#he is the most wet and pathetic coded man ever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lopsicle · 29 days

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Okay,like a couple minutes ago I learned that it is actually trans day of visibility today soo woohoo! Kind of hard to celebrate in this shithole called the UK though, so I’m going to hide on tumblr and talk about which characters I think are trans coded or just Headcanon as trans because it’s my day I can do that now heheheh-

Also, I’m just tryna do a little thing for trans visibility day, I like being opaque, I ain’t trying to start any arguments, if you see a Headcanon you disagree with, just scroll. And if you think I’m biased towards transfem characters, it’s because I am and I ain’t apologising for that, they’re underrated in terms of fandom and obvs I’m transfem so I love them and relate to them more. Transmasc characters still will be on this list though as there’s so many that I love.

Characters That I Think Are Transgender Because Fuck You

Number one: Hunter Noceda (The Owl House)

This was probably the easiest and hardest pick for the list, for a couple reasons. Number one, I don’t think there’s a single person who agreed this pathetic wet cat is cisgender. Whether you think he’s transmasc, transfem, something else entirely, he ain’t cis. It’s clear why the fandom clung to Hunter as the resident trans character, him having a secret identity via The Golden Guard (seriously, any character with a secret identity is immediately trans, I don’t make the rules), the overconfident attitude mixed with deep insecurity and his arc about finding a way to ‘like who he is right now’ in Thanks To Them really just sealed the deal. Other little details like how his hair cuts helped him find his new identity did not help his case.

While I personally think he’s transfem, and am just using he/him because that’s his canon pronouns, Hunter is one of those characters that a lot of people can identify with which is what The Owl House is really about so I kinda had to include him on this list. The reason it was a hard decision is because holy fuck, every single character in this show is trans. Deciding between him and Amity was the hardest choice of my life because transfem Amity is heavily underrated and I love her, but you really can’t compete with Hunter, he’s had an amazing influence on the fandom and the character has probably helped a lot of people come to terms with their identity.

To summarise, Hunter is a great character, I miss him everyday, I miss The Owl House everyday, he was cool as fuck and a lotta people identified with him.

Anne Boonchuy (Amphibia)

This is one that I feel is heavily underrated, and that’s coming from someone that took two years after the show ended to watch Amphibia. With Amphibia, pretty much all of the human characters are Headcanonned (is that a word?) as some part of the trans umbrella but Anne is the one who does not get enough attention, especially for a main character.

At least to me, Anne was very transfem-coded in the show, everything from her raggedy appearance, to her essentially assuming a new life in Amphibia to the arc about accepting who you are to THE SONG ABOUT ACCEPTING WHO YOU ARE-this was the most in your face, trans-coded rep I could ever ask for. But she is criminally underrated in terms of being viewed as trans rep even though I’ve found her story one of the most compelling in terms of trans coded storylines in nearly any piece of media I’ve ever seen. Give Anne more attention, she’s literally the best. Marcy and Sasha are cool too but Anne’s writing deserves so much more praise than it gets.

Dipper Pines (Gravity Falls)

If you haven’t realised it yet, this entire list so far is just one massive fuck you to Disney because fuck Disney. Dipper was the closest we got to having a canon trans main character in a mainstream animated show and it was taken from us, fuck Disney y’all. But still, Alex has all but confirmed Dipper’s identity as trans masculine, you can see remnants of that arc with him learning that he’s a man in his own right and masculinity being something he can define for himself, the whole thing about Dipper actually being a nickname, and him bonding with the men in his life, like Stan.

Even though I didn’t notice it when I was a kid watching the show, rewatching it now with the knowledge of Dipper’s identity makes the experience a bit more personal, I can see bits of myself in Dipper and I think that’s the whole point of his character. Watching it as a kid you can relate to him because of his sarcasm, his bluntness, his comedy but also because of how heroic, adventurous and curious he is, he’s basically the idealistic role of the viewer. But as you get older and think more critically about him, you can see more of his flaws and that makes him so much more real and so much more relatable. Obviously being trans isn’t a flaw, that was just me doing a side tangent because Dipper means the world to me and is only the standard of writing a cartoon protagonist in some ways, I just think he’s a really cool character and Disney robbed us.

Also Pacifica is transfem because TfT couples are hecking adorable

Sallie May (Helluva Boss)

Guess who just realised that (other than Dipper technically) I haven’t put a single canon trans character on this list. Headcanons are better, I don’t make the rules, but Sallie May is amazing. No matter how critical you are of Helluva Boss, one thing it unapologetically does well is queer representation. The amount of characters that the audience can relate to makes it almost addicting to watch as you get to watch these characters live their best lives. Well, their lives are kinda fucked but you get what I mean, they just get to live as queer people, most of the time.

And Sallie May is proof that trans people will eat up absolutely anything, even if it’s a whole thirty seconds of screen time of a trans character. Being fair to her, Sallie May eats up every moment she gets on screen, her dialogue can be equivocated to just a middle child acting like a middle child and I think it is partly that, I feel like we have a lot more to learn about Sallie May and in turn her sister Millie. At least I hope we do, Millie’s writing needs to improve, their family dynamics can be so interesting because every other one of their siblings is a boy, their parents can be judgemental, I feel like even if Sallie May can be a bit taunting to her, those two are probably really close, especially since Millie is one of the people Sallie May would have to go to for girl advice.

To summarise, since I went off on a bit of a tangent, Helluva Boss brings out the worst in me, give Sallie May and Millie more screen time, they’re the best, we love healthy sibling dynamics.

Double Trouble (She-Ra)

Jesus, they’re hot. Anyway, the first non binary entry on this list, the fabulous Double Trouble who stole the entire show from the moment they were introduced. Throughout the entirety of the last season, I can remember just waiting for the point that they’d show up again and nearly screaming when they did.

Double Trouble was one of the most charming members of the She-Ra cast and became effortlessly iconic, conning every single character, playing both sides of a war so that they’d come out on top, and they did win in the end. DT basically had zero consequences and even got to flirt with Sea Hawk when they were reintroduced so they got a win really. Double Trouble was mean, condescending and a liar and I love them so, so much, them being a shapeshifter is just absolutely perfect and fits their character so well. It was nice to see Non-binary rep in a cartoon and have it not immediately be cancelled, looking at Disney and thank God it wasn’t because She-Ra really wouldn’t be the same without this manipulated, child of a bitch

Crowley (Good Omens)

You know the gender’s hitting when you don’t even know what the fuck the gender is. Crowley is a delight of the character from the moment they’re introduced to the end of the show, which nearly broke my heart since I watched it just recently, if anybody would like to send me tissues, that would be greatly appreciated.

From my vast research of one google search, I’ve concluded that they’re gender is up to viewer interpretation which is actually what mine is too so I can respect that. This literal demon stole the show whenever they were on screen, whether it was David Tenant’s acting, the moments we saw softer sides of him, her pinning over Aziriphale of them just being an actual demon, Crowley is a wonderful piece of representation and I hate that because it makes me sad, let them get together, please.

KFC

Not to be confused with that one place that makes pretty good chicken, I’m talking about the protagonists of two of the best RPGs ever made, Undertale and Deltarune.

For those unaware, KFC is the trio name of Frisk, Undertale’s protagonist, Chara, Undertale’s narrator and Kris, Deltarune’s narrator. Despite them being the main characters, they’re not characterised too strongly as you are in control of them for most of the game, minus Chara who specifically says you aren’t in control of them. Due to it being canon to the games that you are playing as these characters, the Internet started a rumour that they are whatever gender you want them to be, which was just never true. Undertale is packed with trans representation, and these three are no exception. It’s the whole reason I added them to the list actually, just to get the message across if anyone was unsure; they’re all Nonbinary.

Frisk and Kris, despite only having glimmers of their true characters in the game, are still very lovable and intriguing with their actions. Even just the idea of these two being controlled, which is more of a heavy theme in Deltarune, is enough to make you interested in their characters, especially when Kris starts fighting back against you. This entire section is just gonna be a couple paragraphs of me fighting back the urge to yap about Undertale lore so you’ll have to forgive me. Chara, being the only one not under your control, has a much stronger character through the lines of dialogue from them or said about them, the latter usually being more interesting as it gives you insight to their tragic life.

Undertale is one of my favourite and given the amount of rep it’s given us, I had to pay homage to its own main characters on this list. Even though I’m hungry cause now I’m thinking about KFC.

Jake Peralta (Brooklyn Nine Nine)

I think it’s been a year since I finished tumblr’s favourite sitcom and while Jake was lovable, he didn’t stand out to me too much. Still, this guy suffered from that overconfidence but riddled with insecurity personality which lead to him being inevitably headcanonned (it’s a word I decided) as trans masculine. I don’t know what the correlation is between those kinds of characters and the transmasc headcanon, maybe it’s the desire to present as being that confident, maybe it’s being that confident but still held back by struggles about your gender identity but that’s neither here nor there.

What is here and is there is that this show was amazing for trans people, even if only in small ways and Jake was no exception to that. He was funny and watching him grow through those eight seasons gives you one of the most satisfying and heart throbbing conclusions to a TV show, largely due to his presence as the main character. Even though it’s not canon that he was trans masculine, the Headcanon is so popular that I had to pay homage to him and add him to the list.

Jack Kennedy (DSAF)

Is this fandom so dead and so unpopular that I couldn’t find a good gif? Yes. Am I gonna talk about it anyway because I love these games and I want an excuse and this is my day? Yes.

Anyway, Jack Kennedy was the main protagonist of the Day Shift at Freddy’s games and if you don’t know what those are, there’s a 50% chance you had an alright childhood. DSaF is obviously a fan game of the more well known horror franchise Five Nights at Freddy’s and I think they are some of the best fa games ever made. They’re hilarious, they’re so low budget it’s insane, it can give you the hardest tonal whiplash of not taking itself seriously to one of the hardest stories you’ve ever went through seamlessly and I don’t even get a fuck. The story told by these games is done so well and evokes so many emotions but one important thing it’s done is actually be really great for queer rep.

Despite it being played for more of a joke in the earlier games, the two characters Jack and Dave Millie clearly have romantic chemistry and that was so important back when the games released since they became so mainstream due to being attached to a popular franchise. Many fans headcanon Jack Kennedy as being non binary, which is a label that I think really works for them, mainly because it fits for the protagonists of roleplay games to be non binary. I can’t explain why, it just makes presenting the character to the audience so much easier and makes them a lot easier to play without having to worry too much about the gender of the character.

Anyway, Jack’s a self described asshole with a noble goal, and playing as them really gives you a feel of their character and makes you understand why this little known indie franchise snuck into so many people’s hearts.

Bridget (Guilty Gear Rising)

You know I had to end off the list with one of the most iconic, canon, transfem characters out of there. Pretty much every single transfem has heard of Brisket and not a single one has played Guilty Gear Rising, I had to look up the name of this game just before this to make sure I got the right one.

Bridget has recently become a meme on the Internet, with every other transfem having her in her pfp, Bridget became a staple in the community. As stated, I can’t talk too much about her character but seeing the Internet come together to just appreciate this one transfem character, despite their being obvious hate and pushback and claiming her being canon transfem was a ‘mistranslation’ (to my knowledge) was actually really heart warming.

I didn’t really get trans day of visibility too much, I was happy for it, thought it was cool we got a day but it didn’t really help us all that much. But the more I thought about Bridget is the more that I saw just how good it can feel when people come together. It doesn’t have to be a movement or a call to action to save trans people from another bill trying to wipe them out, which is just depressing to listen to, it can just be as simple as joking about this character that barely any of us know. That level of community made me understand what this day was actually about; finding common ground and letting at least one other person know that they’re not alone, that there’s so many people just like you out there, that went through the exact same thing as you did at some point. And to let you know, those people turned out fine, so you’ll be okay too.

Happy trans day of viability everyone, even if this list only reaches one person to let them know they’re not alone, I’ll be happy with that.

Anyway, ignore the emotional stuff there, here’s my honourable mention of

EVERY SINGLE SPIDERMAN, SPIDERWOMAN, SPIDERPERSON, TO EVER EXIST, THEY’RE ALL TRANS, YOU CAN’T CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE

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confusedfeelsfangirl · 6 months

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JONATHAN SIMS

PITIFUL WET RAG OF A MAN MOTHERFUCKING JONATHAN SIMS.

