#fair fucking play i’m cackling
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shadows fx: watch guillermo’s journey of a lifetime!
the livestream being watched by hundreds of fans: a seemingly endless loop of the inside of a dark box with a ship horn blaring and guillermo singing, snoring, crunching oreos, humming, fending off a bumblebee and some rowdy seagulls, trying to call for help to no avail, and pauses of him figuring out how to pee because of all the pedialyte
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the ‘costume thing’ | jack hughes x reader
*pairing: jack hughes x gn!reader
*summary: a simple misunderstanding between you and jack turns into a full-blown argument
*word count: 896
*tags: angst, miscommunication, happy ending
*a/n: goodness gracious, this was supposed to be fluff but it grew into this angsty monster. i hope you enjoy !
happy halloween !!
you’ve been trying to convince jack since september to wear matching costumes this year. jack didn’t agree to do it last halloween so maybe this time, it’d be different, but nope. he still shot down every suggestion. it’s starting to get on your nerves. you’d never force him to do it but it’s hard not to feel jealous seeing all of your friends dressing up with their partners.
and you thought you’d had some pretty good ideas, too. your best friend straight up cackled over facetime when you told them your favorite (the angel and devil thing is so overdone but jack has always looked good in white).
now, it’s two weeks before the 31st and he still hasn’t said anything. he doesn’t even pay attention anymore and you suspect that he isn’t listening whenever you bring it up. it fucking sucks.
at first, it was just annoying- something that was just aggravating enough to get under your skin- but now, it’s starting to hurt.
it’s beyond just a costume. it’s about him ignoring you and not even taking your opinion into consideration.
fine. if he wants to play that way, so can you.
“c’mon, just talk to me.”
you cross your arms and stare at him, shaking your head. oh, now he wants to talk, got it.
“did i like, forget to do something or make you upset?” jack says, sounding genuinely concerned. it’s nice to know he cares but you’ve been paying attention to how long it would take for him to approach you. three days is shitty.
you stand there in silence while he fidgets awkwardly, clearly frustrated by your lack of a response.
“can you please say something?”
you sigh, rolling your eyes. the low simmer of irritation and hurt that’s been under your skin finally boils over and you can’t stop yourself from lashing out at him. “it doesn’t feel very good to be ignored, does it?”
immediate regret sets in as you watch the look in his eyes shift rapidly from sadness to sharply annoyed. “is this still about that costume thing?”
“are you serious?” you scoff, full on glaring at him, “you think that’s why i’m upset?”
“yeah, i guess. i don’t know.”
“i’m upset because you’re not listening to me. every time i try to talk to you, you just brush me off, and that’s if you even care enough to respond,” you snap at him. you feel your eyes begin to burn and it only serves to make you more upset. you’d never considered yourself someone who tries to hide your emotions but fuck, crying over this in front of him is embarrassing. “it’s like you don’t even want to hear what i have to say. and i feel ignored.”
it’s quiet but the silence between the two of you is thunderous. jack opens and closes his mouth, struggling to find what to say. you sniffle, using the back of your hand to dry your eyes. it isn’t fair for you to spill everything you’ve been feeling lately out to him and to him to stay still and speechless. it feels like hours before he finally says anything.
“i’m sorry,” jack mumbles, and it’s so genuine that it’s almost like you have to look up at him. “i should have listened to you.”
you laugh wetly, wrapping your arms around your body. “yeah, you should have. you never even told me why you didn’t want to like, dress up with me.”
“i don’t know why.” he shrugs. at least he looks bashful. “that’s a shitty answer, isn’t it?”
he’s right. it’s a horrible answer but he says it in such a way that makes you giggle, hiding it behind your hand. hearing you laugh causes him to smile.
“i didn’t know you felt like that. i wish i would’ve, though.” jack bites his lip, his hands in his pockets. it sucks, seeing him so dejected, but part of you is glad that he’s taking this so seriously. it’s such a contrast from before; he’s actually, really, listening to you now and it’s damn satisfying. “i don’t like seeing you upset.”
you take a deep breath, nodding slowly. he’s trying. one conversation isn’t going to make everything okay but it’s a start.
“just… i need you to talk to me. fighting like this is stupid. i don’t wanna spend most of our time together arguing,” you say quietly, the last of your tears drying on your face.
jack pulls you into a crushing hug and for a moment, you stand still, before hugging him back just as tightly.
“me too.”
he’s got such a way with words.
jack flicks his headband with a frown and you watch the little halo attached to it wobble.
“quit messing with it,” you hiss, elbowing his arm when he goes to hit it again, “you’re going to break it.”
he pouts, rolling his shoulders back. maybe the wings were a little too much, but he just looks so cute in them. “and why am i the angel again?”
“because,” you say simply, flashing him a grin, “you’re always a devil. it’s my turn now.”
you quickly pull your phone out, using the camera to check if your horns are still on straight. in the top left corner, jack readjusts the wings you ‘forced’ him to wear.
you can’t fucking wait for tonight.
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DISTRACTIONS V | A SLIGHT MALFUNCTION
pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)
rating: T
word count: 5,901
summary: afc richmond is off to amsterdam for an exhibition match, but the problem with going on a trip with the team is that jamie is on the team. poor guy just wants to know what he did wrong.
A/N: if someone is out of character in this chapter, no they aren’t. pretend i’m a perfect writer!
distractions masterlist | previous chapter
So you’re definitely screwed - and not in a fun way.
The evening when Jamie came over to share pizza and watch Grey’s Anatomy with you ended with him spending the night. It was the first time he did so without sex being involved. The worst part was that you initiated it. You both let time get away from you - and Jamie became very invested in Meredith and Derek’s tumultuous relationship - so you told him he could crash since it was so late. You’d offered timidly, fearing he’d think it was weird since this wasn’t your usual routine. But he didn’t even hesitate in agreeing, and you didn’t turn him away when he followed you to your bedroom.
Something shifted between the two of you after that. You actually felt like the friends part of your friends with benefits situation carried more weight. Now when he came over, instead of immediately jumping each other’s bones, you shared a meal, watched a show, or even played a game after Jamie noticed the few board games you had stowed away in your closet.
And you talked more, too. He started telling you stories about his family; how close he and his mom were, and the strained relationship between him and his father. He never went into much detail, but you could gather that his dad was definitely not a great person. You liked that he trusted you enough, though, to let you in on even a tiny bit of his struggles. It made you understand him better. Naturally, you also started sharing more with him, such as how lost you felt before coming to the U.K. You’d confided in him about the lack of friends you had back in Chicago, since Mason practically isolated you from the world outside of his own, and how insecure that made you. “Well, now you’ve got a whole football club who’d do just about anything for you,” he’d whispered, gently running a finger across your cheek as the two of you laid in bed.
At one point you almost told him a funny story about your childhood that involved Ted, but you bit your tongue and gave your uncle a fake name. Jamie cackled, though, as you described your Uncle Steve’s attempt at helping you with a science fair project that ended with baking soda shooting out of your fake volcano and into his eye. When you caught yourself musing that Jamie’s laugh must be the greatest sound in the whole world, you knew you were in trouble.
You were fucking screwed. You and Jamie agreed: no feelings. The second one of you felt weird or that you didn’t want casual sex anymore, you’d stop. You never discussed what would happen if one of you felt more, because it seemed implausible. Yet, here you were.
The obvious solution was to call it off. Jamie probably wouldn’t care. On to the next. But the selfish part of you couldn’t do it. He was just so cute and sweet and he made you feel good. And not just in bed - in general. When you were around him, you felt confident and happy and safe. Mason, at least towards the end, made you feel anxious and inept and small.
Maybe that was why you were feeling so over attached. You were used to the bare minimum from a guy, that now that a decent one was showing you attention and kindness, you were obsessing over him.
But Jamie wasn’t just decent, he was…Jamie. And despite every bone in your body telling you not to, you really liked him.
So, over the course of the last few days, you did what any reasonable person would do: ignore the problem until it just goes away. Unfortunately, the problem was Jamie and he was a little hard to ignore, since you worked with him. But you did your best to put some distance between the two of you. When he wanted to come over, you told him you had plans with Sam or Keeley. When he wanted to sneak away to your office, you told him Rebecca needed you. When he showed up at your flat with takeout from the Chinese restaurant you’d offhandedly mentioned loving once, to which he remembered, you fucked him on the couch and ate cold lo mein afterwards. But that was your only moment of weakness.
You told yourself you couldn’t avoid him forever; just long enough for your feelings to dissipate. You were just in some sort of honeymoon phase, and once the novelty of him wears off, you can be normal about everything, until you both inevitably get bored of each other and move on. It was never meant to last forever.
You have to ignore the way your heart aches at that thought.
It’s because of your fool proof plan to get over Jamie that you decide not to attend Richmond’s exhibition match in Amsterdam this weekend. Something you hadn’t told Jamie, or anyone for that matter. Which is why you’re starting to feel particularly awkward as Ted sits across from you at your desk and goes on and on about the trip.
“I was thinking when we get there, we could grab breakfast and sight-see for a bit before the game. Maybe Beard will tag along. What do you think?”
You’re pushing a piece of chicken around your plate absentmindedly when Ted looks up at you, and furrows his brows.
“What’s wrong, Kiddo?” he asks, setting his own plate onto your desk.
You look up, with wide eyes, “Who, me? Nothings wrong. I’m great! Fucking fantastic.”
He tilts his head, fixing you a look.
Your shoulders drop as you sigh, “I just…don’t think I’m going to go to Amsterdam this weekend.”
Ted’s eyes widen in shock, “What? Why not? I thought you’d be excited! New country, new adventures. You know, Amsterdam is one step closer to Iceland.”
You huff out a laugh as you rub your temple. “I know, and I do want to. I’ve just been feeling kind of run down lately. I feel like life's been kind of go, go, go since I got here. Which has been great! But it’s catching up with me and I think I just need to unwind for a weekend by myself.”
While this isn’t exactly the truth, life has been a bit hectic, so you hope he buys it. Ted nods thoughtfully, as though he wants to ask more, but accepts your answer.
This time you tilt your head and give him a pointed look, “What?”
“Nothing,” Ted’s quick to respond, “What you said makes sense. I guess I just haven’t checked in on how you’ve been coping with everything. You’ve seemed so happy since you’ve been here. You and Sam seem to get along real well, and Rebecca always sings your praises. But you are thousands of miles away from the only home you’ve ever known. Heck, I’ve been here for almost three years, and I still sometimes wake in a cold sweat craving barbeque sauce.” Ted smiles when you giggle. “All I’m saying is it's okay to miss home; to miss your parents, even to miss he-who-shall-no be named.”
You're surprised when, despite Ted avoiding his name, the allusion to Mason doesn’t make your head spin. You snort, “Well, while I do miss my dads and deep dish pizza, I can assure you I do not miss Voldemort.”
Ted hums, “That’s good.”
“You’re right, though. I honestly have really loved my life here these past few months, but I think I made myself skip the part where I processed all the changes. So, I think some time to just be will be good for me.”
“I think so, too,” he nods, “But the team and I sure will miss you this weekend.”
You don’t have time to bask in the sentiment when a knock comes through your office door. Before you can respond, the door opens to reveal Jamie.
You swear time stops for a second, as Jamie looks from you to Ted, and Ted looks from Jamie to you. You just blink, practically staring into the abyss. You know Jamie is scrambling for an excuse as to why he’s here, as you try to rationalize why either one of them is in your office. Thankfully, Ted has more than one brain cell and is able to play it cool.
“Hey, Jamie, what brings you here?” Ted greets cheerfully.
“I’m, uh, here to ask if I can see the videos we got today at practice.” Jamie makes up and you’re almost proud, “I have to make sure my public image is maintained.”
“Yes, he’s very stringent about that.” You add on, giving Ted a playful eye roll about Jamie’s ‘antics’, and he’s none the wiser. Ted gives you an amused smile.
The older man gets up and starts gathering trash into the takeout bag to dispose of. “Well, I should get going. Thanks for dinner, Kiddo. Don’t tell Roy, but this is why you’re my favorite coworker.” Ted turns to you in the doorway and winks from behind Jamie. He pats the younger man on the shoulder, and as he leaves, shouts back, “Good night, you two.”
Jamie shuts the door behind him, “Do you have dinner with Ted often?”
You shrug, “Sometimes.”
Jamie nods, and you’re relieved neither of them were suspicious of anything. You’re still overwhelmed by the two of them crossing paths like that, that you’re late to processing that you and Jamie are alone in your dimly lit office which is exactly the type of situation you’re trying to avoid. However, Jamie doesn’t initiate anything like you’d expected. Instead, he flops down into the chair across from you, almost dejectedly. He beats you to the punch before you can ask.
“Why aren’t you coming to Amsterdam?”
That takes you aback, “You heard that?” You glance briefly in the direction Ted disappeared in, “Did you hear anything else?”
“No,” Jamie frowns, “I got here right when Ted said the team would miss you.”
You hold back a relieved sigh.
“We will miss you, by the way,” Jamie adds, “Me especially.”
Your stomach flutters. What the hell did that mean?
“Really?” you ask quietly.
“Yeah,” Jamie nods, “Hotels are the best places to have sneaky sex.”
You scoff and roll your eyes, honestly grateful he’d snapped you out of your stupor.
“Sure they are. Especially when you’re sharing a room with one of your teammates.”
“Well, I could get us our own room. A private suite. Maybe with a jacuzzi tub.” Jamie reaches across the table, taking your hand and rubbing it gently with his thumb. “That is, if you come with us this weekend.
You stare longingly at your intertwined fingers and he almost has you. Luckily, you have a miniscule shred of willpower left.
“I’m sorry, Jamie,” you reluctantly pull your hand from his, “I really need to stay in Richmond this weekend. I need some time to relax.”
“Well, I could help you do that,” Jamie scoffs.
“Jamie, please.”
You must give away how desperate you are in your tone, because Jamie’s playful expression changes to concern.
“Are you alright?” he asks, “Did something happen?”
“No,” you shake your head aggressively, “I promise. I just want some alone time. I feel like my social battery just needs to recharge, you know?”
After a moment, Jamie still looks unsure, but nods. You think he’s going to say something else, before he’s standing up.
“I guess I’ll see you next week, then?”
You nod, and then throw him an encouraging smile, “Break a leg this weekend.”
Jamie’s face scrunches in confusion as he juts back, “What?”
You squint, “You’ve never heard that saying?” he shakes his head, “It means good luck.”
“Why the fuck would breaking a leg be good luck?”
You stare at him for a few seconds before frowning, “I don’t actually know.”
He shakes his head and continues to the doorway, giving you one last look as he wishes you a goodnight and disappears from view.
Sourly, you realize this was the first time he hasn’t offered to drive you home since you’ve met. Maybe that was for the best.
Jamie Tartt doesn’t yearn.
He’s liked plenty of women. He’s even loved a couple of them. But he doesn’t obsess over them.
You’re different, though. Apparently.
As soon as he left your office after finding out you weren’t coming to Amsterdam, he couldn’t stop thinking about you all night. It really wasn’t a big deal. It was two days. You weren’t even a couple. And yet, the idea of being apart for that long made his chest hurt. What the fuck was that about?
He’d been having confusing feelings a lot recently when it came to you. The two of you are closer than ever, bonding over little things between really, really great sex. At the same time, he felt like you were pulling away, and he couldn’t understand why. He thought you were having fun together. It really seemed like you enjoyed yourself, whether the two of you were just hanging out, or participating in your more extracurricular activities. But maybe you were getting tired of it. Maybe you were getting tired of him.
Shit. What did he do wrong?
And why does it bother him so much?
It was all your fault, really.
You with your kind heart and sweet compliments, which didn’t feel earned but he appreciated. You with your safe and comfortable embraces. You with your absolutely addictive laugh, that he’d jump through hoops to hear over and over again. You with your fucking eyes and the way you touch him during nights together, making him feel so wanted. You’ve gotten him accustomed to a certain lifestyle, one that he’s never experienced before, so now he wasn’t sure how to go back to before you started hooking up. Maybe that was what unnerved him. He was afraid if you stopped the benefits, the friendship would also stop, too. A little bit was about missing the sex, but mostly he’d miss you.
God, how you’ve ruined him.
Now here he was, surrounded by his teammates, in one of the greatest cities in the world, as they all mourned yet another loss. Despite how soul crushing these consecutive losses have been, Jamie finds himself more upset by the fact that he can’t see you tonight. With that thought propelling him, he jogs out of the locker room and finds an empty hallway to call you in. He doesn’t care if this makes him seem weird or desperate. He just wants to hear your voice.
“Hey, Jamie,” your soft voice answers after two rings. He clocks that you still sound a bit off, but it soothes him nonetheless, “I saw the game. I’m sorry.”
He manages to laugh, “Why are you watching football when you’re supposed to be relaxing?”
He smiles when he hears your own laugh through the phone, “I can multitask.”
There’s a beat of silence before you continue, “How’re you feeling? How’s the rest of the team?”
“Everyone’s miserable,” Jamie says point blankly.
“Wow, no hesitation there.”
“Yeah,” Jamie chuckles dryly, “Wish you were here, though.”
He listens intently as you sharply inhale. When you don’t respond after a few seconds, he calls out your name.
“Hey, Jamie, I’m in the middle of cooking dinner and if I don’t hurry, half of it is going to boil over. I’ll talk to you later, yeah? Tell the team hi for me.”
Before Jamie can even say goodbye, you’ve hung up. That doesn’t sit well with him. Not just because you ended the call so abruptly, but because he knew you really only cooked when you were anxious. Something was definitely up. Even if it had nothing to do with him, he finds himself wishing you’d at least want to confide in him.
Later that day, when the team has boarded the bus, the morale is criminally low. It’s so bad that it has Ted Lasso declaring that he’s revoking curfew and encouraging everyone to pull an all-nighter in Amsterdam. Suddenly, Jamie’s mood is boosted for the first time all week. A night of debauchery with his teammates was the perfect thing to get his mind off of their losing streak and you. Unfortunately, Roy has his own shit going on and decides that he needs to take it out on Jamie, by forcing him into an all night training session. Despite the disappointment, Jamie will take a distraction in any form at this point.
So, he plasters on a smile and forces Roy on a running tour of Amsterdam. By nightfall, he’s annoyed the grumpy coach into admitting, one, that he’s never seen a windmill and doesn’t believe they exist, and two, that he doesn’t know how to ride a bike.
Naturally this leads to Jamie teaching Roy how to do exactly that. After a series of attempts that are simultaneously humorous, frustrating, and endearing, Roy successfully manages to stay upright, and the two of them bike off in search of a windmill.
For some reason, Jamie finds it in himself to apologize to Roy for making fun of him earlier. He’s also surprising himself when he tells Roy about his childhood visits to Amsterdam. The first involves a suppressed memory of his father taking him to lose his virginity, and the second with his mother, that he actually looks back on fondly. He’s never told anyone about either of these trips - even you.
