his older brother, whose eyes seemed to be locked on your figure.

–

You didn’t know how long it had been since the kitchen, but right now you were holed up in one of the bathrooms upstairs, staring at yourself in the mirror. You were at that wonderful stage of tipsy where the world was good and bright.

A sudden and loud bang on the door rattled its structure as you groaned and banged back.

“Occupied,” you practically sang, your eyes flitting from the mirror to the door.

“You can’t be up here, it’s off limits,” the deep voice called back sending butterflies cascading through your stomach. With a giggle, you opened the door and shook your head.

“Move on, Hughes,” You tutted, “you should never hurry a woman in a bathroom.”

Quinn’s eyes widened a fraction from where he was leaning against the door frame, expecting there to be someone hooking up or throwing up inside of the bathroom.

“This is still out of bounds,” he eventually sighed, his arms folding across his chest.

“Even for me,” you fluttered your eyelashes jokingly, biting your lip as you stared at Quinn’s unmoving figure.

“Especially for you.”

It was as if those words sent all of your insecurities tumbling down, each one of them being thrown in your face as your upbeat persona completely dropped. You suddenly felt rather sober, all of the adrenaline and fun seeping from your body.

“Fine,” you hissed, bumping his shoulder as you passed. You were going to head down to the party but you felt your body turn back to face him before you could. “Actually, no!”

“You have a real stick up your ass you know that, right? I tried to be civil with you but all I get back is whatever this…” you gestured to his disgruntled state. “–is. I’m done trying. It’s obvious you don’t like me, so quit staring and quit asking about me. We don’t have to be friends or even be civil anymore, we can just stop.”

You turned around towards the stairs with gritted teeth, before you spun around on your heel once more.

“Oh and for the record, you stole my intended hat,” you pettily huffed, slowly reaching up and taking the hat from Quinn’s head before pulling it onto your own. “I’m taking it back for the rest of the night.”

A sigh fell from Quinn’s lips as you fixed the hat on your head with a smirk, nodding to nothing as you looked up at the man once more.

“Now, I’m done,” you eventually hummed in satisfaction, walking back towards the stairs.

Before you could get any further, you felt Quinn's arm snake around your waist, pulling you back towards him, his chest meeting your spine. Opening your mouth the argue once more, you found yourself faltering, feeling his nose brush along the supple skin of your neck, the scruff of his beard leaving a wonderful tingling in its wake.

"Haven't heard you heard, pretty girl?" His voice rasped, his lips skimming the shell of your ear as your heart quickened. "You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy."

Your breath caught in your throat at his closeness, his cologne engulfing you as your heart fluttered in your chest.

“Quinn…” you struggled to say, your body pliant as he slowly turned you so you were chest to chest with him.

“Had to watch you all night walking around in those little shorts without a care in the world that everyone was watching you,” He continued, his hand reaching up to brush hair out of your face. “But you were watching me, hm? You always do, even when we were younger.”

Your mouth was slightly agape as you remained quiet, your eyes following Quinn’s that dropped to your lips briefly.

“Think I haven’t noticed it?” He spoke, his nose brushing gently against yours. “Oh, sweetheart, why don’t you ask me how I noticed.”

You couldn’t find the words to speak as you tried to process what was happening and why you liked being held like this by him.

“C’mon, don’t go all quiet on me now… go and ask.”

“How..?” your chest rose and fell unsteadily, warmth rushing around your body at you and Quinn’s close proximity. “How did you notice?”

You watched as his head lifted slightly, a soft chuckle breaking from his lips.

“Because I was watching you,” He stated, his voice an octave above a whisper as he locked his deep and softening eyes on yours. “I always watched you, starting from the moment I hit you with that damned puck.”

“You never apologised for that,” your stubborn remark mixed with the need that your voice trembled with.

“How was awkward, twelve-year-old me ever going to walk up to a pretty girl and try to explain himself?”

“You thought I was pretty?”

“I think you’re the most beautiful girl, I’ve ever seen.”

You ducked your head before Quinn tutted and lifted your head with a warming smile.

“You got me nervous,” he admitted, his voice soft in a way you’ve never heard before. “So when I hit you, I grabbed the puck and pretended it didn’t happen. It was only after that, did I realise what I had just done.”

Quinn sucked in a small breath as he continued, his thumb caressing over your cheekbone in soothing strokes.

“I tried to apologise to you so many times but you hated me too, you know? I’d already pissed you off, I didn’t want you to thoroughly hate me.”

His confession sliced at your heart but your body radiated in a desirous heat that ensnared all of your senses, as you leaned closer to his body, relishing the firmness of his chest and the way it rumbled when you’d stepped closer.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, Quinn,” you whispered, your hands reaching up to hold onto his biceps.

“Can I kiss you?” Quinn’s hoarse voice murmured, causing your thighs to clench in anticipation. “Please?”

A primal desperation swept over you as you nodded and pulled Quinn down onto your lips. Your lips met in a clash, electricity humming around you as he swept his tongue along your lip.

For a first kiss with him, this was better than you had ever imagined.

The two of you remained locked, Quinn’s hold from where he cupped your cheeks, grounding you to the earth as you grasped at his arms to steady the sudden lightness that filled your body.

When the two of you withdrew to catch your breath, his forehead dropped to rest against yours as the two of you breathed one another in. The party downstairs was a distant memory as you surrounded yourself in Quinn and the moment that lingered in the air.

Another moment passed before the two of you jumped straight back into the kiss, the addictive excitement driving the two of you. Kissing Quinn was like driving fast with the windows down in summer; hot, freeing and thrilling.

Your hands tangled at the back of his neck as he held you tighter to his skin, one of his hands dropping to your lower back to press you against him.

A loud clatter from the stairs caused the both of you to pull apart, watching as two of Jack’s drunken friends almost face-planted. Quinn reached back out to you and dipped his head to whisper in your ear.

“Jump.”

Without another thought or complaint, you jumped into his awaiting arms, your legs locking around his waist as he carried you to his room, down the hall and out of sight from prying eyes. Quinn’s lips found yours in a feverish dance as he pushed his back against his door, to open it before he brought you inside and kicked it closed.

“Quinn,” you found yourself panting, your heart beating a mile a minute as the heat of your flesh became unbearable, the desire to have his hands all over you overwhelming your senses. “I want you.”

“You have me,” Quinn smirked, his head lowering to press kisses along the curve of your neck as he slowly sat on his bed.

Still entangled around him, your legs straddled his thighs as he pulled you close. His hands moved to your waist, holding you as he continued his tirade of kisses down your neck, pausing only to suckle on the sweet flesh casting a darkening bruise on your skin.

Soft moans of pleasure tumbled from your parted lips as your hips moved forward and back on his lap, desperate for any friction or satisfaction.

“Look at you squirming, you need it bad, hm?” Quinn teasingly murmured against your skin whilst you whined at his words, your hips rocking. “What do you say, pretty girl, want to ride a cowboy?”

His words caused a pure and animalistic craving to wrack through.

“Please,” you gasped out as he nipped your neck, brushing his tongue over the mark.

“I’ve got you,” Quinn whispered, tossing the hat from your head, his hands whipping your tank top over your head to leave you in only your bra. You felt a breath escape you at the sudden movement, your head dropping forward to look at him.

“Beautiful,” he commented with half-lidded eyes, lingering on your exposed flesh as one of his hands lifted to undo the back of the bra. The bra fell swiftly with your help, your arms tossing it somewhere into the darkness of Quinn’s room.

Quinn’s eyes darkened at the sight of your bare chest, his tongue running along his bottom lip as he admired you. You whimpered as he grasped your breast in his hand, kneading the supple flesh, eliciting a sharp moan from your lips.

“Never seen anything more perfect in my life,” he spoke, bowing his head to swirl his tongue over your nipple, his other hand pinching and kneading the other in a perfect contrast of pleasurable tension. Your hips ground down onto the growing bulge in his pants, relishing the raw material of his jeans against your shorts. He kissed across the valley of your breasts, capturing your other nipple in his mouth, showing it the same amount of attention as the other.

You were a stuttering mess, when he eventually withdrew, his eyes dark and careful as he slowly lifted you from his thighs and placed you on your shaky legs.

“Last chance, pretty girl,” Quinn breathed out, his fingers dancing along the waist of your shorts. “You sure you want this?”

Without breaking eye contact, you unbuttoned your shorts and let them fall to your ankles, stepping out of their constraints before you climbed back onto Quinn’s lap.

“I was promised a ride,” you simpered, your eyes ablaze as you bit down your lip. Your hands ran over his clothed chest, pulling the hem up, revealing Quinn’s sculpted body. He slowly sat up, allowing you to completely yank the grey shirt over his head.

In a sudden move, he gripped your hips and spun you, changing your positions so that you were pinned beneath Quinn, your chest palpitating as your eyes flared with a venereal need.

He stepped away from your body, slowly unbuttoning his jeans, as you moved to prop yourself onto your elbows.

With bated breath, you watched Quinn as he shed his clothes, your heart racing with anticipation. The air in the room felt charged with desire, every movement he made sending a jolt of electric excitement through your veins. As he discarded his jeans, revealing his toned physique, your eyes drank in the sight hungrily, a certain lust igniting within you.

Quinn's gaze never left yours, dark with intensity as he prowled towards you, his steps deliberate and purposeful. Your breath hitched as he knelt before you, his hands trailing up your thighs, sending shivers of anticipation cascading down your spine.

"So pretty," he murmured, his voice husky as his lips brushed against your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake whilst his hands pulled down your panties. His touch was electrifying, sending sparks of pleasure dancing across your skin. “Oh, baby, you are soaked, all this for me?”

You gulped as he let a grin crawl across his face, reaching behind him to place the panties in his drawer before he returned to you.

With trembling hands, you reached out to touch him, your fingers tracing the contours of his body, memorising every ridge and plane. The heat between you was palpable, a primal need driving you both towards each other with an irresistible force. You gently pulled him towards your face, unable to bear the tension any longer.

As Quinn's lips found yours in a searing kiss, you melted into him, surrendering to the fiery passion that consumed you both. You dragged him down on top of you, his body a heavy yet comfortable weight pressing against your bare body.

“Need to feel you,” you rasped, heat flushing across your body. “I want to feel you.” You rolled over, to be on top of him, your legs automatically pulled apart by his thick thighs. “Do you have?…have you?..condom, where?”

You found yourself babbling, finding it hard to focus on the words as your body cried in desperation. You watched as Quinn opened his fist revealing a silver, foil packet, which he’d grabbed from the drawer.

“Put it on for me?” Quinn asked cheekily, winking at you as you practically tugged the packet out of his hands.

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, earning a soft poke in the side from the man beneath you as you shifted your weight to manoeuvre Quinn’s underwear down. Your eyes locked on his whilst fingers gently dragged the material down, allowing his thickened cock to slap against his stomach. You suppressed a guttural groan at the sight.

You were practically salivating at the view, your eyes wide with wonder as you carefully reached out and stroked down his shaft, spreading his beads of pre-cum down his length, relishing the grumble that wracked through Quinn’s chest as he watched you with parted lips and a heated look.

Your teeth ripped open the wrapper of the condom, and you slowly rolled it onto Quinn's length, feeling the tension between you bubble over. With each movement, your heart raced faster, your body craving the feeling of him that awaited.

Quinn's breath hitched as your fingers traced over his skin, as you grinned down onto his thighs, hardly able to contain the vicious warmth pulsating through your veins.

With the condom securely in place, you straddled Quinn once again, feeling the heat of his body beneath you as you positioned yourself, ready to take what you both yearned for. His cock brushed over your dripping wetness as his hands found their way to your hips, guiding you gently as you lowered yourself onto him, the shaking sensation of fullness engulfing you both.

A low, guttural moan escaped Quinn's lips as you sank down, inch by inch. Your mouth parted in pleasure, your hands grasping at the flesh of Quinn’s abs for stability. The burning sensation of the stretch to accommodate his length, fuelled your desire as you gave yourself a second to adjust to his size.

“Oh my god,” you gasped out, slowly rocking against Quinn, sparks of pleasure bursting up your spine whilst you threw your head back.

“You take it so well, pretty girl,” Quinn huffed, his tight grip on your hips urging you up and down on his cock. His grip was an anchor, keeping your body grounded despite the ethereal pleasure you were experiencing.

Your walls tightened around the ridges of his length as it glided through your wetness. The room was filled with a cacophony of sounds, your pants of satisfaction mixing with Quinn’s carnal groans.

Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, a symphony of passion and desire as you lost yourselves in the rhythm of the moment.

Quinn’s hand crept towards the epicentre of your pleasure, his thumb circling your bud as you ground down on him. You let out a strangled yelp as he thrust up to meet your movements, both of you chasing your orgasms.

Your nails dug into his flesh as you moved up and down with his guidance. Your pelvis meeting the the sparse hair on the base of his cock as he hit the spongey spot inside you that erupted in glorious pulses every time he brushed against it.

“I can feel you clenching me,” Quinn murmured, his thumb quickening against your clit as you approached the edge of ecstasy. “You gonna come for me, pretty girl?”

“Quinn,” you panted out, picking up your speed as you tethered on the dangerous edge of your climax.

“That’s right,” He urged, his thrusts up unwavering as you met them in pure need. “Let everyone know who’s making you come.”

Your thighs shook as the knotted tension in your stomach loosened as Quinn pulled you closer and closer to that glorious bliss.

“Y’look so good,” Quinn practically slurred, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you bounce. “You’re so close, pretty girl, c’mon, let go, I’ve got you.”

His words shot straight down your core as the tension in your stomach exploded, as your body shook in the purest of pleasure, loud moans escaping your parted lips as your orgasm washed over you.

Quinn pumped up into you, letting you ride through the bliss as he grew closer and closer to his own. His grip on your hips held you on him as you relentlessly clenched around his length.

With a final grunt and a chasing thrust, his grip tightened and he spilt into you, eliciting a whine from you at the mere feeling.

Your body felt boneless as Quinn pulled you down onto his chest, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close. Both of your chests rose and fell in sync, both completely blissed out whilst his hand entangled in your hair, holding your head toward the crook of his neck.

You moved your head carefully to press chaste kisses to his jaw, as he lightly chuckled and adjusted his hold on you.

“How was your ride, pretty girl?” Quinn mumbled, his head lolling to the side to meet your eyes.

“Perfect, 7/10,” you whispered with a soft smile, your fingers tracing his cheek.

“Only seven?” Quinn spluttered in shock, but before he could descend into a panic, you continued.

“Mhm…I think we need to go again,” you nodded very seriously, mischief glittering in your eyes. “You need to convince me, cowboy.”

“You’re a cheeky thing, aren’t you,” Quinn hummed, his hand twisting around your hair to gently pull your head back.

“You like it,” you smiled, brushing your lips across his.

“Damn right I do,” Quinn growled, “Now hop back on, baby, seems like I have some convincing to do.”

Hope you enjoyed! any and all feedback is welcomed with open arms

#wineauntie #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #nhl x reader #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes x reader #quinn hughes 43 #vancouver canucks #hughes brothers x reader #jack hughes #luke hughes x y/n #jack hughes x y/n #hughes brothers x y/n #qh43

[luminiamore]

plug connie springer x black stripper reader

warnings: boy is down bad, a little bit of mikasa x reader??, mikasa is famous heree, connie is a tease, he’s also hispanic asf, ya’ll didn’t even make it to the club, hints of yandere, mirror action, he fucks u while he’s crossfaded, wall sex, he talks a lot, dude is rambling, good ole cream pie, gotta love breeding

a/n: i got carried away (⌒_⌒;)

can you guys tell i like my men desperate lol, this is so long i might make this a series (4.9k words)

one down, like five more to goooo

The lifestyle of stripping was something you truly couldn’t get enough of. The late nights. The smooth poles. Dancing on those smooth poles. And most importantly, the money. Oh fuck, how you loved the money. Living the fast life gave you such a rush that you adored it just as much as you hated it.

It’s not your first choice, not by a long shot. You were raised in Jamaica, New York. And your parents., you loved them. Honestly, you did, but you would probably be the most miserable person in the world if you kept heeding their strict Christian views.

You tried everything to reach up to their impossibly high standards. They wanted you to get an A in every assignment? Try A+. They wanted you to wear less revealing clothes because ‘No man will ever want you’? You’re showing up to your classes in turtlenecks just to keep their mouths shut.

You even made it a routine to clean the entire house top to bottom on Sundays since they started complaining that ‘You never do anything around this house.’ It was beyond annoying. You were fucking tired.

Growing up in Notre Dame School of Manhattan was nothing short of horrible. Proclaimed ‘good girls’ snorting more than half a line of coke in the school bathrooms. Drugs you aren’t even sure how they got access to, but then again, they are rich white kids. Teachers and hypocritical professors pretend to be oblivious to the bullshit drama their students are in. Your parents’ oblivion for keeping you here is even greater. Even after sharing stories with them, they would advise you to be more like the students at your school.

It was a miracle you didn’t turn out that far gone, despite what your profession is currently. You’ve smoked a little weed here and there. Experience some sort of awakening tripping off shrooms the weekend your parents took a trip to Barbados.

Without you, of course. Despite this, you were always taken care of. Your differences in opinion would never justify their abandonment of you. You knew they loved you when they got you a ticket to see The Weeknd live after you got a perfect score on your final, not after telling you their opinions on the matter, of course.

‘I don’t know why you listen to such devil music.’

‘I should’ve never gotten you this trash.’

The guilt you felt for wanting to have fun kept you from almost going. You went anyway, choosing to avoid allowing their misery to affect you.

Everything was fine; you played along with this draining game, and everything was fine. Until they decided to kick you out for finding a small baggie of blow (that wasn’t even yours) peeking out from the top of your purse. You don’t even know how it got there.

Honestly, you didn’t. You tried to communicate that while they were packing all the clothes they could find in your closet into two medium-sized luggage bags. But they wouldn’t listen, opting for screaming so loud you could see the neighbors peeking through the window. At the very least, they were kind enough not to throw them onto the concrete ground. Their stubbornness was unyielding. You just couldn’t get through to them.

You were able to rent an apartment you had put a deposit on a month before this happened because of the money in your savings account. Unfortunately, your funds were only sufficient for rent for two months due to groceries and other necessities.

When graduation came, your parents were nowhere to be found, so you realized that you had to find a means of earning money before you ended up sleeping on the streets.

You tried looking for a ’regular’ job -- a barista, a waitress, even applied to be a fucking bartender. It’s not as easy as it seems when those who already have one talk about finding a job. Why do they claim that they need to hire immediately and yet still reject you? Considering that your lack of work experience prevents you from being hired, you feign a little on your resume. Turns out, you’re not a very good liar.

Where was pretty privilege when you needed it?!

Despite applying to 500 companies, none could offer you a job within the next two weeks, which happened to be when your rent was due.

You really had no other option. You took your pretty ass and marched to the nearest club. Which happened to be the... Hustlers club? Why did that sound familiar? 

Upon entering, you outright demanded to speak with the person in charge, and when you saw him, he demanded that he offer you a job. Lucky for you, the owner happened to be there that day. He observed the little moment you had when you stormed in..well, he observed the way your tits bounced in your low-cut tee and immediately pulled you into his office.

He had the thought that you would make him a lot of money if you worked for him, and he’s sure his business partner would agree if she saw you. He just had to make sure.

A figure appeared in the corner, striking up from the edge of his desk and making a slight sniffling noise. A girl, a beautiful one with distinct Asian features. Her leather skirt was short, only barely covering past 2 inches of her thigh. Her tits were pushed up to a necklace in a black corset-like top. An ornamental gold necklace.. with the letter M.

Wait. Is that-

That’s where it dawned on you why the name of this club sounded so familiar. On a random Tuesday afternoon, you find yourself standing in front of a celebrity. You were standing in front of Mikasa Ackerman. The Mikasa Ackerman. As in, owner of Mirror Palais, the highest-paid model in Japan, co-owner of one of the best clubs in New York, Mikasa Ackerman. Oh shit.

You remember seeing her on an Instagram reel in front of this very club, along with the other owner. The other owner, his name was.. what was it again? He swivels you around to face him, almost as if he hears your thoughts,

“Eren Yeager, sweetheart.”

A soft handshake accompanied by a gentle tone. He was quick to introduce you to the beautiful eyes that stayed fixed on your face since you walked into the dimly lit room. Eren guides you towards the brown leather couch where his friend is sitting,

“And, this is the lovely Mikasa. I’m sure you sure you know who she is.”