GOD DAMN BELOVED WIMP ASS STATEMENT GATHERING ,SAD BACKSTORY, LACTOSE INTOLERANT VIBES, AVATAR OF THE NERD, BLINDEST EYE PATRON OF THE CENTURY, KIDNAPPED FOUR TIMES IN 100 EPISODES MOTHERFUCKING JONATHAN SIMS

YOU CAN KEEP CRINGE LIKING MY POSTS I ENJOY THE NOTES I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

WHY DOES HE ALWAYS END UP IN THE MOST FUCKED UP SITUATIONS , EVER SINCE HE WAS A CHILD ??? NO WONDER HE ENDED UP AT THE ARCHIVE, OBSESSIVE ASS AUTISTIC CODED BITCH

THIS LIMP WRISTED SAD PATHETIC MAN HAS SUCH A VISCERALLY POSITIVE EFFECT ON ME, NOT EVEN IN THE ROOM NEVER SEEN THIS MANS FACE, AND I KNOW HE HAS THE WORLDS MOST DEPRESSED COLLEGE PROFESSOR YOU WANT TO HELP WITH HIS COMPUTER VIBES

If i wanted to get into heaven and god said I had to recant all that I’ve ever said about him being adorable and wanting to wrap him into a bundle of towels like a kitten, I’d simply go knock on hell’s door, they at least might accept my pitiful man loving ways. Almost a full ass lesbian and I would marry this man just for the sake of protecting him from the horrors.

If I have to deal with one more person insisting I have a crush on the voice actor and showing me his picture, I will start digitalising myself to escape their bullshit no good hearing and reading comprehension and I will slow down their internet connection out of spite

i dont even know why i love him so much. he reads messed up stories but i am just obsessed because i am projecting.

he better have some more fucked up backstory episodes bc if I never get to acquire more lore on him I will just have to write it myself

I hope he gets some affection and love soon cuz if he doesn’t I’m going to make him

paypal.com/IFuckingLoveJonSims

Almost all the episodes have him in them and its still not enough. vaguely see something that reminds me of him and I black out and lose my train of thought for the next 20 minutes

I’ve been spoiled about the ending, but I won’t let that stop me from hoping he gets the peace and love he deserves, i love denial and ignoring canon

I'll lovingly squish jon and his sad pitiful little archivist body will simply crumble to pieces when faced with how much I love him until all that's left is one final statement recorded on his trusty tape recorder titled MAG 201 “A Jon Stan” written in curly-q handwriting on top

im not breathing im hyperventilating at this point

i hope theres a date given for when he’s resuscitated or appears as a cryptid to haunt people so i can make it a reminder on my phone

once a year i will see it and will do so many little things to pay respects to the man who recorded hundreds of fucked up little stories and still couldn’t escape his destiny to became one himself.

(very much inspired by the Jurgen Leitner rant : https://jurgen-leitner-rant.neocities.org )

#tma #jonathan sims #jon sims #jarchivist #jurgen leitner rant #this came to me as I was settling down to work on my thesis and I couldn't concentrate until I wrote it #the magnus archives

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sciderman · 6 months

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Would you ever consider blaming Raiminand Tobey Maguire for making people think Peter is a selfless quiet dork with barely any charisma or snark? Or where did the "Peter is an akward spineless quiet dork without a sassy bone in him" idea of Peter came from?

i don't want to discount raimi's parker because - you know, i kind of like him. i kind of like most peter parkers, for their own reasons. i'm unfortunately doomed to be in love with most peter parkers for some reason or another. and for tobey - he's just one silly little autistic-coded guy who's kind of terrible at relationships and struggling his way through life. which is very peter parker core.

i don't think being sassy or charismatic is something integral to peter - it's something you love to see, no doubt, but - like, every peter parker is different, and i can't fault anyone for looking at tobey's peter and saying "yeah. that's my spider-man."

sure - i think it's a bummer that there's a pop-culture consensus that peter parker is meant to be pathetic - but - it's true, actually. he is pathetic. just every peter parker has their own brand of pathetic. and it's down to them to discover what their flavour of pathetic is.

i'm more upset that the tobey movies kind of ruined the public perception of MJ - that's unfair. especially since TASM rolled around after and gave everyone gwen stacy and everyone fell in love with gwen stacy and doubled down on the MJ hate. the number of people who tell me they hate MJ and i ask! why! and it's directly the fault of the tobey movies. that's not fair. she's not even bad in those movies. peter and MJ were both kind of stilted and wooden in the trilogy, and we live in a world of women haters who'll just lambast the female character more than the guys.

i think the mcu's portrayal of spider-man did a lot more damage to the public perception of peter parker than tobey – tobey's kind of meant to be a little bit of a blank slate - your archetypal suffering hero character. but there's lessons learnt from him. tom's spider-man - tom's spider-man kind of fails all of that. he's not sassy - he's a puppy dog. he humps the leg of anyone who'll give him attention, and he really doesn't have any sort of motivation beyond "oh! this is cool!!" or "oops. i messed up." he's dragged around by the narrative like a wet blanket, and kind of doesn't do anything noble or heroic that doesn't inadvertently cause more damage. i don't like that one. i don't like that peter parker. that's the peter parker i'm mad at for ruining peter parker. i'd wipe that twink off the map if i could.

#sci speaks

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labyrinthofsphinx · 7 days

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Statistical Outliers

Part 6 and 6.5 of drabble. Another long one, but chopping it up would've been weird.

“I don’t even like you right now.”

Vox had been laughing for far too long. This might be the most he’s laughed since Alastor had his ass handed to him by the angel prick. He finally found something that scares the kid, and all that was required was a little body mutilation.

The kid was currently rewiring the circuits into his new head, but he kept his gaze down the whole time. A deep scarlet of embarrassment was seeable even under his fluff.

“You, hahaha, you sound like a broken dog toy! Hahaha!” He hadn’t so much as screamed as he had made this high-pitched squeak of distress. Everything else was perfect, the horrified look, the freaking out, but that squeak ruined any of drama that Vox might’ve wanted to see. Now, he couldn’t help but think of the tossing the kid across the floor just to hear that stupid noise plink like a bouncy ball.

“I can’t help it! It’s a fox thing, I think.”

Oh, Vox knew that. Val squeaks too. His were subtler though, like a wet sneaker on a tile floor sound. Go figure, he had to go hell before he ever found out that moths and foxes apparently squeak. More news at eleven.

“God, that’s, hahaha, so pathetic. Haha!”

The kid rolled his eyes and went back to his work. Off to the side, Vox was making sure to record everything. While his body was still sitting down and hugging its sides, his face appeared across every screen that wasn’t currently being ripped open for repairs. He was keeping a close eye on the situation, I mean, it was his head after all. That and, if he saw how to do it, maybe he could attempt it by himself. Write some code for his body to follow, a series of pathways meant for this exact action. At least that way he wouldn’t have to rely on anyone to do this again.

Oh, the things he was going to do to his engineer later.

“Hey, um, do you know why there’s limiters on it?” He asked, bringing up a string of small black boxes he pulled from the backside.

Limiters? What hell was a limiter?

“Why? Something odd about it?”

“I mean, wasn’t the point of all these upgrades to give you more options? The limiters make it so there’s a cap on everything. The sound can’t get to max. The brightness can’t go above a certain degree. That sort of thing. Sometimes people use them when the system can’t take it, and it prevents burnout but…I mean this is as state of the art as possible. There’s no reason to have them here.”

Double dead, his engineer was double dead.

“If it doesn’t have to be there, no need to take up the space then.” He said, trying to be casual. The kid seemed to notice the twitching of his eyes though, so it’s not as if he couldn’t tell that he wasn’t…miffed by that.

The kid nodded in agreement and started unplugging them from the rest. About, the sharks had finished with their meal and were now lazily floating around. They always get like that after a large meal. One second, they were vicious man eaters, then next they were oversized house cats. For Vox, anyways. They hated just about everyone else.

“I like your sharks, by the way. Do they have names?”

“Anchor and Barge.” He said, his headless body pointing at the hammerhead and the tiger respectively. “They’d both eat you alive, you know.”

“After that meal? I don’t know. Sharks are pretty slow to digest things.”

True. Very true. He didn’t jump in there with them for obvious reasons, but he does find it easier for his aquarium workers to clean it up if they work right after breakfast or dinner…or one of them falls in around lunchtime and the rest wait until after the sharks were finished.

“So, you know about TVs and sharks. You’re a weird kid.”

“Yup.” He scanned his work, then stood up. “Okay, all done.”

What?

“All done?”

“Yup.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes.”

“I know.” He sighed. “Had to get all the limiters out. Sorry it took so long.”

It used to take all fucking day. He had to plan for months when he was going to do a big upgrade. He had to reschedule appointments, hold off on any later announcements, and god forbid Vel or Val have any minor inconvenience that day. It was a nightmare to deal with. The only reason he was fine with doing it today was because he literally hadn’t had a choice. He couldn’t exactly attend business meetings with half of a face. That said, he fully expected to be in cyberspace even longer since, you know, it wasn’t his technician doing it but a literal child. A smart child, granted, but still.

“So…how do I put it back on?” He threw his hands up. “And please try not to scare the hell outta me. A little warning first, maybe?”

He didn’t get it. His body stood up like the headless horseman and lifted his new head up over his shoulders. Cables, wires, and what amounts to veins and arteries in him now, climbed up through his neck and into the new set. Like a horde of sentient worms, they twisted and slid where they needed to. From the outside, it might look like he was being possessed. Or that Vox was secretly a bunch of leeches all working together to form some form of being. As the last wires connected, he jolted into the electrical stream. In the span of milliseconds, he crossed every pathway, checked every system, and detailed every change.

The kid did a good job. A great job, actually. Huh.

The so-called limiters being gone was interesting. He really hadn’t noticed them at all, but now, it was as if he’d had a cold all this time and only just got over it. Turns out, his speakers could get even louder, and the frequency can get to spectrums even dogs couldn’t hear. The brightness was also absurd. He often liked to see Val’s face turn to mush when he turns it up in the dead of night, a part of being a moth he’s never really gotten over. Now, he feels like he could probably blind someone like that, if he wanted to. Power output was also insane. He could kill with it before, sure, but he’s not sure he’s had the ability to bypass other functions, essentially just letting specific parts of himself be almost exclusively energy if need be. If he had, he’s surely never used it before, probably because he would’ve been running the risk of having everything that wasn’t energy accidentally fried from the overload.

“Okay, I know it’s all wires and stuff, but that was pretty gross.”

“You still own your soul, right?”

The kid paused.

“Um, yes?” He said, then quickly added. “It’s not for sale.”

Vox laughed, a little more sardonic this time.

“Everything is for sale. The question is just the price.”

With the snap of his fingers, the whole room lit up with possibility. He could have fame and fortune, the applause of all, his own show, his name reaching the farthest corners of hell. He could have comfort and a place of his own, something he wouldn’t have to share and somewhere to feel like home. He could have security and safety, never again having to worry about the frivolous battles and vicious monsters they live with down here. He could give him any toy he wanted. He could track down any family he might have down here. He could pull some strings and send him upstairs for a time.

All these things and more played across the room like collage of different endings, each sweet and inviting. He could be walking the red carpet. He could be playing video games in his own penthouse. He could be safe in the arms of his mother or his father or whoever else might be out there looking for him. And he could stay here, in Vee tower. He’d even let him sleep on the couch.

“See? I could give you everything. Anything. And what would it really cost you? You’d work for me. Not a bad deal, huh?”

He looked tempted, especially by the idea of family. His eyes lingered there longer than any other. Still, he sighed and offered Vox a somber look.

“That’s a very generous offer, but I’ll have to pass.”

“You sure that’s wise, kid?” Vox teased, slowly working his way around to his side. He skimmed a hand on his shoulder. “Think of what you’re missing out on! Take some advice from me, when opportunity knocks, seize it!”

He wasn’t paying attention to the kid’s hands. All his focus was on his face, that’s where weakness shows. He didn’t account for the strength of a hand. His little paw reached up and grabbed Vox’s claw. He pulled it down slightly, now just holding it. He almost swayed with it.

“You don’t owe me anything, you know. I don’t mind helping out my friends.”

The screens all blinked out at the same time.

“We are not friends.” He said, pointedly. “I don’t have friends.”

He can remember hearing that, seemingly ages ago, from someone he really thought was one. The kid held on just a tad tighter.

“What about Velvette and Valentino?”

“That’s entirely different.”

“Well, I’m might not be your friend, but you’re my friend.”

“I…I was literally going to kill you not, like, an hour ago!”

“Yeah, so? Husk stole all my money last week playing poker. Nifty stabbed me in hand, like, three times the week before.” He mentioned offhand, like any of that was normal. “I mean, Alastor tried to eat me the day before you grabbed me, I’m kind of used to-”

“He is not your friend!”

He’s not sure who was more surprised by the outburst, the kid or himself. His face glitched at the idea of Alastor and any concept of friendship. Really? Manipulating children? Is that what the great radio demon has been reduced to? Yeah, sure, Vox was offering to buy his soul off of him, but at least he intended on fulfilling his end of the bargain.

His hand gripped tighter, and his claw unintentionally dug into the kid’s palm.