He supposes Roy could sense this, when he makes an admission of his own; that he’d been taking his anger out on Jamie because he’d found out Keeley has a new girlfriend. That’s all Roy says on the matter and Jamie doesn’t push him for more.
Not long after that, they finally make it to a windmill. Jamie genuinely smiles, taking it as a win when Roy appears mildly happy. If Jamie could tell his childhood self he’s staring at a windmill in Amsterdam with his hero, that kid would probably shit himself. Now Jamie’s just happy they get along at all.
Maybe it's because of the bond they seemed to forge that night, or maybe it's the sleep deprivation, but as they start biking back, Jamie finds himself confiding in Roy about something else.
“Hey, can I get your opinion on something?” Roy doesn’t say yes, but he also doesn’t say no, so Jamie continues, “I’ve been sleeping with this girl-”
Roy groans.
“I know, just hear me out. We’ve been hooking up for a while now, and it's just casual, which is great, but recently she’s been acting weird. I think she’s making up excuses not to see me and it bothers me that she’s not telling me what’s bothering her. But we’re not in a relationship, so why should I care? I mean, I do care. Like, if she’s upset I want to know so I can help fix it. But I care as a friend, ya know? I guess what I’m trying to figure out is how to ask her what’s been going on, without fucking up our situation and making her think I like her more than I do,” Jamie explains in a rush.
Roy discreetly rolls his eyes, “Well, it does sound like you fucking like her.”
“What?” Jamie almost veers off the road, “I do not!”
“Yeah, you definitely do.”
“No, we’re just friends who occasionally have sex,” Jamie states firmly.
“Alright, so if she told you she wanted to stop?”
Jamie hesitates, but eventually responds assuredly, “I’d respect her wishes.”
“And if she wanted to start seeing someone else?”
Jamie’s expression becomes pained.
Roy chuckles as he shakes his head, “I fucking told you.”
Jamie sighs, “Shit.”
“What?”
“I’m not supposed to…like her.” I promised myself. This was not the time for Jamie to spiral, but now his heart was racing. He knew he was too attached to you, but liking you? Romantically? And all it took was Roy fucking Kent to point out the obvious for it to sink in.
“Well, tough shit,” his coach scoffs, “You like her, so what? You think she doesn’t like you? She must if she’s been putting up with you for however long.”
“Gee, thanks,” Jamie rolls his eyes, “And I have no idea how she feels, but that’s not what freaks me out. Its if she does feel the same way, it’ll be real, and when I inevitably fuck it up, I…I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ve never met someone like her, and the last thing I want to do is mess things up like I always do.”
“So instead of the risk of potentially getting hurt down the line, you’d rather knowingly hurt yourself now by pretending like you don’t have feelings at all and hope they’ll go away?”
Jamie glances at Roy briefly before letting out a humorless laugh, “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
Roy nods ruefully, “Yeah. I know a thing or two about that.”
Jamie sits with Roy’s admission. He assumes it's in reference to his breakup with Keeley, and he’s seen how he’s handled that. Maybe he should tell you, and maybe you’d live happily ever after. But there was still a chance you didn’t have the same feelings, especially with how you were seemingly avoiding him. That didn’t really give him a vote of confidence. After a few moments, Jamie’s brought out of his thoughts when Roy surprises him by saying your name.
“It's her isn’t it,” Roy asks, “She’s the girl you’ve been seeing?”
Jamie narrows his eyes, wanting to deny it, but not seeing the point, “How’d you know?”
Roy shrugs, “You’ve just seemed…,” it nearly pains him to say, “Happier, since she’s been around.”
Jamie’s eyes soften, but then turns mischevious. He practically smirks despite the weight of this conversation, “You obsessed with me or something, coach?”
Roy grunts, “Shut the fuck up.”
“I have been, though,” Jamie admits, “Happier. Like I said, I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s so smart and funny, and so goddamn nice, despite some of the shit she’s been through. No matter how hard I try, I don’t think I’ll ever deserve her.”
Roy takes in Jamie’s words thoughtfully. “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.”
Jamie chances a glance at Roy, surprised by his words.
“You’re a good guy, Jamie. And she’d be lucky to have you.”
Jamie tries not to be touched by Roy’s compliment, but a small smile finds its way on his face. Not many people have said this about him - he’s not even sure he believes it himself. He doesn’t know how to respond to convey his appreciation, so he just softly says, “Thanks.”
Roy looks over to Jamie and gives him a meaningful nod. “But if you tell anyone I said any of this I’ll fucking deny it.”
Jamie manages a laugh. “Aye aye, coach.”
Despite his insecurities, Roy’s belief in him is almost enough encouragement to want to tell you everything and see where it goes. You had been putting up with him - to borrow Roy’s words. More than that, up until recently, he felt the two of you growing even closer, so there could be a chance it was because you were starting to develop feelings for him, too. He was inclined to believe it was all in his head, but maybe he should start looking at the glass half full instead of completely empty.
While he definitely wouldn’t be professing his feelings to you right away, he was allowing himself to feel something akin to hope.
Wow. Losing an exhibition match, bonding with Roy Kent, and denying but eventually accepting his feelings for you all in one night. When in Amsterdam.
The pair continue to bike down the street in comfortable silence. That is until Roy accidentally veers off the road into the woods.
“Fuck!”
Back in Richmond, you’re doing a horrible job of getting your mind off of Jamie.
You started your evening by watching their match, which definitely defeated half the purpose of not going with them to Amsterdam, but you used wanting to support the team as an excuse. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of Jamie, though, so by the time the game was ending, you were knee deep in making a whole-ass lasagna you definitely couldn’t eat by yourself. After their unfortunate loss, you sent Sam an apologetic text with a lot of emojis. What you weren’t expecting was Jamie to call you, and you felt like not answering would be rude. You thought you could handle a friendly conversation, but then he was saying something about missing you and you were panicking and hanging up before you could process what you were doing.
You knew your tactics of avoiding him wasn’t exactly a nice thing to do. You just were not a confrontational person, and even though Jamie would most likely be cool with, well, cooling things off, you didn’t know how to express that to him. Jamie didn’t seem like the type to be angry at you for just asking for what you wanted, or try to convince you to change your mind, like someone else you once knew, but past circumstances clouded your brain, making it more difficult to try.
So for now, you’d try to find the space to let any feelings go away on their own. Because that will definitely work.
After over-indulging in homemade Italian food, you try to get invested in some good old TV. You try watching something new, not having had time to binge watch as of late, but you couldn’t focus on the plot enough to get invested. So, you tried watching Grey’s Anatomy, per usual, but even the iconic Cristina Yang wasn’t enough to keep your mind off of Jamie. As a last ditch effort, you threw on a trashy reality show but of course that reminded you of Jamie.
Giving up on television altogether, you decide to Facetime your dads and catch up with them. Admittedly, you hadn’t had the chance to have a long conversation with them in a few weeks, only speaking to them briefly over text or quick calls between work and football matches. You were instantly comforted once their faces filled your phone screen, and you vowed never to go this long without speaking to them.
Dad and Pops take turns filling you in on their life in Kansas, from work woes to neighborhood gossip. They also tell you about going to Henry’s soccer games and how well he’s been doing. It warms your heart that he’s most likely taken up this sport in honor of his dad. They also inquire about how work has been going for you (”it’s still really great!”) and whether there’s anything else of note to share (”nope!”). You wonder if they can sense the nervous energy radiating off of you through the phone.
Then they ask you if you’ve been writing at all. For some reason this catches you off guard. It was as if you’ve never heard of the concept. When you first got to England, you’d try so hard to write during your off time. Rebecca has even encouraged you to do so when things were light at work. However, writer’s block was still plaguing you. And recently, all of your free time was taken up by team outings, dinners with Ted, and being with Jamie. But here you are, free from all of those things for the first time in weeks.
After talking to your dads for nearly an hour, ending with a promise to do this more often, you’re hanging up and running for your laptop. You plop down on the couch and pull up a blank word document. To no surprise, you stare at the blank page for five minutes when no ideas come to mind. Normally, this would segue into you opening Google News to see if any little piece of media struck inspiration. When you do this, the first article you see is about AFC Richmond facing another defeat.
You groan, closing the browser immediately. When you’re face to face with the empty page again, you aggressively smash your computer keyboard.
Fuck Jamie Tartt.
For some reason, typing the words out on the page made you feel a tiny bit better, so you keep going.
Fuck him and his stupidly attractive face and his dumb, endearing jokes. Fuck him and his ability to invade my every thought, and the way he somehow knows exactly what to say to make me feel better when I’m sad. Fuck him and his surprising thoughtfulness and his sense of humor that perfectly complements my own. Fuck him for being so good at fucking me, that he’s probably ruined me for anyone else. Fuck. Jamie. Tartt.
You stare at your stream of consciousness thoughtfully. It was like you were making a pro-con list where every con was just a pro you didn’t want to be true. These were all things that drove you nuts about Jamie - the way he became such a light in your life without you giving him permission to. He was supposed to be a safe choice because he was so unsafe. His reputation was bullshit. He wasn’t just someone you fooled around with until you got bored, or he did. He was someone you could see yourself being with forever without growing tired of him.
Okay, avoiding him definitely wasn’t enough while these intrusive thoughts were circling your brain.
You reread the words on your screen one last time, as your hand hovers over the backspace. Before you click it, you find yourself amused by your chaotic ramblings. You even find yourself thinking…this would be a very intriguing first line of a book.
It would take some fine tuning and obviously a name-change, but if you’d picked up a book and this was the opening sentence, you’d absolutely need to know more.
Running with this thought, you start tweaking your words, while you simultaneously try to envision a circumstance for this story outside of your own.
A friends with benefits storyline would be a little too on the nose, but enemies to lovers is always a good trope. Maybe after this first line, you could jump back in time, making readers wait until the book was halfway through to learn the context for this angry thought.
Suddenly, you’re taking all your ideas and running with them. You switch between writing paragraphs, to writing ideas, outlining scenes, and jotting down incoherent thoughts that you’re not sure fit, but could honestly be enough of a thought-starter for a whole other story. No matter how it all fits together, you’re pretty dead set on a romantic comedy angle. You wonder why you hadn’t had the idea for one before, considering it was one of your favorite genres as a consumer. It probably has nothing to do with the lack of romantic-comedy-energy from your last relationship. And certainly there’s no correlation to being able to write one now with the current situation you were in.
Before you know it, it's the middle of the night and you’ve been writing for hours. You’re not sure any of its good, but its something. The one thing you know, as your eyes begin to droop, is that you’re not going to write anything of substance while your energy is sufficiently drained.
You force yourself off the couch, managing to plug your computer in, before you crash on your bed. The next time your eyes open, its 9AM, and with barely seven hours of rest, you feel too wired to go back to sleep, anxious to start writing again. So, you put on a pot of coffee and fire up your laptop. You’re relieved you’d had enough of a brain at 3AM to save your document.
You spend the whole day writing, only stopping for snacks and bathroom breaks. You only become aware of what time it is when someone pounds on your door as the afternoon turns to evening. You hastily save your word doc before sliding over to the door. You should be surprised that Jamie occupies the other side, but you really weren’t. What surprised you was how much he looked like a zombie.
“Jamie?” you arch your eyebrow, as you move out of the way so he can cross the threshold, shutting the door in his wake, “Everything okay?”
“Guess what,” he says with a dopey smile on his face, “Ted let us stay up all night, so I taught Roy how to ride a bike and we saw a windmill.”
Part of you wants to laugh, but the rest of you is just really confused.
“Wait, you didn’t sleep last night?”
“Mhmm,” he nods once.
“God, you should be passed out at home right now. Why are you here?” Your eyes widen, “Don’t tell me you drove in this condition.”
“I ordered an Uber,” he explains sleepily as he takes your hand and tugs you to your bedroom.
Despite your plan to disengage in sexual activities - and all activities - with him, you don’t bother arguing knowing this wasn’t going anywhere while he was this tired. Still, you curse yourself for finding a sleep deprived Jamie very adorable.
You giggle as he plops down onto your bed face first. He manages to hold onto your hand as you stare down at him from beside the bed.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Jamie just mumbles incoherently into your mattress. Giving up entirely, you go to fold the comforter over him, having not bothered to make your bed this morning. “While you are welcome to nap here, I’m sure your fancy bed at home would be much more comfortable.”
As you begin to tuck him in, he turns over suddenly, and pulls you onto the bed beside him.
“Yeah, but you’re not there and I wanted to see you,” he mumbles tiredly, his eyes fluttering up and down slowly.
You allow yourself to bask in this moment, with your face a few inches from his. Sitting up slightly, you gently trace your fingers over his eyelids, coaxing him to sleep.
“Well, now that you’ve seen me, you can close your eyes and get some rest,” you whisper. His face nuzzles against your hand a little before he settles into your pillow.
He mumbles something else, but then you’re pretty sure he’s fully passed out.
Sighing, you push yourself up and out of the bed. Per usual, he doesn’t stir at the movement, nor when you shut the bedroom door as you head back to the living room.
Once you’re alone and back on the couch, you let out a long sigh and rub your face. He does not make it easy, does he?
Even as warmth spreads across your face, Jamie’s words about wanting to see you echoing in your head, an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach. If you really wanted to get rid of the feelings you had for Jamie - feelings that were rapidly increasing by the second - you couldn’t avoid him forever.
You were going to have to end your “relationship”.
Suddenly, you’ve lost the motivation to continue writing a romantic comedy for the rest of the night. It was fun while it lasted.
You’re not sure you mean your sudden ability to write again or something else.
A/N: well that’s no good! lol, this was the hardest chapter to do, i rewrote some of it several times, so please let me know what you think of it!
Taglist: @atabigail @boundtomyfate @sammysgirl1997 @lil-tracys @shephard17895 @alaspice @itsbarbraann @redpool @drmeghanjones @straightforwardly @alex-sulli @aiyaiy @artemismaximoff @roadtoself-love @theloud-yet-quietone @forcesofgrief @kirisimpster @geek-and-proud @grippleback-galaxy @lalla-04p @gabbycoady13 @royalestrellas @qardasngan @creationcitystreet-em @percysaidnever @emily-b @mrfitzsimmons @k-n-e @agentstarkid @legobatmans9thab @mrsprongs25 @escapismqueen @sokkigarden @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @dollfaceyourfear @dicgohargreeves @heyitz-julia @vampirodelascajas @grxcesmind @lizziel1410 @a-sweet-little-fangirl @scaramou @beardsplitter @gcidrvsh @ringpopdust @marveltg365 @optimisticsandwichgladiator it wouldn’t let me tag the last few of you, let me know if its something with your settings, otherwise i can keep trying in future updates! <3
#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt x f!reader#jamie tartt x female reader#ted lasso fanfiction#ted lasso fanfic#mine#distractions series
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DTF Only (DTF) - zeke jaeger x reader 18+
pairing: Zeke Jaeger x afab! Reader
summary: You can't expect every match to want to take you out, but Zeke's more than happy to give you some backdoor action.
word count: 4k
notes: Part 6 of DTF Only. Zeke is a wee bit scummy here, not too bad.
warnings: smut, explicit content, explicit language, mild alcohol consumption, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, anal sex, masturbation
☻ masterpost☻
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ !!
“Hmm…he’s handsome. The beard’s kept neat, could be a sign that he manscapes.”
“That’s what I’m thinking.” You set your phone down and tap the speaker option.
Ymir, on the contrary is less sure about him. “Are you sure you want this guy to sodomize you?”
Another date tonight, although, you’re not sure if you’d call this an actual date.
You had gotten a message from Zeke earlier in the week. Unlike the others, he’s older by eight years, and more forward with his intentions.
I’m a busy man, but on Thursday I can be all yours.
What do you say? You want to be all mine for a night?
You had just agreed to meet up with Reiner that Monday, and because it was further down the week, you confirmed your interest.
Perfect. I want to be clear again, I’m a busy man.
Casual fun only.
Of course, this wasn’t a problem. Little did he know that you were only on this Tinder venture to whore yourself out. Before you got a chance to let him know that another message slipped in, and compared to your previous matches, he’s the boldest.
I like to fuck in the ass btw
Well…now that changes everything.
You’re not even bothered that Zeke didn’t offer to take you anywhere. Despite his age, he’s to the point with zero effort.
You weren’t going to hold that against him. Fine by you, because anal sex was something you’ve been curious to try for a long time. Therefore, it was enough incentive for you to agree to Zeke’s conditions.
You had purchased a silicone plug a year ago for beginners, even practiced with it a few times. Although you and Colt never had the chance to try anal sex, the plug was mostly forgotten in the depths of your sock drawer.
To prep for tonight, you reacclimated to the toy all day, keeping it tucked in your asshole until you saw Zeke.
“Okay…Ymir…” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try to bleach that phrase from your mind. “It sounds pervy when you say it like that.”
“Do you have cataracts? He’s the embodiment of pervy."
Pieck chimes in, always a saint to play devil’s advocate. “Just because he’s a little older, doesn’t make him perverse. Unless that’s what our friend wants.” She teases.
“He’s pushing forty, and yet he’s too much of a cheapass to take you on a real date? Sucks for you ladies; men get lazier with age.”
“I already knew what I signed up for,” you say. “Besides, I’ve been out all week. I’m fine skipping to the sheets tonight.”
“Alright, fair enough,” Ymir concedes. “You were already spoiled by Horseface the other night anyways. What time is he picking you up?”
You stand before the mirror, smoothing out your dress, checking the reflection for any creases. “He’s already sent an Uber, it’ll be here in a couple of minutes.”
A sharp laugh rings out of your phone, startling you.
“So, what are you a pizza?” Ymir cackles. “He placed an order for you on Tinder?”
“Ymir…” Pieck sighs, but you’re not deaf to the telltale humor in her tone. “It was your idea that she got on Tinder.”
“I’m just saying.” Ymir manages to stifle her laughter. “This guy is literally zero effort.”
“Well, like you said before, I don’t need to find my next boyfriend there,” you drawl, rushing to get your heels on. “Doesn’t matter. I’m a busy person, and so is he.”
“Sure,” Ymir says. “Well, for your sake, hope that the anal sex is on some cosmic level. Because this man…it’s no wonder he’s still single at his age.”
“I doubt he cares honestly.” You check your phone to read a new message from the man himself. “I got to get going, he said the Uber should be arriving in a minute. You have his address, just in case.”
“Alright, this is it,” Ymir says. “Next time we hear from you, you won’t be a backdoor virgin anymore.”
“Have fun!” Pieck sings.
…
The Uber drops you off at 8pm at an impressive home. The property is brand new, modern, in a fancier area in the city.
Walking up the steps, you hear a light whistle from the doorbell, which you press.
Zeke appears behind the door, glass of whiskey in hand, sweatpants and no shirt.