Feeling intimidated by her intense gaze, you nodded quickly and stumbled a bit when introducing yourself. Her following words didn’t calm your nerves anyhow,

“A real pleasure meeting you, beautiful.”

Eren could tell that Mikasa already liked you; the girl was practically fucking you with her eyes. But he wasn’t here for that; he cleared his throat to draw attention to him in the room. He had a goal in mind: to get you signed up. Eren wanted you dancing in his club today.

He sits you down and swiftly gets into business mode.

‘What kind of position are you looking for?’

‘What’s the minimum salary you want to earn here?’

He tries to get a sense of what you’re looking for before proposing to work as a stripper. Although he wants you to, he can compromise. Server position and the minimum salary you asked for was $65,000.

“And I’m not leaving til I get that or something better.”

Well, you wanted better, right? Eren explains to you that his club didn’t have any more waitress positions and Mikasa...

Well, that day, you found out that she was really good with words. She did a great job at convincing you that you’d make double the amount you asked for moving your perfect body on the pole. I mean...

“Look at that body of yours. You’d be pretty famous here, sweetheart.”

And shit, she was right. You really couldn’t blame the girls who never wanted to leave, simply too addicted to the drugs, to the fast life, especially to the money. The amount of money you made every night was simply insurmountable. And you found it funny because it wasn’t just the money. Really, it wasn’t.

The sensation that occurs when your lower body rotates on the pole. The art of dancing like this ignited such a passion from you. The attention, from the men and the women. One of the most popular clubs in the city had you as a crowd favorite. You knew it shouldn’t be something you liked; you never wanted to get too wrapped up in a life like this. But shit, it was sensational.

You didn’t let it slip, even though you shined on the stage. There are people who would take advantage of you even more if they knew you actually enjoyed what you do; you know this. When it was time to go, you left with no hesitation. You had to remind yourself of what you were here for, to provide and care for yourself until you find a better job.

And you stuck to that goal for a solid five months; nothing deterred you. Of course, that’s what you’re thinking. In reality, from the very first moment Eren had you on that pole, you found yourself coming back for one reason. Even if you weren’t subconsciously aware of it, him.

Connie, you heard the owner greet one day. He was definitely attractive. There was something about him, something about how he threw money at you and only you. Your body shivered without fail due to the gray eyes that watched your every move. The way he man spreads and tilts his head back when taking a hit, revealing neck tattoos that you know cover his stomach under that black Nike Tech hoodie. He was so fucking fine.

Only a few men can pull off a buzz cut. How does he do it so effortlessly? Maybe it was the color? How would he change it like it was nothing every two weeks?

You noticed he had a thin mustache, and when you got closer to his face.. Fuck. Was that a diamond nose ring?

He was a drug dealer. You caught that three months ago. Around that point, he began asking for you to exclusively serve his section. Eren had no problem with that; after all, this was his friend. But Connie started getting.. greedy. He wanted more than that. He started getting bold. He wanted your body on that twirling solely for him.

“Hell no.”

Eren filled the quiet section. Your body was followed by both green and gray eyes as you moved on the stage, with Connie’s eyes being more intense and focused compared to the other. The thriving club was filled with both of them enjoying a glass of Richard Hennessy Cognac in the VIP area.

Connie never had a good relationship with mixing Henny and weed. He was aware of that. He has a tendency to indulge in sinful thoughts. He didn’t let that stop him from rolling the blunt anyway.

His mind would get drawn towards dangerous places, mainly when he saw you. The way your thong disappeared between your cheeks under your lacey two-piece made him ready to fuck you right there. To show those perverted and prickly eyes that stuck like glue onto you that they could never have you. That you were his. Or, you will be.

Connie hasn’t even fucked you yet. Hasn’t gone anywhere near the sticky wetness he knows you have in between your legs.

You two indulge in what you could only describe as subtle grinding in the back rooms. All the dancing that you’re supposed to be doing on the pole, you’re doing on his lap instead. It was against the rules; you especially knew this. That didn’t stop either of you. Well, more so Connie than you.

At first, his best friend was against it. The customers you brought in were earning him at least $100k a night. While his other show girls were beautiful, you radiated a different type of aura onto the stage. You were something different. It was genuinely insane how you could move, you didn’t even have prior training. You found that every night, you got better than the previous; it was a natural talent.

Connie, being Connie, offered Eren twice that amount for every night he gets to spend with you alone. That was every night you were on the clock, besides, he had no problem making that back by the next day. When it came to his girl, there was never a problem for him.

And Connie never regretted the amount he spent on you. Being alone with you was something he had grown to crave incessantly. To him? It was worth it. He’d get so excited to just walk into the back room and find you waiting for him. All pretty, just tempting him to ruin you. Then, when you start performing in front of him, your body moves in a way that would hypnotize the stoic man.

And it wasn’t just your body to Connie. There was a certain allure to you. He was observant of the way you moved, spoke, and behaved. He understood that someone like you doesn’t come by every day. He just had to have you, own you. Your body, your fucking soul, everything you possessed, he wanted it for himself. He didn’t care if it sounded selfish; he’s okay with being that when it comes to you.

It’s reasonable to assume that he would have the final say on what you wear for him since he was the only person you would dance for, right? That was the route he took to get your number. That’s the reason you got a text from him while you were getting ready to shower for your night shift.

One of his friends- Was he talking about Mikasa?

You could have given it more thought, but your shift was only an hour away, and Connie was on his way. Using a small gray towel, you drape it onto the fat of your wet boobs. Your hands lather your Shea Butter oil on the top of your left thigh quickly, but you stop when your doorbell rings.

“Coming!”

You yelp, quickly slip on your slippers, and move toward the door. The man had always taken you home, and on the other side of the coin, he always took you to work. You didn’t bother asking how he knew your address the first time, afraid that it would spark an answer you’re not ready to hear. Occasionally, if you were too intoxicated to carry yourself to your apartment, he would act as your knight in shining armor and hold you in bridal fashion to your door without saying a word.

It should have been simple enough: he goes in and gets out. And it would have been that simple if he hadn’t seen your pink lacy thong loosely hanging off your door knob. He was simply a man, one who desired to feel every part of you. The tip of that thong was hanging out of his pockets when Connie left your apartment that night.

Swinging your door open makes you almost breathless. Connie was a tall person. Everything about him just screamed: big. He was easily over 6 feet 2 inches tall, and he came to your door carrying a medium-sized shopping bag. You step back, observing as he comes in right after taking his slides off by your door.

“You’re here early, Con. I’m not ready yet.” You whisper, still a little perplexed he’s already here. Despite the amount of money you know he has, you rarely ever see him in anything other than a white tee and black sweats. Today was no different. Minor differences in each pair made it clear that they were different every time. You suppose it had something to do with his dangerous line of work.

He hands you the cream-colored bag, and his eyes never leave your lips all the while. You suddenly became very conscious that you were breathing the same air as Connie, who appeared right in front of you. He leans in, the ghost of his lips felt against your collarbone,

“You smell good,” His tatted hands sneakily climbed their way onto your wide hips. Before muttering a curse under his breath, he squeezes once. For the first time since meeting you, Connie isn’t being truthful. He didn’t come to your apartment to take you to your job. Tonight, he had different intentions.

He came tonight to put a full stop to the cat-and-mouse game that you guys have been playing for the past five months. Two fully packed blunts and three shots of Don Julio convinced him that his attraction towards you was not going away.

He should’ve realized it when he started making a habit of watching over you outside of the strip club. She needs someone to protect her, he thinks. You don’t pay attention to your surroundings. You have no idea, don’t you? Your beauty could easily lead to someone from the club becoming obsessed and following you. Anyone who wasn’t him.

He also should’ve realized it when he started beating his dick into overstimulation to your pictures on Instagram. And after your shift. Of course, before your shift. Eren witnessed him having to excuse himself during your shift because his dick was painfully throbbing against his boxers.

Connie really liked you. And somewhere in that twisted mind of his, he believed that you two were truly meant for each other. He should’ve never waited this long, “Put this on, ma.”

He pushes the bag towards your chest and moves your hips in the direction of your room. Your thighs twitch as you hum and make a little run to the end of your hall. He follows after you slowly, eyes shifting to the way your ass peaks out from under the towel.

This scene feels oddly familiar. A predator stalking its prey, just waiting for the right moment to pounce. You didn’t know what Connie came here to do; in your mind, you were just getting ready for work. He almost felt sorry for you, almost felt sorry for how he was going to ruin you, almost.

He made sure to take his time approaching your door so that you could be ready and prepared for him when he arrived. And you didn’t disappoint. In front of your vanity makeup mirror, you were sat on the cushion chair. Applying what looked like oil from a flower bottle onto your neck.

You look better in the dress than he expected. Your fat tits sitting so perfectly, and the lace meshing with your skin. You pretended to ignore him behind your seat, starting to feel the weight of his presence around you. This was probably the thinnest item you had ever owned, yet his hands pressing on your shoulders made your skin feel like it was on hot volcanic soil.

You catch his eye in the mirror, and despite your flustered state, he doesn’t grant you the satisfaction of looking away. Not even while his hands lower down to your rib cage, right under your plush boobs. Especially not even while his giant palms wrap around the fabric covering your nipple in a tight grip.

You gasp, a moan bottling in your throat, “C-Con!”

It could have been the way you uttered his name or the way your head pressed against his chest. Regardless, Connie lost control and dropped his head into the crook of your neck, beginning to sprinkle small, wet kisses. He grips harder, and you... you get louder.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Your flesh is now exposed to his hands as they slip into the dress. “Skin so soft,” He kneads his hands into your chest, squeezing as if he’s hoping milk will pour out of them. He groans, “God, you’re so perfect mama.” The thought of that makes a shiver run down his body.

Poor Mikasa, she spent all night working on that dress once she heard it was for you. Connie didn’t even let it last for a good ten minutes before you heard a faint rip sound in the midst of your whimpers.

Your brain is struggling to keep up with the speed of everything happening. You attempt to tilt your head back, but he shuts it down right away. “Eyes on the mirror.” He moves one hand to your throat, keeping you still. You feel your body shake under his hold, twitching slightly from his small attack. You didn’t have the courage to look away, not even as far as you could.

“I’ve been so patient.” Squeezing your left nipple, he drops his fingers down the ripped material until they reach the top of your pussy lips. “Cumming to the thought of your pretty face like a fucking teenager,” His words bring a mewl to your lips. Your body starts sweating, nervous at the way his fingers are just rubbing circles around your skin.

Would he pull away if your hips jerked against his hand? You hoped against all odds that he wouldn’t. You’ve never allowed yourself to feel this desperate for anyone, but being around Connie left you like this. You were at a loss for what to do. Your thoughts were racing to find something, anything, that would bring him closer to you.

It’s unclear what motivated him to answer your prayers. But in the next moment, he pushed his middle finger into the center of where your slick was overflowing onto the cushion. He creates slight tap sounds with the puddle between your fat lips, playing with you.

Your eyes close for just a second and burst wide open when you feel a sudden intrusion in your sticky hole. “A-Ah!” A sob leaves your lips, your eyes falling back to your face in the mirror when you register his next words,

“Eyes on the mirror, mama. I haven’t done anything to you yet,” As Connie slowly moves his fingers into and out of your dripping core, his eyes struggle to keep track of your face in the mirror or the stain you’re beginning to make on his digits.

He settles with the stain you’re creating. He’s massaging your walls in a way that you can’t help but cover them in a creamy white. It’s impossible not to moan with shaky breaths, whispering his name. He figures the wait was worth it. His dreams couldn’t have prepared him for the real thing. It was more noisy, was more sticky, and it was.. real.

What do you taste like?

Your hips shake as he suddenly removes his fingers from you. You whimper, annoyed by the absence of the touch of fingers on your wet walls, but you stop yourself when you see his movements in the mirror. His mouth wraps around his middle and ring finger, sucking your juices to the fullest. Your breathing stops when he moans, “You taste so fucking good.”

Connie silently pulls you up from your seat and presses you against the nearest wall, causing the ripped dress to fall to the floor. Instantly, your back arched into the prominent bulge that was pressing on your bare ass. Your thoughts wander back to your last session with Connie in the backroom. All that desperate grinding.

“You were squeezing so tight around my fingers,” He pushes his sweat down to remove his throbbing hard dick with a little effort. “Y’gonna squeeze my dick like that next?”

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

You jump every time the base of his cock slaps down on your ass. Both of his hands grip your sides, his eyes rolling back as he slides his dick back and forth in between your leaking pussy lips.

“Oh f-fuck! Connie,”

Your voice cracks when you call out for him, and he smiles. He cannot deny that this is the perfect thing; it was always meant to be like this. He spreads your cheeks as wide as he can, lining his tip up to your hole that’s clenching around nothing.

“Yeah, b-baby?” Fuck, you were so wet. “Want me to fuck you? Want- Oh fuck. Want Connie to make you scream?”

Your lips tremble, and you try to slide his dick inside you by pushing your hips back. He lets you, too weak himself, to stop you from taking what you wanted. All you can think right now is Connie, Connie, fucking Connie.

“Shittt. Want y-y’to to make me cum! P-please!”

Pushing him even further inside without his help proves to him that you truly want him to make you scream. You’re barely making it halfway with his thick and long build. Connie is incredibly proud of you right now, taking his dick like a desperate bitch and moaning to fuck the rest of his inches in.

He pulls a little of himself out of you, only to flush his hips abruptly against yours with one single push. Groaning at the same time you gasp out, he whispers in your ear, “Scream for daddy, mama.”

You were so full. His cock tip was touching places that you’ve never been to on your own before, causing your mind to go haywire. His pressure against your cervix was so intense it would have been painful if you weren’t so wet. You oblige almost embarrassingly quickly the moment you feel his dick drag at a steady pace inside of you.

Connie regrets not having done this sooner, as the drugs he took earlier are still mixing in his system, alternating and speeding up his thoughts. His body was ablaze. You’re covering the entire length of his dick with your juices, causing him to become frantic and desperate to get more out of you. His thrusts match his crave. You were warm, and your cries were heaven to his ears, “Big! Y’re so b-big, daddy!”

You’re not complaining, far from it, as he tears your pussy to shreds. In fact, you’re taking him so well, and he praises you for it. Like he said, you were made for this moment, for him. You’re such a,

“Good girl. Fuck! My g-good girl takes me so well,”

He can hear your slick drip on the floor below you despite the smacking sound in your room. You’re so needy for him, as he is for you. The walls echoed with your wailing sounds as you fucked him back, making Connie shudder.

He’s gonna cum. He can feel his balls churning as they slap repeatedly against your twitching clit. Fuck. He’s gonna cum so deep inside you he prays it reaches your womb. Although it’s his first time exploring the depths of your perfect cunt, he recognizes that you’re also going to cum.

He can tell by the way your legs are shaking rapidly, by the way, your moans get higher in pitch, by the way, you’re whispering his name out like a prayer. And he’s determined to make you cum before him. Do you squirt? Do you cream? He thinks he’ll die and go to heaven if it’s both. Your next plea erupts another groan to tumble out his mouth,

“M’gonna- M’gonna cum! O-oh fuck- M’gonna cum so h-hard.”

Holding your arms behind your back with his tatted hand, he moves his hips inside you at a faster pace than ever before. “Shit. Me t-too, mama.” He angles his waist to keep pressing into that spongy spot that makes you tremble. “Just like that. Cum, baby. C-cum all over this fat dick.”

Small tears start to fall down your brown cheeks, and your back arches sharply on Connie, causing your stomach to clench at once. The man above you receives both your cream and squirt splashing from your sweet core, and you weep. Your muffled moans fill the air as he cranes your neck towards him for a nasty, drooling kiss.

As he gets closer to his orgasm, his rapid thrusts become sloppy and crazed, and his heart beats twice as fast as he sees the beauty fucked out underneath him. The more Connie moved inside of you, the more he swayed. Your essence was covering his lower half so much that he couldn’t wait another minute before dumping his kids against your cervix, a shaky moan accompanying his release.

His thrusts slow down, causing tiny drops to spill onto the floor, but his lips never leave yours, and he has to remind himself to let you breathe when you start to whine against his mouth. He lets you go and instead presses tiny kisses against your panting mouth.

Both of you, Connie in particular, were on cloud nine. Your clenching onto him brings Connie’s mind back to Earth, but he is not satisfied. He wanted to go again. He needed it, so it was only natural he started moving at a steadfast pace inside you again.

“Again. Let’s go a-again, mama. Shitt. Your pussy is so-”

Before that night, you’ve never experienced pleasure on this level. Connie took you, on every corner of the house. Both of you left unaware of Eren’s multiple missed calls as he fucked his cum into you like a dog in heat. It’s safe to say that you didn’t show up for work that night or the night after. Connie made sure you never danced at a strip club again.

@hatake05 @thickbihhwitdagapp 🫶🏾

#lumiwrites #plug connie #connie springer x black reader smut #18+ content #aot smau #aot smut #aot x black reader #aot x reader #aot x black y/n #connie springer #connie x black reader #connie x black y/n #connie x you #mikasa ackerman #mikasa aot #connie aot #connie attack on titan #eren yeager x black reader #eren yeager #mikasa x reader #mikasa x black reader #aot fanfiction #x black reader smut

[hellcat8908]

Come Home Poly Batboys x Female Reader

Note: This is part 2 of Let Her Go

Warnings: Language

Over the last few weeks, the letters from Azriel and Cassian had piled up in a basket by the door. They sat unopened and ignored as you gave yourself the time to process the events of that night. It was no surprise that Azriel had learned where you were living, not that you were trying to hide anyway. The gossip around you and your mates had only worsened since you left. You first tried therapy, but they only seemed to be interested in details about your mates and not what you needed to work through, so you quickly gave up. Instead, you turned to journaling as a way to get your emotions and thoughts out and somewhat organized.

You currently sat in your favorite chair with your journal in your lap as you wrote out your feelings for the day. A series of harsh knocks disrupted you, causing you to leave your journal on the end table. You were surprised to see Rhys standing at your doorstep. You're tempted to slam the door in his face, but think better of it. "What are you doing here?" You ask cautiously. "I want to talk to you." He says, his voice sounding rough. "We have nothing to talk about." You answer. "I think we both know that's not true. Please, y/n." He says with a certain sadness.

"You said everything you needed to say that night. You made it clear where I stand with you." You say as his words come flooding back to your mind. You move to shut the door, but he stops it with his foot. "Please, I'm only asking for a few minutes of your time and for you to listen." He says pleadingly. Your anger rises at his words. "Only asking for a few minutes of my time and for me to listen?! No, you're asking for so much more than that. You're asking for me to relive the worst night of my life. You're asking me to let you in and open wounds that's that haven't had a proper chance to heal because I'm drowning in it. I have no one to talk to while the three of you have each other. So, no, you're not only asking for my time and for me to listen!"

He at least has the decency to look apologetic. "I'm sorry. I didn't think-" he starts to say, but you interrupt him. "That's the problem, you don't think, especially when it comes to me. You only think about yourself and your court. You're an amazing high lord but a terrible mate." You say as you let the anger take over. "I think it's best if you leave." You tell him. "I'm sorry." He says brokenly as he turns away. Once the door shuts behind you, you crumple to the floor, allowing the pain and anger to consume you as you fall apart. You let all the hurt and anger flood the bond so they might finally realize what they've put you through.

You manage to force yourself out of bed two days later. You make breakfast before grabbing the paper from the doorstep. Your eyes widen at the headline. You throw on some clothes and quickly braid your hair before making your way into Velaris. You don't bother knocking and let yourself in. You practically run to Rhys's office where you find him along with Cassian and Azriel. They stare at you in surprise. "What do you think you're doing?!" You demand as you focus your attention on Rhys. "What needed to be done." He says. "No! You stepping down as high lord is the worst thing you could do for this court!" You respond angrily.

"But the best thing I could do for us! You're tired of coming second to my court. Well, this is the solution." He replies. "It's not the solution! It's you overreacting!" You shout. "You're not stepping down as high lord! If you do, I will disappear without a trace, and you will never see me again!" You shout. "There is just no winning with you. Is there?! No matter what I do, it isn't right!" Rhys shouts. "Why does everything have to be so black and white with you?! All I wanted was for you to respect my feelings and stop treating me as anything less than your mate!" You shout before you feel the warmth of Cassian's arm as he pulls you from the room while Azriel stops Rhys from following.