“Kid, if you learn nothing else from any of this, I want you burn this into your skull: Alastor will always look out for himself first. He will lie, cheat, murder, or be the most charming person you’ve ever met, as long as it benefits him. Nothing he says is the truth. And he will play anyone against anything if he gets something out of it. If hell was burning down to the ground, he’d step over everyone to be king of the ashes.”

“I…I mean he is…creepy sometimes. I know he lies a lot.” He stuttered.

He grabbed him by his shoulders, forcing him to look him in the face.

“Trust your instincts.” The swirls of his hypnotic eye danced with focus. He hadn’t even done it on purpose. Any time the radio freak pops up, he tends to drown out other thoughts. Oddly, the kid’s attitude didn’t change. His smile was gone now, but he was still giving him that stupidly soft look.

“Where you two friends?”

The bitter truth tasted like bile on his tongue.

“Alastor doesn’t have friends, kid.”

He only had pawns. Allies, maybe. And ladders to higher power. Everyone else was a waste of time.

“Well, you’ve got one thing now that he doesn’t then.”

I…he…ugh.

“Oh, shut up, kid.”

…

It was little surprise to him that Velvette and Valentino were waiting in their lounge, not so subtly sitting around as if they had nothing else better to do. He knew they were lying around, hoping he’d come out. Val might want to continue their fight, or at least marvel in his small victory with Vox’s broken screen. Vel, he can only imagine, wants to see Vox’s reaction to her stupid little prank. The better the reaction, the better the video it would make.

Surprise to all! Voxtek now presenting ‘You fucked up!’: the show! Watch as two of hell’s strongest overlords sit there gaping like fish as Vox walked in, nothing but smiles and a clean screen!

The kid was quick on his heels, though he stopped a little short the minute he saw Val.

“Um, hey, Vee.” Velvette started. Her video was already rolling so she needed something for content. “You look good. Anything happen today?”

“Oh, worked on a few projects. Got some exciting things coming up for sure!” He offered a hand out towards Valentino. “Like Valentino’s new film. I’m sure he’s just about done shooting it. We’re all very excited by all the big promises you’ve made about the star quality.”

In truth, Val’s recent work was nowhere near done. He was always more interested in the actions on the screen than anything involved in actual screenplay. That’s part of the reason the scripts were always for shit. This particular project started off as more of a fever dream, and just started escalating from there. Vox knew, because of course he did, that Val was nearly out of time and also out of budget.

And he also knew who Val would go running to, to fix everything right before it gets released.

He took a big drag of smoke, and nearly choked on it.

“Uh…” Velvette almost looked apologetically at Val for turning the gun on him by accident. “I meant, did anything else happen today?”

Oh, he didn’t realize they were lining up for an execution today!

“Actually, yes! The strangest thing happened before!” He gently guided the kid forward. “I found this little guy all by himself, unattended! Who knows what could’ve happened to him if I’d not found him! Obviously, his owner was very negligent in his care. Now, I understand that she was very busy with so many important things to do today. Therefore, until she’s done with her little projects, I’ll take it upon myself to make sure he’s safe!”

Vel’s mouth dropped in silent agony. Careful dear, still being recorded.

Vox popped his bowtie, his collar flaring open and exposing his neckline. He slowly dragged his jacket off and tossed it over his arm. Val’s eyes dragged across his chest the whole time. He’s pretty sure he actually ate some of the cigarette.

“Well, I don’t know about you two, but I’ve had a very exciting day. I think I’ll turn in for the night.”

“W-what about food?” Vel said suddenly, grasping for a reason for him to stay.

“Tell my secretary that I’ll be ordering in tonight. I’m thinking Chinese.” He started to walk towards his room. The kid had enough sense to follow without argument, though he seemed less confident with Vox’s co-workers burning their gazes into their backs.

Val didn’t get his argument, his trophy shot, or his makeup sex. He was going to be angry and alone tonight. Vel didn’t get her candid shot of Vox’s embarrassment, instead making her come across like a joke. He didn’t expect her to post that video, if only to save face.

When the door to his room closed, he only just kept from laughing.

“Aren’t they going to be mad tomorrow?” The kid asked. He stepped into the room with uncertainty, like he was afraid to disturb the space.

Vox’s room, like his workspace, was pretty sterile looking, almost futuristically modern in design. He tossed the jacket into a side pocket on the wall. From there, his machines would wash it, press it, and hang it back up in his closet. A flick of the wrist, and the suite came to life with lights, stripes of neon blue that pulsed about. The hidden fireplace rose up from the floor, turning on with a hiss of gas. Off to the side, he could hear his bathtub prepping itself, turning on the warm water after an appropriate amount of fragrances were added to the mix.

He always thought it was a little silly of Val, constantly having his personal servants running around and doing everything for him like that. In the age of the electronic servant, why would you ever leave anything up to a human unless you had to? It was so much more trouble.

“They’ll be mad.” Vox confirmed with a nod.

“Isn’t that bad?”

He gave a quick turn, just so the kid could see the utter delight on his face.

“It’s only bad if you don’t know how to use it. And, trust me, I’ve lived with these two for more than long enough to navigate just about any thought in their heads. You’ll come to find that they’re dreadfully predictable when they’re angry.”

“Oh. Okay. I guess.” He muttered. “Are…are we still getting Chinese?”

Vox brought up the menu on his phone and let him shift through it. He already knew what he wanted anyway. He gave a quick point over to another setup of monitors, all of them hooked up for voice commands.

“Tell the computer what you want. It already has my order pre-programed. It’ll send a text to my secretary, and she’ll handle the rest. Just answer the door when she knocks. I’m taking a bath.”

With that, he left him to his own devices.

His bathroom smelled of sea salt and ocean breeze. Just opening the door made him almost nostalgic about his mortal days of summer, out on the end of the island. The tub was less of a tub and almost like a small swimming pool. Up above it, the ceiling was fitted to allow it to become a shower at any time. He didn’t often take showers, on account of his head being, you know, a TV, but he did like the kinetic energy it gave the room anyways. It felt a bit like he controlled the weather too.

He stepped down into the water and turned on the jets.

Oh, he needed this. Today might’ve started off like shit, but it was ending out on a high note.

Now then, the plan for tomorrow. Though he’s rested his body, letting the whirling water pull the knots from his muscles and batter down sore spots to the point of pleasure, his mind kept running. It was kinda a curse really. He never fully relaxed ever.

The miniature aquarium he had there, a circulating one of moon jellies, caught his eyes’ attention while his brain rambled on and his body unwound.

Aside from Vel and Val issues, he had one other major concern. The kid still wasn’t under contract. He tried tempting with sugar. That hadn’t worked. Close, but no cigar. That meant that, tomorrow, he was going to have to try the other way. Weirdly enough, he was actually, truly dreading it.

Not only was the kid hard to scare in general, apparently, but Vox kept feeling a little sick thinking about that broken cry, asking him if he was okay.

He seemed to care significantly less about his own, personal safety than he did for…his friends. And, unfortunately, Vox currently only had one of those on hand for use…aside from himself, he’d suppose. How would one threaten themselves anyways? Note to self, look into that. For now though, Angel was going to have to do, wasn’t he?

Ugh. This was going to suck. Buck up, Vox. You do what you have to do, nothing less.

His cameras informed him that his secretary just dropped off the food. She was a little gob smacked to be opening the door to the kid. Her shirt was opened three buttons more than appropriate, and her skirt about six inches too short. When the kid showed up in his place, she looked like she wanted to melt into the floor.

Food was calling. Time to get out.

Thankfully, his machines had a new warm robe ready for him. Val keeps stealing them and not giving them back. It’s probably because he makes sure they’re pre-heated before tossing them on, like fresh clothing from the drier.

He stepped out to find that his food was already put together for him, plate, silverware, and fortune cookie to boot. He wasn’t about to bet on who set that up, his secretary or the kid.

To his surprise, instead of finding him where he expected, over by the TV, he found him sitting and admiring the view from the broad, curved windows.

“Wow, you can see everything from up here.”

Vox grabbed his food and joined him, more out of curiosity than anything else.

“Well, I designed it like that.” He mentioned. “To be fair, I designed most of these buildings on this side of the pentagram.”

The skyrises made it feel more like home, if he were honest, which he never was.

“That’s…actually really cool. I’m lucky if I can get a card tower up.” Then, he spotted something familiar. “Hey! You can see the hotel from here!”

Sure, he supposed. He gets a better view from his drones. Speaking of, it seemed like they hadn’t had any more luck today than they had the last couple of days. The princess was in literal tears, both her girlfriend and her father trading off between comforting her. Angel Dust only just got back, his driver dropping him off not a moment ago. Vox didn’t need to turn up the audio to know that they were asking if he’d gotten anything useful today. The answer was no, obviously.

These people cared about him. They were distraught and desperate and thinking the absolute worst must’ve happened. There was a very, very small part of him that almost pitied that.

Then, a little anger bubbled up from nowhere. Why the fuck did you let him go alone? Not fucking one of you could’ve gone with him? Like, yeah, the worst did happen, but could you imagine if it was worse than that? Vox was bad news, obviously. But…so there so many worse things that could’ve happened.

That made feel gross, like the bath didn’t matter. Then he got mad because why did he feel gross? Then, he felt worse because why did even question why he felt gross? Then-!

“My fortune cookie insulted me.”

Oh, thank god. That rabbit hole was one he wasn’t going to crawl out of otherwise.

“What?”

“It says ‘Your life is a blockbuster of bad luck. Enjoy the Oscar’.”

“That is the best fortune cookie I’ve ever heard.” He might’ve wheezed, probably swallowed a chicken bone while he was at it.

“What does yours say?”

He didn’t actually eat the cookie. Most of the time he threw them away. He made his own luck but, well, when in Rome.

He unfurled the sheet of paper and began to recite it.

“‘Everyone you’ve ever stalked online had just been notified’.”

There was good pause, before they both started rolling. The kid coughed on his water, spewing out like a vaporizer. Vox tickled himself enough to accidentally pop a laugh track from his mix.

“Who makes these?” Vox rasped. “I need to get some for those two outside, hahaha!”

Memo from Vox to Vox, always order from that Chinese food place whenever he needs to lighten the mood.

They polished off the rest of their meal shortly, but they still caught themselves looking out the window. The embassy tower seemed so out of place now, sand dripping down to nothing, and a clock that didn’t keep time.

“It still feels weird that its over.” The kid said.

“Yeah.” He pointed at the building. “We should melt it down and turn it into a giant sign that says ‘Fuck you’ so they can read it from up there.”

“You know, I think Lucifer said something similar.”

Well, he now knew more about the king of hell than he thought he would. Great minds think alike and all that.

“Did you guys just hang out up here when it happened?” He asked.

“You mean extermination day? Yeah, of course. I’ve got every security feature in the world in this building. The place is basically a bunker when it has to be. It was just easier for those feathered freaks to go hunting for the easier prey on the streets.”

He shrunk, disheartened by something or another.

“Yeah, it was pretty scary out there.”

…hold on.

“Wait, you were out there? Like, on the streets? On extermination day? Are you stupid?”

“I didn’t really have a choice.” He argued back, ears flicked against his head. “I didn’t have anywhere to live back then so-”

“You…you lived on the street?” In Hell? That was-! I mean-! Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding!

He pointed down at a line of buildings you could just barely see. That part of town was all very old stores, secondhand electronics, and pawnshops. It was barely lit, and almost dilapidated. Last time there was a hellquake, two of the buildings collapsed in on themselves.

“Over there, next to that pawnshop with the ring on it, is a store that resells electronics. Most of the TVs are really old and not hooked up to the new system. The owner plays a lot of re-runs on them though, so people know they work. I used to live in the alleyway right next to it. The TV boxes were a lot thicker than the other boxes, you know?”

He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.

“What did you do when they came in to slaughter everyone? Hide and hope they don’t find you?” His voice jumped up an octave.

“Yeah, basically. Or run. Also, I’m kinda of small, much smaller than they are so I could sneak into the pipes if I climbed down into the sewer. ‘Course then you gotta worry about gators, but at least when they get you, you’re not dead dead. Just the usual dead.”

“…why did you say it like that?”

“I mean, unless it’s cause of an angel, we don’t really die down here. It just…hurts, and you show up again sometime later…which also kinda hurts.”

It’s not ‘kinda hurts’. It’s excruciating. It’s akin to torture. That’s why it’s still a big freaking deal, and why people still don’t want to die down here.

“Did you-! Holy shit, do you die a lot?”

“Uh, I used to. Not so much anymore. When I first got dropped down here, there were guys who found me and made a game of hunting me down with their hellhound friends. I think they were British, but I’m not sure. They used to get me a lot. Then there were the usual crazies running around, that sort of thing. But I’ve been doing pretty good these past couple of years. I think years. Man, my idea of time is gonna get so bad without extermination day keeping me straight.”