This man really is low effort, you muse, biting back the urge to roll your eyes; somewhat regretting the lingerie you have on under your dress.
Taking a sip, his lips curl into a smirk. “There she is, even prettier than her pictures.” Behind his glasses, he gives you elevator eyes before he steps aside to invite you in.
The inside matches the modern architecture outside. The foyer floors are pristine white, that lead in several directions. To the left, a sitting room that looks more like a museum with abstract, contemporary artwork hanging on the wall and cool-toned puffs that serve as seats.
Zeke leads you past that room and the staircase that faced the door, footsteps muted with fluffy slippers while your heels echo along the tile.
“This way,” he says over his shoulder. “Let me get you a drink.”
Trailing behind, you admire the muscles in his back, equally as taut as the curve of his ass hidden away in his sweatpants. Moreso, you delight in watching him walk before you with a careless, confident swagger, a king in his castle.
The open-concept kitchen space bleeds into a humble living room. Like the rest of the house, the finishes are polished and modern, yet more homey than the foyer and sitting room.
He comes around the long kitchen island where the bottle of whiskey rests. He gestures his glass to point at you. “You look like a champagne gal.”
You lean against the island’s marble countertop, giving him a flirty look. “You’re right, I am. But I’ll have water tonight.”
He arches a brow. “Water? I can pop some bubbly.” He breathes a laugh when you blink at him. “To celebrate. Two souls finding each other to consummate a special occasion.”
You lick your lips, unsure how to respond. He’s really eager to fuck you in the ass. “Water…thanks.”
Zeke shrugs. “Fine, fine, I only have the sparkling kind.”
He would…
You take the glass he’s offered, sipping the bubble water as you wander the space between the living room and kitchen. It’s big and a bit lonely. You recall the details of Zeke’s profile.
An entrepreneur who runs a few private businesses. It makes sense why he’s shacking up in such a nice home, and it also makes sense why he prefers a booty-call.
You finish the glass of water and set it down on an end table by the plush couch.
“Well, do you have a surprise for me?” Zeke’s tongue pushes into his cheek, sipping in the sight of you.
You do the same, letting your stare dance along his muscled chest before they climb back to admire the strong, bearded jawline. He might lack any effort to woo you properly, but he’s got an allure that most older men tend to have.
“Maybe…” you tease.
Zeke grins, a man ready to take a bite out of you. He slides his glasses off, setting them aside. Within a few steps, the distance closes between you both.
His hand finds the small of your back, tugging you closer to him so that he can bear his darkened gaze upon you. He looks just as good without the glasses, in a way you prefer him without. It gives you a chance to soak in the primal look in his eyes.
He rubs your back, and had you been naïve, you would have thought it was affectionate. But you’re an adult who came here for a reason and that reason slides from your back to palm your ass.
“Oooh…” Zeke murmurs. His touch ventures elsewhere, greedy hand sneaking up your dress to sample your bare flesh. “Very nice—” He lifts up the side of your dress, a finger hooking into the garter belt. “Very, very nice. A classy woman, getting dolled up for me.”
His hand continues to explore with purchase, sliding along the curve of your ass, stopping at the center. He’s found what he was searching for.
Zeke’s eyes light up, and you feel his fingers pull the plug gently.
Biting your lip, a whine escapes anyways when Zeke pushes the plug deeper.
He leans forward, delight in his voice. “I’m going to ruin you.” He kisses you, finger pushing against the plug again to swallow your whimper. “Going to have to get used to this, baby. I’m much bigger than your toy.”
A sharp smack lands on your ass cheek, and another.
You do up an act, wrapping your arms around his neck, to give him a hooded stare. “I think I’m ready to take you.”
A sharper smack lands on your backside from Zeke’s excitement, fingers pulling against the plug and ramming it back in. “Let’s not waste any more time.”
He downs the rest of his glass, hissing from the burn. “Are you sure, you don’t want anything to drink? First time may sting. I don’t want to scare you.”
Butterflies flutter around in your stomach, tickling your nerves that for a second you do consider the offer, but ultimately decide against it. “I’m sure.”
Zeke takes the hint, pulling you in with a tight squeeze on your ass and slotting his mouth over yours. It’s scratchy and heavy with whiskey, an exhilaration between your legs, overshadowing the nerves.
Setting the glass aside, Zeke takes your hand, leading you up the stairs until you reach his bedroom.
The size of his bed is comical. California-king, dark red velvet sheets with a plush headrest and mirrored closets. It’s like walking on set of a porn film.
He turns around, whiskey kiss scratching your lips again. You two make out, a slow build as he walks you back until your legs hit the end of his bed.
He releases you, backpedaling to admire you in the dress. “Show me what’s under there, sweetheart. Give me a show.”
The room heats up fast, charged by the sexual tension and also from the pressure of Zeke’s gaze. Both have you leveling him with bedroom eyes, lifting your hands to drag the straps of your dress off your shoulders.
They fall away like petals plucked from the stem, revealing the thinner straps of your lace bra.
Zeke doesn’t move, still like a statue. You’re quick to look away from his eyes and steal glimpse elsewhere.
He’s hard, dick visible behind his sweatpants. The sight encourages you to keep going, peeling away the dress in a slow strip tease to unveil the rest of your lingerie. Light blue, Colt’s favorite color.
The dress pools at your feet and you step out of it, running your hands along the intimate lace. You begin with the push-up bra, cupping your breasts, feeling your hardened nipples there. Fingers travel to your sides, slipping past the bra down to your ribcage to stroke along the matching garter belt at your waist.
Zeke remains still, eyes fixated on your hands pouring onto the straps that connect to your stockings. It’s only when you bring a hand at the center of your thighs does a stuttered breath bring Zeke back to life.
“That’s a beautiful set you have on,” he says like he’s talking to your body. “Light blue, very delicate. Can’t promise that’s how I’ll be.” He palms his cock over his sweatpants.
You bristle at his intent, reaching a hand out to his chest. He finally looks up with a lidded gaze. “I don’t mind if it hurts a little.”
Zeke’s jaw unhinges, a dark moan rushing out. He heaves a laugh to collect himself, but you feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips.
Taking your hand, he kisses your knuckles, a lecherous smile spreading along his beard. “Get comfortable, baby. On the bed.”
You turn, feeling the drag of his eyes as you crawl atop his bed. Throwing a coy look over your shoulder; he’s eye-fucking your backside.
You crawl until you’ve reached the center, turning back again when he tuts.
The globes of your ass are in both his large hands, groping you with more pressure than earlier as he spreads you out.
Zeke tuts again. “Although I knew it, I’m still disappointed that this isn’t as pretty as you are.” There’s a push at the plug.
You wince, squirming forward, but Zeke catches you by the waist.
The room whirls, the air pushed out of your chest as you land on your back. Zeke crawls on top of you.
“I can tell you’re a rookie at this.” He settles between your spread legs, drinking you in. “Just because I want to take you by the ass doesn’t mean I don’t want to look at your face. Or…”
The hands that roamed your lower half explore your chest, groping and squeezing your breasts with calloused fingers.
“These…This is why I love anal sex. I can see everything…” His gaze drifts, voice dripping with glee. “Including your pussy.”
Pushing your thighs further apart, Zeke openly stares at your pussy, bare, and dripping. A finger pulls at the strap on your thigh, letting it go with a loud snap before his hand paws at your center.
You shiver.
“Lace, crotchless panties, plug in your ass…Good girl, dressed and ready for me…”
He’s on you suddenly, swallowing your mewl of surprise, no longer restraining his hunger to devour you. His tongue moves with passion and authority, hands running up and down your body, focusing on the lace of the garter belt and bra.
“Fuck—you’re so—fucking gorgeous—” He frees your mouth to scatter rough kisses along your neck. “Every part of you— ” He’s breathless, though he doesn’t stop showering you with attention. There’s a squeeze on your breast, then a pinch through the fabric.
Your back arches and Zeke pinches again, sharper.
“You enjoy that don’t you sweetheart?” The words burn into your clavicle, hot and wet. “And this?”
Teeth sink into your skin, a wonderful sting that travels down to your pussy, you’re unable to stop your hips from bucking up.
He laughs. “I hear you.” Pushing back, Zeke leans on his haunches, hands settling on your hips in one long stroke. “Lace looks amazing on you.”
You’re pleased that he appreciates the lingerie. The last time you wore anything this risqué was for Valentine’s Day with Colt, much earlier in your relationship. It’s a shame, you didn’t have a chance to give this set the mileage it deserved. Until now.
Your mouth falls open, pussy sucking in Zeke’s finger, having not paid attention to his wandering hand.
He fingers you in a trance-like state, mesmerized. You slide down, hoping to fuck yourself on his touch, but the man rests his hand on your stomach.
“Easy, sweetheart. I couldn’t resist. This fucking lingerie, this fucking pussy—” He slaps your clit, burying two fingers this time deep inside of you. “I’m being greedy.”
You can’t even think of a response, relishing in the stretch of his fingers, dragging against your walls, you forget why you’re there in the first place.
But Zeke reminds you, retracting his fingers and sliding off the bed.
On your back, you watch him move around the room, hopping out of his sweatpants in a hurry.
You lift up on your elbows to watch him rummage through his dresser drawers, swallowing down a groan at the sight of his bare ass, toned just as you suspected.
He whirls around, holding something in his grasp, but you’re not paying attention to that.
His dick, thick and hard with a few more inches than average, snares your focus. It’s sizeable, though not as big as Jean’s dick was. Still, you’re dosed with nerves again, imagining how that’s going to fit inside your ass.
Approaching the end of the bed, Zeke yanks you forward by the ankles unceremoniously. Your ass hangs just shy over the edge.
Zeke slots himself between your legs, the tip of his dick leaking onto your thigh. “You’re plenty wet already, but…got to be a gentleman.”
You realize it’s a small bottle of lube Zeke has.
He’s quick to remove your plug, not giving you a moment to acclimate to the hollow feeling. You whine as it’s pulled out.
The same fingers that pumped inside your pussy now enter your asshole, slick and much warmer than before.
“Ah—” Your ass twitches from the sensation as Zeke stretches you out.
“You like this?” he purrs. “For her pleasure. Told you, I’m a gentleman.”
While gradually you ease into the feeling of your ass getting stretched out, inwardly you roll your eyes at his self-affirmations. A gentleman that had a driver drop you off like some hooker.
You digress, adjusting to his fingers in your ass, making your pussy gush.
Zeke flits a look up. “Still a tight little asshole, but you’re ready for me. I’m fucking ready for you.” The tip of his dick ghosts your ass cheek, and you prop yourself on your elbows again.
“Wait.”
Zeke looks to you with grit teeth. “What is it?”
“Condom?”
Zeke blinks, eyes glazing away elsewhere like he’s running through what to say. He’s avoiding it, and you rein in your annoyance. Where did the self-proclaimed gentleman go?
“Zeke,” you say. “Put on a condom.”
He huffs a strained laugh, peering up at you with wide eyes that are impossible to look innocent when they’re sullied with lust. “You won’t get pregnant.”
You don’t know whether to laugh or scoff. This will be fodder for your friends later. “That’s not the point.”
“I’m clean, baby,” Zeke insists.
“Great, so slip on a condom. I should have one in my clutch.”
“Don’t you want your first time getting fucked in the ass to be memorable? It’s best enjoyed raw.”
This time you do laugh at that. If not for the beard, the stature, and the impressive home, you would have thought Zeke was in his early twenties not inching towards forty.
“It’s my protocol, or I’m getting dressed.”
Zeke’s eyes widen a bit, and the distress of you leaving him with blue balls has him blowing out a long-winded sigh. “Fine, fine.” He sighs again, looking away for a beat, then back up, mustering as much charm into his pearly whites as possible. “You sure?”
You shift to sit up, but Zeke urges you on your back.
“Okay, okay, wanted to make sure.” When he returns with the condom, his spirit to argue is gone.
He drags you forward, nudging your ass with the tip of his dick. He spasms at the contact and you brace yourself.
Zeke hooks your knees over his arms, and he leans over to kiss you. “Deep, deep breaths, sweetheart.”
A second after the preamble, Zeke pushes in.
You bite your lip, brows pinching together, but you don’t want him to stop. Your eyes connect for a moment, and you nod to encourage him to keep going.
The stretch stings, but it’s nowhere near painful. Doing as instructed, you take deep breaths, watching Zeke.
His mouth is open, lidded eyes watching his dick slip in. He pulls back slightly and pushes back in, stretching you out a little more.
You spread your legs wider, and he keeps you like that, using the hold on your legs as leverage to go deeper.
The sensation is foreign, much like when you had tried your plug for the first time. The more you take of Zeke’s cock, the more comfortable it’s becoming. The fullness in a different part of your body is intoxicating, your head swims in fervor, reaching your core.
“Someone’s pussy is getting jealous,” Zeke breathes a laugh.
He’s not wrong. You’re dripping even more than before despite that area being neglected.
He bottoms out with a long groan. “Shit…” His head is thrown back. “Give me a minute. If I move now, it’ll be over too soon. I’ve never felt such a tight asshole before.”
That minute flies by and Zeke bucks his hips in a thrust. You mewl, clenching around him.
“Fuck—okay…” His restraint is withering.
“Zeke…” you hum.
“Yeah, baby?” he grunts, pulling back again.
“Move.”
He rams back into you with a snap of his hips, setting a pace that leaves you breathless.
Gasps spring forth after every thrust, reveling in the new feeling, finally stroking that fantasy you’ve never gotten to entertain.
Zeke folds your legs closer to you, perching a foot on the edge for more control. “I’m fucking delirious baby—you should see yourself. Laying pretty on your back with your cute—lingerie while daddy fucks you dumb—”
You don’t have time to register what he’s called himself. The thrusts get sharper, pointed and desperate. Your pussy flutters, an ache to be touched there too.
Zeke takes notice. “Play with yourself.”
You grunt, but your hand drips down your stomach, fingers playing with your clit.
“Finger yourself,” Zeke adds. “I want to see both of your holes filled.”
Two fingers slip inside your entrance while your thumb toys with your clit.
A tidal wave of heat engulfs you, stimulated in the best ways. The fullness of Zeke’s cock in your ass, your fingers pressing into your walls, and the pad of your thumb swiping at your clit, you’re so close to falling apart.
“Just like that, fuck you’re gorgeous like this,” Zeke grunts, syncing with the twitch of his dick.
You play with yourself, the taste of nirvana dangles so close, your fingers cramp up, but you push through the stiffened muscles.
“Want to see you cum,” Zeke says from above, hips turn sloppy. “Please—let me see you cum.”
Your hooded gaze soaks in the needy expression that tells you he’s about to come undone. Rubbing your clit with more vigor, you keep your eyes locked to the heavens, imprisoned by the gaze of a devil, and you cum.
You don’t stop touching yourself, back arching to ride out your climax, desperate to bask in every second of it.
Zeke moves faster, hips smacking against your ass cheeks as he groans out his release.
Your back settles on the mattress, your fingers orbit your center lazily, twitching from the overstimulation. Zeke ruts inside of you, pace dialed down significantly until he’s milked every last drop. When his dick softens, he pulls out.
The mattress dips at your side and you bend an elbow to lean on as Zeke does the same.
It’s another good look on him; sweaty, panting, eyes glossy, head planted in his hand like a porn actor at the end of a shoot.
“Not bad for your first rodeo, huh?” He grins. “You’re lucky, baby, you matched with an all-star.”
You roll your eyes, though it’s lighthearted. Whether Zeke really lauds himself as some God at anal sex, your verdict for now is that it’s something you’d do again in the future.
Now that you’ve gotten a moment to readjust to the emptiness, your ass does feel a little sore, however. That’s something you’d have to get used to.
You use the last of your reserves to hop off the bed on wobbly feet.
Zeke does the same. “Why don’t you stay the night? We could have round two in the shower. Though, I stress that it’s more comfortable without a rubber.” He purrs, reeling you in for a sloppy kiss, playing with your stretched out hole.
You whine, wincing from the tenderness.
“Shit—you’re going to make me hard again. One more round, c’mon.”
You don’t stay the night, firm in your choice, but thank him for the fun.
He relents, calling you an Uber and sending you off, with a promise that he’ll be in touch.
It isn’t until you’re back in your apartment, undressing for a shower that it dawns on you.
You forgot your plug at Zeke’s house.
☻ masterpost☻
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PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 2
PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 2
CEO!Jason Todd x Reader
Warnings – Language. NSFW Smut. Brief Derogatory & Misogynistic language about women.
A/N: Please remember this is a revised version of “The Intern” but swapped out Roman for Jason. Hope you all enjoy the next chapter! :) xoxo
The smoke curled thick around the four men situated around the poker table in Roy’s rich mahogany furnished games room. Jason rolled the crystal glass against the green felt, the rattle of the ice cubes echoing in his mind. He hadn’t been able to think straight all night. You’d plagued his thoughts since the gala, the scent of your perfume still invading his senses.
Oswald flicked his cigarette into the ashtray at the side of him, eyebrow curved upwards as he frowned at Jason, “That's the worst hand you've played tonight”.
Harvey laughed before taking a sip of his whiskey, savouring the woody flavour, “Hey Todd, try betting the ownership of The Iceberg. See if your luck'll change”.
The pair of them waited for a sarcastic or biting remark but Jason stared at his cards, still rolling his glass, paying no real attention to either of them.
“I think we lost 'im”, Oswald cackled.
Roy leaned back in his chair, putting out his cigar, “I think we have”. He grinned knowingly towards Jason.
“Do you think if I take his wallet he'll notice?”, Harvey flipped over his cards, smirking with glee at Oswald’s crestfallen face.
Shuffling the cards again, Roy dealt out the cards swiftly, “Hmmm, likely not but considering he's cleaned out, I doubt you'll actually be able to get anything”.
Jason was aware of the conversation around him but he couldn’t bring himself to join in. Not when his mind was conjuring images of you, spread out on his bed sheets with your hands bound above your head with his tie. He cursed under his breath, feeling the front of his trousers becoming uncomfortable.
Harvey watched as Jason’s cigarette burnt at the side of him, resting in the ashtray forgotten about, smoke billowing wildly, “I bet you anything it's that tight pussy from last week that's got him so worked up”.
“Oh, I remember, that hussy in the red dress?”, Oswald threw his used cards towards Roy waiting for the next hand.
“Yeah! That’s the one. Can't blame him, she's got a sweet ass. Ain't that right, Harper?”, Harvey downed the rest of his whiskey, pouring himself another large helping.
Jason glared towards Roy, silently murdering him with his gaze. He didn’t want to think of any other man touching you, let alone one of his closest friends.
Roy ignored Jason and shrugged casually, “I have no clue what you're talking about. She simply works in my department”, with a devilish glint, he turned towards Jason, “I bet you’d know about it though, wouldn't you Todd?”.