Cassian carries you to the bedroom and blocks the door before sitting you down. "What the hell, Cass?!" You ask. "You tell me!" He says as he crosses his arms. "What is it going to take for you to forgive us?!" He asks angrily as he runs his fingers through his hair. He doesn't give you a chance to answer, "Those months of silence you're punishing us for are bullshit. You didn't speak up either. You never once addressed it with us or the ones gossiping. We just assumed you were ignoring it like the rest of us. You share just as much blame in this as we do." He says before storming out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You sit on the oversized bed you all once shared. You run your fingers over the comforter. You curl up in the bed and allow a few tears to escape. You hold the pillow that smells of Azriel as you find comfort in it. You think about what Cassian said as you lay in silence. You zone out until a knock pulls you back to reality. Azriel opens the door, "is it ok if I come in?" He asks. He takes your silence as a yes and sits on the bed beside you. "Did you come to yell at me too?" You ask. "No, I brought you some tea and a muffin from your favorite bakery." He says.

"How did everything get so bad?" You ask, ignoring his offer. "A lot of things went left unsaid from all of us until it spiraled into something toxic." He says honestly. "Think we can ever get back to the way it was?" You ask. "Do you want to?" He questions in response. "I want it to be better." You answer honestly, "but I'm worried we won't be able to move past this." His shadows gently play with your hair, causing you to visibly relax. "All we can do is try." He says softly. "They hate me so much, though." You say as you choke back a sob. He wraps his arms around you, "Nobody hates you, princess. We all just need to calm down and discuss what needs to change moving forward." He says, always being the voice of reason to you.

#acotar #batboys #acotar fanfic #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #rhysand acotar #rhysand x reader #poly batboys #acotar angst

[tiathecreator]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ so american ( hobie brown ) !

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎.𖥔 ݁ ˖✎ᝰ synopsis — " he laughs at all my jokes and he says i'm so american. " blk reader.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟcontains — ooc (?) hobie, fluff, swearing, atsv!hobie brown, hobie is taller than you no matter what, very very slight.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ tia speaks — because nobody told olivia to write such a cute song like my goodness. i love this song so bad ( almost as bad as i love accented men ) so i had to write a piece inspired by it ! i am also using this to be a complete feminism nerd and i almost wrote something similar with another olivia song lol. i totally recommend reading this whilst listening to 'so american' by olivia rodrigo !! happy reading !

despite his punk exterior, hobie is the best boyfriend you've ever had.

you'd first met hobie when you were selected to speak at a diversity conference in london. you were studying abroad in the middle of your second year of university, using the excuse of 'furthering your education' to read authentic european literature and cross of some of your bucket list. he was doing his usual routine when he swung by a billboard advertising the conference. he decided to check it, never one to shy away from social politic discourse. he stopped by a few panels, taking a liking to the minority in leadership panel, before stopping by the gender and intersectionality panel.

hobie's eyebrows rose as he watched you prepare yourself for your own presentation. you were dressed in business professional with the best shaped afro hobie had ever seen. his pulse quickened as you sent the moderator a ready smile before you began speaking.

and you were so american.

your charisma was enchanting, gracefully demanding the attention of the room. you engaged with the audience as you presented, throwing in small jokes here and there to keep the crowded attentive. he even imagined your expression becoming the slightest bit bashful as he caught your eye. you ended your presentation with another dazzling smile and an adorable tilt of your head at the sound of the applause filling the room.

he was even more impressed with your ability to answers questions on the fly. it was as if you thought of every possible questions and came up with perfectly calculated answers for each of them.

"i have a question for y/n. you mentioned white feminism and black feminism as two separate movements due to the lack of inclusion of marginalized women and their concerns. does that mean that you believe that white women are inherently racist?" a commentator asked. a furrow found its way in between your brow before you answered.

"no, i called it uninclusive because i meant it did not include the needs of women who were not upper class, able, educated, white women. black feminism can include women who are not black as it's an umbrella term of sorts. it serves to uplift and represent the underrepresented and unite all feminists, not imply that all white women are racist because of one social group. there are some wonderful white women who can acknowledge their privilege and use it to uplift us all as a united front rather than living in their individual comfortability. thank you for your question."

after your panel concluded, hobie found himself searching for you in the crowd of spectators. he eventually found you holding a bouquet of flowers from the moderator as you put away your things. he casually made his way to you, slipping through the ocean of bodies before standing behind you.

"would've gotten flowers if i had known someone as smart as you would be presenting here. however, i doubt i'd be able to find anything as beautiful as you, ms. america," he charmed, immediately gaining your attention as you turned to him.

"i take it that you liked my presentation," you mused, smiling up at the man before you.

"liked it so much that i'd like to hear it again. maybe over a meal some time, yeah?"

your cheeks stung from how wide you smiled as you punched your number into his phone, telling him to text you the details.

you guys hit it off as your personalities, morals, and routines meshed almost perfectly. you finished your educational responsibilities around the same time he finished his internship, leaving the two of you with enough time to see each other at least three times a week, excluding your weekend.

he's so attentive as he remembers everything about you, including things that you mentioned offhandedly. you'll expect him to pay it no mind until he says or does something that showed you that he was in fact listening to your every word.

and he's so soft with you. underneath your boyfriend's unapproachable persona was a man who was putty in your hands. he melts into your embrace, hands gently cupping your face as he laid a breathless kiss on your lips. he was always touching you when he was in your presence. he usually opted for the casual arm hooked across your front as he rested his chin on your shoulder. it was the perfect height for you to whisper all of your jokes into his ear, ensuring that he didn't miss the chance to indulge in your humor.

you actually guessed that he was the esteemed spider-punk after having rescued you from a mid-evening robbery. you noticed the stature of the hero looked familiar as you watched him swing through the air.

"what happened here?" you asked him one lazy morning, pointing to the bruise forming on his shoulder.

"i slipped in the shower," he mumbled, pulling you closer to him as he tried to go back to sleep.

"are you sure it had nothing to do with that pole the news showed you being flung into?" you mused.

"how'd you figure?" he asked, eyes now open as he looked down at you with a tired grin.

"what kind of girlfriend would i be if i didn't know my boyfriend when i saw him?" you replied, planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "plus i’ve tripped over your beat up sneakers enough times to recognize them."

"sneakers," he said, copying your accent. he let out an amused gruff after you painlessly slapped his arm. "you're such an american."

he made the effort to join you for your public demonstrations, only stepping in when someone got mouthed off at you too much for his liking, knowing that you could hold your own but preferring if you didn't have to. he read all of your favorite books as well as any pieces that you mentioned to him. he participates in most of your hobbies, even picking up a few and calling them his own.

he even calls your mom, asking her how she had been since the last time he had the chance to ask. she was more excited to see him the first time you visited since meeting him. she tried to treat him as a guest, but he was set on helping her around the house, taking care of any odd problems she had.

you might just have to marry him if he keeps this shit up.

© tiathecreator 2024. all rights reserved.

#☆ — tia the creator! #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x black reader #hobie brown #hobie x reader #hobie x black!reader #spider punk x reader #spider punk x black reader #atsv x reader #atsv x black reader #spiderman atsv x black reader #spiderman atsv

[addicted-to-the-knife]

I've come to realise that there are two ways people mischaracterise Will. (NBC Hannibal, specifically)

One being the "uwu innocent babygirl who was manipulated into doing bad things by the big bad Hannibal". And the other being the polar opposite of it, where even his better qualities are turned into something that signify how "evil" he truly is.

Where is the nuance?

Will Graham is a complex character with many different aspects about himself that don't cancel each other out.

He's not a good person. We know that. We should know that. The show has been very clear about that. But he's also not entirely bad either. People rarely are entirely good or bad. I'd argue that nobody is ever just one or the other.

It's not all black and white. And taking moments of his genuine goodness and turning them into something they're not just to prove the point that he's not a good, innocent little baby like some people believe, is just as wrong.

His empathy and compassion are not a lie. He's empathic to a fault. He has true compassion for others; especially those that are weak and vulnerable and are victimised by others or themselves or failed by the system. He genuinely wants to help them.

Of course he's doing that for his own gain. One could argue that his motivation is selfish, since he could not live with the guilt of lives not saved or letting victims be even more victimised. So, he helps in order to make himself feel better. He also helps others in an attempt to prove to himself that he's not as bad as he fears he is (especially in season 1).

To say that because his reasons for helping are selfish and only for his own gain, whatever that may be at times, make him a bad person and that he's actively preying on the vulnerable for it, is such a huge misunderstanding to me. Helping people is seldom a completely selfless act. Most people do it to get something in return; even if that something is simple acknowledgement and recognition for having done something good. The motivation behind it shouldn't matter as much if people are being helped in a genuine way that is good for them.

And to take Abigail as an example for his "true predatory and manipulative ways" is also not the way to go. He was genuine with Abigail. His killing of her father triggered such unbearable guilt within him that he reacted irrationally and tried to forcefully insert himself into her life and replace her father in order to minimise the guilt and make up for what he's done to Abigail. His intentions weren't bad, but they were selfish. He didn't manipulate her, though, nor was he preying on her vulnerability. He did genuinely care about Abigail (or rather, an image of her that his guilt produced), too much one could argue, and he acted irrationally and selfishly; because (re)actions fuelled by strong emotions are always irrational.

He was also very genuine about helping and caring about Georgia and Peter, for example. Especially Peter is a good example because that was at the beginning of the honeytrap. By some people's logic, he shouldn't have a single reason to care about Peter and be a friend to him, and he should have only been getting close to him to manipulate him. But that's not what happened. Will saw himself in Peter and he wanted to prevent from what eventually happened to happen at all. He genuinely wanted to help Peter out of his situation and come away as unscathed as possible.

Also, let's not forget that he had no reason to put on a facade with Bedelia in the second half of season 3. When he says, during their session, that his first instinct is to help a wounded bird, he wasn't lying or putting up an act. He was being genuine. His empathy and compassion for the weak and vulnerable is real. He wants to help. And he'd much rather hurt whoever has wounded the bird in the scenario. Bedelia even admits that her first instinct is to crush a weakened animal. Neither of them saw a reason to lie to the other.

When Will kills people, he feels righteous. He kills people that "had it coming". They deserve it, in his mind, for having hurt and/or killed others.

He's manipulative, yes, but from what we know and have seen, that is pretty exclusive to people in power, like Hannibal, or Jack. He doesn't manipulate a weakened person. (The only example that is iffy on either side is with Chiyoh, maybe. It shows that he's no better than Hannibal; even if he still wanted to believe that about himself at the time. He forced Chiyoh to kill because he was curious and he manipulated everything around that for it to happen. But again, Chiyoh isn't a weak or vulnerable person; especially not in Will's mind.)

By no means is Will a good person or innocent. And Hannibal didn't make him a killer. That was already inside him and all Hannibal did was to let that beast loose. And Will likes it. He likes how powerful he feels, and he likes the rawness of it all. And yet he doesn't use that against people that are already victims.

The fact that Will isn't a good person does not negate that he's empathic and compassionate and that he has a genuine want to help others. Because those things alone don't make you a good person. Those qualities can be true and exist, just like his enjoyment of killing and having power over others do. At the same time. They don't cancel each other out. That's exactly what makes him such an interesting and complex character.

#also the whole thing with (stray) dogs & animals in general... like. that's such a huge aspect of who he is and his genuine goodness within #oh and! the thought that empathy and compassion are what make you a good person and since Will is a 'bad' person- #-those qualities in him cannot be real or genuine is rooted in ableism lol i'm not even kidding #like idk y'all... maybe we should just agree that Will is complex and that he's neither all good or all bad. just like most people... #will graham #nbc hannibal #hannibal meta

[helterskelterhazel]

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒐 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰’𝒎 𝒔𝒐 𝑺𝒉𝒚

Summary: fetus!Alex and you hate each other, but not that much.

Warnings: sub!alex, dom!reader, oral(m receiving), p in v, crying?, grinding?

Word count: 4.7k

a/n: the fandom is so dead right now so I took matters into my own hands… enjoy!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You and Alex had an interesting living situation. You met through a mutual friend, and the mutual need for cheaper rent. The both of you hated paying ridiculous prices for the smallest flats ever, especially without the help of parents' money. Unfortunately, you both also hated each other. The night you met was at a noisy, packed club, and after a long day of university, you both needed to let loose. Your mutual friend invited the both of you along with a few other friends. He hadn’t been seen by your friend all night, but you saw him. As you had unsqueezed yourself from the mass of bodies dancing to the music to go to the bar, you felt a person knock into you. You turned to the side to tell him off, but your voice was caught in your throat as you looked at the boy in front of you. He was a fairly small boy, with thick hair that stuck up in the back. He wore a polo, with the color popped up, and baggy jeans. But what really stood out was his eyes, big and round and confused looking. The confused look quickly went away as he studied you.

“You y/n?” He asked loudly, attempting to strain over the loud music. His voice was higher pitched than you’d expect.

“Yes, I am, and you must be Alex, you fit the description I was told about. You also just ran into me, if you didn’t notice,” you respond, annoyed at his casual tone.

He smirked slightly, “I noticed.” What a dick.

You and him proceeded to have a strained conversation. He was clearly gone, sloshing his cheap beer around in his hand, accidentally splashing you with it at one point. At least he got you a napkin. You disagreed on almost every level, your personalities clashed in a frustrating way. Eventually, you got to the topic of university. He was an English major, surprising, considering his slurred speech and odd wording. Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t afford university combined with rent. That was the one thing you could agree on. You're not sure how, but In your drunken haze, you ended the conversation disgruntled but with a plan to room together in a new apartment. You managed to follow through with minimal talking, and moved into an apartment in the next few weeks. The circumstances weren’t the greatest, but it was the easiest option for everyone.

He put posters of the strokes, oasis and the libertines up on his side of the bedroom, and had his records stored next to his record player. Your records sat opposite to his. The first days were filled with arguments about things like who can take a shower, what type of coffee to make, and who can control the tv. He called you pretentious, you called him annoying. You’d complain about his habits of staying out late, and how he didn’t even try to be quiet when getting ready for bed. The yelling turned into grumbling, and the grumbling turned into silence as the both of you fell into some sort of routine.

you wake up hours before he does, and take a shower first thing. Typically getting dressed in outfits that consist of tights, sweaters, flats and denim or leather jackets. You pour yourself a cup of black coffee, and head to your first class of the day. By the time you got back from your early morning class, he was usually awake in his bed, sipping on an iced coffee. Iced, vanilla, coffee. You made him keep it in the fridge. There was always the lingering smell of the cigarette he had enjoyed on the balcony. You ate whatever pastry you had purchased from the bakery close by campus while he took an obnoxiously long shower. You would leave as he finished for the rest of your classes, just missing him stepping out of the shower wet and disheveled. Luckily your days didn’t overlap until late at night as Alex liked to go out, and he also liked to play in his band. He would clamber into bed after stripping to his boxers, and you would resist the urge to turn over to his side of the room and look. Then you would wake up and do it all over again.

One Sunday night, as Alex walked in the door earlier than usual, the routine changed. It was 9, and you both were puttering around the small kitchen trying to prepare separate microwaveable meals. Seemingly out of nowhere, Alex cleared his throat and asked,

“Do you wanna watch a movie, together I mean.”

Not knowing what to say, you kept your back facing him and nodded. You couldn’t see it, but his cheeks heated up to a bright pink, and he smiled softly to himself while continuing to prepare his noodles. The two of you settled down onto your beds, and you tossed the remote over to Alex.

“You can pick,” you told him quietly.

“I actually have some dvds that I brought from home, Al Pacino movies and stuff if you're into that,” he replied softly. The cocky boy you thought you knew seemed gone.

“Yeah that sounds good.”

He nodded, and slid off his bed to grab a big leather case from under it. After popping it open, you saw there must have been at least 80 dvds.

“Big into movies?” You asked, genuinely curious. His plush lips parted into a small smile at the question.

“Yeah, big time.”

He selected one and popped it into the dvd player beneath the tv before settling back into his flannel sheets. The two of you sat eating your food and watching “Donnie Brasco” through the rest of the night. The movie was dotted with Alex’s little interjections about the actors or cinematic qualities. You slowly drifted off to sleep with your bowl at your side, on top of your sheets. When you woke up the next morning, you were tucked into your bed, and your dishes had disappeared.

From then on, it seemed like you two had an unstated agreement. On the nights the both of you are in the flat, you would share a film. There was more talking as well. He asked you about your day and you asked about his. Sometimes he’d even prepare your meal, and make you a drink. You found out that you both actually were quite similar. When you had rented a French dvd, Alex responded excitedly, watching intently through the whole thing. Turns out he liked them as much as you did. You also found out little things about him that didn’t really matter, but meant a great deal to you. For example, he ruffles his hair on purpose, (he wants to look like Julian Casablancas.) He also began to get more comfortable engaging in small touches with you, touching your hip as he passed by you, light pats on the shoulder when you told him about a paper you did well on, and once tucking your hair behind your ear before scurrying away nervously. You didn’t mind it.

At the beginning of one normal movie night, Alex proposed that you sit in his bed.

“Y’know I just figured, it-it would be easier to see for you I didn’t mean anything by it,” he stuttered, blushing furiously. You laughed softly at his nervous behavior and moved over to his bed, settling onto the soft comforter. He tensed up as your shoulder touched yours, but relaxed quickly after. He turned his head to you and said,

“If you want to get under the covers, I don’t mind, it’s pretty cold anyways,” he trailed off, eyes casting downwards making the shadow of his lashes more prominent. You nodded in response, slipping your legs under the sheets.

As the movie progressed, you noticed his eyes starting to flutter closed, and his small frame slumped against yours. Slowly, you leaned back further, easing him to lay with his head in the crook of your neck. He didn’t say anything, allowing it to happen. You could tell he was still awake from his hitching breaths and pounding heart beat against you. Testing the waters, you took your hand up to rake through his soft hair. You got in response a shiver from him and a small hum, but no protests. You played with the hair at the nape of his neck, scratching lightly. You could feel him smile against you. This Alex was not the Alex from the bar the night you met. This Alex was soft and vulnerable, and absolutely sweet. You allowed yourself to drift to sleep, him in your arms.

The night after was filled with nerves creeping up on you. You spend the whole day thinking about Alex wrapping himself tightly around you, not able to focus on any work at all. You know Alex wasn’t going to be home early that night, he had a late shift at the bar to cover. You wished he was here with you, watching films, listening to records, or just simply talking, but you know it was best to have a bit of space. The two of you hadn’t exchanged any talk in the morning, both far too timid to share any feelings. So there you sat In the darkness of your shared room, unable to fall asleep or think of anything other than Alex. Your thoughts of Alex were interrupted not a moment later by the sounds of the boy himself. You keep your body turned over so he can’t see your face, just listening to his breathing and sounds of him putting down his keys.

When you hear him settle onto his bed, you did not expect to hear him softly crying. It was quiet, but the sound was unmistakable. Without thinking, you sat up and turned around, in which Alex responded by lifting his head quickly. His hair was hanging over his eyes, which are red and puffy. His doe eyes are soft, and his lashes are slick with tears. Responding on instinct, you immediately jumped off your bed and hurried over to his, wrapping one arm around him. He responds by leaning into you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You pet his hair lightly while he sniffles, trying to distract him from whatever was happening. Eventually he lifts his head up and averts his eyes away from yours. He takes a deep breath and then suddenly all of his words come pouring out at once.

“I’m so sorry for being weird all day y/n, I was worried I made you uncomfortable last night because I really like you and I don’t want to mess up us being friends, because you're like, one of the best people I’ve ever met. And I’m sorry for crying all over you and you can leave I understa-”

You shut up his rambling by leaning into his bitten lips. He made a noise of shock into your mouth, before he began to kiss back enthusiastically. He was one of the most eager kissers you’d ever encountered. His kisses were filled with an urgency you hadn’t felt before. He tasted like cigarettes and cheap beer. Unable to resist yourself, you reach a hand up and rake it through his hair, before tugging softly. In response he whines into the kiss, before pulling back and looking at you in shock. His lips are red and swollen, and his cheeks are flushed pink.

“I didn’t think you liked me like that,” he says quietly. You didn’t respond, just continuing to look at his perfect face.

“I guess I just overthink things too much,” he replies to himself. This you respond to.

“I can make your mind go quiet, if that’s what you want.”

Even you were shocked by your boldness. He couldn’t form words, just nodding furiously, shaking his hair around. You lean back from him, sitting against your pillows and opening your legs. He looks confused at what you were doing. You pat the spot between your legs and say,

“sit.”