“You’re twelve right?”

“Yup, or thirteen. I forget.”

“How long have you been down here?”

He thought for a second.

“Since the 90s, but I forget the year…Vox? You okay? Your screen’s bugging out. Everything feel okay with the circuits?”

30 years! A twelve year old in Hell for 30 years!

“Um, Vox. I-I don’t think your face should be doing that-”

Are they deranged? What the fuck!

“Are they crazy? What manic torments a fucking kid for 30 years?” It’s too bad he just replaced his face. He felt like he might need a new one in short order. “And you! You just let it happen? Put up a fucking fight!”

He just stared.

“I…I am four foot nothing. I am fuzzy, with very tiny teeth and paws. I don’t have electricity powers or evil shadows or extra arms or anything. I just fix things. I’m good with cars. That’s…that’s all I have. I don’t think someone like me was meant to thrive down here.”

“How do you still have your soul? Why do you still have your soul? You could’ve soul it! Gotten something for yourself, anything!”

“What good would that have done?”

“A job. A place to sleep. I don’t know, kid. I offered a lot.”

“Yeah but…most of Hell owes their soul to somebody. They didn’t seem any happier than me.”

God, this kid.

“You know, part of being down here is indulging in the worst parts of yourself.” He explained like he would explain to someone who was braindead. “That includes getting mean, and even selling your soul.”

“So…what? I’m already down here so it’s not worth it trying to be nice or better?”

“Exactly!”

“That’s silly.”

Holy shit, he was just as bad as Lucifer’s brat.

“Don’t tell me you actually believe in this redemption bullshit. Please don’t tell me you let all this crap happen to you because you think you had a shot at getting into that fuzzy place.”

Blood trickled down from his mouth. Vox hadn’t even realized he’d stressed the kid out enough to bite down on his lip.

“Don’t tell Charlie.” He pleaded. “Please?”

“…Don’t tell Charlie what?”

“I…I’m not sure I believe it. On one hand, I kinda hope you can, but on the other hand…then…me being here isn’t a mistake. And I don’t know what else I’m doing wrong.” He gulped some air. “I joined the hotel because…even if we can’t get into heaven that doesn’t hell has to be that bad. If Hell really was a hell, it’d so much worse than this, right?”

For once, Vox heard something he could agree with. Hell sucked. No denying that. But…he’s lived through so much worse than this. As Alastor had once said, hell was what you made of it. And Vox chose to be on top.

This kid though? He shouldn’t have any hope left. He would call him delusional except…he was a kid. He was always going to be a kid. He’s never going to understand. He can’t.

He was robbed of his life. Thrown to wolves in his afterlife. And all he thought about was learning to be nicer to people. Because that might change something.

“That,” He said finally. “is a great way to get yourself killed. Try to be kind to the literal worst of humankind.”

“I’ve survived so far.” He smiled again, through a bloody grin. “I’m a kid, but I’m not stupid. I’m not about to go hug Jeffrey Dahmer.”

“You’ve all but hugged me.”

To that, the kid just beamed.

Well, he’s not Dahmer. That’s for sure.

You know, that’s more than enough emotional damage for today.

“Okay, time for bed.” He stood up. Over by his dresser, he tossed on his comfier set of pajamas. He grabbed a big shirt of his and tossed it over. The kid leapt up pretty high, catching and tossing it on before he even hit the ground. Agile little thing.

He all but collapsed into bed. The silk sheets felt so nice and smooth. He never loved his mattress more than when he’s been away from it too long. But, the second he settled in, he caught sight of the kid curled up on the floor by the window. Vox didn’t have much in the way of rugs or carpeting. He knew the floor was cold and…well…now with the mental image of the street…

“God fucking damnit.”

Reluctantly, he got back up. He walked over, picked the kid up like you would a cat, then brought him back to the bed. He sat him at the foot of it, where Vox’s feet would be in a second, and he tossed him a spare blanket.

“You stay there. Don’t even think of crawling in next to me because that’s Val’s side of the bed and lord knows what you’ll catch from being there.”

With that, Vox called it a day. He dragged his wayward mind back to the items on the list for tomorrow: Velvette’s punishment, Valentino’s anger management, and the Val and Angel deal to name a few things. Also, track down that technician of his because he’s going to need to fry something after today.

His dreams got the better of him about halfway through the night, thinking of things that never wanted to crawl out of his head. Alastor’s mocking smile bearing down on him. Oh, stupid Vox. Don’t get attached now. Remember what I said about weakness?

His eye flicked open, only for a moment, when a wet nose touched his hand. The kid was still on top of his blanket, but he’d crawled up enough to let Vox’s fingers thread through the top of his head. He probably saw something on the screen that bothered him.

Whatever. He wasn’t awake enough to yell.

So, he went back to sleep. And when Alastor tried to tease him again, he told him to fuck off. You’re just jealous because you don’t have one. Go die alone, you crazy shadow freak.

And he did, because dreams could be really sweet sometimes.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel vees #the vees #drabble

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op15-moonwaltz · 1 year

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I found the other disney movie with tim allen and martin short in it-

the most pathetic man I've ever seen, like nathan thurm if he was significantly more wet cat coded and constantly sweating.

I have only known richard kempster for 20 minutes but if anything were to happen to him I'd kill everyone in this room and then myself-

#martin short #richard kempster #moonwaltz rambles #look at that wretched BEAST #pathetic creature out in the rain #if your cold he's cold let him inside

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jenoutof10 · 21 days

Note

Thanks for answering my ask before. If you don't mind me asking (again), can I ask, who are your top 10 favorite characters (can be from books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series)? Why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before......

HAHHA don't worry these asks are fun and i enjoy them so don't apologize for giving me a good time. i do apologise for taking such a long time w these asks, im actually horrible at articulating my thoughts (which is why i am not a writer HA) i think i might be forgetting some characters, or maybe i just dont have alot of faves

1. itoshi rin (blue lock)

i feel like he sticks out like a sore thumb here but he's very much no. 1... something about him being an antisocial introverted hater with abandonment issues, but also has skills to back up his arrogance and (besides all the hate he lets fester within him) actually has a pretty healthy lifestyle.

2. itadori yuuji (jujutsu kaisen)

everything about yuuji is so inherently GOOD and it both interests + pains me to see him being put through all these trials and tribulations of a dark shonen mc 😭

3. gojo satoru (jujutsu kaisen)

i think, like rin, what makes him so interesting is that he has this arrogant and disrespectful personality but then again he's literally the strongest so you cant do jack shit about it. but on the other hand he's this playful goofy (incapable) teacher who spoils his students. i also love OP (to the point it dont make sense) characters.

4. dazai osamu (bungo stray dogs)

i find his inability to be truly happy in any universe fascinating.

5. tachihara michizo (bungo stray dogs)

if i explained it would be major spoilers for s4 and s5 of bsd so i'll just say that his contribution to the plot in the recent seasons really did it for me. the jump from s1 to s4 was a KICK.

6. mikage reo (blue lock)

he's a sopping wet sock. i think this is what people call a gap moe... this perfect, highly capable and charming individual turns into the most pathetic instance of man when his best friend leaves him.

7. giorno giovanna (jojo's bizarre adventure: golden wind)

his birth origins are alr wild. his stand is wild. his battle strategies are wild. his ending is wild. he (alongside jotaro) is probably the least expressive but his personality is so unique lol. a lil rascal.

8. kita shinsuke (haikyuu!!)

its been a while since anyone has mentioned haikyuu for me but kita remains as one of my fav characters LOL i think he's just very refreshing since the cast is full of hungry teenage monsters eager to win and he's almost like a breeze of calm HAHA. the inarizaki team is also very dear to me bcs theyre packed w such cool and strong characters that interact dynamically lol

9. tsukumo yuki (jujutsu kaisen)

honestly, she was the most interesting female character in jujutsu kaisen (for me) until gege decided to trash her. her appearances from todo's flashbacks to her in shibuya were all so badass, plus shes a good example of a character type i really like that radiates strong-confident-fighter aura but isnt really the brooding/dark type... but fun! ykyk. (oot but i REALLY wanted yuki at #9 bcs of her name LOL, realistically she wouldve been at #7)

10. raiden ei (genshin impact) + raiden shogun

again, another insanely OP character that it doesn't even make sense. her lore is crazy. the second raiden quest was what got me hooked (best story quest ever lol), i honestly can't pinpoint what it is from that quest since its been a while but it changed my whole perspective on her and i've been a raiden fan since. a combination of design, personality, lore, and strength (and additionally the raiden ensemble)

honorable mentions:

kaedehara kazuha, zhongli (genshin)

higashikata josuke (jojo's bizarre adventure: diamond is unbreakable)

lelouch lamperouge (code geass)

oda sakunosuke (bungou stray dogs)

#🍑 ask jen #🍑 jen geeks

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kitkatpancakestack · 2 years

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For @ktinaj who requested another outsider POV from our favorite Target employee of Buck and Eddie setting up their wedding registry. In light of recent unsavory events with certain guest cast members, please accept this offering of established buddie because they are telling a queer-ass love story and it is a beautiful fucking thing to behold.

You can go read this and the rest of the interior designer!eddie series on ao3!

Tamara Boone’s Saturday begins like most of her Saturdays do: snooze her alarm clock five times, throw on whatever half-way decent red shirt she can find in her closet, drink directly from the coffee pot on her way out the door, and roll into Target five minutes late and still ten minutes earlier than everybody else.

She situates herself behind the customer service counter and pulls a piece of gum from the pack under the desk. There will be some time before the morning rush of returns, so she slides her tablet out of her bag and pulls up her resume. Weirdly enough, simply walking around with a master’s degree under your belt does not automatically grant you access to some unseen, prestigious job market. In fact, she somehow feels even more pigeon-holed than when all she had was an undergraduate psychology degree worth about as much as two cents and a candybar. The only thing that’s changed is the size of the student loan payment she makes every month.

Whatever. She won’t be a part of the red-shirted commune forever. She just has to keep telling herself that.

A slight drizzle starts up outside, which either keeps people out or compels them to descend on Target like a bunch of wet, angry vultures. About an hour into her shift, the store is still mostly empty, so she prays to god it’s the former. Sometimes she can’t stand the boring dull drum of an empty store, but she might not mind it today.

Of course, that’s when Shea crashes into her like a bat out of hell with her box braids—blue this time, Tamara notices—swinging wildly behind her.

“Code red!” she hisses, eyes wide, wrapping her hand around Tamara’s forearm. “Tam, this is not a fucking drill. I swear to god. I saw a ring this time. A ring.”

Tamara frowns, tries to transition her brain from her pathetic resume-building skills to the apparent crisis happening before her. “What?”

“Blondie!”

Blondie . . . “You mean Buck?”

Shea rolls her eyes. “Dude, you never name them. Can’t build that kind of attachment. Didn’t anybody ever teach you that?”

“That’s for animals, dumbass. Now please pretend you are capable of emoting like a normal person and tell me what is going on.”

“Blondie,” Shea continues, already tugging Tamara off the stool. “I was outside smoking—I mean, I was outside putting change in the Salvation Army bucket—and the three of them rolled up like they usually do on a Saturday, but I saw it, dude. Blondie’s left ring finger. That shit was catching the light, Tamara, and on a side note, aren’t they both firefighters? How the hell could Hot Brunette Guy afford that rock on a city salary?”

“You have to stop calling him that, Shea,” Tamara mutters, but inside her stomach is twisting. She stopped lying to herself long ago about how invested she was in her favorite quirky group of three, and this is a decidedly exciting development. “Where are they?”

“Where else? Home Goods.”

Tamara beckons over a newer employee, who jogs up to her in a crisp polo and even crisper khakis. Poor thing. That wouldn’t last long. “Mason, I need you manning customer service today.”

Mason nods, because he’s too new to know any different. “No problem!”

“Come on,” Shea persists, and then she yanks Tamara along with her to the Home Goods sections. They peer around the corner of an aisle, and sure enough, there they are, angled toward each other, bickering in front of lamp shades, of all things. The kid is nowhere to be seen.

Beside her, Shea bounces on the balls of her feet. “Wait for it,” she sings, dragging out the last word. And then it happens. Buck rests his left hand on Eddie’s shoulder, as if to emphasize whatever point he’s trying to make, and the ring effortlessly catches the stale, fluorescent Target lighting.

Not to be melodramatic, but something in Tamara is reshaped and reformed in that moment. “Holy shit.”

“I know, right?”

“Holy shit.”

“That’s what I said!”

“You don’t think . . .”

“Wedding registry!” Shea finishes, clapping her hands together.

Tamara tries to shush her, but it’s too late, and Eddie flicks a glance around to check what the commotion is, doing a double-take when he recognizes her. He says something to Buck, who also turns, and flashes his megawatt smile.