Scoffing loudly, Jason rolled his eyes, “I told you, nothing happened that night”. The lie slipped off his tongue easily although he wasn’t sure Roy believed him. He’d known him long enough to spot the tell-tale signs.
“So that sweet piece of ass is fair game?”, Oswald perked up, his interest piqued.
Jason gripped the edge of the poker table, controlling the twitch trying to spread across his face. His lips wanted to snarl at Oswald and tell him to stay the fuck away. But he had no right. It was just a quick fuck. That was what you both agreed. He swallowed the bubbling jealousy about to answer but Roy barked out laugh.
“You’d have more chance fucking a penguin”.
Harvey spat out his drink, almost choking. Oswald growled something under his breath, flipping Roy the finger.
“I don’t have time to get attached to a tight little pussy only worth a few fucks”.
As the words left his mouth, the distaste left behind was rotten. It didn’t feel right talking about you that way. The conflict churned his stomach and it was something Jason wasn’t entirely used to.
Roy attempted to slide two cards across to Jason but he shook his head grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the centre of the table, “And on that note boys, I’m going before you take my last $100”.
“Do you have to take the bottle?”, Harvey grumbled.
Jason ignored him, slinging his jacket over his shoulder, digging out his phone from his front trouser pocket. No new messages. He’d been hoping you’d have made the first contact. Possibly trying to coax him into another encounter. Not that he needed much convincing with you.
When he looked up from his mobile, he saw Roy smirking at him with a knowing look. It made Jason uneasy. How did Roy know what he was planning? Or was it just that obvious he was still hooked on you?
“Need me to sort a lift to your apartment, Todd?”.
It was only after years of knowing the asshole, he heard the teasing tone in his voice. Oh he fucking knew alright. He saw right through him.
“Nah, I’ll be fine, I fancy a bit of fresh air”.
Roy chuckled under his breath, “Sure”.
———
You huffed, staring down at your dress. Wade, the foul mouthed head of security, otherwise known as your date, had cancelled on you at the last minute, telling you he had a family emergency. You weren’t entirely sure if you believed it or not. Something didn’t feel right. You stepped out of your heels and dropped them next to the full length mirror, throwing the emerald dress back into the closet. Your eyes lingered over your appearance. You’d made a real effort for him tonight. A tiny lace thong with a matching bra, paired with a pair of black stockings.
Just typical. Now you remembered why you didn’t like dating. You grabbed your silk robe from the end of the bed, wrapping it around you as you wandered into the living room. Take-out and a terrible movie it was. You ordered your favourite pizza via the app on your phone. That way you didn’t have to talk to anyone and mask the sadness from your voice. Perfect.
Lounging back on the sofa you wrapped your fingers around the TV remote, flicking through to find a trashy film or maybe you’d finally finish watching that guilty pleasure TV show you’d fallen in love with. The loud knock on the door startled you. The pizza couldn’t be here already, surely? You pushed up off the sofa and headed through to the front door, opening it without second thought to your attire.
Fuck. Your eyes widened at the sight in front of you. Jason. His charcoal shirt untucked and a little dishevelled, matte black tie hanging loose around his neck and his dark suit jacket slung over his shoulder. Fuck. The smell of whiskey and spice spiralled around you.
You slammed the door shut, pressing your back against it. Your heart hammered wildly against your chest. What the fuck was Jason Todd doing outside your door? You’d been under the impression last week was just a one off. Nothing more than sex. Extremely hot, mind blowing sex. But just sex, none the less.
There was another rap against the door, rattling it gently and you opened it slowly. His forearm was resting against the door frame, his tall stature towering you as he looked down. You stared up into his blue eyes. They were hooded and a little smirk curved his lips upwards, “Who did you think I was?”.
“The pizza guy”.
He laughed and inched his head down lower, eyes scanning over the delicate silk wrapping your body, “Do you always greet delivery people in your just murdered my husband robe?”.
His gaze made your body heat up, shivers travelling down your spine. You shrugged casually, giving him a flirty smile, “Only when I want my food free”. His scowl made you chuckle internally.
You opened the door a little wider and stepped back slightly, “Come in, before someone else sees me like this”.
Jason made his way into your apartment quickly, brushing past you. You noticed the half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand and rolled your eyes, wondering what or where he’d been before coming to you. He looked around your home with interest, gaze running over your photos by the bookshelf. The whiskey was discarded on the coffee table, his suit jacket tossed over your armchair messily.
“Make yourself at home”, you grumbled under your breath, picking up his jacket and hanging it neatly over the back of one of your dining chairs. You dropped down onto the sofa, sighing happily as the cushions welcomed you.
He laughed before joining you, his arm stretching along the back, fingers brushing along the back of your neck, “Why are you wearing this on a lonely Friday night?”, his eyes raked your figure, noticing the sheer black stockings covering your long legs.
“Maybe I was waiting for you”, your eyes sparkled mischievously as you folded one leg over the other, allowing him a glance at the lace topping of your stocking before letting the silk robe fall down, covering it up.
Jason choked, caught off guard by your forward statement. He swallowed, looking over your face, “Seriously?”.
You laughed, not quite believing you’d managed to reel Jason in that easily. You guessed the whiskey wasn’t helping his brain function. Shaking your head, you grinned, “No, my date cancelled on me unfortunately”.
He frowned, feeling a wave of jealousy twinge in the pit of stomach. You were going to wear that for a date? What were you going to put on, over it? Or was your date just going to come round to your apartment and…he stopped himself, not wanting to picture that.
Jason’s fingers gripped the back of the sofa slightly wondering if you’d wear that for a date with him. He pictured ripping it off piece by piece as you begged him to give you more. He licked over his bottom lip before muttering, “A date?”.
“Yes, a date, I don't suppose that's against company policy?”, you raised an eyebrow looking directly at him. His face was stern, sharp jaw locked tight.
He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his cheek, scratching over his dark stubble, “So, what were you planning to do instead?”.
Running a hand through your hair, you leaned back against the sofa, “Eat take out and watch a film”, you waited for a reaction but he just stared silently, “You’re welcome to watch it with me if you want? But I can’t promise the film will be Oscar worthy though”.
You had to admit this was uncharted territory. You didn’t know what the protocol was. The CEO of the company you worked for, had turned up at your door uninvited and slightly tipsy. The same CEO who you’d slept with last week and hadn’t been able to take your mind off. The same CEO who’d given you the impression it was just a ‘one off’.
“Please tell me this isn’t Titanic…”, he muttered whilst kicking his shoes off under your coffee table.
You smiled, “Nope…it’s a mafia film”.
“Oh, they’re my favourite”, he grinned happily.
It wasn’t that far from the truth. It was about a mafia boss. But, the point of the story was far from mafia dealings. You smirked to yourself and folded your legs under you, settling as you pressed play on the movie; 365 Days.
———
You flicked your gaze across to Jason, hiding the little smile on your face. You watched his features set into a tense frown, eyes not moving from the screen. His entire body was rigid. You had fully intended to turn it off after the first 30 minutes but you’d enjoyed teasing him far too much.
“I thought you said this was a mafia film?”, he ground out.
“It is”, you replied innocently pointing to the dark haired Italian man on the screen, “He’s the mafia boss”.
Jason finally turned to you, his eyes blown black. He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip and edged closer to you on the sofa, “This is practically pornography”, his voice was thick with lust. Every scene playing on the screen, he pictured in his own mind with you.
“You’re exaggerating! Just sit back and enjoy this cinematic masterpiece”, you waved your hand to him, brushing him off before turning back to the screen, ignoring him.
“I think”, he growled low, “You put this on to tease me”.
When you looked at him again, he was practically on top of you, caging you down onto the sofa. The scent of his cologne engulfed you making you feel dizzy. His arms were resting either side of your head, making sure you couldn’t escape. You gasped and pressed your palm on his chest, feeling his heart pounding.
“You’ve been sat there, all the way through this film, in your sexy-come fuck me-stockings…tormenting me”, he wedged himself between your thighs, spreading them wide before leaning down, his lips brushed against your ear lobe, “Well princess, I think it’s your turn now”.
You swallowed thickly, feeling your entire body reacting to him, craving to be closer. He smirked, letting his hands run up your thighs, the lace topping of your stockings felt perfect against his skin.
“Jason…”, you felt the sparks shooting across you, lighting every nerve on fire.
He tugged at the tie on the front of your dressing gown, pulling it open revealing the expanse of your naked flesh. The high rise thong framed your hips perfectly making Jason wet his lips. He couldn’t drink you in quick enough.
“This all needs to go”, he growled and helped you out of the robe, throwing it to the side carelessly. His fingers snapped the waistband of your thong making you whine his name again. When his fingers dipped under the lace, you expected him to slip the material off you but he didn’t. A loud tearing sound made your eyes flash open, Jason had ripped your panties off you, dropping the ruined fabric onto the floor.
Your face knitted with anger. You went to scold him - those were expensive.
“What the-”.
“I’ll buy you some more princess”, he ground his hips into yours, rubbing his bulge into your core. A frustrated sigh left his throat before he crashed his lips against yours with a fiery passion quelling any of your earlier complaints.
You threaded your fingers through his dark hair, tugging on it and earnt a deep groan from him, which you swallowed readily. The sound shot down to your core, desire slick between your folds. Jason’s hand wound around your back, unclipping your bra before throwing it over your sofa. You purred softly, letting your tongue dance with his as you continued to kiss, desperation peaking between you both.
You arched your back pressing your body into his. The expensive cotton felt perfect against your heated skin. There was something incredibly erotic having him fully clothed, covering your bare petite frame beneath him. The tip of his tie tickled over your sensitive flesh.
He smirked, his ego inflating at the way you reacted to his touches. His rough fingertips grazed down the valley between your breasts and over your toned stomach. You whined when they dipped into the indent of your navel.
“Jason…please”, you begged, circling your hips to entice him.
He continued lower until he stroked a finger through your silken core. Your wetness coated it. He hummed appreciatively, adding a second finger. You threw your head back against the arm rest, moaning unabashedly. The euphoria buzzed through your veins but you needed more.
Jason flicked over your clit, “You’re so wet for me sweetheart and I’ve barely touched you”. He grinned before continuing with his sweet torture. Your hand gripped his forearm trying to guide him where you wanted him but he resisted with a devilish smile.
The knocking at the door made you both jump. You looked up at Jason through your thick, dark lashes. Your lips were swollen from his bruising kisses.
“Who the fuck is that?”, he grunted.
“Pizza”, you sighed, disappointed at the interruption.
Jason dipped back down, his lips marking your neck eagerly, enjoying the way you mewled and shivered. The knocking sounded through the apartment again making him nip your collar bone roughly. Fingers dipping into your tight core.
“They-”, you panted and dragged your nails through his hair as he continued to thrust into you, “They won’t go away”.
“Fuck!”, Jason tore himself away from your body, growling deeply as he stormed towards the door. The front of his trousers were painfully constricted due to the throbbing of his cock. He threw the door open, glaring at the young teenage boy with the pizza box in his hand. The boy squeaked when he saw Jason, withering under his irritated stare.
“P-pizza f-for Y/N?”, he stuttered and went bright red seeing the pile of tattered lace on the living room floor. Your silk gown strewn over the glass coffee table lazily, bra hanging off the lamp behind your couch. He caught a glimpse of your bare legs before squeaking when Jason huffed loudly. The delivery boy struggled to meet Jason’s gaze, instead choosing to stare at the button at the top of his own shirt. The heat flamed his cheeks at realising exactly what he had interrupted.
“Take this and fuck off”, Jason snapped, throwing a wad of folded notes at him before slamming the door. He ran his fingers through his messy hair, heading back towards you on the sofa.
You had to bite back a smile at Jason’s attitude. He dropped back onto the couch, looking down at your naked body. He groaned, hands palming your tits greedily. His thumbs brushed over your nipples as he leaned down, kissing your throat. You writhed under his touches, burning for more.
“Y-You do know that you just gave him an $80 tip right?”.
“Pocket money”.
Losing his patience, Jason forced your legs apart and unzipped his pants, shoving them down quickly. His cock sprung free, slapping against the bottom of his shirt. Your eyes traced the length of it, mouth going dry at the delicious thoughts. You couldn’t wait to feel the sting of it as it stretched you, dragging against your walls as he fucked you.
He smirked watching the way you eyed him greedily. The look on your face was enough to boost his ego nicely. Using one of his hands to pin your wrists above your head, he guided the head of his cock between your damp folds, teasing your clit with it. You shivered under him and rocked your hips.
“Jason please!”, you whined, sucking your plump lower lip between your teeth.
His fingers dug into your wrist as he sunk his full cock into you, bottoming out. Your head flew back as the burning stretch of his cock sent pulses of pleasure up your spine. He groaned deeply and pressed his face into your neck, continuing his quest to mark you up as his own. His hips started to drive into you wildly.
“Oh fuck! Oh fuck!”, you cried out repeatedly, trying to tug your hands free. You wanted his shirt off. You wanted to trace every muscle on his back and scratch your nails down it. You wanted to hold onto his hair and yank it as he fucked you just the way you needed it.
“No one’s gonna fuck you like this princess”, he rasped in your ear, “Never”.
His words careened in your mind as the euphoria coiled deep in the pit of your stomach. The drag of his cock against your tight wet walls was pushing you higher. He was right. No one had ever fucked you like Jason. Which scared and electrified you at the same time. You moaned his name loudly, forgetting the neighbours, as he changed his angle, hitting you even deeper than before. Your vision became blurry with desire.
“Look at the way your body responds to me”, he gloated, looking down at your breasts, the way they bounced with every thrust of his cock. A damp sheen covered your body as you felt the familiar flush running over your skin.
“You can’t get enough of my cock, can you?”.
You so badly wanted to snap at him but your body betrayed you, desperate to climax. You hooked your legs around his strong waist, pulling him closer to your body. The fabric of his shirt was rough against your overly sensitive skin.
“Oh god!”, your eyes rolled back into your skull as you felt the orgasmic tidal wave start to crash. Your blood ran cold when he stopped. His thrusts became languid, keeping your climax at bay.
“You going to let me fuck your tight little pussy whenever I want?”, his lips curled upwards, smugness radiating off him.
“W-what? Jason- please - I’m so close”, you begged, rolling your hips against his, eager for more friction than he was giving, “Don’t fucking stop”.
“I asked you a question”, he grunted and thrust into you sharply once, before returning to his slow, maddening pace, “Are you going to keep letting me fuck you, princess?”.
You whined when he thrust into you then huffed in frustration when he wouldn’t continue, “Yes!”.
“Yes what?”.
You glowered up at him, cheeks hot with desire, “Yes I’ll keep fucking you”.
“Only me?”.
He was starting to piss you off. You could feel your orgasm ebbing away with each lazy thrust into your sopping pussy. You growled, ripping your wrists free from his grip, locking your hands around his neck.
Yanking him down to your mouth, your lips ran over his, your hot breath mingling with his, “Yes! I’ll only fuck you! Now if you don’t make me fucking cum I’ll kick you out and do it myself!”.
Your words made his eyes darken and he resumed his brutal pace, driving deep into your core. One hand gripped onto your hips and the other held onto the arm of the sofa, helping him thrust into you harder.
Your moans were depraved as he fucked you into the soft plush of the cushions, ripping your orgasm from you possessively. Your nails scratched down his back, under his shirt, enjoying the way his face winced between pain and pleasure.
The white hot burst of flames exploded behind your eyes as you came, sobbing his name into his shoulder. His thrusts became sloppy and uneven as he neared his own end. Cock pulsing inside you.
Jason groaned huskily as your pussy strangled his cock, tipping him into his own powerful orgasm. He shot rope after rope of hot cum into your core, fingers bitterly biting into the flesh on your hip. You’d definitely have bruises tomorrow. You weren’t even sure if you’d be walking straight tomorrow after the way he’d pounded into you.
His body rested into yours slightly as he caught his breath, his arm propped on the back of the arm rest taking the brunt of his weight.
You stroked your hand up and down his back, regaining your own breath and sanity. Your legs were still locked around his waist, heart beating erratically.
His lips brushed your cheek delicately and he pushed himself up to look down at you. Your hair was dishevelled, lips swollen from his bruising kisses. You looked delicious. He could easily delve back in for another round but he’d at least allow you to rest first. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
Moving off you eventually, he reached out to the coffee table to grab your robe, allowing you to wrap it around yourself as he zipped his pants back up.
“I just want to clarify-”, he started but you cut him off immediately.
“Please don’t kill the afterglow Todd”, you chuckled and ran your fingers through your messy hair, “I know what you meant. It’s fine. Just sex is all that I want too”.
He went to speak again but you placed your finger over his plump lips, “Yes, only with you”.
Jason licked the pad of your finger, grinning at you, “Perfect”.
You shivered and stood up, not bothering to tie your robe. It fluttered open allowing him to glance over your naked body, “You’re welcome to stay, the night is still young after all”. You winked and sashayed through to your bedroom. You heard him shuffling before catching you up, arms immediately coiling around you from behind.
———
Wrapped up in the sheets of your bed after the second round, you turned to face Jason, stroking your fingertips along the grooves of his muscles, “Where did you put the pizza?”, you pressed a kiss to his chest and murmured, “I’m starving”.
Jason blinked before looking a little sheepish, “Well- I- errr…”.
You watched him before realising exactly what had happened. You groaned and pressed your face into his solid mass, “You paid him and didn’t even get the pizza?!”.
“In my defence I was a little preoccupied”, he winked smugly and tightened his arm around your waist, tugging you on top of him. He enjoyed the way your tiny frame instantly sank into him, not that he’d admit it.
“You owe me new pants AND a pizza”, you huffed and poked his chest playfully, “I honestly can’t believe you”.
He shrugged, “We could just order another one, it’s not like I can���t afford it”.
Whilst his answer sounded arrogant, you knew it wasn’t intended that way. You rolled your eyes and inched your face closer to his, your breath fanning over his lips, “But can you control yourself until it gets here?”.
“That's a tall order princess”, he closed the gap instantly, nipping your bottom lip before rolling you over, trapping you underneath his bulk. You laughed into the kiss snaking your arms around his neck.
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#ceo!jason Todd x reader#ceo!jason todd x reader insert#jason todd smut#jason todd x you#jason todd x reader#jason todd x reader insert#jason todd imagine#red hood smut#red hood x reader#red hood x you#red hood x reader insert#red hood imagine#jason todd x reader au series
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*slams table* I’m going to steal your spinal cord if you don’t write about the crew playing hot potato with a hand grenade
Y'all are so funny I got you man
Used a slightly different game called 100, hope that's okay!
Price sat across from Rodolfo, the two of them talking amicably. They were discussing how everyone had been, mainly just catching up.
Both of them felt it. A tingle in their spines.
Across base, Alejandro held the live grenade. "So the training exercise is we throw it in the air and it falls down and we have to try not to get hit."