His eyes got impossibly wider as they flicked between the space between your legs and your face. “You mean like how girls normally do?” He asks, looking insecure.

“I guess so, but really it’s just so I can take proper care of you,” you respond, smirking at his innocent expression. “We don’t have to do it like that if you don’t want to.” You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“No,” he responds quickly, voice straining a bit. “I want to.”

“Then come here.”

He lifts himself up off the ledge of his bed and settles his back against your chest. You instantly wrap your arms up to cradle his little waist. His body shivers a bit against yours. You push your hands under his shirt and feel his soft skin, while beginning to lean down to kiss his neck. His body is shaking a bit, so you pull back slightly and say softly in his ear,

“Are you okay? You're shaking honey.” He blushes deeply at the nickname, before shaking his head and responding, “Yeah, I’m-I’m just not used to this.”

You nod in response before continuing. As you begin to kiss down his neck, you decide to take a risk.

“Can I leave marks?” He whimpers lightly before hurriedly nodding.

You lick over his pulse point before sucking a small love bite into his pale skin. He tilts his head back further, exposing more of his neck to you. Between bites and kisses you whisper in his ear.

“No ones ever properly taken care of you, sweetie.” He looks embarrassed at the words, letting out little whimpers and deep breaths as well. You continue to run your hands over his stomach under his shirt. Your hands drop lower, caressing his defined hip bones. At this, he lets out a quiet whine and squirms a bit.

“Need more.” he says while looking up at you with wide, pleading eyes. His fists are curled at his side, and his chest is heaving with need.

“if it’s what you need sweetie.”

You take the edge of his shirt and pull it over his head, ruffling his hair even more in the process. You trail your hands down to his jeans, feeling the edge of them before asking, “Can I take these off?”

“Yes, please.” he breathes desperately. You unzip them and let him do the rest, unable to reach from your position. Now here you were, with Alex Turner between your legs in nothing but his boxers, looking delicate as ever. Deciding to be bold, you take your hand and palm over his crotch. The fabric feels wet with precum, and you can almost feel him pulse under your touch. His response is immediate, bucking up into your touch and desperately pawing at your other hand that was resting on his tummy. You trace one finger around his cock, feeling the surprisingly long length of it. He silently hopes you can’t feel his heart beating out of his chest, but of course you can. You decided to surprise him by reaching your hand down to wrap around the base of his cock. The sound he made was something out of a porno. A broken, high pitched moan that seemed like it resembled an “oh god.” The sound went straight to your core and you felt wetness start to pool in your panties. You begin to move your hand along his raging erection, eventually getting to the tip, just lightly swiping your fingers over it to tease. You would think he’d never even jacked off before from his reaction. All he could do is squirm and push himself into your touch desperately.

You remove your grip on him to just lightly take your finger and run it up and down his cock, moving the precum leaking out of him along it. As you teased him, you couldn’t help but lean down to suck a hickey into his collarbone. The need to see him as disheveled and marked up was unbearable. You couldn’t help but trail your other hand further up his stomach to his chest to his nipples, lightly ghosting over one to see if it was okay.

“Please, please I want it.” The boy who was nervous about being submissive was definitely gone.

You take his nipple between your fingers, rolling it before pinching lightly. He looks overwhelmed at the action between his legs and chest. You switch between the two of his nipples, almost overstimulating him. His chest and cheeks are flushed, and you're honestly interested in seeing if anything else is.

You take your hand off his cock, leaving him whining in disagreement.

“Why’d you stop?” He chokes out, pouting like a kid who dropped his ice cream.

“Because I wanna taste you.” you smirk in his ear.

You can hear his voice catch in his throat, and before he knows it you're releasing your hold on him and crawling between his legs. From this angle, he looks downright sinful. His puppy eyes are trained on you, watery from being on edge. His lips are bitten and his hair is messy and covering his face making him look somehow innocent despite the current situation. Trailing your hands up his legs, which were just as delicate and pale as the rest of him, you settle on where his v-line meets his boxers.

“Can I suck you off.” You ask bluntly, trying to get that pretty blush to rise up to his cheeks. It works.

“Yes-yes please do whatever please.” He begs hands fisting the sheets by his side, frustrated by the lack of stimulation on his painfully hard cock.

You take this as an opportunity to pull down his boxers to reveal his dick. You almost gasp at the sight of it, big, flushed a deep red almost purple, leaking a steady stream of precum against his tummy, with a vein going up the side. He looks embarrassed at the sight of you between his legs, staring at his cock.

“Can you please touch me, please?” He whimpers quietly, averting his eyes from yours.

“I don’t know, do you think you deserve it?” You tease, rubbing the milky skin of his bare thighs.

“Yes! Yes I do please, I need you so bad.” He whines in desperation, the pressure getting far too much for him to take.

“I guess you have been good for me. Is that what you wanna be? My good boy?” You didn’t think he would react as strongly as he did, it was really just to tease him even further, but he replies by gasping softly and saying “I’m your good boy I promise, just touch me, ple-”

You interrupt his pleas by taking the head of his cock into your mouth. In response he lets out a high pitch whine. The neighbors probably hate us right now. you take the entirety of what you can in your mouth, trying not to gag as the tip hits the back of your throat. He shudders and starts to let out a continuous stream of “fucks” and “yes’s” and whimpers. you take whatever you can't fit in your mouth and pump the base of him. You hollow out your cheeks to make the sensation even better for him. In response he bucks up his hips uncontrollably and takes one hand and tangles it in your hair. He doesn’t try to pull or control your movements, it’s just an attempt to keep his body under control. It’s clear it isn’t really working, as his back arches off the bed like a cat, and he has to raise the hand that’s not in your hair to his mouth to attempt to quiet his noises. You reach your hand up and swat him away from his mouth. “I wanna hear your pretty noises honey.”

“Oh-okay.” He whispers shyly in response, giving you a little smile.

the smile quickly drops as you attach your mouth back to the swollen head of his cock, licking into the slit at the top. His unrestrained mewls are the prettiest sounds you’ve heard. You continue to massage his thighs, occasionally reaching a hand up to ghost over one of his nipples, leaving him an overwhelmed mess. His trembling legs and increasingly louder whines are a clear sign of him getting closer. He was desperately trying not to cum so quickly, but he couldn’t stop his shaky thrusts of his hips.

“oh god, you feel so-so good.” He whines desperately, sounding on the verge of pleasure induced tears. You look up to admire his sweet face, and you're met with a surprise. He doesn’t just sound like he’s crying, he is crying. Lip quivering slightly, and his eyes are rolling back to his head, as tears run down his cheeks. The sight of him so ruined has your cunt clenching around nothing, suddenly unbearably empty.

“I’m not gonna last, please plea-.” You cut off his begging by promptly pulling him out of your mouth and removing any stimulation he was getting. The cry he lets out sounds almost pained, even more tears stream from his eyes.

“Why’d you stop, I was almost there.” He pouts at you, disheveled hair paired with red cheeks and teary eyes making him look angelic.

“Because I want you inside me,” You reply, leaning your face against his thigh, “do you want that?” You finish.

“Yeah, yes I want it. I want it so bad please.” He gasps out desperate to get some form of stimulation back in his aching cock.

As you slip off the shorts and panties you were wearing to bed, you can practically feel Alex’s eyes staring at your puffy folds. He gulps as you climb over his lap, hovering over his dick. You lower yourself to grind your pussy against his cock, feeling it slip between your wet folds, nudging just right at your clit. As you begin to move up and down along his dick, his hands grasp desperately at your waist, mewling at the feeling of your plush folds sliding along his dick.

“I swear you're gonna kill me.” He chokes out, eyes focused on your soaked pussy spreading your wetness around his cock.

“Do you like this baby, you like feeling me.” You say, leaning down to his ear, before attaching your mouth to the spot under his jaw.

“Love it, love it so much, I need more.” He moans, hands trailing from your waist to squeeze the flesh of your ass.

“More? Don’t you think that’s a little greedy?” You tease, licking and biting along his collar bone. He whimpers and shakes his head, burying it in your shoulder, shuddering softly. His fingers are toying with the edge of your shirt, too nervous to ask to take it off. Luckily you get the hint.

You pull the shirt over your head, allowing him a moment to look at your bra, before promptly pulling that off as well. His big, brown eyes dilate at the sight of your tits.

“Can I touch them, please?” He says, looking up at you hopefully. You nod into his neck. He immediately reaches his hands up and gropes at your tits, squeezing them in his delicate hands. You continue to grind against him to make him more desperate as he suddenly leans forward and captures one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking desperately. You gasp softly and begin petting his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

“You like having your mouth full sweetie?” You ask, a rhetorical question of course. All he can do is let out a muffled whine. His tongue swipes along the bud, nipping gently in an attempt to get you as desperate as he is. Suddenly he releases you from his mouth and stops the movement of your hips against him with his hands.

“I can’t anymore, I need to be inside you. I’ll be good for you, I promise I swear love!” He whines finally, breaking under the teasing.

“Okay honey, you’ve been a good boy.” You reply while lifting up to your knees and grabbing hold of his cock. He’s been hard for so long he swears he’s going to bust any second now. You line up the fat head of his cock to your leaking cunt, before slowly pushing him inside. You groan low in your throat as you feel his thick cock stretch you out just right, the tip brushing your g-spot. You almost don’t notice the way he throws his head back in euphoria, sounds caught in his throat from the way your plush walls squeeze him perfectly, and the way he can feel your cunt gush around him. You grab hold of his face, admiring his lust blown eyes for a moment, before leaning in to connect your mouth with his. It’s rough and messy as his tongue slides along yours, his mouth sweet and soft. You begin to slowly move your hips, the first few movements have him shaking again. You let him sink into the bed, so overwhelmed that he was pawing at anything he could get his hands on. Your tits, your ass, your waist, anything to keep him grounded.

But he just couldn’t. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the way your tits bounced with every thrust. He couldn’t stop hearing the wet noises coming from your pussy every time you bottomed out of his dick. He couldn’t stop looking at how your pussy enveloped him, leaving his dick wet and glistening.

“God you're so good!” He cried out, tears trailing down his face again.

you were right there with him, trailing a hand down to your clit to circle the puffy bud, but he was there before you were, desperate not to embarrass himself by coming too early. It only took a few swipes of his calluses fingertips on your clit to have you coming around his length. You gripped your hands on his slender shoulders as your orgasm shook through your body, unknowingly breaking him enough to have his own orgasm suddenly coaxed out. You feel his hot release hit your walls, and watch his hips jerk uncontrollably as the tears shed more than ever before. His fingers don’t let up until you collapse on top of him, sweaty bodies melded together.

It takes a moment for you to realize his crying and shaking hasn’t stopped. You lift off of him, still straddling him, his cum starting to leak out of you.

“Are you ok al?” You ask.

He doesn’t respond, a fuzzed over look on his face, trying his hardest to give you a little nod. You grab his fragile body in your arms and slowly lift him out of bed, walking him to the bathroom slowly. You take a damp cloth and wipe him down softly as possible. You wipe yourself down as well, still cradling him in your arms. Grabbing his hand, you lead him over to your bed, wanting to lay him in clean sheets. You help him into the bed and slide in beside him. He buries his head in your chest, still shaking but not crying anymore. You pet his hair, hoping to calm him down. After a few moments he slowly lifts his head up, making eye contact shyly.

“I’m sorry for all that.” He says softly. “I sometimes get a little unresponsive when I get a little too into it.” He looks nervous, anticipating your reaction.

“That’s okay Al, it’s kinda sweet.” You reply, watching his cheeks flush lightly. You lean down and kiss him lightly on the cheek.

“I had a really good time.” You say, smiling at him.

“Me too.” He gave a long pause before asking, “do you maybe wanna go out sometime.”

You almost giggle at his shy demeanor. Still so nervous.

“Of course I do honey.”

The both of you lay In comfortable silence for a while, arms wrapped around each other. You noticed his eyes fluttering in an attempt to stay awake.

“Go to sleep Alex, I’ve got you.” You whisper, stroking the side of his face. He hums in agreement nuzzling into your neck further. You stroke his hair and face until you feel his breathing stabilize. The both of you fall asleep entangled together, your lips pressed against the crown of his head

#alex turner smut #sub alex turner #Alex turner fanfic

[danibee33]

The Queen’s Guard- Chapter 7: Trust

knight!simon riley x queen!reader

cw: dark themes, *pls read at your own discretion*

word count: 3.8k (everything in italics is a flashback)

[<<<< chapter 6]

You still feel the faintest tremble in your fingers, your cheeks ruddy from the cold night air that breezes over your skin and through your hair. The world seems so bright, even in the darkness- like you could see every wonderful, beautiful thing in a way you simply couldn’t before. Like you were lighter than the winds, and higher than the sky. You feel like you could be flying.

And if you had known just how good being dead feels, you certainly wouldn’t have waited so long-

+++

“What?!”

Simon places a finger over his lips, silently shushing you; and you know better, immediately regretting the outburst, no matter the shock that lingers in your system, discretion was still paramount—

Your clandestine meetings had been growing more frequent; waiting for the moment he would be relieved for the night and your handmaids had flitted away to their own rooms, their own lives- so that you could slip behind the heavy wool tapestry that now hangs over the entrance to the tunnels.

You always meet in the same spot, making your way to the small adjoined alcove where you would find him waiting- either toying with his daggers or simply staring ahead, lost in thoughts you so desperately wished to hear until he heard your muffled footsteps, the sound of fabric rustling, that alerted him to your presence.

He would usually still be in his armor, his helmet sat carefully to the side- but this night, well, you couldn’t help but to admire the way he looks for a bit longer than you’re proud of.

Instead of black steel, he was covered in warm linens and rich leathers, still dark in nature, with a riding cloak over his shoulders and most of his face concealed under a heavy cowl. But when he saw you, you could see how his whole demeanor shifted. You watched his shoulders relax and the tension bleed away from his expression- watched his eyes flicker and glow in the candle light as he reached out for you, pulling you into his arms just as he did nearly every night now-

But, you weren’t in his arms anymore, no, you were pacing fervently- one hand propped on your hip and the other tangled in your hair,

“Simon, are you sure? I mean- this- this is ludicrous-”, your voice is quiet again, but each word feels labored and breathless, your lungs unable to fill themselves properly, “What you’re suggesting-”

Tentatively, he steps forward, capturing your arm easily, your name spoken so softly, in a way that conveys patience and gentility while still demanding your attention, “Breathe, My Queen.. C’mere-”

He wraps you into a tight hug, letting you bury your face in his tunic, and gods- the way his scent fills your senses, his overwhelming heat, the mass of his arms caging you in, protecting you from yourself. And when he speaks again, you lean in even more just to feel the baritone reverberate through is chest and right into yours,

“There is no other way.” Simon starts, “None that would assure that they’ll never come searchin’ for you.”

The moment he feels your breathing settle to an acceptable rate, he steps back, but only far enough to frame your face in his hands- those damned eyes prying you open; not in a destructive way, no, but in a way that reassures you, that tells you he can see your trepidation, your apprehension. A look that tells you he only wishes to open you up so that he might take them all away, let your burdens rest on his shoulders-

“Do you trust me?”

Your answer comes without pause, because it’s not one you have to give a second thought to as you turn to kiss the inside of his palm, your lips brushing against the rough skin, “Of course.”

And there must be something about the conviction in your voice, or the sincerity beaming in your eyes, because Simon sweeps you into a burning kiss so suddenly, your mind has to catch up to your body as you pull yourself closer to him- enjoying how exposed the feel of his torso is to you in these thinner layers. You swear you can feel the delicious bulk of his muscle flexing against you, your hands venturing over the breadth of his chest, reveling in how it heaves with each breath.

“I want you..” You whine into his mouth, your back now pressed into the frigid stone wall, one of his hands still tenderly cupping your jaw as the other holds your waist.

Most every meeting you have with him of late devolves into this; into feverish kisses and eager touches, you know he craves you just as much you hunger for him- more than that, you yearned for him. But, no matter what you do, or how far it goes, his self-control and willpower seem to far surpass your own, and it always ends with him holding you still- pressing sweet kisses against your forehead and your hair, his voice so kind and soft that it could bring tears to your eyes,

“I know, sweet girl..” He whispers, still kissing you, though you feel his hands tensing- ready to put a halt to it if he feels even the slightest slip in his control, “You already have me- m’yours. Only yours. But not like this-”

This time when you whimper out his name, fighting vainly to push his hand lower, your aching core so desperate for his touch, he groans; it’s a low, gravelly noise, his lips pulling up into something resembling a snarl just before you watch his head roll back.

He pulls in a deep, drawn out breath, inhaling through his nose and exhaling just the same- once, and twice. And you realize now, just how close he had let himself get to breaking his own self-enforced oath if he was having to fight it this hard.

Taking one more deep breath, he finally meets your eyes again, moving slowly and cautiously to tuck a stray bit of hair behind your ear. You let him fawn over you for a moment, your head tilted back to rest against the wall and your own gaze nearly as dark as his,

“No. You deserve more than this, love..”, he traces your bottom lip, eyes focused on the plump, pink skin there before flitting up, “When I have you, I don’t want it to be in some dark, musty tunnel.”, he pauses again, tilting his head to the side, “And I won’t have our first time be tainted by the memory of another man’s bed-”

Your breath shudders when Simon leans in again, nuzzling gently against your cheek- the tip of his nose grazing over the flush peak before he plants a kiss in the same spot, speaking again as he repeats the motion,

“No, little queen.. I want to take my time with you. I want to taste every part of you, starting here-”, a sharp gasp fills the void around you at the sensation of his tongue just above your pulse point, still hot and wet when he kisses it with a smirk on his lips, “and here..”

He gently pushes your hair out of the way, exposing your shoulder so that he could mirror the action there as well, drawing yet another breathy little whine from you,

“Stop it, you insufferable brute..” You speak the words through clenched teeth, and yet, your hands pushing down on his shoulders give an entirely different story- but he does stop, standing again to tower over you, completely unfazed by the daggers in your eyes.

And the cocky grin on his lips turns into something much warmer, his eyes not so ravenous anymore, “Believe me,” he savors your name, letting it sit in the air between you before continuing, “when I say I intend to replace every memory of him, or anyone else, I mean it. I want to show you what it’s supposed to feel like, in every way.”

+++

You pull back on the reins to come to a stop at Simon’s side. The horses’ breaths are hard and fast, much like your own, a cloudy mist of hot air dissipating as fast as it comes with each heavy snort. The castle is far below you now, just a speck in the distance, the valley it’s settled in perfectly illuminated under the dazzling full moon,

“Still think we have ‘til mornin’?” Johnny’s voice breaks the silence, his red stallion giving a tired chuff as it hooves at the cold dirt below.

Simon turns back to answer with a shrug- though his eyes land on you first, searching for your nod of approval before glancing to where the Scot waits, “Should. But, we won’t stop yet, the horses can go for a bit longer-”

You dig your heel in just enough to prompt your mare forward. The dark beast is familiar to you- chosen because she’s one of the fastest the king owns, owned, and it shows as you quickly catch up to Simon, taking your place just on his right flank, with Johnny bringing up the rear.

The plan was to ride as far as the horses could go, hopefully putting you outside of the borders of the kingdom before the alarm is raised, before whatever poor soul unwittingly discovers your treacherous crimes-

No.. don’t think like that. It had to be done.

Against the wind, you focus on Simon’s hulking form before turning your head long enough to catch Johnny’s eye. And you hate how sad he still looks, hate the grim set of his lips, and the consistent knit in his brow- there’s been no bright smiles this time, no boisterous banter, or snarky quips. He was still angry with you, and yet, he couldn’t stop watching you like you might vanish if he blinked too long.

But, you don’t blame him. How could you-

+++

Tap-tap … Tap-tap-tap

The world comes into focus again at the sound of your guard’s beckoning- you’re back in the Grand Hall, sitting on the throne, the weight of your crown perched on your head pulls uncomfortably at your scalp as the man in front of you rambles on and on. Something about the year’s bountiful harvest, and you can’t be sure what else, but gods, his voice feels like it grating against your eardrums.

You just can’t be bothered to focus on such trivial things, not when your mind wanders to the promise Simon had made to you- to take you away, to save you. Though, you suppose he’s already saved you in so many ways, more than you could ever make up to him, but you swear to yourself that’ll spend the rest of your life trying-

Hiding the exasperation in your tone, you raise your hand, “Very well, Lord Barclay. Thank you, for your time, and your very thorough survey.”