“Finally,” he says, toward Eddie, “I can get a third-party opinion to tell you you’re crazy. Tamara, can you help us out?”

Shea snickers. “Yeah, Tamara, go help them out.”

Tamara edges forward, and doesn’t fail to notice how Shea pretends to be busy so she can eavesdrop. She stops beside the two men. “How can I help? I should mention, though, before we start, that we still don’t have a wider selection available in the back.”

Eddie’s face warms and he averts his gaze. Buck shoves his hands in his jeans pockets and rocks back on his heels, looking pleased. “Apparently, I don’t have good taste in anything. We’re loading up our registry, and Eddie always said you have good judgement, so maybe you can be my eyes.”

The stoic, fussy brunette man before her said she has good judgement? Tamara Boone, Compulsive Student Loan Borrower, has good judgement? A revelation. “Wow,” she says, for lack of anything better, and then, “you’re getting married?”

“Oh, yeah!” His hand flies out of his pocket, and he shows her the ring. “Nice, huh?”

“Really nice.”

“Yeah. I told him he could wrap dental floss around it and I still would have said yes.”

Tamara flicks a glance over to Eddie, whose face is giving her shirt a run for its money. “I’m going to kitchenware,” he mutters. “Buck, please collect Christopher from the video games when you’re done.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and disappears from sight. Tamara doesn’t miss the way Shea sneaks after him, skulking through the aisles like a secret agent.

“You know,” she says, and Buck turns back to her, “Most couples do the whole wedding registry thing online. Benefits of the great technological advancements in this here twenty-first century, and all.”

Buck shrugs, hands returning to his pockets. “Yeah, well, my fiance is a different breed. There is, supposedly, nothing that can beat spending four-plus hours in person deliberating between two blenders that function the exact same, but apparently give different aesthetics. So. We’ve been together long enough for me to know when to back down.”

“You sure you want this for the rest of your life?”

She says it in jest, mostly, but also with a degree of genuine curiosity, because she’s seen relationships completely crumble over significantly less. Buck stares off in the direction Eddie disappeared in moments ago, a sickeningly fond smile relaxing his face. “Yeah. He is without a doubt the fussiest, most annoying person I have ever shopped with my entire life, and sometimes he makes me want to put my head through a wall.” He looks back at her. “But, you know, he’s the love of my life. I wouldn’t put my head through a wall for anybody else.”

And, fucking hell, that should not be as romantic as it is.

“Anyway.” He claps his hands together, and her gaze is drawn, again, automatically, to the way the ring catches the light. “Wedding registry. Can you help me out?”

So, they spend the next indeterminate amount of time checking items off the registry. They pass Eddie every once in a while, who is always statuesque and lost in thought, and Shea is always there, mocking him when she catches Tamara’s eye. Once they check the final item, the familiar clack of a pair of crutches ambles up to them.

“Ah, Chris, there you are. I was just about to come find you.”

Christopher smiles, bumping his shoulder affectionately against Buck’s side. “I’m hungry.”

“We’re gonna stop at Pizza Hut on the way out.”

“Uh-huh. And where’s Dad?”

“You know where your dad is.”

“Having a mental breakdown because he can’t decide on a color scheme for the bathroom?”

Buck snorts, tries and fails to look reprimanding. “Chris, that’s extremely hilarious, but don’t you ever say that in front of him.”

“It’s true, though,” he mutters, but doesn’t press the point.

Tamara clears her throat. “Anything else I can help you with?”

Buck declines, and she more or less shadows them as they make their way over to kitchenware, where it is uncertain if Eddie has made any meaningful progress. She regroups with Shea, and once the two men resume their particularly fond brand of bickering, they begrudgingly return to the customer service desk.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Shea says, once Tamara has relieved Mason from duty.

She sticks another piece of gum in her mouth. “Nope. What’s it mean?”

“Next step is always a new house. And a new house means furnishing that house.”

“Shea, for someone who always gets at me for being too invested, you are reeking of hypocrisy right now.”

“I’m just saying.” Her eyes trail the group of three as they congregate at a check-out line. “Man. All I did was stalk the guy around Kitchenware, and I miss him already.”

Tamara props her tablet back on the desk. “You’re working late tonight, right? Don’t worry. He’ll be back.”

“There’s no way. Blondie would never let that happen.”

Tamara doesn’t say anything, because even though she doesn’t know them, she knows them.

And, sure enough, as predictable as the sun rising and setting every day, forty minutes before closing, Eddie makes his way to the customer service desk. His hair is matted over his head in wet tendrils, dripping onto the shoulders of his sweatshirt. Still raining, then.

“Hey,” he says.

Tamara perks up, catches Shea’s eye where she’s adjusting a wrack of athletic pants. “Hey. I have to warn you, we close in forty minutes, so whatever magic you need to make happen has a time limit.”

He winces. “No, it’s . . . it’s nothing for the registry. This is sort of something I couldn’t do while I was here.”

That piques her interest. “Oh? What can I help you with, then?”

“I ordered it ahead of time. The instructions said to come to the customer service desk.” He slides the receipt across the counter.

“Got it. Gimme one sec.” She eases off the stool and shoulders through the door to the back. Sure enough, there’s a single object sitting on the bench, with a receipt taped to it and Edmundo Diaz on the label. She hauls it back out and hefts it onto the desk. “Here it is.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” He tucks it easily under one arm. He turns to leave, and if she doesn’t ask, she knows the curiosity will kill her.

“Wait,” she blurts out. “What is it?”

There are universes of memories and secrets in the tiny smile that crooks up one corner of his mouth. “It’s a breadmaker.”

“A breadmaker?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t want him to know you were buying him a breadmaker?”

The tiny smile blossoms into something warm and beautiful. “He probably won’t even remember, but we saw one on a call once, before we were engaged. Before we were even dating. And he said he always wanted a breadmaker, but it felt like something you only get when you’re married, because it should be shared with the people you love. It never made sense to me, but it made sense to him.” He shrugs, shakes his head. “Anyway. Thanks, again. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

He leaves, and Shea takes his place.

“What was it?” she asks.

And Tamara replies, “A breadmaker.”

“A breadmaker?”

“Yeah.” She rests her chin on her fist. “You know, Shea, I think they’re gonna be together forever. I think they were meant to find each other.”

“What is this? Miss True-Love-Doesn’t-Exist is waxing poetic about soulmates?”

“You need to quit accosting me and start closing this place down.”

Shea gives her signature dramatic eye roll before sauntering off. Tamara counts out the till, finishes her other duties, and then swings her bag over her shoulder as she exits the automatic doors. It’s still raining, and she turns her face to the sky, but it doesn’t feel like a punishment. It feels like a promise.

She smiles, and heads to her car.

#buddie #a drabble #interior designer!eddie #buckley diaz family

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wandsandwheezes · 3 years

Text

Jealousy | G.W

Warnings // 2.6k // 18+ SMUT, jealousy, sex, gagging, exhibitionism, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, overstimulation, use of pet names, bratty behaviour, dom/sub vibes, aftercare.

A/N // Hi the first smut of the year and it encompasses everythingI want from george weasley <3

The thing that made George Weasley tick the most was people eyeing up his girl. It got him riled up beyond belief, but the ever proud man he is, he would never admit to getting jealous over it. He'd simply let the jealousy get bottled up until it burst. For the most part you ignored the male attention you got, choosing to pretend that you simply didn’t see the lingering stares while nevertheless enjoying the way your boyfriend’s grip tightened around your waist or how he’d stalk over and pull you into an electrifying kiss. His actions quickly told you exactly how he felt about other men’s eyes drinking you in, you were his to devour and his only, so to say that you didn't play into that only the slightest bit is a lie.

You didn’t mind lending a hand in the shop on the weekend, especially when it meant being able to spend more time ogling your lover and the way his muscles tensed as he picked up boxes, how his smile would flash as his inner child came out with all the demos, how easy it was to sneak a kiss in his office and most notably how lovely it was to share lingering glances across the shop as you worked on the tills. George liked having you around because every part of him wanted you close to him, that was why it twisted the knife that little bit more when he saw you lean over the counter just a small amount, giving the man you were serving a view of your perfect chest that his eyes had been locked onto.

The action alone had him clenching his fists together, the vein in his neck popping out as he felt that bubbling jealousy reaching its capacity. Part of him had forgotten that he was holding onto some of the products he had been adjusting on the shelves, counting himself lucky that he hadn’t broken the glass bottles in his hand. He was next to you as soon as you were waving the customer goodbye, mumbling under his breath as he signed you off the till, inputting his own till code to deal with an admin task. “What the fuck was that all about, doll?”

“Sue me for me wanting to make a sale, baby” You smiled, resting your head against his bicep as you waited for him to finish up with his task, dainty hand snaking around his back to hook your fingertips gently through his belt loops. He was finding himself in heaven just by being able to breathe in your perfume.

“Those goods aren’t for sale.” He laughed, a smile hiding the sheer amount of boiling jealousy that was stirring inside of him, he raised his eyebrows and made sure to get a good look of what you had on show, wanting nothing more than to rip open your shirt, so he could see the bare tits that he loved in full view of the afternoon rush.

“Funny one George” you smirked, hand dropping from being slinked around his hips, a hand that he quickly catches, pulling you so that your chest is pressed directly against his, causing a small gasp to fall from your lips at the impact, looking down at you with a sickly sweet smile before pressing a warm kiss to your cheek, a direct contrast to the callous words whispered low enough for only you to hear. “I’m fucking serious, you’re mine.”

You knew that if he had said those words in the comfort of your own home his voice would have been several octaves deeper than his usual conversation’s tone, cut thick full of seduction as he tugged your shirt off of you, but here he had to keep himself restrained, on the low. He would bend you over the counter right now if it weren’t for the shop full of people; it wasn’t unfamiliar territory to be bent over something as George had his way. Lucky for you though, today you could be as bratty as you wanted, he would have to keep himself under wraps until you were alone.

George had sulked off in his office, causing you to follow the man you were intent on annoying all around the shop like the needy girl that you were until he gave in, trapping you between his body and a shelf of potions, careful not to push to hard in fear of drawing attention to himself. You opened your mouth to protest, only to be met with his pointer finger to your lips.

"Is this what you want, to be my little whore begging for me with her eyes?" he tutted as his lips pressed against the sensitive skin of your neck just below your ear, sucking a mark that would be visible to everyone causing a tiny little desperate moan to fall from your lips.

"You like having eyes on you though don't you? In your short little skirt and a pathetic excuse for a shirt… you're just daring me to bend you over something." He mumbled against your ear as his hand was on your breast, thumb and forefinger toying with the hardened nipple through the material of your shirt and bra.

"Baby, I don't know what you're talking abou-" You bat your lashes at your boyfriend, trying your best to act coyly at the situation, ignoring the feeling that his large hands on your chest was giving you. Trying to look away, the fear of being caught in a compromising position with George all too much to bear.

“No talking back, brat.” His hand quickly moved, now on your jaw as he forced you to look at him before crashing his lips down on yours in a fevered kiss. Hs leg had slipped between yours, knee nudging your thighs apart before giving you something to grind down on. It was one of his favourite sights, watching you desperately rut against his thigh as you got yourself off for him.

“George what if someone-” You moaned breathlessly as his hands guided the slow and teasing pace you were allowed to move your hips, It felt so good you were trying not to moan the whole shop down.

“I already said no talking back.” He growled at you, feeling the cool sensation of his rings as his hand pressed against your throat, he wasn't choking you yet, only giving your windpipe a simple squeeze as a warning sign that he was on the edge of his tether.

Fred had yelled his brother's name, as he reached the top step, searching for George around the top balcony floor. The action made your boyfriend look away frustrated as he bit the inside of his cheek. Grumbling a low, 'upstairs, now' before storming away from you, leaving you breathless.

You did as he said, waiting for him excitedly for the first 15 minutes, after 40 minutes had ticked by you grew frustrated with him, after another 15 you were ready to start teasing him again, standing bent over the kitchen counter as you text him.

<< Leaving me all desperate are you, Georgie? x

<< My fingers can't even do yours justice x

<< Bet that guy from earlier would have taken care of me x

>> Don't push your luck, kitten x

Your last text to him was enough to make him leave the stupid task that Fred had left him to do, practically storming up the stairs as he fumbled with his keys to unlock the front door. You hadn't even realised that George was behind you until your phone was snatched from your hands, his strong grip holding you firmly against the counter, his fingers lacing through your hair, taking a handful to grab at.

"You are such a fucking Brat, I can't even do nice things for you without the attitude." You moaned as he gave a rough tug at your hair, his hips bucking into yours in an attempt to relive some of the tension in his own trousers but to no avail, he only grew harder at your babbling moans and begs for him.