"Can't we just run away?" Farah asked, raising her hand.
Ghost nodded. "You're supposed to stay inside this circle. Everyone understand?"
They all nodded the affirmative.
"Excellent. Let's go!" He pulled the pin and tossed it up.
Everyone scattered, running in circles. Gaz jumped onto Ghost after a moment, screaming at the top of his lungs.
"Get The Fuck Off Me Garrick." Ghost tossed him like a sack of flour on to the ground and ran for his life.
Soap stood in the middle, looking directly up and at the grenade. He widened his stance like he was going to catch a football.
Alex stumbled around the edge of the circle, on the verge of tears. The man had been blown up already and these bastards kept doing this to him.
Farah laughed and jumped around, trying to find out exactly where the grenade could fall so she could be as close as possible without getting hurt. She had a grin on her face that scared Alex and Soap.
Alejandro stood at the edge. "100 points to anyone who doesn't get hit. Medical leave to anyone who does." He cackled as he watched them all dance.
Roach went to run out of the circle before thinking better at the prospect of points. Soap and him somehow collided despite Soap not moving. They crashed into the ground.
Rodolfo and Price appeared. "What the fuck are you all doing?"
All their heads swiveled to where they were standing.
"Alejandro!" Rodolfo hissed. "Explain."
"It was Ghost's idea." Ghost glared at him.
The grenade fell. It landed directly in Roach's hands.
Roach immediately threw to Soap who threw it at Farah who threw it at Alex. They all started to toss it at each other, frantically trying to get it away from them.
Alejandro laughed. "It's a dead grenade. I had Ghost get a dead one."
Ghost slowly looked at Alejandro. "Dead one?"
Price grabbed it and tossed it as far away as possible. "Jesus Christ, I expect better of you, Garrick and Sanderson."
"You don't expect better from me?" Alejandro asked.
"That's Rudy's job."
"What about me?" Soap asked, having not done anything.
"This is just... on par for you."
Soap shrugged. "Okay, fair."
"The grenade still hasn't gone off." Gaz pointed out.
"Oh, right. I was the one that grabbed the grenade..." Alejandro looked at Rodolfo. "So it wasn't that bad right?"
Rodolfo took a deep breath and turned around.
"May God have mercy on your soul later, because Rudy isn't." Ghost patted his back.
Price glared at him. "You're on recruit duty for a month."
"God has not had mercy on me either today I see."
#Simon Ghost Riley#Johnny Soap MacTavish#Gary Roach Sanderson#Alejandro Vargas#Rodolfo Parra#Valeria Garza#Captain John Price#John Price#Cod#Call of Duty Modern Warfare
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Billy tries to be as quiet and inconspicuous as possible when he enters the living room, easing down into a seat on the sofa with a plate packed full of finger food in his hands.
He's been steadily picking at the spread in the kitchen all afternoon — he isn't even really hungry anymore, but it's at least something to keep him occupied. He tries not to think about how he's eating out of boredom as he pops a mini quiche in his mouth.
As if having a sixth sense, Eddie turns around in his seat on the floor. Spreads a smile and crawls toward the sofa, leaning his elbows in Billy’s lap as he gazes up at him like he’s some ethereal being.
“Hey, blondie,” he lilts. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
Billy snorts.
“Aren’t you supposed to be playing your game?”
“We’re having an intermission,” Eddie huffs. Leans further into Billy’s lap and wraps his arms around his waist. “Besides, I miss you.”
“Miss me? Munson, we sleep in the same bed every night.”
“And?”
“And you’re a fuckin’ dork,” Billy chuckles.
Eddie pouts. Hides his face in the front of Billy’s hoodie, and the blond has to fight every urge he has to suck his stomach in, lest Eddie pout even harder.
It’s taken some getting used to, the changes in his body. Especially after he quit smoking.
Had he known he would develop a permanent case of the munchies, he might’ve just stayed his course. Maybe he’d still have abs.
Maybe he’d still feel sexy.
Regardless, here Eddie is, smushing his face into his stomach like he’s a pillow. Billy takes a bite out of a chocolate-covered strawberry and sets his plate on the brunet’s back. Eddie doesn’t seem to notice.
“Yeah, well, you’re gorgeous,” Eddie says like it’s an insult. “And smart, and sweet, and funny, and—“
“Jesus, I get it, you like me. You can stop now.”
Eddie shakes his head. Presses a kiss to Billy’s stomach, which has the blond’s face blossoming red, and rubs up and down at his sides.
“I adore you. Wanna snuggle with you all day everyday and never do anything else.”
“Not even play D&D?”
“Nope.”
From behind him, Grant and Jeff both scoff, and Billy spreads a smile. Cards his hand through Eddie’s hair.
“I don’t think the guys like that idea.”
“Tough shit. How am I expected to function when you come in here looking all pretty ‘n stuff?”
Billy chuckles. Eddie grins at the sound.
“I’m wearing pajamas,” Billy points out. “And my hair’s not even done.”
“I know,” Eddie sighs dreamily.
“Mm, well, if you’re cuddling me all the time, when does my other boyfriend get a chance? Doesn’t sound very fair to me.”
“I don’t see this other boyfriend that you speak of. Plus, I’m calling dibs for the rest of time, so he’s outta luck.”
“You’re telling me you’re never gonna cuddle with Stevie again? Just me, forever?”
Eddie ponders the question for a long moment, and Billy chuckles again.
“Damn,” he muses. “You really do like me that much, huh?”
“I do,” Eddie admits. “I would miss being Stevie’s little spoon, though.”
Gareth snorts, clapping his hand on the coffee table.
“Wait, you’re the little spoon? Big bad Munson is Steve Harrington’s little spoon,” he cackles. “That’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”
Billy grabs his plate again just in time for Eddie to sit up and swivel around enough to cast a glare at his friend. It makes Gareth laugh even harder.
“Dude, you’ve literally heard me call him my princess and shit before, but you’re choosing to make fun of me over this?”
“I always thought that was you poking fun at his masculinity or something.”
Eddie shakes his head and clicks his tongue.
“Stevie is my pretty princess,” he lilts. Glances up at Billy and chews his lip. “And Billy bear is my little babycakes. He’s the baby, actually.”
Billy’s face flushes red all the way down his neck.
“I am not,” he huffs.
“Yes huh, you’re baby girl, baby doll— you love that shit. We wouldn’t say any of it if you didn’t.”
There’s a polite chuckle from around the room and Billy scoffs.
Eddie notably softens. He rubs at Billy’s thighs, leaning forward to press another kiss to his stomach and humming pleasantly when his lips make contact.
“The nicknames just mean that we love you,” he coos.
“Guess I just think you both have weird taste,” Billy murmurs, then huffs a laugh to himself. “If I nicknamed myself, it’d probably be something like lardass.”
Eddie makes a shocked noise of offense and furrows his brows.
“Hey, no one talks about my boyfriend like that.”
“No? What’re you gonna do about it?”
“I’m gonna tell on you.” Billy’s smirk falters and Eddie hums triumphantly. “I’m gonna tell Steve. He’ll baby you about it and pull out some old family recipe he’s got locked away just to make you eat your words.”
Billy presses his lips together. Thinks about the last time he made a self-deprecating comment in front of Steve. Thinks about how it was definitely a handful of pounds ago.
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
He pushes his fingers into Eddie’s hair. The brunet leans into his touch, but spreads this sickening little grin. All teeth and no remorse.
“Then I guess you better take it back,” he lilts. Billy locks his jaw shut. Eddie clicks his tongue and pokes teasingly at his side. “There’s no downside for me, I like a little extra fluff. Nobody likes thin pancakes.”
“Pancakes?”
“Mhmm,” Eddie hums. “You’re like a stack of ‘em.”
Billy quirks a brow.
“How so?”
“I fuckin’ love pancakes.” Eddie flattens his palm against Billy’s side and rubs gently back and forth. “Plus, y’know, they’re soft and warm. Pillow-like.”
A little smile quirks at the corners of Billy’s mouth. Some part of him wants to take offense, but he can’t. Not when big brown eyes are gazing up at him so fondly. He scratches softly at Eddie’s scalp and has him all but purring, eyes slipping shut as he melts under the touch.
“You’ve never had crêpes?” Billy asks.
Eddie’s eyes crack open.
“What?”
“Crêpes,” Billy repeats. Chuckles when Eddie looks at him like he’s growing a second head. “Thin pancakes? They’re Stevie’s favorite, I’m surprised you didn’t notice. He always orders them when we go to the diner downtown.”
Eddie sits up straighter. Thinks hard for a moment, like his whole world is crashing down.
“Is that what those things are?”
“What did you think they were?”
“I dunno— not pancakes.” Eddie pouts when he’s laughed at, but still fixes Billy with a serious look. “Brushing past the fact that you just ruined my whole analogy, I maintain that you’re perfect just the way you are.” That little grin comes back full-fledged in a matter of seconds. “Besides, crêpes always have filling, don’t they?”
It’s Billy’s turn to pout while Eddie snickers at him.
“Whatever. Just don’t tell Steve.”
“Why, you scared he’s gonna put pounds on you?” Eddie pinches his side and earns a huff. “You still haven’t taken back what you said.”
“‘Cause I don’t want to. Don’t see why you’re so hung up on it.”
This time, Eddie looks… disappointed. It hurts Billy deep in his chest, like he swallowed a shard of tortilla chip that refuses to go down smoothly.
“If someone was talking shit about Steve right in front of you, what would you do?” Eddie asks.
“I’d rock their shit.”
“Why?”
Billy shrugs.
“I dunno, it’d piss me off.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because it’s Steve,” Billy huffs. “I don’t— I don’t like the idea of anyone talking shit about him. That’s my boyfriend.”
Eddie nods. Tilts his head to the side and slowly begins to rub up and down at Billy’s waist, similar to how he had been earlier.
“Then why is this any different? I still get to be upset when I hear someone talking shit about you, even if it’s you who’s doing the shit-talking.”
Billy’s mouth opens, but then promptly closes again. Is this the same guy who was comparing him to pancakes a minute ago?
A moment passes. Then another. Eddie just stares up at him expectantly, and Billy says nothing. It’s a stand-off. A battle of will. Billy’s fixing to cave when the front door opens and the tension is suddenly broken, yet somehow doubles at the same time.
“Intermission?” Steve asks.
He hangs his keys up and shrugs out of his coat once the door is shut behind him, already wearing an easy smile.
“Unofficially,” Gareth grumbles.
Eddie shoots him a glare, but is quick to soften when Steve leans over the back of the sofa and drapes his arms around Billy’s shoulders.
“Hey, baby,” Steve greets. Ignores the knowing giggle from around the room in favor of pressing a kiss into Billy’s curls. “Thought you’d still be asleep when I got back.”
More kisses land in his hair as Billy purses his lips.
“It’s almost six.”
“Mhmm,” Steve hums.
In an instant, Eddie gets this look on his face, and Billy’s stomach drops. He opens his mouth, but Steve is too quick.
“Have you just been eating junk?” He asks, gesturing to Billy’s plate.
The blond glances at his little collection of nibbled-at finger food. Tries not to think about how many plates of it he’s had already.
“Yeah, just… snacking,” he says timidly.
Steve tsks. Billy almost flinches at the sound.
“Well, that won’t do.” Steve nabs the plate from Billy’s hand and pops a cube of cheddar in his mouth. “Tell me what you want, bubs, and I’ll make it.”
Billy feels like he’s on fire.
“Lasagna?”
A sheepish smile finds its way onto his face when his chin is tilted up, and Steve plants a kiss directly on his lips.
“Coming right up.”
Then the brunet vanishes from behind the couch, padding into the kitchen to root around for a casserole dish before he’s even taken his shoes off.
On the floor, Eddie bites back on a giggle.
“I didn’t even have to tell him,” he whispers amusedly. Leans completely into Billy’s lap and hugs his torso again, half smothering himself in Billy’s stomach. “Hope you’re hungry, Bill, ‘cause it’s pancake time.”
For emphasis, he gives Billy’s side a squeeze, which has him huffing irritatedly.
“No, we’re having lasagna,” Steve calls. There’s a clatter as he moves about the kitchen. “We can have pancakes tomorrow night.”
Eddie gives in to the giggles, shoulders shaking as he hides his face in the front of Billy’s hoodie.
Finally accepting defeat, Billy sighs. Cards his fingers through Eddie’s hair while he laughs, trying to find it in himself to be upset about what’s to come.
But his mouth is already watering before the oven is even done preheating.
#harringroveson#billy hargrove#steve harrington#eddie munson#background corroded coffin guys#chubby billy hargrove#fluff#tw weight#tw insecurity#body image#internalized fatphobia#Billy is so Garfield coded#hey look at that Steve is actually IN a harringroveson fic of mine#weird right?#ficlet#my wriitng#mostly unedited#soon to be on ao3 when I have time
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Okay but hear me out- Indian American Reader x Bakugou??? With maybe an rock control quirk (+ metals bc we love a strong bb) but like I can imagine his shock when he realizes that someone can not only withstand his explosions with the metal she creates but someone with even more fucked up tastebuds with the amount of spicy food she eats on a daily basis??
“That all you got?” You call out, commanding rocks to rise from the earth as you shield yourself from his explosions.
“Shut your piehole, extra!” Bakugou roars, skidding to a stop at the end of the room, before launching himself back at you so fast you almost didn’t have time to react.
An explosion meets your shields, and in a second, he’s got you pinned down on the pavement, sweat dripping, knee against your leg and hand on your palm.
“Told you I could handle you, didn’t I?” He smirks devilishly, palms throbbing. He appreciates a good fight.
You don a matching grin, muscles tightening. “Not quite.”
His smile vanishes.
You wield the cement with practised motions, causing Bakugou to slam into the ground next to you.
Flipping him over, you exchange positions, you on top, and a very angry Bakugou beneath you.
“I win,” you whisper, a cocky smile curling on your face.
Bakugou attempts to use his explosions, only for you to reinforce the cement with metal.
He groans. “Dumb fuckin’ luck.”
“Look, it was funny the first time, but I’m calling a time-out on your insults.” You huff. “I won fair and square.”
“I pinned you first, smartass!”
“I neutralised you first, dumbfuck—”
Shoto takes a sip out of his protein shake. “Hey Bakugou. If you’re flirting, you’re doing a really bad job at it—”
“I’M GONNA FUCKING ASSASSINATE YOU ICYHOT.”
--
“This scares me,” Denki coughs. “Like, full-body ghost summoning kind of scary.”
Half of the class lies on the couch, utterly defeated by the hot sauce Denki had unknowingly made as a dipping sauce because he misread the bottle. You know, Bakugou’s exclusive Hot One’s Last Dab Sauce.
It had knocked the absolute wind out of strong contenders Kirishima and Ashido, and completely ruined Midoriya, who was still hiccuping and hacking away at the sink. Todoroki was passed out on the couch and Denki was half convince he was on his dying breath.
No, what scared him was you two freaks.
“Ha! What a bunch of wimps!” Bakugou cackles, lathering his fried chicken with the sauce and taking a good bite out of it. Bro didn’t look bothered in the slightest. In fact, Denki would wager the trigger-happy human landmine was enjoying the murderous sauce.
“This is really good,” You sigh, reaching for another fried chicken and dipping it entirely into the saucer. “Where’d you get it?”
Denki begs your fucking pardon?
“Should come over to my house, Ma makes the best spice,” Bakugou grins, eyes glinting as you chew on your drumstick innocently.
Your eyes light up. “Invitation accepted. Now move the damn dip over. We need more.”
“You both,” Denki wheezes. “Are demons. Menaces.”
“You’re just a pussy, Spark Plug.”
Denki would argue, but he doesn’t think his throat would cooperate.
Truly, a match made in heaven.
Or hell.
--
Author's note: Seriously this was so cute! Frankly, as someone who loves spicy food, loved to see the representation of this and a strong reader that can hold her own against Blasty! it's nice to cuddle up and play damsel with the heroes, but sometimes I just wanna take no bull and stand on my own two feet! (Kick them in the balls or smth, therapeutic as heck)
Thanks for requesting, it means a lot! 🧡
#mha#mha fanfiction#my hero academia#bakugou katsuki#bakugou katuski x reader#fluff#bakugou x y/n#bakugo x you#bakugou fluff#katsuki bakugō
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Sunlight
Summary: A moment in time where you could've sworn that nothing ever could go any different between the two of you…
Pairing: Elijah Kamski x afab!Reader
Word Count: - 2.1k
Content Warnings: Fluffy PWP 18+!, Softdom!Elijah, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Oral (F Receiving), Edging, Slight Praise Kink, Begging, Implied Further Smut
A/N: I'm gnawing at the iron bars of my enclosure 🥴 The Kamski brain rot has befallen me again! Massive thanks to @blueberrypancakesworld for motivating me in this endeavour 🫶🏻🖤
Follow-Up to Golden Cage but can be read as a standalone just as well.
Tagging: @spookyorchid @blueberrypancakesworld @herprivateisland
Each day, you'd rise with me
Know that I would gladly be
The Icarus to your certainty
Oh, my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight
Strap the wing to me
Death trap clad happily
With wax melted, I'd meet the sea
Under sunlight, sunlight, sunlight
- Sunlight By Hozier
Around 5 years prior, on an early autumn Saturday morning, the time gradually moved closer to noon…
A quiet groan rolled over your tongue as you lazily opened your eyes just as much as necessary for your gaze to shoot a quick glance towards the alarm clock on the nightstand.
"Huh…" You noted, somewhat amused by the fact that it was nearly noon already.
"Hm?" A still halfway asleep Elijah behind you protested in a low hum as you turned around, tightly wrapped in his embrace.
"Good morning, sleepyhead.", You peppered the crown of his head with a wash of quick pecks, his cheek resting nuzzled against your collarbone, "I might as well start preparing lunch since we successfully slept through breakfast hours."
"Isn't that what the weekend is for?" Eli smiled against your skin, the stubble of his beard tickling gingerly.
For a brief moment, you tried to pull yourself out of his hug but quickly noted that Elijah had no intention of letting you go just yet.
"Nuh-Uh. Absolutely not.", He quipped, holding you down underneath the cozy cotton duvet covers right next to him, "Way too comfortable."
"Fair enough." A soft smile tugged at your lips as you gave in and led your fingertips to trace along his back, following the slight curve of his spine until they reached the nape of his neck.
"Hmhm…", Eli sighed contentedly, "Wanna stay in bed with you all day. No lab, no coding and no report writing today. Ordering in some food, maybe?"
"Please go on, Mr. Kamski, you have my attention.” The smile on your mouth turned into a smirk at his words whilst your fingers played with strands of his silken-straight hair.
“Well…”, It trickled from his lips in a sleepy chuckle, “May I propose a day of mindless leisure to Mrs. Kamski?”