Simon’s arm is placed under your hand before you’ve even attempted to stand, it’s not an unusual or uncomely gesture, he had done it many times before, but holding onto to him like this now feels too intimate. Because you know how warm his skin is beneath yours, how firm the muscle is under the cold steel and unforgiving leather of his gauntlet-

“Thank you, Ser.” You say evenly, only sparing the most fleeting glance upward to find his eyes already on you.

It sends a shock through your system, and yet, there’s an odd sense of pride that trickles through you as well. Knowing your deception, knowing you can hold him as such, and he can look at you like that, with those around you none the wiser of your indecencies, your unbecoming thoughts-

And it’s only a matter of seconds, from the moment your fingers are settled over his forearm to the time you’re standing, but it’s enough to reignite the ever present burn you feel for him,

“‘Course, My Queen.” Simon bows his head as customary, but just like the first time you met, he doesn’t avert his eyes, and his coy expression does nothing but stoke the flame within you. But, you have a sneaking suspicion that he knows exactly what he’s doing, and that he quite enjoys playing with fire.

—--

By the time you get back to your rooms, the sun had nearly set, the once brightly lit hallways now glowed warmly with candlelight and the remnants of dusk as you stop outside your door.

Simon opens it for you, ushering you inside before relieving the other guard. He would be there all night tonight, which meant you wouldn’t see him until morning- and while the thought of him still being close, guarding your rooms, is comforting as it always has been; you already find yourself missing his touch, his warmth, and it had only been a week’s time since you got your first taste-

Gods, you’re hopeless. And never have you felt more like a spoiled brat than you do in this moment, giving Simon one last pitiful look before the heavy door clicks shut.

The candles in your entryway were already lit, but you find it odd when you round the corner to see your bedchamber still dark, save for the milky light filtering through the windows. Which is the only reason you see the odd shadow hunched over on your dressing bench, and a strangled sort of gasp lodges itself in your throat when it moves- slowly, at first, lifting its head to face the dim light.

“Johnny?”

You turn to grab the nearest candle stick, not registering how the hot wax splashes onto your hand as you set it down again. But, now that you have it, you’re not sure the light helps or only makes it worse, because now you can see just how disheveled he is- his hair is a mess, from the wind or from him running his hand through it, you don’t know. And his eyes.. he’s looking back at you with a wild gleam, his lips parting as if he might say something before they clamp shut again. The ties on his tunic are loose, the fabric hanging open, exposing the tan skin underneath and small chain hanging around his neck-

“Johnny- I.. What are you doing here?” You step closer, seeing the familiar paper in his hand, his fingers creating wrinkles and indentations from how hard he grips it, like he’s afraid to let go of it, but it almost seems to pain him at the same time.

And you know exactly what it is. It’s your letter, the one you wrote to confess your intentions, your plan to die. A morbid living will-

“Oh, Johnny.. I’m- I sent a raven-”

“Shut up.” He growls, and it stuns you, hearing the anger in his voice directed at you. He moves to stand then, not to get any closer- but to just look at you. Eyes lingering on your crown, and over your face, searching for something you can’t see or understand as he takes a small step forward, his mouth twisted into a thin line and his throat bobbing.

Seeing him like this is unlike anything you’ve felt, you think. Seeing your immutable Johnny on the verge of tears, his usually bright eyes, dark and stormy- your chest feels like it’s cracking open the longer the silence fills the space, until your own tears spill over, staining the rug in perfect little droplets. But what can you say?

‘Oh, I’m sorry you thought I was dead- but surprise! I’m not.’?

What could you possibly say to make it better-

“How dare you..” When he finally speaks, you hear the syrupy rasp in his voice, one tear rolling down his cheek- and then another, tangling in his unkempt facial hair, “You selfish, stupid girl! Why would ye write this? Huh?”

He doesn’t shout, but you can tell it’s taking everything in him not to- the restraint shows in the red flush of his skin and the rigid set in his shoulders, the rage in his eyes as he looks down at you before shoving the letter into your hands. Your own tears haven’t stopped, and you feel frozen in place, wracked with guilt and anguish and frustration,

“I’m sorr-”

Johnny huffs out a sarcastic laugh cutting you off, running a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots,

“I thought you were dead.. DEAD, Sunny. And you’re sorry? That’s all you got?”

It’s the way he waves his hand at you that causes you to flinch, and that terrible frustration blooms into full blown anger when he turns his back on you. You crumple the paper in your hand, forming it into a deformed sort of ball so that you could chuck it as hard as you can, aiming right for the back of his head,

“Selfish? I’m selfish?” You hiss, watching with satisfaction as the paper ball hits its target, bouncing off his head and rolling somewhere you can’t see, “My whole life has been serving others- and I’m the one who’s selfish? How rich coming from you, MacTavish.”

He turns on his heel, a look of heated confusion on his face, “What’s tha’ s’pose to mean? Like I haven’t served? Who do y’think is out there fightin’ your wars, your highness?”

With a short scoff, you turn away from- wiping the moisture from your face and yanking the crown from your head so you can toss it on the bed, “Oh, enough of that! What happened to ‘not a lord or a queen’? Are we not just us, anymore? Is that all you see?”, you gesture back to the crown, “Because that’s not me- that isn’t all I am-”

Just as quickly as it had come, your anger fizzles out, the flashfire smothered with a sadness so deep, so profound, you’re not sure what do with it,

“I was tired, Johnny. Weary, down to my marrow-”, a broken sob tumbles out as you wrap your arms around yourself in a lame attempt to find comfort, “I never meant for it to be selfish, I only thought I was doing a favor. For myself, for you. I can’t explain it..”

You watch his own flame die out with your words, watch the furious glint in his eyes settle- and when he steps forward, you don’t try to stop him, you don’t stop him when he pulls you into his arms, or when he presses a long kiss to the top of your head,

“I know, I know- I’m so sorry.. I dinnae mean a word of it, I know you’re not selfish. Hells, you’re probably the most selfless person I’ve ever known. But, Sunny..”, he pulls your face up, wiping the tears and mucus away, looking down at you with a softness you weren’t expecting, his big hands cupping your cheeks and jaw, “When I- When I thought you were..”

He bites his lip, breathing through the word on his tongue- not wanting to say it out loud anymore than he already had, “I thought I lost you..”

It comes out in a whisper, his eyes, still brimmed with tears, so steady on yours it makes your breath shorten- because he had never looked at you like that, and you had never seen him the way you see him now, had never given a thought to the idea of wanting him to hold you like he is now, wanting him to look at you-

No, no- he’s Johnny. Just Johnny.. Your best friend, you had grown up together, seen every stage of each other- from kids to scrawny pre-teens, awkward teenagers at best, you had both seen the other at their worst. So, why are you so surprised to look at him now, and see how handsome he’s become, how tall he’s gotten, and how well he fills out his clothes-

Stop, just stop- you admonish your own thoughts, he’s still just Johnny.. He’s not Simon.

“I know..”, you say, blinking away the tears and wrapping your hands around his wrists, “But, never again. I promise, Johnny.”

That seems to break his hypnosis, focusing on your words, on the feel of your skin on his- he shakes his head, releasing you gently and clearing his throat, the tension that had been there only moments ago gone dormant, “What changed?”

You glance over your shoulder, looking towards the entryway, wishing you could see Simon for just a second, “Well.. we’re hoping you can help with something.”

“We?”

+++

Simon’s path takes you deep through the forests, and as soon as you reach the river, you follow its meandering trail for the better part of the night- guided by the moon and stars, your trio traverses land that you had never seen, much less touched. And you only wish for a chance to see it in the sun, hear the birds singing, and the breeze rustling through the boughs; watch the water babble and flow, glittering in the sunlight.

But, there is something otherworldly about experiencing it at night. You hadn’t been outside the castle walls after dark, ever, now that you think about it- never mind on horseback.

And never mind the fact that you’re doing it to run away from your life, your identity left behind.. everything you’ve ever known..

So, why aren’t you afraid? Why have you never felt more content, more safe, than you do right now? Through the soreness and discomfort, the adrenaline still teeming in your mind and body, all it takes to settle your thoughts is meeting Simon’s gaze- still so steadfast and assured.

Or feeling Johnny’s calming presence next to you, warm enough to cut through the chill. Even if things aren’t as natural between you as they used to be, you know you could still lean on each other, that he would be there for you, and you for him.

But there’s something about the odd tension that still lingers when he looks at you, like invisible tendrils that bind you, pulling and stretching. But you don’t understand it, you only feel the strain, like a warning or an omen, something threatening to snap. But it won’t just yet.. not now-

Simon comes to a slow stop, you and Johnny following his lead up the high ridge. And faintly, you hear the crashing of waves, the wind picking up wildly as you break the treeline.

The cliffs, ones you had only seen as a child, glow brilliantly in the sunrise. It’s enough to steal your breath, and make your head spin. They had brought you home.

You’re so entranced by the glorious sight in front of you, by the sting of your hair whipping across your chapped cheeks, that the feel of Simon’s hand on your leg almost startles you,

“We’ll stop here for the day.. eat and rest.”

He lifts you from the saddle, keeping his hands stretched over your waist until he’s sure you're steady on your feet, “Are you all right, my queen?”

Johnny watches from your peripheral, meeting your eye for a split second before you answer, a tired smile on your lips,

“I’m not your queen anymore, Simon..”

[chapter 8>>>>]

taglist: @spxctorsslxt @ssc7514

#knight!ghost #call of duty #medieval au #simon riley #simon x reader #lord mactavish #I neeeed them #fic: the queens guard #cod #but make it medieval #simon ghost riley #johnny mactavish #also on ao3

[rongzhi]

ok ive taken a deep breath and steeled myself. what do you think of liu yu

I'm going to put this under a cut because I rambled a little, but I wanted to offer my detailed impression :P Rest assured! No tearing to shreds occurred. He remains intact.

Well, I didn’t know who this guy was, so I took myself to the ole Wikipedia and my first thought was wow! Look at those label names.

Second thoughts: Ooh, dancer. I'm looking forward to see how the dancing is (if he still dances).

I have heard of INTO1 but don't watch idol competition shows, but it's impressive that he placed first. I decided to listen to/watch two songs/performances: his first single, 靠岸, from 2019, and his most recent single from 2023, Focus.

靠岸 didn't seemed to have an official video, so I ended up watching a live performance from a show called Mr. Radio.

I was pleasantly surprised by this song! Seeing that he had been on Produce Camp, I was expecting a more pop kind of song, but this was a song I could imagine playing in the OT of a drama (in a good way!). I think his performance was a little shaky here, but I sense that maybe he was nervous? Either way, he seems a little shy here, where this song would really benefit from a powerhouse performance. Idk, maybe it was also a sound mixing issue. I like the song, though. Very pretty. I went to listen to the studio recording and it was a lot better—much closer to what I was hoping to get. The oooooh part sort of reminds me of a Zhou Shen song whose title I can't remember at the moment. It was space themed, though. (EDIT: the song I was thinking about was Cassini)

Next up!! Focus. I watched the Official Music Video on Youtube first.

Coming off 靠岸， I could see from the thumbnail that this song would be closer to the pop sound that I expected, so the things I was interested in seeing was the MV concept and the dancing. On first watch, I didn't really listen to the lyrics much, because there were no captions to read and I can't really tell what people are saying in pop songs anyway.

I have to admit that going into the video with the big gray space only, I thought it was pretty ugly at first. I just think that the CG structure on pale BG concept always looks cheap no matter who does it, though, and Liu Yu seems like a sort of tiny guy, so with all the dancers around him, I initially thought he looked a little swamped by them.

At 0:48 when we got a flash of the all-black cowboy look, again I was a bit disappointed, thinking that there wouldn't be much edge to concepts.

Then we got to the, I'm gonna say, test lab sewer gothic, and I thought "ok, at least that's something". It's definitely be done before but there's more production in that set and look, so at least the whole video isn't just going to be a gray void. The flash of Liu Yu standing in as his own princess was kind of interesting (disappointed this character never showed up in the music video again)

Now I know said I wasn't going to rip him to shreds and that's because....!!! When the beat dropped, I went "ok wait" lol. At 1:03, I witnessed evidence of stage presence and was like "oh we are so back, baby"

Still not a fan of the big pale space, and I think Liu Yu's charisma was most visible in the sewer gothic scenes and weakest in the scenes where he's wearing the silver ice skating outfit looking blouse, but maybe that's just because it distracts you with his little twig body. I personally can't buy into the energy of someone who looks like the most movable object on earth.

3:03 the "yuh" made me laugh tho

MV looks ranked (best to worst):

One thing that I didn't like about the MV (but understand is necessary) was that the video kept cutting right as I thought to myself "Oh, this is a nice bit of dancing", and I wish the shots had been wider on the dance moves instead of cutting him off at the ribs. A wider dance version in the sewer (I know that's not what it was but jhkalfjl) would've been appreciated by me. With that in mind, I decided to see if there was a dance performance video and there was! As suspected, the choreography in the beginning of the song is also just not that strong or compelling to me. It sort of gives intermediate hiphop 2 dance recital. My favorite part of choreo is the breakdown at 2:56.

Anyway, I hope these impressions were sufficient! I didn't check him out on any variety shows so I can't comment much on what I think about his personality, but from a music/performance standpoint, I think he's pretty good. Not really the kind of stuff I listen to anymore but if I still kept up with idols, maybe I'd check him out from time to time :)

#text #answered ask #liu yu

[siconetribal]

Put it on My Tab 11

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Tag: @vbecker10 @wordsfromshona @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotali

Warning: Frustration, Celebration, and Coffee Inhalation

Summary:

Everyone deserves time off, and the vigilantes of Gotham are no exception to the rule. The boys decide to take a weekend to let loose. Who knew a few drinks would lead to a stranger in bed?

Author Note:

A huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.

Please comment, like, share, and reblog! If you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know!

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters or find chapter one here.

The apartment was silent, broken only by the occasional shouting, shooting, and sirens. For anyone living in Gotham City, especially the rougher parts, this was all white noise. A day of actual  silence was a blessing that no one dared to question. Today was not one of those nights. In fact, it was noisier than most, which usually meant trouble was closer than usual. None of that mattered to Y/N as she sat cross armed and cross-legged on the worn out sofa, staring down at her phone that lay on the coffee table before her.

Seconds had turned to minutes which quickly became an hour which was now nearing two as she sat there stone still. Since coming home from her shift, she had perched herself on the couch as if to judge the cellular device that was placed on the stand. There was now a new number on her phone. Nine new digits under the contact name: Your Hero and a message thread that held one text saying ‘hi’ from her phone to this person. 

The same person with the mesmerising blue eyes that looked like they held the secrets of life itself, tinged with sadness and pain. Tall, muscular but not overly bulky but certainly much bigger than her, with black hair that had a high contrast streak of white in the front. The same interrogative gentleman who saved her from the drink and Matias. The very person who had her drowning in 4k worth of debt to the hotel for room damage. Thrice he appeared out of nowhere and twice were to save her from serious trouble. The one and only silver tongued Wonder Boy who was into books and video games.

“Who just shows up to save someone on time like that? Is he really some sort of self-proclaimed hero?” She muttered to herself, unfolding her arms to rest her chin in one of her palms.  “What do I do now? Do I text him? Should I ask about the room? How do I even bring that up without him claiming I’m some liar trying to squeeze money out of him? It’s not like I knew he was a Wayne! I didn’t sit there and memorise all their faces, and just hoped to the high heavens one had a decent enough personality to save me. I didn’t even want to go to the reunion! Do I just wait for him to text me? He did say he was going to text me, but do I just believe that? When is that going to happen? What did I even say yes to?!” She threw her arms up in frustration and ruffled her hair. “What the hell am I supposed to do?!” She let out a heavy sigh of frustration, staring up at the dated popcorn ceiling as she slumped back into her seat, laying her head on the top of the cushion. Today is going to be a long day. She blinked a few times, fatigue getting the best of her. Forcing herself to stand up, she grabbed her phone and made her way to her bedroom. Sleep was the only answer after such a hectic night shift.

“Tonight, we celebrate, Magnus ol’ buddy!” Jason grinned, snapping the elastic band of the party hat under the stone chin. “Yours truly has managed to not only find her,” he walked away and paused for suspense, turning with ease to face his rock friend once more. “But also get her number and her name! Sure, I got it off her name tag, but I plan on getting it from her directly!” He grinned from ear to ear as he walked back, waving the lit up phone screen in its face as he leaned against Magnus. “Sorry I haven’t been around to update ya on things, I had to help with shit on the other side of the city for the last couple of weeks. At least it wasn’t boring. But that’s beside the point, I finally got something on her before she got on me! Man, you should’ve seen the look on her face! I left her speechless!” He puffed his chest with pride as he plopped down onto his usual seat by Magnus, opening up the rolled up paper bag.

He pulled out a large order of fries, setting it sideways in Magnus’ mouth for easy access before grabbing the burger beneath it, his drink set between them and his helmet just within reach. Batburgers were the perfect on-the-go late night celebratory food. He was not scheduled to be on patrol today, but no one told him what to do. He just merely agreed with decisions for the most part, today was just one of difference of opinion. Let the Batman rant and rave, Jason would not let anyone take away his victory.

“So, what was the last thing we talked about? Ah, right! Some mobsters were causing shit thinking I wasn't around to crack skulls. Fucking dumbasses,” he rolled his eyes and took a hearty bite of his burger. “The look of shock on their faces, you’d think they saw a ghost! I know I’ve died a few times, depending on what stories you follow, but I’m still flesh and blood. Of course, they tried to fix that, thinking they had a chance. They never learn, and that's why they always fucking lose. When I ran shit, I was smart about it. Throwing muscle mindlessly is a waste. You can't educate the brainless though. I had to make sure to do a proper job, and couldn't leave just anyone to send the message. Things should be quiet over there for a bit which gives me the chance to actually reach out to Y/N.”

“Y/N, huh? That’s a pretty name.” A familiar voice held an annoying lilt to it. Jason’s eyebrow twitched as he took a sip of his soda.

“Whaddya want, Dickwing?” He grumbled.

“What, can’t an older brother come check in on his AWOL younger brother?” Nightwing placed a hand over his heart and hung his head. “You wound me, little brother.” He frowned, noticing the party hat on the gargoyle. “And to have a party without inviting me? I am doubly hurt! Maggie has a hat and fries!”

“Magnus is important. He doesn’t say stupid shit like you are now.” Jason scoffed, taking one of the crispy golden potato sticks.

“Margrave can’t say anything. I still think you should see someone about this unhealthy relationship you have with this heap of concrete.” Nightwing knocked two knuckles against it before taking a seat beside Jason. “So, who is Y/N, and why are you texting her? Where did you meet? Should I be worried, and for whom between the two of you?”

“Shut up,” the younger former Robin grumbled. “You better not fucking do anything or I’ll kill you.” He warned Nightwing quickly raising his hands up in surrender. “She's the girl I was trying to find about the whole hotel fiasco.”

“The one where you broke the simple coffee machine and ruined the room, leaving her with a huge bill to clear?” He smirked as Jason scowled.

“Yes, that one. Keep it up, see what happens.” He grumbled.

“Alright, alright! So, you finally found her, hm? That's good, you can give her the money and move on finally. You won't have some rando holding that over you anymore. Did you get the money sent to her already?”

Jason knew that was what he needed to do and that was the whole purpose of trying to find her. Give her the money and move on. There was no use or reason to delay. The sooner he paid, the sooner she was free to move on as well. Being involved any more than necessary was a danger to her and a burden on him. And yet, the thought alone left a bitter taste in the back of his mouth. 

Y/N was witty and funny, easy to approach and talk to even if it was just nonsense. He wanted to keep talking to her, and not just through a computer screen. He wanted to know more about her day, the crazy customers, and the shenanigans of her and Citlalli. He wanted to sit and drink coffee or tea or whatever she drank and discuss books, plan little gaming raids, or just talk about life. He knew nothing about her. 

I could just look it up now that I know her name and place of employment. I could find out everything about her and clear up the mystery that is her, feed the curiosity and be done with it…but I don't want to. Not only that, but I want to hear it from her, organically. Even if I did read all there is, I'd want to hear it from her. 

“Earth to Jason, are you there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. I’m just thinking.”

“You, thinking? Oh man, that isn’t good. Should I be expecting a second duffle bag incident?”