"You're begging now but you've been such a bad girl, I don't think I should really touch you at all, I may just have to use your mouth instead." You nodded, not even sure what you were agreeing too, too blinkered by wanting to have him please you that you'd do anything. He knew your limits, you knew your safe word so you knew you were safe.

He had tried to restrain himself but before you knew it you had been thrown over his shoulder, hand giving your ass a playful slap as he walked you towards the bedroom, the sound of your giggles a pure symphony to his ears as they rang about the flat.

There was no dignity in the way he had thrown you on the bed, ripped open your shirt and hitched up your skirt over your hips. Not even caring to take off your underwear, only slipping it to the side to have his fingers buried deep inside you, at first he was slow and teasing as he stretched you out with his fingers alone hut as you began to clench around him, he picked up the pace, bringing you all the way to the very edge of your release before pulling his hand away, sucking your juices off his fingers with a chuckle.

“You think you were clever did you? Bad girls don’t get to cum, not until I say so." He hummed, tapping at your clit with his wet fingers before he leans down so that his head is between your thighs, blowing cool air over your exposed heat, causing a shiver to run up your spine.

"On your knees." His voice was thick, cut sharp and letting you know that he wasn't messing around, he waited for you to be on your knees in front of him, letting you deal with unbuckling his belt to pull him free. His hands were already holding back your hair, helping guide his length down your throat as soon as it was past your lips. The sound of you gagging as he hit the back of you made his cock twitch, a single tear running down your cheek as you hummed against him, a tear that he wiped away with his thumb, smiling down lovingly at you.

"Just one tear for me, Princess? I want your makeup ruined, I know you do too." You nodded at his words, taking him further down your throat until the tears started to spill. You loved it, the way he would use your mouth, it wouldn't take him long till he took control of fucking your throat. His hand pulled your mouth from his cock, spitting in his hand to wrap around his length, mixing your saliva together before he was thrust back into your mouth, setting a relentless pace, hearing your gags as he hit the back of your throat.

"Look at those pretty tears, baby… I'm in two minds to have you cum over and over for me just to keep those tears spilling." His thumb ran over your lip, pulling you up by your jaw so that he could kiss you, the kiss was soft, almost checking in to see you were okay and still with him.

He had you lying on the bed as he rid himself of his clothes, first the tie, which was shoved into your mouth. This was a sight he would never get over, an innocent look plastered in your eyes as he lined himself up, sinking deep inside you quickly. You fit like a glove with him, stretching out perfectly to accommodate every single inch he had to give you and it felt magnificent. He was still but his thumb circled your clit in such a perfect way that he had you coming undone in minutes, that was number one.

Number two was given to you in slow purposeful thrusts as he moaned out for you, not caring who could hear his guttural grunts. All you could do was hum back as a response, wanting to moan for him and only him. The third time he had you releasing so quickly just from his rough pace, he'd pulled his tie from your mouth to kiss you, swallowing every single moan like his life was dependent on it.

"Godric I love your tight cunt. I stretch you out so good, don't I princess? Show me, where you feel me, doll." The fourth had you shaking, he was fucking you so deeply, pulling out completely and sinking back in to the hilt. Your hand grabbed his shakily, pressing it hard against your abdomen, he could literally feel the tip of his cock hitting his hand and he chucked, hooking your legs over his shoulders.

"That's pretty deep, baby, I bet I could fuck you deeper." His words and the feeling of his whole length fucking through you had you over the moon. You weren't sure if you were begging him for more or to stop, it was pain and pleasure mixed together like the perfect shot of ecstasy. The tears were falling down your cheeks like you'd been caught in the rain, but George thought you looked stunning.

"Think you could handle another, brat? Let me lick your cunt nice and clean." Your body told you to stop but your mouth was begging for it, craving a new release by his skilled mouth. You didn't want to deprive yourself of his perfect tongue. Each lick and suck had you screaming for him, your sensitive and used cunt close to release again and this time it was heaven, your thighs quaking as it released over you. You were well and truly overstimulated.

"Good Girl, such a good baby. I'm so proud of you for taking all five, doll." He praised, pressing kisses all over your makeup-ruined cheeks while his hands rubbed gently over your sides. He made sure to get you nice and cleaned up, changing you into his warmest hoodie and some pyjama bottoms, scraping your hair up into a bun and pulling on some fluffy socks.

He changed into his own pyjama bottoms, staying shirtless before picking you up, your legs wrapped around his torso as he walked to the kitchen, laying you down on the sofa, leaving you to come down from from your state of bliss as he made light work of cooking your dinner. He truly was the perfect boyfriend.

"Georgie?" you called out to him, seeing him turn around, immediately dropping what he was cutting up to tend to you.

"Hi princess, welcome back… how're you feeling." He smiled, thumb running over your cheek as he cupped your jaw.

"I love you, George, You're amazing." You hummed, pulling him in for a delicate kiss

"I love you more, baby girl… I wasn't too rough?" He asked, forehead pressed against yours, to which you shook your head tracing light circles on his chest.

"Good girl, I hope you're hungry… I'm making your favourite." You smiled, letting him hoist you up, taking you over to sit on the counter as you watched him.

You smiled dumbfounded by his sweetness, thinking to yourself, 'I'm gonna marry this man.' because George was everything, real true husband material.

#george weasley x reader #george weasley fic #George Weasley #george weasley smut #george weasley fluff #fred and george #weasley twins smut #weasley twins #gred and forge #harry potter fic #harry potter writing #harry potter smut #Harry potter

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rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Let's Give It A Try

Pairing: Bokuto x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Mafia AU, Sex Toys, Overstimulation, Use of Sir, Dirty Talk, Degradation

Summary: Dating a man like Bokuto Koutarou goes against every moral code you’ve learned growing up, but love has a funny way of going against the grain.

Bokuto exhales, sighing as he leans broad shoulders against the rough exterior of the building behind him, cigarette smoke floating in tendrils in front of him. He prides himself on the strength and health of his body, but when he gets in one of his moods after a particularly strenuous week, he can’t help but rely on the way the nicotine mellows out the stress of his job. Closing his eyes, he lets the muffled beat of the music inside the club reverberate through his chest, letting himself let go just a tiny bit. Foolish maybe, considering just how many people want him dead, but he allows himself a moment of lax judgement while on his turf, literally on the ground he owns, surrounded by his men both in and out of the club, under the watchful blue eyes of his right hand man.

Everything will be just fine.

And suddenly everything’s a little bit more than just fine as his curiosity peeks, sharp owl-like eyes scanning you as you come stumbling out of the club, taking deep ragged breaths, completely unaware of your surroundings as you greedily inhale the fresh night air.

He has to bite back the sharp grin that threatens to stretch across his face at your adorable jump and squeak when you finally straighten up and take inventory of who’s around you, quivering like a little mouse when you meet his intense golden gaze. There’s something different about you and he can tell with just a quick glance at you that this isn’t your usual joint, taking in your considerably conservative and casual outfit for the area’s most popular nightclub, the nervous ticks and almost bashful way you curl in on yourself, unused to the hungry look he continues to direct at you.

It takes some coaxing and he almost feels bad at how he swears he can hear your frightened and unsure heartbeat pounding your chest as he approaches you. But his talons are out, wide eyes too curious and intrigued by the prey that’s caught his attention to just let you go off on your merry way. He croons at how you stutter, tripping over your words in your nervousness, licking his own lips for a different reason when he sees your pink muscle dart out to wet your dry ones.

But he can feel his wings furl out to their full span, can feel himself prepare to lunge at you when he finds out that his sweet little mouse came all by herself, trying to get over your recent breakup by having some fun, maybe even finding someone to…

This time he does laugh when you embarrassedly trail off, ending your anxious ramblings, before pinning you down with a wild grin that makes your chest tighten.

“I can be that someone.”

There’s something about the man that leaves you on edge. You can’t deny the fact that he’s handsome, in a wild rugged way that reminds you of a predator. But there’s something...intense about him, something in his eyes, something in his presence, something in his aura that makes you shiver, keeping your suddenly heavy feet rooted to their spot. Not that you’d get very far if he was intent on doing you harm you ascertain as you stare at the muscular and toned figure in front of you.

Yet despite all that, you can’t help but believe that he really does mean you no harm. Maybe it’s what you want to believe. A last hope and faith that not all men are scum like your ex is. Desperate to believe that there are decent men out there, that you can find happiness and maybe even love one day. So going against every ounce of self-defense and common sense that’s been instilled in you all your life, you take this stranger’s hand and let him guide you away, finding comfort in his warm, calloused grip.

Even if you do end up dead after all this, you can’t help but think you’ve made the right decision, your problem more than solved as any thoughts of your ex (and anything else really) fly out your head as soon as you’re dragged into an alarmingly luxurious apartment. He really is more animal than man and you cry out as teeth harshly dig into your neck, possessively and hungrily marking every inch of you, lips greedily wrapping around perky nipples and sucking with a force that makes your eyes roll and your nails dig into his thick biceps. But that only seems to egg him on more and you vaguely wonder if you’re going to cum before he can even get to the main course, body already overwhelmed with arousal and desire as he touches you everywhere except where you need him most.

You’re positively dripping by the time he does make it between your legs, too high strung to even be embarrassed, letting out a high pitched whine instead when he teasingly blows on your sopping wet entrance, pressing your thighs apart, leaving you on full display. And you swear you black out purely from relief when a hot wet tongue finally licks a long line up your slit. So on edge already, it only takes a few flicks and lapping of your aroused clit to have you careening off that pleasurable cliff and you sob, body thrashing and convulsing as you ride out your orgasm while lips and tongue continue to work you over.

You blearily blink as you finally regain control of your body, expecting the man between your legs to take the hint as you try to sit up on your elbows. But you scream, instantly collapsing on the bed, hands fisting in the sheets besides you as two thick fingers suddenly slip inside of you, beginning a relentless pace right from the start, hot tongue still lapping and licking at your sensitive clit. It’s too much, too soon and you writhe, body trying to pry yourself away from the torturous pleasure, but also aching for another release as the coil in you is wound tight. Not that Bokuto leaves you much choice as he easily keeps you pinned down, your legs no match for the strength of his arms and upper body as he continues to feast on you, your pretty cries and screams music to his ears, your delicious juices intoxicating. And before you even realize it, you’re forced to your second peak, creaming and clamping down on the digits still stuffed inside of you, back arching, mouth opening in a silent scream.

Surely it’s over and you tell yourself that you’ll just close your eyes for a brief moment, a few seconds at most before paying him back with a blowjob, handjob, whatever he wants in return. Except your companion has very different plans on exactly how you’ll return the favor and your eyes shoot open, pathetic pleading noises spilling past your lips as you feel something hard and thick press against your entrance. But then he’s shoving inside of you, cock splitting your spent hole in two, and your mind blanks, unable to resist, unable to enjoy, only able to take and feel as it drags against your walls, going deeper and deeper.

And that’s how you pass out, one of the last clear memories you have before your mind fades to darkness, exhaustion and bliss rendering you useless as you’re ruthlessly fucked into and used by the man above you as he chases his own end, head empty except for mindless thoughts of cock, cock, cock.

There’s a few more one night flings after that and you try and convince yourself that it’s just that, nothing more, ignoring the pang in your heart when Bokuto sends you a sad face via text when he wakes up to an empty bed, ignoring the guilt resting heavy on your shoulders when you accidentally sleep in longer than you meant to and have to pry yourself from a pouting face and gentle grip on your wrist as gold eyes plead for you to stay.

But Bokuto Koutarou always gets what he wants and you find it harder to wriggle out from his strong arms as the sun’s rays filter through the windows, you find it harder to not sit down at his dining table and stay for a piping hot cup of coffee, you find it harder not to wake up and nuzzle closer to his body, cuddling and sweetly talking with him more than a casual relationship warrants.

And you find it impossible to not say yes when he asks you to officially go out with him one lazy morning as he cradles you in his arms.

Dating Bokuto is an adventure unlike any you’ve been on before and it’s so easy to be swept along in his enthusiasm and energy, giggling like children in one moment before you’re being pounced on in the next, gold eyes darkening in raw hunger and lust. Bokuto is an enigma that you wonder if you’ll ever truly understand, so easily shifting from a cheerful goofball to a dangerous predator and back again. But you don’t mind, finding the multi-faceted personality one of his strong suits...until it isn’t anymore.

You’d always had a feeling that Bokuto was hiding something from you, some things not quite adding up, the outgoing man strangely reticent about certain topics, especially regarding his work life and where his money comes from. But you had chalked it up to your sweet boyfriend being humble, not wanting to delve too much into his enormous wealth, because he must have enormous wealth from the penthouse apartment he lives in, the extravagant vacations he whisks you away on, the luxury gifts he bestows upon you without blinking an eye. And you’re correct, just not in the way you had imagined and you tearily and accusationally glare at him when you accidentally come across the hidden switch in the back of his closet, door opening and revealing crates and crates of a white powdery substance.