“Hmhm, mindless leisure, you say?”, You clicked your tongue in a moment of play-pretend pondering, “I’m certainly not opposed to the idea.”
"Marvelous!" The halfway snorted-out cackle spilled from your lips faster than you could recognize.
"Marvelous?", You repeated Eli's exclamation, still snickering over it, "Alright, peepaw."
"Excuse me?" Elijah laughed out as well before leaning his head down a little further until his lips touched the curve of your breast to nip at the sensitive skin close to your nipple.
"Hey, don't you distract from that verbal atrocity!" It rolled right over your tongue as something in between a yelp and a choked-back sigh.
"Distraction? Nay, nay! I'm ready and willing to top that!", The words rumbled through Elijah’s chest in a chuckle, "My, my, how absolutely splendid for my lovely lady, my sun and my everything, to leisurely waste this day away with me."
"Oh, Jesus, fuck..", You groaned a little theatrically over the top, covering your face with both of your palms, "Time to switch to decaf because you gotta watch out for your blood pressure, gramps, maybe consider some Viagra, too."
"Ouch!", Eli mocked in return, his soft lips nibbling their path along the areola up to close down around your perked-up nipple.
His teeth, carefully scratching over the sensitive skin, sent urging jolts of rapidly rising arousal to shoot down amidst your thighs, the demanding pulse causing your hips to snap from the mattress in search of stimulation.
“Oh, c'mon, that's not fair.” You let your head loll back into the thick and feathery pillow as the sensation of his tongue swirling soft circles around your nipple fogged your mind, gradually chasing every coherent thought right out of it.
“I know, I know.” Elijah cooed in return, the warmth of his breath breezing over the damp patch of skin he left behind after letting the perked-up nub slide from between his lips again.
“Can't help myself but to get off on watching you go dumb with just the softest of touches, love.” The almost sore rasp in his tone went right through you as his words led you to clench your thighs together.
“You're such a sharp-witted and well-spoken menace at the lab but it all goes down the drain the second I touch you, doesn't it, babe?” You didn't need to see the sly grin on his face to know that it was there as his warm lips wandered back up over your collarbone until halting at your neck, kissing, nibbling and suckling at your flushed skin.
Instead of words, the only thing leaving your slightly trembling lips was a needy whine, a desperate mewl as you arched your back from the mattress, thighs still firmly pressed together to evoke just the tiniest bit of friction.
“Issok, babe, I'm gonna take care of that, don't worry.” Elijah hummed against your throat whilst nimble, slender fingers brushed along your hip bone, ready and eager to dip down between your legs.
“C'mon, want you to spread those beautiful legs for me, yeah? Wanna feel just how wet you are for me already, hm.” The tip of his nose nudged right against your pulse point playfully as you sensed a surge of heat wash over your face, somewhere between embarrassment and plain horny neediness that rendered you pliable to all his gentle demands.
A rush of heavy goosebumps erupted all over your skin as you gave in to the slight pull administered by the palm of his hand resting right at the curve of your thigh.
“There you go.”, Eli murmured in a soft tone, eager fingertips stroking the insides of your leg and creeping ever closer to where you needed him to touch you so desperately, “Good girl.”
“Please… it's too much, Eli, please!” You whimpered with a cracking, trembling voice, fighting yourself to not succumb to the need to simply jolt your hips forward harshly enough for Elijah’s fingers to inevitably touch your aching cunt.
“Uh-oh, need me to take care of that so bad, huh?”, He planted yet another kiss on your neck whilst his hand eventually slipped between your legs, fingertips parting your thoroughly soaked folds and gathering your arousal between them before stroking over your throbbing clit in slow circles, “Bet that feels better now, no?”
“Fuck…please, don't stop.” It rolled over your tongue in a breathless plea whilst your eyes fluttered shut at the sudden wave of electrifying pleasure spreading all throughout your body.
The sheere sensation of his index finger gingerly caressing you in carefully-paced strokes sent your mind reeling immediately as your muscles rendered warmer with every touch.
“I didn't plan on doing so anytime soon. Good god, you're fucking soaked, aren't you?” Elijah’s voice turned to a deep groan as he pressed his own body closer to yours, allowing you to feel just how much he needed to have you right now, too.
Wandering up from your neck, that was now peppered with countless little, purple-ish coloured hickey's, his teeth latched onto your jaw, scratching over your skin in a certain animalistic way that rushed straight down to your lower abdomen again, causing you to moan out into the bedroom which got gradually enlightened with the warm, early-afternoon sun. Not only was the warmth outside the windows rising but the heat spreading between your thighs just as well. It didn't take much for it to feel like eating you straight up, to burn you whole from the inside out and to completely overstimulate your senses. You're almost already sore nerve endings begged for Elijah’s gentle caress to push you past the threshold, to let the tightening coil in your stomach eventually snap but with the ever so tenderly paced flicks of his finger he held you right at the breaking point, kept your body balancing right on the edge until it rendered you stupid.
“Please, I'm so close, pretty please!” The desperate and impatient whine slipped past your lips as the muscles of your thighs started trembling.
“Nuh-Uh… calm yourself.” He shushed, a growing grin playing around his mouth as he withdrew his slick-covered finger from your pulsing clit and instead curled his entire palm to cup your cunt that was clenching and throbbing mercilessly around nothing.
“No, no, please. You said you wouldn't stop, please!” As the feeling of immediate stimulation ebbed away, you sensed frustration rising within your chest and struggled to hold back a downright pathetic sob that wanted to break its way free.
“Oh, babe, I'm not stopping…just pausing a little because I need you to calm down a bit. Don't want you to just cum on my fingers already, no.”, Elijah’s nose stroke along your cheek whilst his lips brushed towards your earlobe, his hot breath against your skin making you shiver, “I'd much rather taste you, love, feel you gushing all over my face.”
Just the mere thought of it and the way those words practically oozed out of his mouth like they weren't pure filth had you nearly choking on your own, already shallow breaths. You were desperate to hold yourself together, at least for a moment, whilst opening your eyes to Elijah shifting downward on the mattress, his mouth leaving a trail of quick kisses until he buried his face in your lap, a deep groan rumbling through his chest as his tongue darted out past his lips to lap at you like a man parched.
You felt the tip of his tongue gliding through your folds at ease, parting them until it softly nudged at your clit. With half-lidded eyes you watched him devour you, your gaze glued to the sight of messy strands of his hair slipping out from his loose ponytail, framing his face in a shade of blonde that appeared to be golden in the warm light beaming in from past the curtains.
“Fuck…” It fell from your tongue as you managed to lean your upper body onto your elbows for a better view because in the very second you moved and shifted, Eli closed his lips around your pulsing clit and started gingerly suckling, nearly forcing you to halt right there and then again.
It took everything in you to not just slump back into the pillows again, instead, you bit down on your bottom lip whilst pulling your thighs closer to your body. Elijah took the hint right away and hoisted your legs onto his shoulders, palms and fingers grasping around your thighs to keep you in place nice and tight whilst his mouth never paused pleasuring you.
He didn't need to apply anything besides the gentle, careful suction paired with tender flicks of the tip of his tongue for you to come close again, for the tension in your lower abdomen to tighten up anew. This time, you just silently begged for him not to pause, not to stop.
There was no doubt that Eli was aware of the way your thighs started trembling again, how you moaned out in steadily raising arousal as you felt the wetness oozing out of you and to your relief, he kept going, his tongue toying with your clit, stroking and nudging it, knowing how to get you off properly.
“ ‘M gonna…” You tried to utter, the words haphazardly passing your lips before one more tender lick of his pushed you past the threshold and sent your nerve endings into overdrive.
It felt like fireworks going off inside of your body with the muscles of your lower abdomen spasming in wave after heavy wave. The orgasmic epitome went straight to your head, eradicating everything for a split second before the pleasantly brutal, nearly numbing rush of hormones took over; serotonin and oxytocin jolting through your body like an electric current which eventually led you to fall back into the pillows underneath.
“There, there…”, Elijah smirked whilst shoving himself up back to you for his glistening lips to hover closely above yours, “How about we order some pizza now and I sit you down on my lap while correcting you on that gnarly comment about Viagra, huh?”
#elijah kamski smut#dbh elijah kamski x reader#dbh elijah kamski#elijah kamski x reader#elijah kamski#neil newbon#dbh#detroit: become human#detroit become human#detroid become human#elijah kamski x fem!reader#elijah kamski x afab!reader
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standing in line, unaware that i’m dead
"Hey," a voice calls out to him, overly-curious and prying. Jason determinedly ignores them, just on the small offchance that they aren't talking to him.
"You, with the jacket!"
No luck.
Heaving a forceful breath, Jason grips the handle of his grocery basket slightly tighter, and turns to glare at the asshole trying to talk to him while he's waiting in line at the supermarket.
"What?" he growls out, and the teenager lifts their hands in apology.
"Woah, sorry dude, I didn't mean to bother you, but did you know that you're a dead ringer for that Jason Wayne kid? It's uncanny!"
You can't kill a nosy teenager in the checkout 6 at the grocery store, Jason forcibly reminds himself. No matter how deserving or satisfying it would be.
"I had no idea," he grits out, making his lips quirk up into an unnatural smile. It works enough to make the kid step back. He stutters out some sort of apology, and pretends to look through this basket and realise he's missing something, darting out of line and towards the back of the store.
Jason huffs. He pays for his groceries without any fanfare, and the incident is forgotten soon after.
Except it happens again.
He's waiting in line at a kiosk, fingers aching for a cigarette, when an old lady peers at him over her glasses. She's got a pack of lottery tickets tucked between nicotine stained fingers, and a roll of mints stowed in her pocket. He's no snitch though.
"I can give you tips if you're looking for a new hairstyle," he quips, and her lips twitch into a smile.
"No thank you, sonny," she croaks out, the heavy breaths of a lifetime smoker. "You one of them impersonators? You look awfully familiar."
You have got to be fucking kidding me, Jason thinks.
"Nope, unless I'm impersonating myself," he says with forced cheer, and she cackles.
"Fair play," she murmurs. "Fair play."
It's not like Jason Todd-Wayne was a household name, back when he was alive and things were good. But he'd done enough interviews and had enough photos snagged of him on the way to school that his face would inevitably appear here and there in magazines and blog posts. He would have thought that three years would be enough to change his facial features enough that only the most observant might see a lingering familiarity.
Apparently not, because he gets clocked again, this time by a little girl as he waits in line at a cash point.
"Do you know that you're dead?" she pipes up suddenly, and her mother flushes red, hissing at her to be quiet. Jason blinks.
"Sorry?" Leaps out of his mouth before he can think, and she frowns.
"It's okay," she reassures. "I forget things all the time. I'd forget to be dead too!"
Her mother is trying to pull her away at this point, babbling out apologies, but Jason-
Jason laughs. Long and loud, because he can't help it.
"Yeah," he says with a grin. "You're right, kiddo. I did forget. But that just means I'm more alive than ever."
She furrows her brow, but nods seriously, as though he's revealed some great truth. Somewhere in his chest, something aches. He ignores it.
A dead man unaware that he's dead, he thinks with amusement. How fitting.
(Reblogs appreciated!)
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Random KHR headcanon, aka the characters playing D&D!
Tsuna is a willing forever DM that is infamous in the Naminori D&D circles for being fucking ruthless, yet fair, when it comes to it. He will take an eye or limb from your character, but only if it makes sense for that to happen. Makes very detailed maps.
Hayato: Enjoys cycling through the various classes, but likes the Ranger class the best. Tends to go for more open ended backstories to let Tsuna mess around with them for plot reasons. His one Bard became the next campaign's BBEG and he regrets nothing.
Takeshi: Tends to stick with the Rogue and Fighter classes, and occasionally plays as a Sorcerer when he wants to spice things up. Keeps him backstories simple to avoid Tsuna milking them for emotional damage. Sometimes fails but he sure does try.
Ryohei: Mains Monk, Barbarian and Fighter, and occasionally multi classes into other classes if it makes sense. Tends to give his characters amnesia or a mysterious origin that they don't know of because otherwise he has no clue how to do backstories. Fully aware of the fact that said tendency has caused some of the most harrowing story moments and does not care.
Hibari: Ranger and Druid main, and does not give a shit about the other classes. Very thorough with his backstory because the one time he made it exploitable for plot everyone came out of that particular arc a little traumatized and Tsuna wouldn't stop grinning about it for weeks afterwards.
Mukuro: Sorcerer and Wizard main, and fully embraces making Tsuna's job as a DM both easier and harder via elaborate backstories he can work into the campaign. Tsuna gets his revenge via always ensuring his character suffers because of that fact.
Chrome: Cleric and Warlock main, sometimes multi classes into both because of the chaotic potential. Her backstories tend to be ones that are all like "Yeah it happened, but it can't follow my character" and honestly she is valid for it.
Reborn: Paladin and Artificer main, his backstories are wildly different in terms of content for the challenge of it. Of course, apparently as a trade off the more convoluted his backstory is, the worst his luck is. No one knows how that's a thing. The current theory is the universe is balancing him out.
Everyone else: Guess or one shot players. They tend to cycle through classes due to not playing as much. Kyoko one time accidentally made a very overpowered Cleric that proceeded to kill everything and convert a Red Dragon Adult to their religion through fear and respect so there's that.
Tauna would be the “I’m gonna kill that dog 🤪” kind of DM and I am cackling about it tbh. He would also take the time to not only make incredibly detailed maps but specific relevant props for each player. Is infamous for tpk’ing a party in session zero when they all fucked around too hard and didnt think they would find out. Spends half his time ripping his players hearts out of their chests with incredibly small details that become massive later on and literally begging for them to stop trying to break his dungeon and just go inside already.
(So the unholy alliance of Brennan Lee Mulligan and Anthony Burch tbh)
It balances out because any of his usual party would be a nightmare at any other table but his. Their feral levels always seem to just resonate in all the right ways
#the elf talks#reborn#katekyo hitman reborn#I would also argue that Chrome and Mukuro’s characters are almost always related#it’s really funny when he’s a warlock and she’s a cleric and they’re the bitchest set of twins
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ECLIPSE INCORRECT QUOTES
because that’s when you know im obsessed with it
(disclaimer: I meant to do this literally two weeks ago but I didn’t think I had enough but I stopped for a bit and my adhd brain promptly forgot about it for a week and then remembered and then forgot for another week, and honestly i meant to actually make this for like a month before that but i didnt actually start finding the quotes until two weeks ago, but it’s fine I’m here now)
—- —-
Akk: Ayan is a little bitch.
Wat: Why?
Akk: Number one, he’s little. Number two, he’s a bitch.
(episode 1-3 core)
—- —-
Namo: The floor is lava!
Kan: *helps Thua onto the counter*
Akk: *kicks Wat off the sofa*
Ayan: *lays on the floor*
Namo: ...Are you okay?
Ayan: No.
(im 80% certain this is a deleted scene from the beach episodes)
—- —-
*Akk and Ayan are planning to break in somewhere*
Akk: We need to distract the guards.
Ayan: Right.
Akk: What are we gonna do?
Ayan: I'm gonna break their elbows while you poke their eyes.
Akk:
Ayan:
Akk: Deal.
—- —-
Akk: Aye, can you help me? All of my clothes keep disappearing for some reason.
Ayan, wearing a hoodie that's 5 times bigger than his size: Spooky.
—- —-
Akk: I'm going to take a shower, I'll be right back.
Ayan: Why are you telling me this, I don't care.
Ayan, right after Akk leaves the room: I miss him already.
—- —-
Aye: Fuck capitalism. It's a rigged system that keeps us poor and it isn't fair. You shouldn't need to work three jobs to afford basic necessities.
Aye, playing Monopoly: Sorry, if you wanted to win you should have tried not being poor.
—- —-
Akk: I fell—
Aye: From heaven?
Akk: No, I literally fell—
Aye: In love with me the moment you saw me?
Akk: MY ARM IS BROKEN!
Aye: Okay, but do you think I'm pretty? Be honest.
—- —-
Aye: Are we fighting or flirting?
Akk: I'm pinning you against a wall with my hand around your neck-
Aye: Your point?
—- —-
Thua: Two bros!
Kan: Chillin' in a hot tub!
Thua and Kan, in unison: Zero feet apart 'cause we're GAY AS FUCK!
—- —-
Akk: I owe you one.
Aye: That’s ok. You can just date me and we’ll call it even.
—- —-
Thua: I want to kiss you.
Kan, not paying attention: What?
Thua: I said if you die, I wont miss you.
(its okay thua, he's not ignoring you, he has adhd. just kiss him, he'll be happy, trust me)
—- —-
Kan: And now for a gay update with Akk and Aye.
Akk: Getting gayer.
Kan: Thank you, Akk.
—- —-
Wat: So… I’ve seen you’ve been spending a lot of time with Thua recently.
Kan: No, Wat, it's not what it looks like, I swear.
Wat: Oh really? So no reason for me to be jealous?
Kan: No! You’re the only one for me.
Wat: Is that so?
Kan: I promise! Thua and I are just dating, okay? He’s my boyfriend.
Wat: So there are no best-friends-feelings involved?
Kan: You are still my one and only best friend! He’s just the love of my life, nothing more!
Wat: But I’m still the platonic love of your life, right?
Kan: Of course bro!
Wat: Bro...
Thua: What the-
—- —-
*at 3am*
Kan: *runs into Akk’s room and turns on the light* Wake up sleepyhead!
Akk: *wakes up* Dude!
Kan: *cackles*
Aye: *sits up from where he was sleeping behind akk* What the fuck, Kan?
Kan: *jaw drops* Wait WHAT-
(the original vine is now playing over and over in my head and its probably my favourite vine and its literally them and i love it so much gerjdhgbrh)
—- —-
Kan: This totally sucks, man.
Akk: This is horrible.
Kan: Yeah, I know, I mean look at everything the curse did to those rulebreakers today.
Akk: No, it’s not that, it’s Aye.
Akk: It’s just like, I can’t get him out of my head and every time I look at him I have these pains in my chest, and I just know it’s his fault, that bitch!
(AVPM QUOTE LETS GOOO and yes it is perfection and is exactly canon i take no criticism)
—- —-
Kan: Did Thua just tell me he loved me for the first time?
Akk: Yeah, he did.
Kan: And did I just do finger guns back?
Akk: Yeah, you did.
(oh you sweet sweet maybe-bisexual man)
—- —-
Aye: *finds a note* Hmm, whats this?
Kan: Hey, that's mine! *tries to grab it*
Aye: Aww, it's a love note for Thua?
Kan: No-
Aye: *opens it*
Aye:
Kan:
Aye: I can't read this.
(is it because the contents are too explicit to read or because kan's handwriting is awful? you decide)
—- —-
Kan: So are you gonna explain how the hell you crashed my car?
Akk: Well we were driving and there was a deer in the road, so I said "Aye, deer!"