“Duffle bag what? No, that was one time, you guys need to learn to let it go!” He rolled his eyes.

“It’s pretty hard to just let go of the fact that your younger brother was carrying eight heads stuffed in a gym bag.” Nightwing scoffed. “Excuse me for being a little concerned.”

“It was one time!” He let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m not some psycho serial killer or something. If you’re here to rain on my parade, you can fuck off! This is why I didn't invite you, Magnus knows how to read a balcony. It’s clearly a party.” He motioned to the shiny pointy hat on said gargoyle’s head. “Also, aren’t you on patrol? Quit slacking off and go.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave! I can tell when I’m not wanted!” Nightwing let out a heavy sigh as he stood up. “Unloved and thrown away like last week’s newspaper.” He sniffled loudly. “I see how it is!” He threw his head back with the back of his hand to his forehead.

“If you get it, then leave.” Jason grumbled, opening up the wrapper of his second burger. “Thanks, for the assist.” He mumbled before taking a bite. Nightwing had just barely heard the words, but smiled nonetheless.

“Anytime, Little Red,” he chuckled before vanishing into the night. 

Over the course of the next two weeks, Y/N picked up every and all shifts that she could possibly find to help clear the money owed. Citlalli was great in helping her find work, while away and on her return. The return of the boisterous and flamboyant Citlalli was like sunshine after weeks of doom and gloom rain, refreshing and much needed. Y/N had been keeping herself too busy to even think, and Citlalli’s return was a great distraction, but also a great sounding board on what to do. She had told her dear friend all about her encounter with her troublesome cousin and the return of her expensive hero. Citlalli was not thrilled to hear about her cousin’s antics, and had quickly informed their boss of what transpired. She also insisted that Y/N should wait for him to text, since that is what he said he would do. The task was simple enough, validating the decision she had been leaning towards as is. 

However, that was then. Two weeks and some days had gone by, and nothing. Utter radio silence from him. No sudden appearances, even though Matias did come by some times to try to get her attention. And her online gaming partner was also MIA. Arkham_Knight said it would be about a week, but there was no movement or notice from him either. It was driving her crazy to just sit and wait for both of them.

The next time I see him, I’m going smack him! How do you tell someone you’re going to message them and just don’t?! Especially after you made sure to get my number to send details, what details?! She wanted to scream, but she was on the clock. It was another graveyard shift and the café was dead. Everything had been cleaned spotless and anything that needed to be restocked was done. She even went through the inventory to make a list of what needed to be reordered soon. With nothing left, she took a seat on the stool and pulled out her book since there was nothing else to do.

As soon as she cracked it open, there was the sound of glass shattering. She reflexively ducked for cover as the window shards went flying everywhere. She could hear the sounds of a struggle at the crunch and scratch of the pieces, a muffled frantic voice followed by a calmer, more exasperated one.

“I told you we could do this the easy way or the hard way, you chose the hard way.” The young male voice flippantly spoke. “Now, tell me what I need to know. I can keep this up all night if I have to, I’ve got nowhere else to be.” 

And I just cleaned the whole place! Y/N scowled at her turn of luck, carefully closing her book and placing it aside. What am I supposed to do in this situation?! I can’t exactly greet them and ask what they would like to order, who knows what they’ll do to me. Wasn’t his place supposed to be ‘crime free’? So much for that promise, thanks for nothing Gotham politicians! She grumbled to herself, slowly lifting her head to just above the counter to see who was responsible for destroying the cafe. She was surprised to see it was one of the famous caped crusaders of Gotham City. Red Robin, here? With who? She tried to get a look of the captured person but her attention was caught by the sound of crunching glass and she ducked quickly for brief moment.

“Did we get it?”

Nightwing? Well damn, I know I said I wanted something to happen, but this was not what I had in mind. She slowly stood up from her hiding spot after shifting over to right so that the machines would help hide her for a little longer.

“Not yet, but looks like he’s just about ready.” Red Robin answered, looking over his shoulder at Nightwing, catching sight of Y/N’s hat in the process. “Looks like we have an audience.”

What do I do? What do I do? Y/N’s eyes darted from side to side trying to find a place to run, but she was boxed in and there was no way she would outrun one of them. With no options of escape, she slowly walked towards the register so she was more visible with both her hands up. “I’m unarmed, I’m just an employee here.” She forced herself to speak calmly and clearly.

“An employee here, where are we?” Nightwing quickly surveyed the location and realized they had come crashing through an actual business and not one of the under construction buildings. “So he ran here hoping to be seen by someone.” He muttered.

“See what? I don’t see anything, except for two potential customers debating if they want to order.”

“Smart girl,” Red Robin answered, turning to face her after tying up the guy on the floor. The two vigilantes walked up to the counter and looked up past Y/N to see what was available. While Red Robin realized where they were, Nightwing realized something else. She noticed and looked down to see it was at her name tag.

“Y/N, that’s a pretty name.” He grinned. “I think we will order something, Y/N. What do you say?”

“Red Eye with two shots of espresso and some steamed milk, large.” The order came out quick, a slight eagerness in the tone. Y/N could not help but stare at the younger of the two masked males.

“I’m guessing you like coffee, and strong at that.”

“It helps when working the night.” He stood a little straighter.

“Riiiight, I’m not judging. I work in a café.” She shrugged, dropping her arms since she needed to make the order. “And you, Mr. Nightwing?”

“Mead Raf for me, medium is fine.”

“To go, or did you plan on staying to chat? We’re a 24-hour café, though I suppose I need to have you leave, since I need to clean up all the glass.” She motioned to the floor.

“Ah yes, sorry about that, Y/N. We’ll have it to go so you can get to cleaning.” Nightwing chuckled, amused by how she was handling the situation. The two watched her as she carefully made the drinks, making sure no glass managed to find its way behind the counter or into the coffee. 

“One large Red Eye with two shots of espresso and steamed milk and one medium Mead Raf. Is that all?” The vigilantes looked between one another and nodded their heads. “Alright, here you go. Consider it a small thanks for doing your best to keep us safe. You sure you don’t want anything to eat? Or are you not allowed to eat on the job?”

“There are no rules about that, we just gotta keep our hands free as much as possible. Thank you, Y/N.” He smiled at her name. He noticed the corners of her lips tug downwards. “Is something wrong?"

“Hm? No, nothing.” I’m overthinking it. He’s probably saying my name to make sure I know that he knows my name now and if I say anything, it’ll be easy to find me. “I’m a snacker, so I guess not having something on hand seems a bit cruel.”

“It’s annoying, but we need to be able to react quickly.” Red Robin agreed, taking his cup and taking a rather big drink from it. She tried to stop him, but could only watch. He was not the first to drink burning hot coffee in front of her, but it was always strange to see. Nightwing was not as crazy, he waited for a bit before sipping his drink.

“Perfect,” he smiled in approval. “Thanks again, Y/N, and here, something for your troubles.” He winked, slipping something into the tip jar before grabbing the tied up man. “Until next time,” he flashed her a grin as Red Robin held the door open and the two walked out as if they had not just come crashing through one of the windows.

She looked down at the tip jar to see what looked to be a $100 bill and something else. Do they get paid to do this job, or is this from a day job? Where the hell did he even keep this money? I don’t see any room for pockets in his suit, but then again, it’s all black. Red Robin did have a belt, maybe he holds the change? Her focus then shifted her attention to the glass littering the floor and sighed, there was no way she was going to be able to run the rest of the shift like this. Locking the doors, she grabbed the cleaning supplies and called her boss, letting him know of the situation at hand. “Well, at least it wasn’t dull.” She muttered as she got to cleaning until her boss got there to have the window temporarily patched up.

#red hood #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd fic #red hood x reader #y/n #red hood fanfic #red hood x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fic #red hood fanfiction #red hood x fem!reader #jason todd x female!reader #jason todd x you #your name #y/n reader #red hood x y/n #reader insert #jason todd x female reader #red hood x female reader #batman #batman fic #batman fanfic #batman fanfiction #nightwing #red robin #dc fanfic

[rubberizer92]

It was a bright, sunny day when Thomas woke up. The warm light streaming through his window cast a soft glow over his muscular body. He stretched languidly, feeling the smooth, cool rubber of his skin beneath his fingertips. He had signed up for a rubber drone transformation several months ago, drawn in by his love of all things rubber and the promise of a kinky, fun event filled with fellow fetishists.

He had never expected it to turn into this. Two months of rigorous workouts and gulping down a drink twice a day, a drink that contained what felt like extremely strong growth hormones, designed to develop significant muscle mass. Every day, he felt himself getting bigger, stronger, more magnificent. And every day, he became even more insatiably horny.

The worst part was that when he ejaculated, his cum was black and gooey. It alarmed him at first, but as the days went on and he found himself unable to focus on anything but his own desire, it faded into the background. There was something so intensely erotic about his new, muscular body, about the way it felt to touch it, to feel it touching him, that nothing else seemed to matter anymore.

He stood up from his bed, the smooth rubber sheets clinging to his body like a second skin, and made his way over to the full-length mirror on the wall. As he gazed at his reflection, he couldn't help but marvel at the sheer perfection of his body. His muscles rippled and glistened with sweat, each movement accentuating their power and strength. He began to run his hands over his chest, feeling the hair on his arms stand on end as he neared his nipples.

He let out a low groan, his arousal threatening to overwhelm him. He reached down and began to stroke his thickening cock, imagining the feel of something smooth and warm wrapped around it, helping him to lose control. As he stroked himself, he couldn't help but wonder what would happen next. Would this ever end? Or was it only just beginning?

Thomas paused, his fingers still wrapped around his throbbing shaft, and glanced down at his body. The black cum that had been oozing from his pores for the past few weeks now seemed to be sticking to his skin, making his entire body glisten like some sort of twisted, erotic sculpture. He shuddered, feeling a mixture of revulsion and arousal wash over him. But then, as if a switch had been flipped, the arousal won out, and he was overcome by a desire so intense it nearly brought him to his knees.

He finished himself off, his muscles tensing as he shot thick, black globs of cum all over his chest and abs. It was as if his body was rejecting the very substance it had created, pushing it back out in a primal attempt to expunge it. And yet, somehow, it only served to heighten his arousal.

As he caught his breath, he noticed something else. The black cum seemed to be sticking to his body even more, spreading out from where it had originally landed, like some sort of macabre, living paint. He reached up and wiped some off, only to realize that his fingers were now coated in it as well. He paused, considering this development, but before he could form any coherent thoughts, a wave of desire washed over him once more, and he found himself picking up the phone, calling the laboratory.

He didn't know what would happen next, but he couldn't help but feel that whatever it was, it would only be a part of this incredible, surreal journey that his life had become. And as he waited for them to answer, he couldn't help but wonder if they would be as fascinated by his transformation as he was.

The laboratory door swung open, revealing a tall, imposing figure clad in a crisp white coat. Their eyes flickered briefly to the bound figure in the chair before they focused intently on Thomas. "Ah, Drone CT-29. I've been expecting your call. Please, come with me."

Thomas hesitated for a moment, feeling a strange mixture of fear and anticipation. He forced himself to stand up from the chair, the smooth rubber sheets clinging to his body as he followed the figure down a long, sterile hallway. The walls were adorned with strange instruments and diagrams, each one hinting at the incredible experiments that must be taking place behind closed doors.

As they reached a sealed door at the end of the hall, the figure produced a keycard and swiped it through the reader. The door clicked open, revealing a brightly lit chamber filled with state-of-the-art equipment. "This is where you'll be staying for the foreseeable future," the figure said, their voice a calm, soothing monotone. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

In the center of the room was a large, metallic chair, its surfaces gleaming in the harsh light. "That's where we'll begin," the figure continued. "You'll need to climb into the chair and allow us to attach the necessary sensors and devices. They'll help us monitor your vitals and ensure that you remain in optimal condition for your new role as a drone."

Thomas nodded, still struggling to comprehend the reality of his situation. He climbed into the chair, feeling its cold, unforgiving surface press against his warm, yielding flesh. As the figure began to attach the sensors and devices, Thomas closed his eyes, trying to steady his breath. He could feel the weight of the collar around his neck, the smooth metal digging into his flesh. It was a reminder of his new identity, of the fact that he was no longer in control of his own body.

But as the last device was secured into place, Thomas couldn't help but feel a strange sense of peace wash over him. For the first time in his life, he knew exactly what he was meant to do, and he was bound and determined to see it through. He opened his eyes and looked up at the figure in the white coat, a small, hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I'm ready," he said. "Do whatever you need to do."

The figure nodded, their expression unreadable. They reached up and gently caressed the collar around Thomas's neck, running their fingers along the smooth metal. "This is your new name," they said, their voice soft and soothing. "From now on, you will be known as Drone CT-29."

As the figure spoke the words, Thomas felt a strange tingling sensation course through his body. It was as if the collar wasn't just a symbol of his new identity, but a physical extension of it. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling, and for the first time in his life, he truly believed that he was meant to be here.

Time seemed to slow down as the laboratory around him faded into the background. All that mattered was the chair, the collar, and the steady flow of information being transmitted directly into his brain. He could feel the butt plug inside him, constantly pressing against his prostate, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. It was as if he had been designed for this, as if his very existence was meant to serve this purpose.

The figure in the white coat began to speak again, their monotone voice guiding Thomas through the process of accepting his new identity and role as a drone. They told him of his duties, of the importance of serving the greater good, and of the intense pleasure that would be his reward for doing so. As they spoke, Thomas felt himself growing more and more aroused, the black rubber covering his body stretching taut against his swelling member.

Finally, the figure leaned in close, their breath warm against Thomas's ear. "You are now fully integrated," they whispered. "Welcome to the fold, Drone CT-29." The words sent a shiver down Thomas's spine, and for the first time in his life, he knew that he had found his true purpose. He was no longer Thomas; he was Drone CT-29, a vessel for pleasure and obedience, and he was eager to begin his new life.

The figure stepped away, and Thomas felt a new sense of freedom wash over him. He could feel the chair beneath him, the smooth metal of the collar against his skin. He was aware of the butt plug inside him, the constant pressure and fullness, the way it seemed to tap into a deep, primal part of his body. And as he sat there, waiting for his next command, he knew that there was no other place in the world he would rather be.

[tunaababee]

we will be everything we say - Chapter 4

masterlist // fic playlist // read on AO3 // overall rating: e // wc this chapter: 4.9k // updates Mondays (aest)

Feyre Archeron has been best friends with Rhysand Sterling ever since she moved onto the same street when they were kids - the two became absolutely joined at the hip, with nothing able to come between them.

As they get older, life gets more complicated and things get harder. Not everything comes as naturally as it once did. People change, things happen, friends... drift.

But after drifting apart, maybe life can push them back together again, in time.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Chapter 4: seventeen and eighteen

After Rhys had moved, Feyre had never found it easy to go to his house - sure, he was always kind enough to give her a ride and do his best to make her feel at home - but it never felt like somewhere she could relax. The lawns were too manicured, the furniture too fancy, the backyard too big and the fittings too new. This house absolutely screamed of Rhysand’s father, and no matter how at ease Rhys made her feel overall, she was never quite able to shake it even on the best of days when she visited the house.

That feeling was manifesting tenfold in her stomach right now as the party raged around her, raucous and encompassing, and that was without the idea of the next few years ahead of her plaguing her mind. If Feyre didn’t take tonight one step at a time, she felt like she could throw up.

Because tonight was Prythian High’s completely unsanctioned, borderline-official senior year graduation party.

Feyre was dressed uncomfortably - nice, but uncomfortably. Shehad donned a pair of black heels she had borrowed from Elain forever ago, some form-fitting pale blue jeans and a nice, but loose black tank top to try and pull the whole thing together. Realistically, she’d much rather be in some trackpants and an oversized shirt but she didn’t want to fuck this up for anybody, least of all herself. She would have much rather snuck through the side window or something - as clinical as the house could feel, she still knew it well - but it wasn’t an option with her boyfriend at her side as they stepped out of his car. Tamlin grabbed a cooler he had in the backseat before resuming his earlier station, hand at the small of her back as the two headed for Rhys’ front door. Tamlin reached to ring the doorbell but Feyre stopped him, one hand lightly landing on his wrist as it came up while her other fished around in her bag for the key she knew she had. Despite Rhys’ move two years ago, they’d still kept keys to each other’s house no matter what in case they needed something.

“I’ve got this babe,” she said quietly, flashing him a small smile. Feyre could swear she saw his jaw tense, his smile down at her a little forced as she turned the key in the lock. She knew he wasn’t Rhys’ biggest fan, but she trusted he could keep it under control for one night. They’d had to come together for this party in the first place, after all.

Feyre took a quiet, deep breath before pushing the door open to what could only be described as barely controlled chaos inside. Music blared all throughout the house, teenagers scattered everywhere with cups in hand and the scent of alcohol permeating the air. Normally this wouldn’t have been Feyre’s preferred way to spend a Friday night, but she knew that the night meant a lot to Rhys, their friends, and Tamlin, all of whom were off to college in the upcoming fall. Even if she wasn’t the biggest social butterfly, she’d do anything for the people she loved and cared about. So her and Tamlin trudged forward, the throngs of their drunken fellow students parting slowly as they moved into the living room. People were scattered everywhere throughout the house, playing drinking games of various complexity before spilling out in the backyard where people were swimming in the well-appointed pool. Feyre couldn’t help but think for a moment that it almost definitely was some sort of recipe for a liability issue before being pulled from her thoughts at an insistent shout across the room.

“Feyre, you came!”

She was almost bowled off of her feet with how firmly Mor leapt at her for a hug, unable to help laughing as she hugged her right back despite a slight stumble. Mor didn’t hesitate to plant a bright red kiss on her cheek with her signature smile that lit up a room.

“Of course I would, wouldn’t miss watching you guys get messy for the world.”

“Good to see you too, Tamlin. Congrats on salutatorian, by the way.” Mor simply smiled at him, Tamlin narrowing his eyes slightly as he flashed his most practised grin. Feyre lightly slapped Mor's shoulder - she knew that her friends couldn’t help but deliberately try and worm their way under Tamlin’s skin. She was very used to their ribbing, but Tamlin came from a very different family and environment. They had to give him time to adjust.

“Thanks, Mor. Where’s the host? I’ve got beer and wine to unload from my car.”

She smoothly gestured over to the kitchen, where Rhys was making a cursed concoction with whatever liquor he currently had his hands on. Rhys knew he couldn’t get away with raiding his dad’s cabinet, so he and Tamlin struck a deal - in exchange for Rhys hosting, Tamlin was to provide the majority of the drink as his family owned both breweries and vineyards. Not that the promise of free alcohol stopped people from bringing their own contributions to the revelry. Feyre blew a kiss at Mor as she and Tamlin walked over together, watching Rhys with a smile on her face. Once he finished his creation, resulting in an oversized bowl full of a murky brown mixture of liquor that was bound to leave people with heads pounding in the morning, he met Feyre’s gaze. He rushed right over, not hesitating to pull her into a tight hug.

“Hello, Feyre darling!”

“Hello, Rhys my dear!” Feyre hugged back just as firmly, already feeling a little more at ease. She could feel Tamlin staring at him, glad that neither one of them had managed to say anything incendiary for the time being. Once Rhys let go of Feyre, he moved to give Tamlin a terse clap on the shoulder. The smirk Rhys flashed was one of pure confidence and nonchalance, Tamlin doing his best to mimic it. God, she hated teenage male egos.

“Glad to see you made it, Tamlin. I hope you didn’t have any trouble getting here?”

“Not at all. I have the booze I promised loaded in the back of my car, if you wouldn’t mind giving me a hand.” Their conversation was laced with tension that Feyre knew she wasn’t totally privy to - she knew that their parents for many years had it out for each other, but she had no clue how that would extend to the two of them by proxy. Whenever she asked either of them, they refused to elaborate. Usually she was relegated to playing peacemaker between the two, but she was glad they seemed to be willing to at least try to put it aside for one night.

“Of course, lead the way.” He gestured to the front door, beginning to trail after Tamlin, but not before giving her a soft smile. Feyre mouthed the words ‘come back soon’ at him, to which he gave a small nod before returning his attention to the task at hand. For the time being, Feyre grabbed a beer from his fridge and tried to find a less-crowded corner to occupy.