You want him to laugh it off like he always does, tell you some bullshit about it being for some prank he’s going to pull on Akaashi or Konoha, that it’s not what you think it is. But he doesn’t and the two of you just silently stare at each other, the pieces connecting all too clearly even without a word being said. And you leave, betrayal and hurt digging their claws into you as you leave behind a man who you thought you had known, who you had loved, but who you realize maybe you don’t really know at all.

It feels eerily familiar, a sense of deja vu flooding you when you take hesitant steps into another nightclub in the area, desperate for another distraction, another fling to fuck you free from thoughts of gold eyes and a muscular body. You tell yourself that there’s nothing similar about the solid build of the stranger you’re grinding up against, that the similarity in appearance is just coincidence as the two of you stumble to his apartment. But then lips and hands are all over you, too gentle, too soft, treating you like glass, words too cautious. Everything’s wrong, wrong, wrong and when he begins a slow careful pace, fucking you like he’s making love, so different from the way a certain man would have broken you down to pieces only to build you back up, you shove him off, uncaring of how rude you’re being.

That night when you return to your own bed, you sob in frustration, toys, dildos, vibrators scattered around you as you seek any relief you can get, looking for even the slightest mimicry of Bokuto’s touch, trying to remember what he sounds like, what he feels like. But memory and imagination can only get you so far, can never live up to the real thing, and you scream into your pillow as an unsatisfying orgasm ripples through you, the realization that Bokuto has ruined your body for anyone else, even yourself, sinking into you.

It’s absolute stupidity to be with someone just for great sex. Absolutely ridiculous. What decent human would go crawling back to their drug-dealing ex just for his good dick game? God knows what other shady underground shit Bokuto’s up to and you know it runs much deeper than a single room full of cocaine.

But maybe you’re not a decent human. Maybe that’s why you still can’t stop thinking of him despite how you try and hold out, despite the multiple flings, nights, and even entire weekends you spend with yourself in bed, spending far too much on sex toys, pussy and clit throbbing, fingers and hands aching from constantly bending to be inside yourself. Yet for all that, you’re never satisfied, every weak orgasm, every disappointing touch from another man only making your need for Bokuto even more pronounced, until you finally break. And a month later you call Bokuto, a scrambled frantic call over the phone with a dildo shoved deep inside you, a vibrator buzzing on your clit, tears streaming down your face when they do nothing to take away the yearning inside of you, begging and pleading for him to come and help you.

It’s humiliating how even just the sight of him skyrockets your arousal to levels you haven’t felt since the two of you dated and you whimper as he casually leans in your doorway, thick arms crossed across his chest, gold eyes raking over your sweating nude figure that’s writhing on top of rumpled bed sheets.

“This is a good look for a desperate slut like you. Couldn’t cum without me? No one, not even your little toys could make you feel good? Maybe I should just leave, just like how you left me. Leave you high and dry. Well I guess maybe not that dry.”

You pant, wide blown out eyes watching as he slowly approaches you, face heating when he bends down to peer at your dripping cunt, mockingly whistling at how you pretty hole is no different than a leaking faucet, inner thighs drenched in your arousal.

“Koutarou, please-”

You scream as fingers harshly twist at your nipples, eyes rolling to the back of your head as just that brutal touch is enough to bring you over the edge you had been hovering around for so long, body convulsing, a dopey grin making its way onto your lips when you finally feel the pleasure you’d been craving for so long.

“Fuck, you came from just that? Who the fuck said you could cum? Who the fuck said you could use my name? Sluts like you don’t deserve to say my name. You know what to address me as.”

You wail, pain melding with the pleasure as he shoves your vibrator away, alternating between pinching and slapping your already overstimulated clit as he enunciates every word he snarls at you, a feral grin stretching across his face at your barely coherent babbles of “sir” and “sorry”.

The constriction in his own pants is painful and he’s quick to strip waist down, slowly palming his aching erection. It takes everything in him to hold back, to not just shove balls deep inside of you in one strong thrust, your absence affecting him just as badly. But that’s not what this is about. This is about making a point, reminding you just how wrong you were for leaving him without a single word, rebuilding what the two of you once had. And as ravenous as he is, he takes his time, willing himself to slow down and rediscover every inch of you, painstakingly exploring your body once again, re-memorizing every sensitive part of you that elicits a little gasp, a tiny mewl.

And he doesn’t stop, pulling the dildo inside of you completely out, using his teeth, tongue, and finger to bring you to the edge over and over again, always backing away just when you’re about to fall off that pleasurable cliff once more, diving back in like a man starved just when you think you have a shaky grasp on your senses. Only when you’re full out sobbing broken cries of his title, a litany of “please, please, please” escaping you does he move on and he groans at how perfectly your legs wrap around his back, urging him inside you as his cock finally makes contact with your gushing cunt, your hands weakly pawing at him in a silent plea for more.

But again he stops, bringing a thumb to wipe away your tears as you begin to wail anew, frustration and denial tearing you to shreds, instinctively leaning into his touch as he gently strokes your cheekbone.

“Tell me who’s the only one who can make you feel good. Who’s the only one who can pleasure you?”

And as you scream his name, he finally slams inside of you, relentlessly pounding in and out of you, gold eyes hungrily taking in how wrecked you look, how broken you look, all because of him, only for him.

It doesn’t take long for both of you to tumble together over that edge, not when both of you are beyond pent up, absence making your hearts grow fonder and your bodies desperate for each other. And you can’t help the content warm surge inside of you when you feel hot thick liquid fill your insides, your body lax and useless in post-coital bliss, heart and mind eager for Bokuto to collapse beside you and pull you into his toned chest like he always does.

Except there is no familiar weight beside you and your head shakes side to side, drool trickling down your face when Bokuto’s softening cock is suddenly replaced by four fingers brutally thrusting in and out of you, curling just right along your still quivering walls.

“We still have a long way to go, little mouse. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

You don’t know how many times you’re forced over the edge after that, consciousness fading in and out as he assaults your cunt with his fingers, his tongue, his cock. You even vaguely remember waking up once to a dildo in your ass, Bokuto pounding into your cum-filled pussy, your body more stretched than it’s been in a long time. They all blur together, only tied together by the delirious pleasure that numbs everything else until you’re succumbing to darkness one last time as yet another body shaking orgasm rips through you.

It’s the scent of fresh coffee and bacon that awakens you and you blearily open your eyes, only to immediately wince as soon as you try to move, your body feeling like it had been rammed into by a truck (although you suppose that imagery isn’t too far off from what actually transpired). Sinking back into the plush pillow and mattress, you close your eyes, wondering what’s your next move. Force your aching body out of bed and confront the inevitable, already somewhat dreading having to face Bokuto now that your mind isn’t clouded with lust? Go back to sleep and pray that he’s gone when you wake up again, like a coward?

But Bokuto doesn’t leave you a choice and you shyly cover yourself with the blanket when he comes bounding into the room, a heaping plate of food and a cup of the delicious caffeinated beverage in his hands, heart fluttering when you see the warm and affectionate grin on his face as he approaches you, carefully placing everything on the nightstand before tenderly pecking your forehead and murmuring good morning.

You try to say something, anything, words getting stuck in your throat, but you’re shushed as the coffee mug is carefully placed in your hands, Bokuto’s soothing voice urging you to eat and recover first. And you gladly take the excuse, hunger and thirst from last night’s endurance marathon finally making itself known as you devour everything. But there’s only so long you can avoid the inevitable and with belly full and feeling more yourself, you listen as he gently grabs your hand, letting him entwine his fingers with yours as he tells you everything.

Who he is. What he does. Exactly how he’s affiliated with the Fukurodani Syndicate.

None of it is surprising, a lot of it what you had surmised and guessed yourself. But it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow knowing just how much he had kept from you, how much he had been planning on keeping from you for who knows how long. At least it’s all out in the open now though, no secrets left between the two of you, and there’s a pause as he continues to rub his thumb on the back of your hand.

“I won’t sugar coat who I am and what my life is. I don’t expect you to come running back with open arms. But if you’re willing to give it a try, I swear that there’ll never be any more secrets, that I’ll protect you, that I’ll love you. I’ll be the damn best boyfriend there ever is.”

You almost giggle at how childish the last sentence is, hope churning in your stomach when you see how genuine and passionate he is, fondness flowing through you when you recognize the man you had fallen in love with beyond the dirt on his hands. And you know it’s arguably foolish, goes against every moral code you’ve grown up with, but love never does seem to follow set equations and rules and you bring that hand to your lips, affectionately kissing your clasped fingers as you meet gold eyes.

“Let’s give it a try.”

#haikyuu smut #bokuto smut #bokuto x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios

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tenskittens · 3 years

Text

Not Enough - part 1.

Smut <3 Fluff <3 Angst (lots of angst) <3 sex, foreplay, ass, outdoor reader x Johnny pairing. Mentions of johnten pairing.

Not Enough - part 1 - the first part of the JohnTenReader saga.

Wordcount - 2.5k.

You chose to study at NCIT because you had heard that there were great opportunities in technology, and you knew coding was your strongest skill when you were younger. A few years into your time there, you realised that, whilst you were alright at computers and tech - especially for a girl, as some of the younger guys would frequently point out - you were nothing on the natural talent that seemed to have been bestowed upon most of the guys here. In fact, you’re pretty sure you only got a place on your course for some sort of diversity purpose, and the fraternity lifestyle you had ended up being dragged into certainly wasn’t helping your case. Going into your final year, it’s your last summer - you’ve been contemplating leaving the frat house - and the chaos that came with it - once the new semester started.

“Hyung, we’re leaving!” yelled Ten down to the rest of the house, dragging Yangyang out of the door with him. You knew he was yelling goodbye to his closest “friend” in the house, John Suh, and didn’t actually care about the rest of the frat boys hearing him. Ten just wanted to make John jealous because he was taking Yangyang out to one of the more inclusive bars in Itaewon. He initially planned on going out with Johnny tonight, just the two of them. But Johnny wasn’t really down for it today - he had thought he was supposed to be going out to a restaurant with just him and Ten, and when Ten suggested Itaewon John just presumed that it meant everybody else was invited out, too. These two were always getting into these complicated misunderstandings in their entangled feelings, and you’re pretty used to dealing with it by now. But actually, Ten was just as annoyed that Johnny wasn’t out with him tonight. He loves Yangyang, his closest Dongsaeng, but he wanted to spend tonight with Johnny. This whole situation was just a misunderstanding, but neither Johnny nor Ten realised this. “Bye guys!!” yelled Yangyang, excited for this rare occasion that he got to spend with Ten, now that Ten and Johnny were both all-but-dropped out of NCIT.

Once Yangyang and Ten had left, the house was quiet. The others were mostly working on assignments and projects, as they tend to do in the late evenings. Doyoung and Taeyong were probably upstairs bickering about the most efficient way of writing a code, Yuta almost certainly glued to his screen typing out a written assignment - the only one of the group also studying a language alongside computer science. Haechan, Jaemin and Mark were probably out at the student union Dream bar. That left just the two of you - you and John Suh - alone in the frat house.

“What’s up, Johnny?” you ask, putting on a slightly dramatic pout to try to invoke some sort of response from your most-likely-stoned-over best friend and boyfriend. “Nothing, y/n, just don’t ask” replied Johnny, sort of bluntly which took you by surprise. You wait in silence for a moment. “Except, look, I did my hair and makeup to go out with Ten and he just goes and turns our date into a party night and then I don’t even end up going and -” Johnny is interrupted.

“Date??”.

You both shoot your heads around, and sat in the corner of the living room, slumped against a beanbag in a hoodie that disguised any level of his presence, was Jae.

“Yeah bro, you know, was supposed to just be us guys tonight nothing out of the ordinary I jus-”. Jae interrupted again.

“John, you know how often i’m lurking in here and nobody notices me? You don’t need to cover this shit up with me”.

You and Johnny look at each other, and back at Jae. You wonder how much he knows. To the others, you and Johnny were basically a married couple, and Ten was your best friend. What they didn’t know was that, of everybody in the house, the most involved pair was certainly Johnny and Ten, and you didn’t mind that. You were best friends with both of them, and romantically involved with Johnny, but nothing made you happier than knowing how happy Ten and John - the two polar-opposite NCIT dropouts - were when they were together.

“Y/n, come outside with me a second?” asked Johnny, seeming genuinely stressed and upset.

Stood on the roof of the frat house, lined with bottles and scattered with cigarette ashes and joint ends, Johnny opens up to you.