Kan: ...And what did you say?
Aye: ..."Yes, Honey?"
—- —-
Kan: I love you.
Thua: I love you too. I've waited so long to hear you say that.
*Kan and Thua kiss passionately*
Wat, to Akk: You owe me 20 dollars.
(HES BEEN SAYING IT FOR YEARS AND THEY FINALLY DID IT. IMAGINE THE VICTORIOUS FEELING WAT FELT IN THAT MOMENT. NOT TO MENTION THE JOY AT HIS SHIP FINALLY GETTING TOGETHER. BRO IS AS PHENOMENAL AS TIW AND I LOVE HIM SO FREAKING MUCH (someone write a crossover fic where tiw and wat get together and plot their ships' getting together. if someone has already written this, please tell me)
—- —-
Kan: Time sensitive question how flirt boy.
Akk: Throw rocks at he.
Aye: Hot Dogs.
Wat: Kill him.
Kan: Thanks guys.
—- —-
Kan, trying to sound happy: *about Aye and Thua* They’d make a cute couple, huh?
Akk, holding back tears: They certainly are standing next to each other.
(first few episodes core. specifically when aye is whispering in thua's ear and theyre both just standing to the side watching it happen and completely unaware that this means they are gay and in love with one of them)
—- —-
Thua: I'm so happy, I could kiss you!
Kan: Um...Neat.
*later*
Kan, lying face down on their bed: I said "Neat," Akk. Who the fuck says neat these days? It's not neat to say neat but I said it anyways because I'm fucking stupid.
Akk, reading a book: Don't beat yourself up too much, Kan. Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Remember what I did when Aye confessed his love for me?
Kan: Didn't you thank him?
Akk: *closes the book and looks at the ceiling* I fucking thanked him.
—- —-
Kan: How is the most beautiful person in the world?
Thua: *blushing* I—
Aye, butting into the conversation: Akk is perfect, thanks for asking.
—- —-
Wat: Do you love Kan?
Thua: Yeah, I do.
Wat: Akk! I told you I knew it! You owe me 100 baht!
Akk: We all love Kan. You should've asked if he was IN love with him.
Thua: I thought that was implied.
Akk: ...
Wat: ...
Thua, looking straight at Akk: Congrats Wat, you just won 100 baht.
—- —-
Akk: Are you trying to seduce me?
Aye: Why, are you seducible?
—- —-
Aye: Jail is no fun. I’ll tell you that much.
Wat: Oh, you’ve been?
Aye: Once. In Monopoly.
—- —-
Wat: When I was a kid, Kan told me that the paper strip that’s in the chocolate kisses were edible and I ate them with the chocolate for a year.
Teacher Sani: They are!
Wat: FOR REAL?
Sani: No! Why did you fall for it again?
—- —-
Thua, on a random band name generator: Oooo! They Might Be Depressed Horses! That about sums up my friend group.
—- —-
Akk: Being gay is a constant battle between "I wish to sit on a window bench with my lover, our legs tangling as we listen to the birds" and "Hey, let's go throw rocks at fascists" and I think that's very sexy of us.
Ayan: If the window's open and you time it right, you can do both.
—- —-
Ayan: Hey, Akk, what do you think it would be like if we had kids?
Akk: What would it be like? Inconvenient, mostly.
Ayan: No, I mean, what would they be like, the kids? You ever think about it?
Akk: Can't really say I have.
Ayan: You know, for someone as eccentric as yourself, you can be boring as fuck sometimes.
Akk: Sorry, Aye. For what it's worth, I'm picturing them now. A boy and a girl. Two perfect little freaks of nature raised by people who've clearly got no business bringin' up anybody.
—- —-
Ayan: Talk dirty to me, baby~
Akk: The dishes.
Ayan: Wh-
Akk: They’ve been there for 4 days and it’s your turn to wash them. You still haven’t cleaned them and I have asked you to do so several times.
—- —-
Ayan: My hands are cold.
Akk: Here, let me hold them.
Ayan: My lips are cold too.
Akk: *covers Ayan's mouth with his hand*
—- —-
Akk: Okay, I’m going to get the wedding cake.
Ayan: Perfect, while you do that I’ll check on the ring bear.
Akk: ...
Akk: You mean ring bearER, right?
Ayan: ...
Akk: Look me in the eyes and tell me you are not going to bring a dangerous wild animal to our wedding.
—- —-
Ayan: Since we're in a relationship now, your clothes are my clothes too. Don't ask me why I have your shirt on, this is our shirt.
Akk: Fine, but when I come strutting in with your fuzzy socks I don't want to hear shit.
—- —-
Akk: You are the love of my life and I would do anything within reason to make you happy.
Ayan: I would be happy if you ate, stayed hydrated and got a reasonable amount of sleep.
Akk: I said within reason, Ayan. How about I murder that guy?
Ayan: So murder is in reason but proper self care isn't?
Akk: Well, duh. What kind of question is that?
—- —-
Ayan: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine.
Akk: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again.
Ayan: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns??
Akk: Is it working?
—- —-
Akk: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine.
Ayan: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again.
Akk: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns??
Ayan: Is it working?
—- —-
and now, for my personal favourite...
Ayan: Akk is playing hard to get.
Ayan: Little does he know, I'm a master at playing hard to get rid of.
—- —-
that's all for now, but i promise, i will be back
#the eclipse#the eclipse series#the eclipse the series#the eclipse incorrect quotes#akkayan#ayanakk#firstkhao#khaofirst#first kanaphan#khaotung thanawat#thuakan#kanthua#neolouis#louisneo#louis thanawin#neo trai#the eclipse wat#wat the eclipse#aj chayapol
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Im on my knees begging for more Homelander stuff
You Are My Sunshine, My Only Sunshine
Summary:
You flick his forehead, “Yeah, well, at least I don’t wear hair gel, which, fun fact, is flammable.” You chase him around the room, hands in the air, and your little suns rush past him, leaving dents in the walls, “I’m gonna fry you, John,” you cackle when he tries to fly away and ends up with his head through the ceiling, you fall to the floor in full-blown laughter.
Pairings:
Homelander x Male!Reader
Tags:
Supe!Reader | Childhood Friends to Lovers | Crack Treated Like Fanfic
Words: 1816
Author's Note:
Do I know what this is? No. Hope you like it.
Your room in the Vought labs is average; you’ve counted every dent, corner, and scorched burn mark a hundred times over, so it’s strange when you see the new face. The face in question belongs to another boy, about your age, his hair is swept well, and he looks normal enough. He looked tired, though, like he’d just been running from someone and hadn’t expected his hiding place to have someone else in it. His confusion was replaced by curiosity when he realizes the shiny glow of your skin, like the sun, your skin is quite literally like the solar celestial. The burn marks, your outbursts, the human shape in the burn marks, Vought employees that thought it’d be fun to piss off a child with the power to turn you to ash. Your eyes are just white, with no pupils, no color, just glowy white things in your head.
“Wow! You’re shiny!” He reaches out to you, but you flinch back and try to warn him off, but he ignores you, grabs your arm, and he marvels at it. “That’s so not fair! You got a better power than me!”
You just stare at him, he’s not burning or screaming; aside from the edge of his sleeves charring up, he’s perfectly fine. “You can touch me?”
He huffs, “Yeah. My name’s John; what’s yours?”
John was a curious case, he was a lab rat like you, but he had a lot more freedom - mainly because he was a little brat and used his power to get what he wanted - he was also your only friend, well, technically, he was the only friend you hadn't turned into barbeque. As mentioned, if John wanted something, then he would get it, so he wanted to be your friend, and there was nothing the scientists could do about it.
“John, what are we doing?” He'd rushed into your room, and dragged you away without explanation.
“Just trust me,” he responds.
It’s way past curfew, and if you get caught, you might get in trouble; you’re pulled into another area, and your light fills the room; John moves to stand in front of you, hands spread out in a ta-da gesture, “Surprise! We’re gonna be roommates!”
“Really? How? Vought wouldn’t….”
“Fuck Vought—”
You put your hands on his mouth, “That’s a bad word.” John licks your hand, and you draw back with a disgusted look on your face.
“See, this is our drawing wall, and this is our bed, and I even got more blankets in case you get cold.”
“How would I get cold? I’m the sun, you dodo,” you remind him.
His face scrunches up, “I know that! I was just trying to be nice,” he huffs, punching your arm; you smack his face and laugh when he flies into a wall. “Meanie,” he pouts. The two of you play fight for a bit, and when the Vought scientists come in the morning, they find you side by side, hands together. When they try to separate you, John breaks a few arms before they get the hint, and John’s room becomes your room.
It doesn’t end there; pretty soon, John decides it’s not enough and demands to have you by his side at every instance. So you clap when John gets his training done, and he catches the little suns you throw in the air. When he doesn’t pay attention to the education side of things, you stay up tutoring him, and sometimes, when you’re upset, he’ll make his shitty shadow puppets, and you wipe away the tears laughing.
You go from child to teenager, and both your powers grow with you; John’s eyes hurt when he opens them, the red beams are more powerful now, and he sucks at flying. Parts of your body will flicker, and you'll have human skin for a brief few moments, but those moments are few and far in between. John says it’s stupid, “Why would you want human skin? You’re cooler than that,” he insists, but you sigh.
“Don’t you wish you were normal, like normal, normal?” you ask back; his face does the little scrunchy thing when he’s confused, “you know, like the kids we see on TV, parents, cousins, grandparents, normal birthdays and actual rooms, not this.” You gesture around you, your shared ‘room’ had seen minor upgrades, with the inclusion of a larger bed and actual drawers, but it still wasn’t a proper room. “Sometimes I wish I could actually touch things without worrying they’ll melt in my hands.”
John headbutts you, “Maybe, but if I were normal, then I wouldn’t have you, and I’d be a nobody.”
“With a face that ugly,” you joke, “I doubt it.”
He huffs, sticking out his tongue, “At least I’m not a lightbulb.”
You flick his forehead, “Yeah, well, at least I don’t wear hair gel, which, fun fact, is flammable.” You chase him around the room, hands in the air, and your little suns rush past him, leaving dents in the walls, “I’m gonna fry you, John,” you cackle when he tries to fly away and ends up with his head through the ceiling, you fall to the floor in full-blown laughter.
On occasion, this lady comes to see you, well, not you, mostly John; she babies him every chance she gets. Coming in between you and him whenever she can. Madelyn Stillwell, if you heard the others right, she must be high on the totem pole if they let her take John anywhere she wants, whenever she wants. Despite John's reassurances, you don’t like her; any time she comes too close, you make sure her outfit of the day gets burned somehow. It’s probably why she hates you. Once John comes back from one of their field trips looking lost and barely utters a word for a few days, but after every other field trip, he gushes about her like the mother he never had.
The childhood euphoria doesn’t last long; Vought decides to make the two of you the faces of their brand, and they wind up some bullshit about the two of you finding some calling in an ordinary childhood. You don’t care about the details as much as they do and roll your eyes every second they force you to memorize it. Then they get you costumes; that was your favorite bit, watching John squirm as they fit you in various suits - his hero costume looks like the American flag took a shat all over it; yours is like a solar eclipse like it absorbed all the light, a contrast to your abilities, and between the two of you, you share a gold accent.
“I feel ridiculous,” John grimaces, “I mean, look at this thing; why are there so many stars?!”
“Yeah, you do look stupid,” you agree with him; holding the ends of your cape, you turn on the spot, marveling at your starry pattern, much smaller than his; it resembles the night sky, and every time you move it looks like it’s moving on its own. “I look amazing, they said my Supe name’s going to be Eclipse because I take away the light for myself.”
John sulks, “How come you get the cool stuff?” He sits on the floor, arms folded as his cheeks puff up childishly.
You roll your eyes, flicking his forehead, “I was only joking; you look fine.” That doesn’t stop the pouting; in fact, John just turns away from you, so you resort to plan B. You’d seen something like this once; one of the Vought employees had made her girlfriend happy by kissing him, so that’s what you do, you kiss John’s cheek. It doesn’t make him happy per se, but he stops sulking, and now you’re not sure what to do because you just stare at each other. John’s cheeks have a slight tinge of red to them.
“You kissed me,” he mutters.
“Yeah, don’t expect me to do it again,” you shove him and run off; John sits there, hand on his cheek, as he watches you leave.
Vought brings in other Supes over time; some survive, some don’t, and those that do survive get put with you and John in the Seven - the world’s greatest team of Supes. The lineup changes one or two times, but right now, it’s you, John, Queen Maeve, Stormfront, the Deep, Starlight, A-Train, and Black Noir. You go from a lab rat to a celebrity, interviews, paparazzi, fans, merch, the whole nine yards, and you get moved up to the 99th floor. Your room is ever bigger, and you spend the first few days just staring out at the city, John sneaks into your room a lot, and the two of you just sit.
You talk, but sometimes, John is too busy staring at you to respond; unlike before, you could switch the glowy skin off. The first time you did it, you practically cried in relief; back then, John had said you looked weird, but now he just stared at you like you were the most remarkable thing on Earth. You snap your fingers in his face, “Hello, Earth to John.”
“Huh?”
“You were staring again, weirdo,” you tell him.
“Sorry,” he says, looking away. Your hands are intertwined, and you’re leaning back on him; when you glance over at him, he’s got a red blush creeping up his skin. You grab his chin, tilting it down, and you kiss him again, this time on the lips. It’s fleeting and brief, but it’s enough, and John’s face is entirely red for a while.
You don't have a relationship per se; more like brief rendezvous in the hallways, tag teaming for missions; Edgar makes his displeasure pretty clear, but you don’t pay him any mind, and he, at the very least, does the favor of keeping it to himself. The general public is equally as perceptive, and before long, the internet blows up over it; Madelyn is very much displeased by it and makes it known.
“It’s a distraction to your careers and dedication to Vought International.”
“And trying to set him up with Starlight and having me with the Deep isn’t?” You ask, creeping close to her, “John may hold a soft spot for you, but I don’t, try and come in between him and me, and I’ll turn you to barbecue.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she challenges, stepping back anyway; she goes to say more, but the doors slide open, and John enters the room. He looks beat and barely pays her any mind; coming up to you, he kisses your forehead, Madelyn clears her throat when he starts to rant, and he turns to her in surprise. Their conversation is brief, but John ends it with a yawn, and as Madelyn leaves for the elevator, you smile, drawing a line across your neck to get the message clear.
End Note:
Reader is a living sun btw, if I didn't make it clear enough. I don't know what this is, I just wanted to write some childhood friends to lovers kinda thing. Hope you enjoyed reading this shite, stay hydrated.
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Sissy's First Date: Chapter 4
DISCLAIMER: This POV story contains diaper usage, forced crossdressing, public humiliation, masturbation/diaper sex, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!
Commissioned By: Anon
-------------------------------------------------------------
“Ahhhhhh! That hit the spot,” I said as I leaned back while hooking my feet around the wooden picnic table’s support beam to keep from falling backward. Rubbing my tummy, I savored the aftertaste of the cheeseburger and fry combo I had eaten. It was far from the best burger I’d ever eaten but just about anything would’ve tasted like heaven with Becca at my side.
Watching me finish my food like a hawk, Becca waited for me to lean forward in my seat again before reaching toward me with a napkin and gently wiping the crumbs away from my mouth “You did a great job following my instructions to eat delicately. I should only have to touch up your lips. Well done, Cherry-baby” she said, remarking on the minimal damage to the diligent work she had done painting my face. Her complement caused me to retreat into my shell like a turtle as I shrunk down and hid myself behind my shaky hands without letting them touch my face, unable to suppress my unadulterated happiness. I could listen to her dote on me for hours.
*Peck!*
Suddenly, something warm, wet, and gentle grazed the side of my face. My mind skipped the tracks as my hand cupped my burning cheek, the remnants of Becca’s lipstick mark dusting my fingertips with a dash of red.
“Hey now, no touching. Remember?” said Becca, flicking the back of my hand and nudging it away from my face, “Besides, I want everyone to know exactly who you belong to.” It was clear she expected me to wear the imprint of her lips on my skin for the remainder of our date; an embarrassing display that had me feeling unquestionably giddy.
Standing up from the picnic table, Becca quickly circled until she was stationed behind me, offering me no time to climb out of my seat as well. This was intentional as a pair of loving arms soon draped across my chest and began playing with the bow sown to the chest of my dress. “Hmmm...I don’t know about you but I’m still a bit peckish. How about we stop for some dessert before our next ride? Doesn’t that sound fun?” she cooed, beckoning me to follow her like an obedient pet.
Nodding my head, my voice cracked as I muttered, “That- *cough* That sounds nice.” I winced as an immediate cackle succeeded my fatal squeak, further burying me in blushiness.
Becca’s laughter would come to an abrupt end, though, as an unfortunate sight graced her line of sight. She lowered her head and ducked down, prompting me to do the same. “Shit, what the fuck are they…Ugh! Nevermind. We need to get out of here,” she said, her mood starkly shifting from romantic and bright to serious and distressed.
“Wait, what? What’s going on?” I said, naively stretching my neck upward as I looked in the same direction Becca had.
Grabbing the collar of my shirt, Becca attempted to tug me downward, whispering loudly, “Nonono! Cherry, get down!”
Unfortunately, it was too late for that. It was only a split-second but a split-second was all that was needed as I noticed a distinct pair of eyes with the same colored irises as mine. “A-Abby,” I muttered, spotting my sister at the exact same moment that she spotted me. A cruel smile formed as she pointed in my general direction.
Why the hell was Abby here?! We were two towns away from where we lived. Moreover, she hated county fairs, giving her less than zero reason to be in the same place Becca and I were. I wanted to run as fast as my legs could carry me. It was bad enough to be femmed up at their hands. To have them catch me voluntarily dressing this way was a death sentence. But my jelly legs refused to move, locking me in place as my sister waded through the busy crowd with her usual posse of Kiah and Sarah at her side. “B-Becca, can you help me-…Becca?” I said, angling my head backward, only to notice that my date had seemingly vanished, leaving me all alone at the picnic table in my sissy dress and diapers.
“Well, well, well! What are the odds we’d run into my little brother while we’re here,” said Abby, refusing to acknowledge me as her equal twin while I was dressed the way I was, “Though, I’m not sure I should be using a manly term like “brother” so loosely.”
I could feel my soul actively dying with each snicker that came out of my sister's mouth. Any happiness I had attained from my date had been fully erased. In a last-ditch effort to spare myself further humiliation, I tried to get up from my seat so I could make a break for it. Sadly, I wouldn’t even get through step one of my makeshift plan as Kiah’s heavy hand planted itself on my shoulder, keeping me locked in place. It was a harsh dichotomy from the way Becca had stood over me only a moment before.