Wherever she wandered inside the house was so full of bodies that, despite the normally over-abundant space, it felt almost claustrophobic no matter where she turned. She knew that upstairs was generally off limits to partygoers - everyone knew that nobody wanted to have any reason to make Mr. Sterling pissed off - but she didn’t want to seem completely anti-social, let alone have people misconstrue anything. Feyre had already had to fend off rumours that she and Rhys were together since they were in middle school and there was no way she wanted to give anybody a reason to add fuel to that proverbial fire. Soon she found herself outside, managing to catch a glimpse of Azriel standing a small way off while Cassian was busy trying to pull off a keg stand and failing miserably. He had a rare smile on his face as they watched Amren continue to hold up Cassian despite how much beer he was losing over his face and into his hair. Feyre couldn’t help but laugh, sidling up next to Azriel comfortably amongst the crowd.

“Please tell me this is his first attempt of the night.”

Azriel snorted slightly. “More like third.”

She shook her head a little bit, tapping her beer to Azriel’s plastic cup before taking a generous swig. They stood in comfortable silence for a while, watching Cassian dismount with no small amount of spluttering and laughter on his part before someone else attempted to take up the mantle. Aside from Tamlin, Rhys and their inner circle of friends were the only people Feyre actually knew at this party. She was only a junior - if she wasn’t so close with them, there was no way she could glance at this whole event, let alone be invited. So by Azriel’s side she stuck, the two of them content to watch the people as the time ticked by until, inevitably, Tamlin found her and insisted on having her stick by his side all night. She didn’t entirely mind - it was nice to have a conversational buffer since Tamlin was very good at keeping people engaged - but it was a little isolating in its own way.

At least I don’t have to talk to drunk people I don’t even know, she thought to herself. It was a small solace.

Feyre had been dating Tamlin for the past six months or so at this point. The first time they had met was when she had accidentally run into him in the halls, unable to see past art supplies and textbooks she had bundled in her arms. It was almost like the moment was plucked out of a movie - he had apologised, helping her gather everything back up before locking his forest green eyes with hers and smiling softly. They’d exchanged names and she had indulged in quiet little daydreams periodically, waving at each other in the halls every now and again. Then all of a sudden they were seeing each other regularly - Feyre often walked dogs as a side gig to try and save more money for her college fund as well as any art supplies she may need, only to find that one of her regular dogs belonged to Tamlin Greenbriar’s family. Little Andras was always more bark than bite, but he brought the two of them closer. It wasn’t long until he had asked her out on a date, leading to something more all quite quickly. It was a bit of a whirlwind, but didn’t every girl deserve to get swept up like that at least once? He cared for her and made sweet promises and made her feel like she didn’t have to worry so much about the future. He could be a bit pushy at times, especially when it came to keeping up appearances, but relationships were all about compromise. If this was one she had to make, then so be it.

Rhys never took kindly to him, though. Her other friends were also a little terse around him, but they all did their best to respect her decision. It meant a lot to Feyre that they were willing to try - Nesta had blatantly told her that he was “white boy privilege personified” and Elain had stayed disturbingly neutral and placid about him, which was never a good sign about how she felt.

But despite it all,, she was determined to make it work - he was a nice guy and she deserved to be cared for. So she kept a smile on her face, saying her hellos and sticking by his side. Eventually, he brought them back inside, the two of them taking a few shots of somebody’s Fireball they’d managed to sneak out before making their way closer to the speakers to dance. Flashing LED lights had been set up, creating a moody atmosphere as they moved in time to the music. Her arms slid around his neck, fingers tangling with his long golden hair as his hands moved down to her waist. Their brows were almost pressed together, a smile on her face and a slightly dark look in Tamlin’s eyes.

“You look gorgeous, Feyre.” he said to her, keeping his voice as low as he could while still trying to speak over the music.

“Speak for yourself.” 

She could almost get lost in the rhythm, were it not for the fact that her feet were starting to kill her. Feyre tried to push it to the back of her mind in favour of Tamlin’s hands slowly but surely creeping their way down over her ass, but after a few songs she couldn’t ignore the sensation any longer. Feyre moved her arms away from his neck, trying to gently pry his hands away.

“Tamlin, I gotta go sit down for a minute, these heels are starting to hurt.” His grip only got tighter - he was quite a few drinks deep and was sometimes stubborn when it came to getting what he wanted in a state like this.

“C’mon Feyre, not even another song? You’re so hot when you’re all dressed up like this.” He pressed closer, his half-hard length pushed against her thigh. Her lip curled slightly - she never liked having sex with Tamlin when he was drunk, and tonight was no exception. That wasn’t even accounting for the fact that it wasn’t their house to have sex in to begin with.

She pushed his hands off more firmly, stepping out of the crowd with a pleading expression on her face. “I’m just gonna sit down for a little bit and then I’ll be back, promise.”

He grunted at her in mild annoyance, sauntering off deeper into the crowd to keep dancing. God, why had she even worn heels to a fucking house party in the first place? They made her legs and ass look nice, sure, but she wasn’t exactly out to impress anybody tonight. Except for maybe Tamlin, but at least that made sense, they were a couple. With small steps she made her way toward the stairwell that led to the second floor, sitting herself down on them with a small sigh. Almost as soon as she had sat down her heels were off, bringing a foot up onto her knee before she began to rub small circles into it with her thumbs. She felt so out of place here. The people at this party weren’t her people, and when everyone else left for college in a few months she’d be almost entirely alone.

“Hey, you okay?” Rhys’ head poked around the corner, padding his way over with nothing but concern all over his face. It was a welcome distraction from the slant of her thoughts and anxiety.

“I’m alright, just, y’know. Choices,” Feyre gestured at her discarded heels next to her. “Consequences.” A light chuckle left her as she nodded back down at her feet, Rhys giving her a small smile back as he came to sit next to her on the stairs.

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but I did notice that you’d definitely made one hell of a choice with the shoes tonight, yeah. I saw you hobble your way over here from where everyone was dancing.”

“Oh god, was it that bad?” Feyre groaned a little, Rhysand nodding with a chuckle. Her head was in her hands with a whine, her palms pressed lightly against her eyes.

All of a sudden Rhys dragged her feet into his lap, replacing where her own hands had been rubbing small circles into the tender aches of the balls of her feet. Feyre looked back up at him, eyebrows raised with a small look of surprise on her face.

“A bit much, isn’t it, Rhys?”

“What? You're my best friend, you're in pain, I'm trying to help out. We can get you a pair of my slides or something after, just five minutes.” He responded, looking sheepishly at her like it wasn’t at least a little bit odd to have your best friend give you an impromptu foot massage at his massive rager. Feyre snorted slightly to herself.

“Rhysand Sterling, owning a pair of slides - never thought I’d see the day where you chose comfort over style.”

“Hey, I don’t go around croc-shaming you. Not another word.” Rhys lightly pinched the top of her foot, switching to the other foot while the two of them chuckled together as she leaned back against the wall and let him do his thing. Some people might view the two of them as codependent and a little weird, but with how much the two of them had gone through together, she wouldn’t change whatever they had for the world. She let her eyes shut for a moment, letting her mind wander in the haze of a few drinks, the music, and the relief Rhys’ ministrations were providing her. After what felt like only a mere few moments, he gave her leg a light tap, gently moving her feet off of his lap before slowly rising to his feet.

“Well, Miss Archeron, a very fashionable pair of slides awaits.” Rhys joked, gesturing up the stairs with a grin. She flashed a matching smirk, though it turned to a slight grimace as she got up on aching feet again.

“Oh no, please sir, it’s your house. How could I deny you such an opportunity to play host?”

Rhys gasped dramatically, one hand at his chest while the other went to his cheek. “My goodness, and here I thought chivalry was dead!” He hiked up his imaginary skirts as he began to head up the stairs, Feyre following after him. His raven black curls bounced as he eagerly climbed the stairs, Feyre trailing sluggishly behind in comparison, but he made sure to wait at the top of the staircase anyway with a hand extended to help her out. He was always nicer than he had any need to be to her, and it never went unappreciated by Feyre.

The music was much more muffled up on the second floor, thrumming consistently as they made their way down the hallway to Rhys’ room - it always felt much more cosy compared to the rest of his house. While it was still simple and meticulously organised, it contained signs of passion and interest and living. A cushy double bed pushed up in the corner opposite the door, a bedside table with his glasses, a well-worn candle and a lamp right next to it and a low dresser not too far from that.The wall next to the door had a low cabinet with all of his consoles and games in it, a TV perched on top and some small art pieces Feyre had done over the years framed neatly on the walls. Rhys’ room also had a window overlooking the backyard, his desk underneath it with a small bookcase slotted on one side with a wardrobe on the other. A few bean-bag chairs were in the middle of the room, a staple for whenever he and Feyre decided to beat the shit out of each other in whatever game took their fancy that week. This was the place that felt like home to her, and Feyre didn’t think twice about sitting herself down on the end of the bed while Rhys rummaged around in his wardrobe.

Feyre watched him keenly - he always presented himself as relatively at ease to the world, but it was these quiet moments away from everybody else that he actually felt at ease. She often shared the sentiment, usually preferring solitude if Rhys wasn’t around - or, these days, Tamlin either. Feyre had always had to work and push and keep on fighting uphill battle after uphill battle - providing the family with a second income when her father had gotten fired from his job and had to take up something that brought in pennies in comparison. Making sure the house stayed clean and that someone went to the grocery store that week. Keeping on top of her studies and trying to save whatever she could for college. It felt like that burden was only going to get heavier with all of her friends going off to college themselves in a mere few months - sure, she was kind of friends with Clare Beddor and Briar Bell. More like acquaintances, if anything.

But these little moments? All of it fell away.

“Hey, do you still climb up onto your roof sometimes?” The words spilled from Feyre’s mouth before she could think them over too heavily.

“Not really, especially since you know how my dad can get. Why, what are you thinking?” Rhys had moved from rummaging in the bottom of his wardrobe to under his bed, one slide already thrown haphazardly near his dresser as he searched for the other.

“I’m thinking that you should come on up!” She chirped, heels abandoned on the floor as she strode over to his desk. Feyre reached over to open the window and start climbing out, swearing she heard Rhys mumbling to himself something about her being insane, but she didn’t care - she simply turned back, flashing him a wild smile before beginning to climb through. Soon enough, she had walked precariously over the rough shingles to situate herself squarely in the middle of the roof, facing the backyard full of teenagers with her knees brought up in front of her. Feyre could hear Rhys beginning to clamber up onto the roof after her like clockwork, much more confident in his steps as he came to sit beside her. A beat of silence hung between them for a moment, enjoying watching everyone in his backyard make merry from a distance. Rhys broke the silence first.

“Thanks for giving me an excuse to stop playing host for a little while.” He bumped his shoulder lightly with hers, glancing at Feyre with a soft expression.

“Don’t worry about it. I figured if I was having a hard time down there with everybody, you’d be in the same boat. Besides, you know I like being able to spend some quality time with you. While we can, anyway.” That last sentence had come out a little more melancholy than she intended, wincing slightly at her own idiocy before looking up at the sky. It was easier than looking at Rhys right now - he already felt bad that he was going to a university that was out of town, she didn’t want to make him feel guilty for doing what was best for his future.

“You know I’m still gonna visit, right? And we still have each other’s numbers, we can still talk everyday.”

“Yeah, but you and I both know that it’s not the same. Besides, we’re both gonna be so busy busting our asses. I know this year hasn’t exactly been as breezy as you make it out to be to everybody else, and your dad expects so much of you. If I don’t double down on what I’m doing now I won’t get a scholarship, which would mean no college for me at all.”

“I could alwa-”

“Rhysand, I know what you’re about to say, and I can’t let you or your dad hand me this on a platter. If it was from you, I’d want to pay you back, and if you pestered your dad enough about it then we’d both be on the hook. I can do this. It’s just… hard.”

Feyre huffed slightly, readjusting so she was laying back on the roof to stare up at the night sky, trying to recall some of the constellations Rhys had told her about over the years. No matter how hard she tried, it didn’t take her mind off of the words on the tip of her tongue.

“I just wish I could deal with you guys leaving better. I mean, of course I want you all to succeed and do great things. I know none of you can do that if you stay in one place the whole time. But I’m barely friends with anybody else in school. I don’t even know how often I’ll get to see you, let alone anybody else, having to split my time between school and work and seeing Tamlin…”

Feyre could have sworn she saw a twinge of annoyance flicker across Rhys face as she glanced over at him, shifting onto his back as well. “Rhys, I know you’re not his biggest fan.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I just think that making you trek all the way over there to meet him every few weekends is selfish when he knows all that you’ve got going on. Like, we’re going to the same college, I know how long it takes to get there from here. And we both know he’s not going to be happy if you try to see me while you’re there. It’s not exactly fair.” His words were clipped - conversations with Rhys about Tamlin were always respectful, but loaded with tension and annoyance simmering just beneath the surface of his carefully schooled expression.

“I get that, but I’ve got a much lighter workload compared to what he’ll have and it won’t be every weekend, so you and I can figure something out. Tamlin and I are gonna make it work.”

“Just… Remember he’s gotta meet you at least halfway sometimes, alright? You give a lot of yourself to him. Make sure to keep at least a little just for you.” Rhys sighed, meeting Feyre’s gaze with a sympathetic smile and a quiet sigh. He reached out a hand between them and Feyre simply smiled back before taking it, returning her gaze to the stars above. She could feel the tears she’d been holding back about the whole situation begin to prick at the edges of her eyes, grateful that she didn’t have to worry about anybody at the party seeing her cry as they rolled down her cheeks.

“I’m just gonna miss my friends. All this change is just really scary and I don’t know how I’m gonna deal, y’know? Even if it’s not the end of the world, you’re all so important to me. Especially you.” She punctuated her words with a slight squeeze, Rhys giving one back in kind.

“Feyre, you’re probably the strongest, smartest and most brave person I’ve ever met. If anyone’s going to be able to get through this, it’s you. You could do anything if you wanted to.”

“Thanks, Rhys. I love you a lot, even if you’re a prick.” Feyre laughed, something in her heart easing and unfurling a little as she said the words. He was her best friend and he always knew exactly what she needed to hear, when she needed it. Rhys always knew when something was wrong and was as loyal as they came. Of course she loved him. So why did it feel a little bit like there was a weight in her chest as she waited for him to respond?

“Don’t let Tamlin hear you say that,” Rhys responded with his signature shit-eating grin on his face, though there was something not quite right behind his eyes. “Lest he think that I’m out to steal you away or something.”

Feyre knew not to push - Rhys would tell her what was going on when he was ready, so instead she simply smacked his shoulder, sitting back up to glance out over the backyard once more. As she looked out over the crowd, she found her attention was caught by none other than Tamlin, dazedly stumbling through people and looking around in confusion. That was her cue.

“Shit, he’s looking for me. I gotta get back down there, I should drive him home. I had a feeling I’d be designated driver tonight.”

“Well then, we shouldn’t keep him waiting.” Rhys carefully got to his feet before extending his hand down to Feyre, helping her up before they both made their way back through Rhys’ bedroom window. Once they were back in, he handed her his slides with a smile.

“Go on, you’d be better off to head down there without me. He’s already not friendly with me when he’s sober, I wouldn’t want to make him grumpy for the trip back.”

“...Thanks, Rhys. I’ll text you when I’m home, okay?”

“You better. And the others, too.”

Feyre dropped the slides to the ground, slipping into them without a second thought before giving Rhys a quick hug. Then, before her boyfriend could cause any drunken chaos, she scurried down the stairs to find him.

The drive back to Tamlin’s house was quiet with him half-conscious in the passenger seat, Feyre playing the conversation she had with Rhys in her head over and over. Even as she parked the car and guided Tamlin inside only to find her way back out again to drive her own car home, it was all that occupied her mind. Something between Feyre and Rhys was shifting, wasn’t quite solid like it once was, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Whatever it was, she kept reminding herself that it would be okay. It was Feyre and Rhys against the world, always. But things always changed over time, so maybe that was just what it was - the two of them changing as people, but still growing together?

Whatever it was, she knew it was going to be alright. It was going to be alright because it had to be.

It had to.

#feysand #rhysand x feyre archeron #fanfiction #rhysand #feyre archeron #acotar #acotar fanfiction #friends to lovers

[comicarc]

𝐖𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐆𝐨 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

"We'll get in your car and you'll lean to kiss me, we'll talk for hours and lie on the backseat." Part 2

wc: 1434

01:00 AM

“If love can fade, so can pain.” 

I saw it in a book once, but I always thought it was a load of bullshit. And today, as I drown in drinks, cleansing my internal scars with the bitter taste of alcohol, I am reminded of how misleading that simple statement was. It wasn’t my first relationship, nor would it be my last. There was nothing special enough to reminisce, rather it was regret that brought about my melancholy. I was always left heartbroken by the fact that I wasn’t enough. They would always cheat, lie, or simply ghost me, no matter how much effort I put into the relationship. And so, I am left alone each time, questioning who was the real problem. With each sip of my drink, I regret the insignificant mistakes I made throughout the experience as if that would have made any difference in the outcome. 

Drunk beyond my limit, I stumble out of the bar, having had enough of my reminiscing. Pushing through the crowd of young bachelors looking to find their next ‘victim’, I lose my footing. Instead of my falling, I’m held up by muscular arms snaked around my waist. The giant forearms bulged as they moved to pull me into a chest, embracing me. I try to turn around to catch a glimpse of my savior, but he keeps my head straight and leads me out of the bar, shielding me from the room of desperate men surrounding us. When we reach the cobblestone sidewalk at the bar's entrance, I can finally spin around.

My curious eyes are met with azure ones, somewhat covered by strands of black curly hair. Contrasting his chiseled face and sharp jaw he maintained a warm and soft expression. His eyebrows arched in a manner that conveyed more sympathy than pity. More admiration than judgment. More kindness than obligation. We held eye contact for what felt like hours. I was lost in the ocean that formed with the reflection of nearby lights on his cornea. Finally, he broke the silence with an introduction.

“I’m Jason. Nice to meet you.” His voice was just like his face: rough and attractive. 

“I’m y/n.” I slurred.

“So y/n…you need a ride home?”

I was too drunk to make a coherent sentence, much less form a rational thought. Therefore, in my desperation, I immediately agreed. If I was going to get kidnapped, it might as well be because of a handsome man. 

Contradictory to my expectations, Jason was very gentlemanly. He kept me close in his grasp as we walked to his car, but never touched me anywhere other than my waist. As he seated me and headed to sit in the driver’s seat beside me, I rapidly blinked, trying to keep my eyes open. His voice soon faded in the background and before I knew it, everything went black.

05:30 AM

I groggily woke up, rubbing my eyes to see darkness surrounding me. I’m lying in a car seat with a blanket draped over me and a satin pillow cushioning my heavy head. Looking in front of me I see Jason sleeping with nothing to keep him warm and using his jacket as a makeshift pillow. Admiring his sleeping form, I don’t question his situation. There could have been millions of reasons why he kept a pillow and a blanket in his car. Who was I to judge? It wasn’t as if my living situation wasn’t any better. After all, I was homeless. Kicked out of my ex’s apartment last night after we broke apart. 

I reach the phone in my back pocket and click the power button to check the time: 5:37 a.m. As I briefly check my inbox for any notifications, I hear a yawn beside me. Jason had finally awoken and was staring at me. Not in a creepy, lustful way, but rather in a more affectionate, almost loving manner. 

He questioned, “So, how’d you end up shitfaced last night.”

He was someone who I may never see again, so I quite confidently muttered, “My ex.”

“Man, he must’ve been blind to have lost a catch like you.”

I chuckled at the compliment. It had been forever since I heard niceties being uttered from my former love, so it was no surprise that my heart fluttered. “How about you? Your girlfriend dump you too?”

It seemed he had the same idea, as he confessed, “I’m practically dead to everyone I know and I’m just frustrated that I didn’t realize how little they cared for me earlier.”

Gently rubbing his shoulder, y/n comforted, “I don’t know you or them, but from my experience, maybe give them a chance at redemption?”

“Experience?”

“It’s not my first time in that bar and it sure as hell won’t be the last.”

This time he let out a hearty laugh and I joined along. When we began to calm down, the pure ecstasy that coursed through my body urged me to lean forward. I was inches away from his face when he realized my intention. In mere seconds, he gently grabbed my hair to pull me closer, passionately kissing me. His touch felt so fresh and welcoming. Better than any of my exes’. I moved my hands to match his rhythm, embracing his husky exterior and feeling his muscular biceps. My eyes were closed and my mind alight, hoping that this kiss might lead to something more.

A week later – 03:00 AM

Ever since our chance encounter, Jason and I have texted religiously. Usually, I called it a night by midnight, but tonight was different. Jason had told me he was headed to make amends with his family in an ‘unconventional’ way, whatever that meant, so I was helping him work out all his frustration before the meeting. With a few final words of encouragement and reassuring messages, I headed to bed.

I slept like a baby for about three hours before being awoken by a loud thud in my living room. Startled, I jump out of bed and rush out. In the dimly lit room, I see a man in cargo pants and a leather jacket with a red mask, splayed across the floor in a pool of his blood. I was left motionless as I tried to understand the peculiar situation. When I patch him up, I’ll get all the answers I need. With this thought, I rush over to my medicine cabinet, grab the first aid kit, and position myself at the man’s side. 

After I stitched and sewed the gaping wounds on his chest, I brought my attention to his masked face. Slowly, I attempted to remove his chipped helmet but was stopped when his hand grabbed my wrist. Immediately, I let go of the mask and strained to free myself from his grip. It seemed my struggle had fully woken him, as he sat up, pulled me closer, and whispered, “Don’t touch the mask.” The rasp in his voice gave away the menacing tone he was trying to convey, and despite his warning, I continued to take off his mask. 

Shock wouldn’t even begin to describe how I felt. The man I had partially patched up was the very man who I harbored feelings for. From the night we met, I felt nothing but lust and sympathy for him but now… 

“Jason?” I asked, my mouth slightly agape as I tried to process all the information I had gathered.

“Y/n, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I-”

“Sorry? If you died where would I be, crying over your dead body? You’re the Red Hood goddammit. You didn’t think to warn me before you got close to me?”

“I never meant for you to know. Or at least to find out like this.” 

“Then what? Were you expecting me to be another one of your victims?”

“What the hell?”

“ I’ve seen the news. Those stories of all the people you’ve killed, innocent or otherwise.”

“No! No, I would never do that to you. I…”

“You care for me? Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“Did you care for me enough to consider how I would feel?”

“Of course.”

“Then…did you love me?”

His silence was answer enough. I let out a chuckle as tears uncontrollably rolled down my cheek. “It’s pathetic really, how much I still hope it's you and me in the end.” My vision blurs and when I blink, he’s gone. Without even a goodbye. I’m alone again and left to pick up the pieces. 

It’s like deja vu. 

#dc comics #batfam #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd #angst #red hood #red hood x reader

[y-rhywbeth2]

Lore: Baldur's Gate #2

Demographics of the Western Heartlands

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. There's a lot of lore; I don't know everything. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

The City #1 | Demographics | Administration & Government | ??? - WIP

A sort of overview of how people fit into the region. When I say "Baldur's Gate is a human city" I am not overexaggerating.

So: detailing the five main human groups of the region: the elves would rather stay in Evereska, thanks; the half-elves would rather not stay in Evereska: the halflings are cheerfully exploiting the local adventurers; the gnomes mind their own business; the dwarves have a local history that's just the world hitting them with sticks; and for some reason the Hells have it out for the Western Heartlands, and tieflings are resented for being a reminder. (And the occasional half-orc and dragonborn is there too, I guess.)

-

While the exact percentages may have shifted up or down somewhat over the course of events at the end of the Era of Upheaval and so on, they're still a pretty solid idea of what to expect from the Western Heartlands, and thus Baldur's Gate as the largest population centre (it's also where the most diversity is, being the only major port city for miles).

The breakdown is:

78% Human 7% Elven 4% Half-elven 3% Halfling 2% Gnome 1% Dwarf 1% "Other" [Tiefling, Half-orc, Dragonborn]

-

So 78% of the entire population of the Western Heartlands is human; consisting mostly of five ethnic groups. These groups being defined by their shared inherited cultural norms and genetics across Faerûn. Chondathan culture heavily shapes Baldur's Gate.

80% of these humans are Tethyrian [melting pot of cultures and genetics, predominantly Calishite and Chondathan by ancestry. By average: brown skin; black hair; blue eyes (northern) or brown eyes (southern). Their primary ancestors were the native people of the lands that became Tethyr and Calmishan who have dark brown skin, but lighter skin can become more commonly seen northwards, where Netherese and Illuskan genetics enter the mix]. In the Western Heartlands - they mostly follow Chondathan cultural norms. They have a history of being colonised and enslaved (largely by Calimshan), value freedom and community above all else; slavery is the pinnacle of evil. They have a strong bardic tradition due to relying on oral lore and song to keep their histories and what remains of their distinct culture alive (the majority of their cultural norms will be determined by the dominant culture they've mixed with). The average Tethyrian is raised to mistrust authorities with more jurisdiction than a city state (kingdoms and empires = bad). -

10% are Calishite [dark brown skin; black hair; dark brown eyes. Tend to be short. Due to genie ancestry, most genasi are Calishite]. The percentage is probably higher in the 15th century, due to a wave of refugees. The ancestors of the Calishites were slaves of genies who came to Toril, set up their empires, annoyed the local elves and got wiped off the map and left the humans to inherit their master's empire. Calimshan is one of the oldest human empires still standing, and they're very proud of this fact. They value reputation above all else (personal and family, both highly interconnected) which is basically a form of social currency. Very strict social divides: Class matters, traditionally they're patriarchal and gender roles are strict, marriage is important and the father determines social class (only women may marry "above their station"). In recent history, a return of the ruling djinn and efreeti led to a lot of war and destruction in Calimshan, sending a wave of refugees into the world. Most of those refugees live seperate from the main city in "Little Calimshan" in the Outer City. Said war has recently ended, due to the actions of a Chosen of Ilmater, and many Calishites in Baldur's Gate are considering returning home (especially because there is considerable friction between the refugees and the locals). Sorcery is a common occurance, and Calishites have a strong arcane and divine tradition. -

5% are Chondathan ["tawny" brown skin; light brown to black hair; brown or green eyes. Tend to be tall]. Their ancestors started off as warriors, whose many wars led to them destroying an elven city and a retaliatory tidal wave that eventually led them to discover that trade worked better for them (this did not stop them pissing off elves everywhere they went), they did such a good job that they dominated Central Faerûn through mercentile skill, and Chondathan culture (i.e. language, the Thorass alphabet and such) is a major influence pretty much all over Faerûn. Typically Chondathans have adapted quickly and peaceful to the norms and laws of other peoples, and a Baldurian, Cormyrian and a Sembian will not be perfectly interchangable. Still they will often have shared values: Violence is tacky and counterproductive. a reputation for honesty is paramount and breaking your word is taboo. Tend to be cat people, with a strong appreciation for tressyms. They value hard work, industry and admire wealth (which is power and evidence of a good work ethic). Social standing is determined by money and influence. Class divides don't tend to be rigid, and it's generally believed that hard work should open doors. You start work at 12 (apprenticeships) and if you're able bodied you will be shamed for "not pulling your weight". The elderly tend to hang around after retirement and tutor the next generation. They have little in the way of magical traditions, or interest in it. -

3% are Illuskan [pale skin; blonde, red or black hair; blue or grey eyes. Tend to be very tall]. Rarely found outside of the North (including the Sword Coast North, across the border), most Illuskan cultures are tribes and settlements on the frontiers. They value courage, battle prowess and survival and haven't been as successful in the larger world because they tend to prefer war and raids to trade. Larger civilisation hinders growth and encourages weakness and dependency, and is largely shunned. The rest of the world considers them "no better than orcs" and the Illuskans think the rest of the world are a bunch of cowards unworthy of respect. Not being able to be the warrior hero of some kind of epic tale (or being bold enough to aspire to be) is not necessarily a thing to be ashamed of that you will be mistreated for, but you won't be given any respect past basic courtesy either. Magic is not infrequent amongst Illuskans, due to Netherese ancestry, but it is mistrusted due to the history of the Arcane Brotherhood of Luskan, who are evil bastards. Religion is eh. Illuskans generally only have uses for gods who serve a practical purpose (so appeasing the gods of fury (such as Auril and Umberlee) and Talos, god of war). -

1% consists of the Gur [brown skin; thick, straight black hair; dark brown eyes. Tend to be hirsute and short, but "stocky"] The ancestors of the Gur were Rashemi, a people they still strongly resemble, physically. The modern people feel no kinship with their distant kin though. They're mostly nomads, but some Gur can be found permanently settled in the slums of cities like Baldur's Gate and Elturel, where they're treated as subhuman. Their patron deity is Selûne: protector of travellers and outcasts, and a patron of diviners, which the Gur practice for protection and aid in navigation (as such they also worship Savras, god of truth and fate, patron god of divination). Amongst their own the Gur speak a unique dialect of Rashemi that no outsiders are privy to. There's not a lot on the Gur, but if they share any cultural norms with the Rashemi, it might be something like this: The Rashemi value personal skill/strength (in whatever form that takes) and achievements, and scorn the concept of inherited (unearned) titles and wealth. They also value the wellbeing of the land itself, to which they show respect. While they don't shun work, they don't live for it either; the youth are often found carousing loudly with their friends, and while the adults are expected to contribute to society, they also enjoy a good time. Children are subject to tests as they mature, and elders are afforded great respect for their experience and the challenges they have overcome in reaching their age. Interestingly, Rashemi expats also have a reputation for being "nuisances" outside of Rashemen: many struggle with culture shock, and the stereotype is that they will get drunk and wander around picking fights everywhere (the Rashemar norm of challenging others to help them and you improve comes across as aggression to outsiders). -

The remaining 1% is a mixture of the many, many, many different humans on Toril. This canonically includes one of Faerûn's only Maztican communities, consisting of the Nexala people living in Baldur's Gate (I think they drew inspiration from the Mexica?) and there appears to include a Kozakuran (Japanese fantasy counterpart) minority. TSR's decision to start creating fantasy world counterparts to real world cultures for "exotic" expansions is... hmm, contentious, and I don't know enough about the real world counterparts to know if I'm handling it well, so I'm not going further into that.

------

7% of the population of the Western Heartlands is elves, making up the largest non-human population of the region.

It's mostly moon elves [fair skin, often seen in literal white hues likened to alabaster and marble, with tinges of blue; white, silver (like the metal, not grey) or black hair; eyes always flecked with gold] and wood elves [copper brown skin, tinged with green; blonde, red, brown or black hair; brown or green eyes. Metallic sheen to hair and skin.] Some sun elves returned to Faerûn in the mid-1300s [gold, bronze or amber skin; blonde, red or black hair; golden brown, green or black eyes. Metallic sheen to hair and skin.] (both moon elves and sun elves are categorised as "high elves", in BG3 mechanical parlance). Moon elves are individualistic and have a reputation for flightiness, thrill-seeking and hedonism. Sun elves are conservative, more observant of social hierarchies, have a strong cultural focus on magic (divine and arcane both) and extremely wary of humans due to historical conflict and human expansion into (now lost) elven lands. Wood elves are known for their open mindedness towards non-elves and many hope for elves to live fully amongst the non-elves one day, but due to their nature-oriented spirituality and way of life they rarely venture into human civilisation and are usually highly uncomfortable there. When compared to the percentages of other demihumans in the area, the elven population seems very high, though that 7% accounts for Evereska, the last major bastion of elven civilisation on Faerûn. Although apparently the elves are trying to rebuild Myth Drannor yet again, and good luck with making that stick. While elves do make up the largest non-human minority group in Baldur's Gate, the vast majority of that 7% traditionally remains in Evereska and refuses to leave their homeland's borders, and of those that leave it's almost entirely moon elves, who are the most likely to assimilate into human culture. A minority of wood elves might be able to get comfortable in cities. Your average sun elf, to whom preservation of elven culture is a sacred duty given by Corellon him/herself, would be horrified by the concept of assimilating into the N'Quess, and any that aren't are going to be under immense social pressure from their house/clan to come home and conform (especially because there's a chance that their family may view humans as dangerous). That said, the flightiness of youth can generally be forgiven (they'll grow out of it). Most encountered are young adventurers under 100 years old and semi-nomadic family groups of moon elves who wander between human settlements as their whims (and/or the mercantile work of their clan/house) takes them. Older elves are unlikely to be found in Baldur's Gate in high numbers, as the rapid, demanding pace of the metropolis clashes badly with the "take your time" philosophies and lifespan of elves. A few families of sun elves also established themselves in the minor human cities of Iriaebor and Berdusk, further South East, after returning from the Retreat.

- 4% of the population is half-elven, almost entirely of moon elven descent, and, on the human side, likely to be of Tethyrian ancestry.

It's likely most are found in human cities, even if they weren't already born there. The noble houses of Evereska have traditionally been extremely xenophobic (even the elven commoner clans were considered beneath them), and the only non-elves permitted entry for most of Evereska's existence have been Harpers: the opportunities for half-elves to be born within the realm have been fewer that otherwise. Human civilisations also saw an influx of half-elven immigration during the late 14th century - albeit most moved North - when the Spellplague caused Evereska and the Feywild to merge slightly, and an increase in xenophobic attitudes made many feel unwelcome.

- 3% is halfling, almost entirely lightfoot [very, very wide genetic pool. The hin have moved around enough that no features or colouration has become a norm for an entire geographic population.]

Lightfoot halflings - or hin, amongst themselves - are pretty much all over Faerûn, having made themselves comfortable and unobtrusive living alongside humans. They mostly assimilate into human cultures, though there is still a focus on clan and family. There is a small village in the region called Gullykin, which mostly keeps to itself and profits from its brewery (which also happens to be the temple of Yondalla). They also cheerfully make a side profit off of the frequent adventuring parties who use the village as a rest stop while exploring the nearby ruins (Durlag's Tower and the Firewine Ruins). The locals have no interest in the ruins themselves, considering Firewine particularly cursed, and pride themselves in being as peacefully boring as they possibly can.

- 2% consists of gnomes, almost entirely rock gnomes [brown skin; white hair; no information given on eye colour, although "glittering black" has been used as a descriptor.]

Gnomes prefer to stay well hidden, in secret villages scattered around the world and unseen by outsiders, but a minority are drawn to Baldur's Gate. Rock gnomes split their time and focus between their career (usually craft of some sort, and rock gnome working environments are known for their very relaxed, friendly atmospheres) and partying.

- 1% consists of dwarves, shield dwarves [pale to light brown skin; dark hair; blue eyes] and gold dwarves [light to dark brown skin with a reddish hue; black, grey or brown hair; brown or hazel eyes]. Exact numbers aren't given, but as, historically, the shield dwarves almost went extinct due to wars where the gold dwarven numbers reached such levels of overpopulation in the Great Rift during the Thunder Blessing of 1306 DR that many were forced to migrate in droves, I would assume that it's either, like, a 50/50 split, or the gold dwarven population is the higher one.

Gold dwarves put their success and survival down to adherence to dwarven ways of life and are staunch traditionalists, cleaving to family, clan and faith: Dwarven history being characterised by the loss of homeland after homeland, they are very keen to ensure that their way of life survives. They have a bad history with the various inhabitants of the Underdark (especially drow). Shield dwarves have been in the area the longest. They have lost many of their homelands in the North to orc invasions and the expansion of humanity in their subsequent weakened state. Those found in the Western Heartlands belong to a subdivision called the Wanderers; dwarves who after the loss of their ancestral homes took to a more nomadic life, making a living as mercenaries and crafters in the settlements of other races. Many may have non-dwarven ancestry, as shield dwarves started intermarrying to bolster their numbers due to wars and an infertility crisis rendering their population dangerously low - non-dwarven ancestry is mostly humans and gnomes, though some hin and elven blood can be found. The same traditions their gold dwarven kin hold to exist in shield dwarven culture, but due to the pressures of survival many traditions are looser or have fallen by the wayside. There have been attempts to create new homelands in the Western Heartlands, and all of them met with disaster. The town of Kanaglym, established in 722 DR eventually discovered that they'd accidentally found a portal to the Fugue Plane in the town well. The half-dwarven adventurer Daeros Dragonspear established Dragonspear Castle aboveground, over the town's location in 1255 DR, creating a safe haven for the dwarven people that was also guarded by Daeros' copper dragon companion Halatathlaer, who had a lair nearby. Then a mage, seeking the dwarves' wealth, decided to embark on a complicated plot, of which the most relevant step was opening a portal to Avernus and tricking Daeros to walk into it, and also destroying the castle with an invasion of dragons. A dwarf by the name of Durlag Trollkiller also established a home for his clan (Durlag's Tower) at some unknown date, and that was later annihilated by an infiltration of doppelgangers and mind flayers.

- 1% covers everybody else. Hobgoblins, gnolls, goblins, kobolds and such will make up the majority of this category; the recently established Yuan-ti kingdom of Najara has also joined this percentage; with a minority of half-orcs (orcs are not really found in the Western Heartlands, the nearest are mountain orcs in the North), and then a smaller handful of planetouched (tieflings, genasi, aasimar (mostly tieflings and genasi)) and dragonborn left over.

While generally not popular anywhere, tieflings are particularly mistrusted in the Western Heartlands. They're associated with the Dragonspear Wars - the first of which took place in 1356 DR - where Waterdeep and Baldur's Gate went to war with the invading forces of Avernus (coming from portals set up in the eponymous Dragonspear Castle). There was another invasion in 1363 DR. Then that time Mephistopheles invaded Waterdeep in 1372 with the intention of conquering Toril and turning it into the tenth layer of hell probably didn't help their reputation either. Nor the fey'ri invasion of Evereska in 1374 DR. Nor did the Elturel incident... It's not unlikely that there are a fair few people with dormant infernal blood in their veins, but the tiefling population isn't likely to see much growth, as the birth of a tiefling child to human parents is not infrequently met with panic and infanticide.

There's nothing I can really find on half-orcs, but I would imagine most are of mountain orc and Illuskan heritage, and they or their ancestor/s migrated from the North.

I'd hazard a guess that the entire dragonborn population of Baldur's Gate - possibly the entire region - can be seen in-game. They have no history in the area that I know of.

#idk but this post makes me feel like anxiety vomiting... #fyi WYLL IS THE MOST ACCURATE FR CHARACTER IN THIS GAME FOR A MULTITUDE OF REASONS including his speech patterns #Dude actually *sounds* like he lives here #god that took a while #There were so many sources and I'm concerned I didn't double check enough and aaaaaaaaaaaaa #The good news is that I'm too tired to be yelling now #lore stuff #long post

[annoying-since-98]

'Hopefully one day, Asians can be portrayed equally and nicely in media too. #TheCircleNetflix' a viewer wrote

#the circle usa #the circle netflix #the circle #Netflix #netflix shows #racisim #racial #fan reaction #asian hate #all lives wont matter until black lives do #all lives will matter when black lives matter #black representation #black lives matter #gay rights #gaylove #gay pride #gay #pride month #pride #gaylife

[mogai-sunflowers]

okay maybe a hot take but even though I’m as ACAB as they come, I don’t. uh. Love those jokes about how cops are pigs because they eat donuts like crazy. Because I see people MUCH more willing to call cops pigs if they’re fat. I only ever see the “donut” jokes about fat cops. and believe me, fat people see those jokes. I hate cops more than pretty much anything but if you are so willing to make fun of them for being fat or “donut eaters” because of their body type then maybe don’t because there are much better things to criticize pigs for. People act like “pig” is a synonym for “fat ugly cop who just sits around eating donuts” but it’s not. All cops are bastards, all cops are pigs. Fat cops are not pigs because they’re fat, they’re pigs because they’re fascists. Stop throwing fat people under the bus in your righteous anger at cops.

not to mention that being ACAB is about fighting anti-Blackness and other forms of bigotry, but fatphobia is intrinsically rooted in racism, anti-Blackness, misogyny, and queerphobia, so defending fatphobia is not very ACAB of you in the first place.

anyways fuck ALL cops.

#🌌when the stars align ; reigns rambles🌌 #tw fatphobia #tw police #tw cops #ACAB #all cops are bastards #black lives matter

[chrollohearttags]

y’all don’t be giving what y’all think you do when you compare one oppressed group to another. Quickest way for me to tune the fuck out of what you’re saying.

#‘but when it was blm—‘ #and what did black people get besides gaslighted and disrespected #not to mention the whole movement was co opted and has been boiled down to a quirky aesthetic for non blks #we said stop killing us and everybody got defensive lmao get the fuck #I guess all lives matter and blue lives matter was just a joke #don’t piss me the fuck off #you can support Palestine without guilt tripping black ppl #cherry chats 🍒 #the organization at its core is trash now anyways so where do we go from here