Scooching in next to me with her phone in hand, Sarah wrapped an abrasive arm around my satin-covered waist as she displayed a picture of me waiting in line for the Ferris Wheel with a diaper poking out from under the skirt ever so slightly. “I almost didn’t believe it when I saw you. I’ve never been so happy that my mom made me come home from college this weekend,” she said, squeezing me and forcing me to endure another round of high-pitched giggling, “Who’s your little friend, by the way? I never got a good look at who your diapee buddy was.”
“Yeah, that’s what I wanna know,” said Abby, plopping herself down in front of Becca’s tray and putting up her feet on my thighs, “Like what, did you candy ass start scrolling through Grindr the second we freed you until you found a fellow sissy loser? You know, you weren’t supposed to enjoy what we did to you.”
Listening to Abby and Sarah’s dialogue, it became obvious why Becca fled from the scene at lightning speed. They had no idea what secrets their peppy bombshell of a friend was harboring. Perhaps I could use this to my advantage. Outing Becca as my date did had the potential to move the target off of my back and onto hers. And it wasn’t like she had any problem with ditching me to save herself.
However, as I looked down at the candid photo of Becca and myself waiting for our turn on the Ferris Wheel, my mind leaped back to the amazing time we’d had together up to this point. Becca didn’t have to make herself vulnerable to me but she did. Regardless of her present cowardice, that was something I refused to let my sister take away from me. “Well…I did enjoy it,” I said, putting on as confident of a face as I could muster, “S-So what?”
Staring up at each other in disbelief, none of the three girls were exactly sure how to respond. It was only when Abby forced out a laugh that other girls started chortling alongside her. Steeling my composure to the best of my ability, I closed my eyes, drowned out their voices, and let the stain of Becca’s kiss continue to burn on my cheek; its warmth strengthening my resolve.
“Haha! You trying to act tough when dressed like this is so adorable,” said Abby in between cackling, turning up the dial on her viciousness in an attempt to get me to break, “I can’t wait to get home. The four of us are going to have a blast burning all your old, icky boy clothes. A pansy like you clearly doesn’t need them anymore. Just wait until Dad finds ou-”
“HEY!”
In an instant, the noisy, bustling fairgrounds went quiet, as did the mockery of my sister and her friends. My eyes shot open, allowing me to witness Becca’s spectacular return. Marching up to our table, she physically shoved Sarah and Kiah away from me, freeing me from their shackle-like grip. She didn’t dare make eye contact with the others as she pulled me out of my seat and into her arms. “Sorry, I was gone for so long, sweetie,” she said, pretending as though the world around us didn’t exist as she straightened out my skirt before threading her fingers through mine and escorting me away from the table, “C’mon, we’ll get your lipstick fixed up while we wait in line for the next ride.”
Glancing back at the picnic table shrinking in the distance, I relished the stunned silence that Becca left my sister and her friends in. The look on Abby’s face specifically was priceless. Part of me wished I could stay a few moments longer so as to record every inch of my sister’s priceless expression to memory. Unsurprisingly, that small part stood no chance against the warpath Becca was forging as she rushed us away from the food vendors, her eyes locked forward. I could only guess at the number of troubling things swirling around in her mind.
Eventually, we stopped at the tail end of a nearly empty line for a dark ride auspiciously named, The Tunnel of Love. I could only guess that Becca wanted to get out of sight as soon as possible. Tragically, the emotions that Becca and I were stuck processing were anything but lovey-dovey feelings. “Hey…are you okay?” I asked, catching my breath after speed-walking across half the fairground, “I totally get it if you wanna call it after that.”
“No!” shouted Becca instinctively, forcefully clearing her throat afterward in an attempt to cover up her panicked refusal, “No, I’m okay. I promise. I want the date to keep going…unless, of course, you’re ready for it to end.”
Shaking my head vehemently, I wasn’t ready for this day to end by a long shot. “Nuh-uh, I really don’t want this to end. This…this is the most fun I’ve ever had in my life,” I said earnestly, my cheeks filling with a different kind of blush; the romantic kind.
Becca’s face took on a similar hue, allowing her to flash a smile for the first time since the incident. “Me too. I love getting to spend time with you like this. It’s not really something I’ve ever gotten to do before,” she said, her feet squirming in place thanks to the rawness of her sentiment, “Promise you won’t get upset but…there’s something I wasn’t completely honest about.”
The deepening of Becca’s voice told me everything that I needed to know. Whatever she was about to tell me was something of incredible importance, maybe even something she’d never admitted to anyone else. I nodded to her again and listened closely.
“I lied to you when I said that…the diapers I made you wear were an ex-boyfriend’s,” said Becca, unable to face me as her watering eyes traced the cracks in the cement, “It was just such an exciting opportunity. That stunt you pulled at your sister’s sleepover? I’d read countless stories with scenarios just like it. So…I decided to take advantage of that, and I had to lie to everyone, including you, to pull it off. I’m sorry. I know you must hate me now for getting you tangled up in my kink so I’ll understand if-”
*Peck!*
Ceasing my chance to return the affection Becca had bestowed upon me earlier, I leaned in while she was mid-sentence and placed a kiss on her cheek, leaving the same mark behind that she had. “Just letting everyone know who you belong to, right?” I said brashly, my heart and lungs imploding simultaneously in a display of shameless romanticism.
Much like I had done, Becca’s hand rose to meet the kissy mark left behind on her face. Unlike me, though, she needed no one to instruct her to keep from wiping it off. I could feel myself growing stiff as we gazed at each other, aroused purely by the love I was feeling. Well, love and the softness of my soaking wet diaper.
Wrapping her arms around me, Becca and I cozied up to each other. Our next stop: The Tunnel of Love. I couldn’t imagine a more fitting destination.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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#ab/dl#ab/dl art#ab/dl stories#ab/dl girl#crissiebaby#diaper art#diaper stories#diaper humiliation#dirty diaper#diaper messy#wetting diaper#md/lb#ab/dl sissy#sissybaby#diaper sissy#sissy story#humiliation sissy
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so im kiiiinda redoing half of my fic. to account for the, uh. "canonically being able to put gordon into the computer" thing.
on the one hand i think its a way better deal b/c i will look 10% less insane writing about benrey literally putting him into the sims and playing with him like a doll . but on the other hand i have a bunch of words about gordon fingering himself that i cant use anymore
so. here they are, for u. "Enjoy"
———
Gordon blinks at the screen.
Benry Benry wants to have Oraljob sex with Gordon Freeman. Do you wish to proceed?
The laugh that erupts from him is high-pitched and violent, leaving him gasping for air. Benrey cackles in his ear. “I— I— Oh my God,” Gordon wheezes, doubling over. “You want to have what with me?! We can’t— We can’t show that on a Christian channel! We’re going to get so banned—“
“do you want to—“ Benrey can’t finish the sentence, gripped in the most intense laughter Gordon’s ever heard from him. “do you want to have oraljob?”
Gordon clutches his desk, weeping and howling.
When he calms down from his sudden fit of hysterics, he clicks “No”, to a chorus of disappointment from the chat. “I know, I know,” he says, sympathetic, “but seriously, Papa’s gotta pay the bills. Gotta keep it clean. PG-13, that’s my motto.”
“then why’s your dick out,” Benrey wheezes.
“Very funny—“
He stops in his tracks when he sees that his dick is, in fact, out. His Sims dick, that is. Gordon slams his ‘commercial break’ button so hard that he misses a few keys and takes a screenshot.
“Whoa! Put that thing away, man!”
“nice,” Benrey says appreciatively.
“Bear with me, folks,” Gordon begs. “We’re having some, uh, technical difficulties.” Why did his dick pop out? He said no! (In fairness, his Sim is decidedly not having oraljob sex. He’s eating a sandwich. With his penis out.) He hurriedly clicks through menus upon menus, trying to find a way to put his clothes back on, but none of the options do what he wants. “Why can’t I put away my stupid dick?!”
“hey, look. you just went up a level in nudism,” Benrey snorts.
Gordon buries his head in his hands, but can’t stop himself from an anguished laugh. “Okay! Give me fifteen, everybody. Go smoke a cigarette— or, or vape, I know the kids are big on the Juul these days, I don’t care, I’m not your dad.”
With that, he ends the stream.
“What kind of fucking mods did you download on my computer?” he asks, exasperated. “I feel like I need to give it a bath.”
“normal ones.”
“Uh-huh. You know my dick’s not even rendering correctly, right?”
“huh?” Benrey zooms in on it. “huh. it’s, uh. checkered.”
[some sort of connecting thought]
“I don’t even look like that, anyway,” Gordon mutters, brushing him off.
Benrey peers down at him. The webcam light turns on, drawing Gordon’s eye. “huh. i dunno. i can see the, uh… the resemblance.” He enunciates the last word carefully.
“Did you just turn on my webcam? Are we streaming right now?” Gordon sits upright, hastily checking on his streaming software. Still offline. Not that it would have mattered - he’s panned away to look at a stray dog in his yard - but it’s the principle of the thing.
“yeah, uh. no,” mumbles Benrey.
Gordon closes down OBS and Firefox entirely. Just to be safe. “A little fucking warning next time? How did you even do that?”
“administrator privileges.”
There’s a pause. Then Gordon sinks back down into his chair, defeated. “I shouldn’t have given you those. I should have smashed you up into little pieces when I had the chance. After you bought fucking Burnout Paradise on my dime—“
“you should show me what you look like,” blurts out Benrey, voice low and blunt.
“I— What?”
“i can make it look better. more like you.”
Gordon stares at the screen. Benrey avoids his gaze. He boggles a little, so far beyond comprehending this that he’s skipped past ‘denial’ and ‘anger’ all the way into ‘acceptance’. “Are you— Are you hitting on me?”
“for the immersion,” Benrey says stiffly.
———
Gordon throws his head back in frustration. “They’re just not— fucking— they’re not big enough! They’re short and stubby and I can’t— get them— where I want!” His wrist bends, desperately seeking something that he can’t describe. The tendons sing in pain. He hisses, then relaxes it, letting his hand fall limp.
Benrey stares down at him, mouth parted.
“This was stupid,” groans Gordon. “Now my hand’s all sticky and I don’t wanna wipe it on anything—“
“try again,” Benrey interrupts him, blunt and hoarse. “please?”
Gordon peers blearily at him from over the top of his glasses. “Huh?”
“i wanna.” That massive jaw gyres, struggling to work itself around a thought. “i could do it better. make it good.”
Heat rockets through Gordon’s belly, spiraling up his spine and leaving his hairs standing on end. His dick twitches without his conscious effort. Benrey’s eyes immediately dart to it. Emboldened, Gordon draws his fingertips around his hole, threatening to slip back in. “Yeah, bud? You sure? I don’t think you’ve ever done this before.”
“how would you know,” Benrey puffs.
“Uh, well, you’re in my fucking computer, for one thing.” He slips two fingers in with little resistance, just up to the second knuckle. For show. Nobody say he never did anything for Benrey. “But you know what? Maybe this’ll be funny.”
Benrey’s face hardens. “it’s not funny,” he says, pouting in high-definition. “i would never joke about pussy shit.”
“Point one: That is one hundred percent not true,” Gordon points out. “Point two—“ He curls them and groans, a soft noise. “I wanna hear it. Straight from the horse’s mouth.”
“what does this got to do with horses,” says Benrey, bewildered.
Gordon shifts in his seat, stretching a leg high into the air and gripping the back of his thigh to hold it firmly in place. His fingers move in a slow, back-and-forth motion, just enough that they visibly slide in and out, shiny and wet. Benrey makes a strangled noise in his throat.
“You think you could make it good for me? Tell me. Show me what I’m missin’ out on.”
Benrey’s fingers twitch around his avatar, scaled up to giant-like proportions, far too big for the task at hand but itching to put it into practice. “fuckin’,” he starts, low and rumbling and struggling to articulate himself, “stretch you open… mine’re bigger. lookie.” With his other hand, he waggles his fingers in front of Gordon.
“Well, duh,” Gordon says.
Above him, Benrey’s gaze shifts to his own hand, gears churning behind his eyes. “they’re still bigger,” he insists.
To prove his point, he snaps them - in a stomach-churning instant, Gordon’s camera snaps back to an isometric viewpoint, looking in on their dollhouse. On them. On Benrey’s Sim, pale and shirtless, beads of sweat tastefully textured on his skin, leaning over his own on the cheapest double bed Simoleons could buy. There’s a hand pressed against the mattress, and another at his waist. Pawing at him. And, unlike Gordon’s own hands, they’re proportioned well for a guy his size: closer to dinner plates than the slim, short ones he’s furiously trying to bend into the right shape in real life.
He shivers in his seat.
“Point taken,” he says. His voice cracks partway through.
As if on cue, their Sims start moving again, gracelessly sliding and snapping into a new position. Gordon’s stripped naked, letting Benrey between his legs, and one large hand buries itself in that hairy, thorny knot of polygons and glossy pink textures while the other holds him wide open. The fidelity’s good enough that Gordon can see exactly how the fingers curl: two outside, keeping them back, and two inside, making his Sim’s hips gyrate.
“lookatchu,” Benrey rumbles in his ear. “takin’ it like a champ…”
Gordon sucks in a sudden breath. He curls his own fingers in time with the animation, speeding up to match.
“bet you could take more.”
He whines and visibly clenches around his fingers. “Jesus, man!”
“yeah? yeah? c’mon,” taunts Benrey, shy of breath. “show me. put another one in.”
Gordon weakly mumbles some expletives as he leans his head into the crook of his headphones. Presses himself closer to that voice. “Who taught you how to fucking— talk like that,” he groans, pushing in a third finger.
The fans inside his tower spin faster. Louder. “fuuuck, dude,” he hears, a low, pained utterance.
“I’d let you,” Gordon says dizzily, “God, I must have lost my fucking mind, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” his fingers make slick, filthy, squelching noises inside of himself, “let you put your hand in me—“
“i wanna,” Benrey cuts him off, too fast. Eager. “wanna fuckin’— wear you like a puppet—“
Gordon makes a sharp noise that surprises even himself. The he half-laughs, half-pleads, “Don’t say shit like that! That’s not— That’s not hot!”
“you moaned. i heard it, buddy.”
He ignores this. Benrey takes the opportunity to lean in, getting a closer view of Gordon’s webcam. And the slick folds Gordon’s spreading open for him.
#writin stuff#i cant really keep this in but i also cant really cram it into the other AI benrey thing i wanna write. so .
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FFXIV Write Entry #20: The Art of the Booby Trap
Prompt: hamper || Master Post || On AO3
--
“Cid, honeybuns,” Rereha said, impressed despite herself, “what the fuck.”
She hung suspended by one ankle from one of the rafters in the ceiling, swinging slightly from side to side from slowly reducing momentum. Her arms and pigtail braids dangled and her stockman’s hat had ended up on the floor and like, honestly. This was kind of doing some really nice things to her spine.
Cid had flailed and fallen out of his chair at her ungodly shriek when the booby trap had sprung, and he was pushing himself off the floor now. “Seven fucking hells, Rereha, knock!” he said, scowling.
“I’ve never had to before!” she said, waving her hands, and cursing when all it did was start to spin her around. “Fuck’s sake, I expect this kind of bullshit from Nero!”
The engineer grumbled something too low for her to pick up the words, but Rereha’s ears perked anyway. “Oh, my fucking gods,” she cackled. “Cidolfus Garlond, did you get this idea from Nero? Did you get strung up like a dodo because you didn’t knock and you wanted to return the favor?”
“We are in a war of attrition over correcting one another’s blueprints,” Cid said, wading through the detritus of his lab—multiple drafting tables, boxes of spare parts, the half-built prototype of a new airship engine—to where the cable holding her up was tied off. “And so far, the bloody bastard’s winning.”
“Well, no shite, gumdrop,” Rereha said. Now that she knew to look for traps… Good gods, this was actually kind of sad. One, two, three, four, five, six… “You are a smart, creative man, Cid, but you don’t have a couple decades of experience as a fucking Frumentarium commander.”
Cid snarled something particularly foul in Garlean. Rereha yanked at her Echo to keep it from translating.
“Cid.”
A grunt.
“Ciiiiid.”
Another grunt.
“Cid. Cid Cid Cid Ciddy Cid. Ciiiiiiiiiid. Sugarplum. Buttercup. Hot stuff.”
Cid turned to glare at her, hands on his hips. She hadn’t seen him in this foul of a mood in a long, long time.
Awww. He really wasn’t used to being shown up so thoroughly by Nero, was he? A little humility was good for him, gods only knew he was ridiculously overdue for it, but it was definitely time to level the playing field. Especially before Nero’s ego raged out of control.
Rereha stuck out her arms. “M’ere.”
Cid sighed heavily, shoulders slumping, but he obeyed, weaving back across the lab to stand in front of her. She was short enough that even strung up like this, she was at eye level with him, and points to him for that, it would mean Nero would be just above the floor, and she could appreciate that kind of pettiness. But, focus!
She reached out and held his face in her hands. Gods, this was a little weird doing it upside down, but whatever. Needs must and all that. “Snookums, what is my day job?”
He cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “You have a day job?”
“Cidolfus fucking Garlond, I swear to Nald’thal. Day job, full rank, I am making a point, go.”
“All right, all right! Scout-Captain for the Gods’ Quiver assigned to the Yellow Serpents Division of the Order of the Twin Adders. And then some logistics headache that means you’re also on permanent retainer to the Scions, even though that’s no longer official.”
“Correct! Which means that this kind of thing? Spotting traps, setting traps, and so on? Kind of what I get paid for.”
Cid furrowed his brows at her and wow, his eyebrows had gotten bushy. God, he should shave, go back to being baby-faced for a while to remind everyone he was just shy of forty and not seventy. “Offering to help?” he said, only a little skeptical.
(Which, fair, she wasn’t even mad, she had more recently been on the Nero side of the engineering war. But Nero kept coming up with upgrades for her monster turret bow, and she couldn’t say no to that.)
“Of course!” She batted her eyelashes. “Nero needs taking down a peg, and I’m always up for a little industrious chaos. Get Synnove on the linkpearl, too, she probably has a few tricks with aether-locks she’d be willing to dole out if she knows it’s for a good cause.”
“You are,” Cid said, finally starting to smile, a real, proper smile, “a very ridiculous creature.”
“It’s why you love me,” Rereha said with her most winning smile, and gave his cheeks a pat.
Cid snorted and said, "Jessie is going to kill us, but I suppose in your book, that just adds spice to things, doesn't it?" She cackled as her only response, and he was still smiling as he stepped away in the direction of the shelf where he kept his linkpearl.
Rereha blinked, and huffed.
“Cid?”
“Yeah?”
“Get me down.”
“Oh, shite, right, sorry, sorry—”
“Gently! Gently, you son of a biiIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAA!”
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#ffxivwrite2023#final fantasy xiv#ffxiv#oc: rereha reha#cid garlond#dt's writing#man i love writing dialogue
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