“Y/n, Ten was so mad that I’m staying with you tonight, but I was so mad that he went out with Yangyang. There’s some shit going on here and I don’t feel comfortable and, you know, I really like you y/n but it seems - agh, whatever, that’s not true” - Johnny rests his hand against your cheek and looks down at you. “Y/n, I like you both, but its so hard keeping this shit with Ten a secret and shit like this always happens and y/n I’m so sick of coming to you being stressed and -”.

You raise your hand to Johnny’s cheek too, and brush his hair behind his ear.

“John, you’re so beautiful, you’re so fun. You’re the best friend - and boyfriend - that I could ask for”. He places a kiss on your forehead, and you look at him with wondering eyes, gazing into his dark irises and losing yourself for just a second, stood there under the night sky feeling safe in the arms of Johnny Suh.

What Johnny wanted to tell you, you know, is that he can’t really handle dating both of you anymore. But the thing is - you know that, and you understand that. Right now, though, you don’t want to accept that. You just want your best friends. Johnny seems anxious, and he mutters something you don’t quite hear, although you know for sure you heard an “I love you” slip from his soft, gentle lips. But Johnny isn’t one for romance - not for more than a few minutes. His vulnerable side is only ever present for you and Ten, and it’s always suddenly replaced with his intense energy and both caring, yet intimidating, control.

You didn’t realise John’s hand had moved to the band of your panties, and he had been playing with the lace for a while now. You tune in as you feel his passionate and dominating lips crash down on yours, pulling you in tightly and resting his palm across the small of your back. He drags his sharp, manicured nails across the line of your underwear, shocking you compared to the softness of the hands that were holding you close and tight. You’re feeling vulnerable and lost, knowing that you’re so close to having to let go of the man you love the most, and all you want to do is feel close to him. To submit yourself to him, and to be under his control and to feel his passion and his love, is all that can comfort you right now. Johnny feels the same - you both need eachother.

“Y/n, are you okay with this here?” Johnny asks you. The rooftop is pretty secluded - nobody was around and it was very unlikely anybody would appear up here at this time. It’s not necessarily the most comfortable of places, but the slight risk of being outside, practically in public, sort of turns you on even more, and you can tell Johnny is desperate. “Mhm, please Johnny, just have me” you whisper breathlessly, looking at the ground and avoiding eye contact with Johnny out of shame for how desperate you are for his touch. “Look at me, y/n,” Johnny commands. You look up at him, and he crashes back onto you, moving his hand back under your pants and roughly taking hold of your thigh as he holds the back of your neck with his other hand. You can feel how much he needs you, and you need him.

“So wet, y/n. So needy and yet so patient for me. Such a good kitten”. You shift under him as he finds your clit, gently feeling for where he knows he will get the strongest reaction from you. He’s right - you’re dripping for him. You’re just imagining him taking you against this wall, pressed up against the cold, rough bricks as you support yourself with the pipes running alongside the building. You already need him inside you, but he’s just playing with you - teasing your folds carefully and attentively, occasionally pausing to place kisses on your neck, breathing deeply onto your neck, his breath against your ear making you shudder. Each delicate kiss is followed by the movement of his fingers as he edges closer towards being inside of you, teasing you strongly enough to encourage you to play games with him in return.

You shift your stance to allow Johnny to grind himself against you, and you ensure your thighs place a decent pressure against the bulge in Johnny’s joggers. Johnny moans in pleasure and annoyance as you move against him, and - possibly to stop you from edging him closer to his own orgasm - he pushes his fingers deep inside you, causing you to draw in a sharp breath. He stays there, and looks at you with deep and wanting eyes. You return the action by grinding up against his bulge, which also moves his fingers deeper into you. Johnny takes this opportunity to curl them up, hitting your spot and letting out a mischievous “mhmm” as he does.

“Y/n, are you playing with me? You can’t win, you know that” Johnny announces playfully, with a tone of seriousness that reminds you who is in charge. Johnny rhythmically curls his fingers towards your spot, his thumb playing carefully with your clit, driving the little moans to slip out from between your lips, the sound landing in between the two of you and filling the atmosphere with a sense of vulnerable pleasure.

“Johnny, please, just fuck me here” you beg, the words tumbling from your mouth. Johnny’s eyes darken and he takes on his dominant tone once again. “Y/n, you’re so pathetic, look at you falling apart under my fingers”. He continues to edge you closer, grabbing your ass hard with his other hand, pressing your face into his chest and leaving you in blackness, lost in the pleasure and your quickening breaths as he curls his fingers over and over. You can feel how his other hand keeps you steady but, at the same time, he is ensuring that your leg continues to slightly ride against his bulge. Johnny needs you - his y/n, who wants him more than anybody else has ever wanted him. But he still feels hurt, and Ten crosses his mind again for a split second, frustrating him enough to pull out of you and flip you around, pushing you against the walls so he has full access to your ass. You take a moment to orientate yourself, looking over your shoulder to see Johnny stood there, his hair now sweaty and the veins in his arms pulsing. He looks so naturally beautiful, looking down at you with lustful eyes. You can tell from his expression that he’s feeling distracted and frustrated, and you don’t care. You just want him to take out his feelings on you. You want to feel vulnerable for him. Johnny feels your ass, pressing his thumb against your entrance. He bends over you and wraps his arms around your stomach, stroking your nipple for just a second before stopping, and simply holding you. With his head resting on your shoulder, he tells you “I do love you, y/n. I do”. You both stop there for a moment, heartbeats pounding in unison. Johnny is still holding himself, preparing to take you. “Do I get to come then, Mr Suh?” you ask playfully. And with that question, Johnny snaps back into his dominant position, guiding himself carefully into your pussy whilst still gently teasing your ass. He’s always gentle with you to ease you in, but you’re quite used to his size now so you push yourself back onto him. This catches him by surprise, clearly, as he lets out a tense moan and mutters “fuck you, y/n”. That was all he needed to know that he could take you harder, so he grabs your hips and fucks you, and you both moan together each time he pushes all the way into you.

You gasp for air, feeling johnny is now also moving his hand hard against your clit and driving you further and deeper into a blissful, well-deserved orgasm. You can feel the warmth of his precum, the extra lubrication heightening your senses as he doesn’t stop fucking you. “Fuck, y/n, I’m going to c- fuck, y/n, fuck” Johnny loses control of his words as he comes inside you, the feeling driving you to do the same, as your knees shake and you grasp onto the metal pipe that is stabilising your position. Johnny pulls out of you, and for a second stops to once again hold himself against you, feeling your hearts once again. But Johnny knows he doesn’t want to let you down, and he knows you haven’t finished yet. Within moments of his own orgasm, Johnny’s own lips hit your throbbing and sensitive clit, lapping up the sweet honey that you’re creating, and passionately licking and kissing around your clit. Your breath once again quickens as you feel yourself about to come - and John teases your ass again, just enough to send you over the edge. “Fuck, Johnny, there - yes, please Johnny”. “Sweet kitten, come for me” Johnny commands, and you come undone over his face, knees collapsing as your eyes roll back in bliss. He places steady kisses on your clit, your thighs, and up towards your nipples. He kisses your neck, past your ears, and finally places a kiss on your forehead. Right back where you started, you stand in the comfort of Johnny’s arms, under the stars.

You both stand there for a minute, breathless and warm, Johnny keeping you steady as your orgasm continues to pulsate gently through you. A tear rolls down your cheek as you think about how this can’t last for much longer - you know things are going to end one day. But you don’t want to lose a single part of Johnny, not as your boyfriend and especially not as your friend. You love him, and he loves you too.

“Y/n, shall we head back inside?” Johnny asks you, feeling you shivering from the cold nighttime air. His breath is warm, and his voice gentle and steady. “We should probably get some sleep”, he tells you. You shrug and hold him closer, but Johnny turns you around to head back inside. And when he does, standing there, right behind you and looking at the floor with a tear trailing down his cheek, is Ten.

Ah, fuck.

Read Part II here.

#johnten #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct frat #johnny smut #nct reader insert #wayv smut #ten smut

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beggingwolf · 3 years

Note

sidgeno: soulmate AU + erotic dreams

Sid's standing at a river.

He thinks it's a river. It feels half-formed. He can feel the rumble of the water under his feet. If he doesn't move, the flash flood is going to swell to his soles, ankles, knees, and sweep him away.

"Beautiful," he hears. It doesn't sound right. The word twists in his ears, and a large hand wraps around his elbow, pulling him a step back up onto the bank. "Careful."

Sid wakes up with a gasp. Across the room, the little blue S on his wall has fallen to the floor with a crack. It's his last night at home before he ships out to Minnesota. He'd heard his mom crying after Taylor had gone to bed.

Sid reaches up to touch his elbow. He can still feel the ghostly touch, heavy and strong.

Sid stays up for another hour, thinking it over. Replaying the sound of beautiful over and over again, even though that's not how it sounded in the dream.

He closes his eyes. He tries to say goodbye to home. He tries to push off the dream; he doesn't have the time to think about it, not now, not when—

"Beautiful," Sid hears. He lets out a shuddering breath. The hands are everywhere. There's a heavy weight between his legs. There's pressure on his stomach, on his chest. A mouth pressing to his neck. He needs to move. He needs to be touched, he—

The pillow hits his face hard.

"Take it to the showers, Croz!" Duncs groans, his bedsprings creaking as he rolls to turn his back on Sid from across the room.

Sid's face grows hot as he fumbles at his blankets. He slips out of bed, feet hitting the linoleum floor with a loud smack, and he grabs the first article of clothing on the ground—a hoodie, fine, that's fine—before making a break for the hall.

The light of the hallway is blinding, and Sid stumbles to the bathrooms to lock himself in a shower stall and breathe.

His boxers are wet.

Sid shudders on his next inhale. It's been... it's been so long since this has happened, but not like this, never with that voice in his ears or the feeling of a body that's bigger than his covering him so completely.

Sid's been looking at his teammates too much lately. He's been thinking about how tall Matty is, how he's got a wicked smile and a stupid laugh that rivals Sid's own.

"Fuck," Sid whispers to himself. It echoes off the yellowing tile.

Soulmates, Sid learned early, don't account for everything.

His mother told him that she'd had dreams of the Eastern Shore back at the height of the whaling trade. She'd remembered the scent of blubber burning, how his father's clothes would stink of blood and salt after he'd return from a voyage.

She had older ones, too. Ones of living in a cramped house in an old country with too many mouths to feed, spending her days working in a horrible factory and sneaking away to find a sweetheart in a back alley.

Older than that, even: one of his aunts liked to claim she could remember as far back to before electricity was discovered. His mom fondly told her sister she was full of shit, but Sid always wondered.

Then there was his grandmother, who never talked about soulmates at all. She was happy with Kenny, but Sidney knew Kenny was not his grandfather by blood. His grandmother was tight-lipped about it, even when the family was swapping dream-memories with each other like cards over the dinner table.

"Soulmates can mean a lot of things," Sid's uncle had told him out on the patio later. "Sometimes they're just the person that leaves the most scars on you."

Years later, as Sid tries to keep his eyes to himself in the locker room, he finally understands how his love could leave him with more scars than he could count.

It's a gentle touch to his hair. Long fingers playing in the curls. They're too long. They're always too long, it's not presentable, it's not to code, but war is cruel and bloody and Sid's fucking hair is the least of his concerns.

"Morning, beautiful," a low voice rasps to him. The words are tilted like they always are, but Sid understands. He always understands.

He turns, eyes still closed, and reaches out.

Lips connect with his. There's a dusting of pathetic stubble on both of their faces. The dry, cracked lips he's kissing are still the best thing he's ever felt.

"My watch shift's almost over," Sid whispers. His throat is hoarse, because last night he'd—god, he'd taken the whole length down, and it had felt good and powerful and if he died today he'd be okay with it, he thinks. The war has taken so much. At least he had this. "I need to go back."

"Stay," is murmured up against his mouth. The lips move up to press against his forehead, and the hand in his hair tangles in it, pulls him closer, drags him against a strong body, long legs tangling with his own.

He can feel a hardness pressing into his thigh, and he cracks open his eyes.

His head smacks against glass.

"Shit!" Sid snaps, jerking upright as the bus rolls over another curb.

"Sorry, fellas!" the driver calls, and there's an ugly chorus of groans from the Rimouski Oceanic.

"Jesus," Sid grunts, shifting back upright in his seat, yanking his backpack onto his lap. His skull is still rattling from the rude awakening, and he's achingly hard.

It's a small mercy he has the row to himself. He leans back and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the pain radiating from his head, and his hip where that stupid fucking Moosehead had laid into him, and his tweaked wrist from two weeks ago in Chicoutimi. The street lamps they drive under flare his eyelids pink and then black, again and again.

As he slows his breaths, the urgency fades out of his bloodstream. He's not hard up for it anymore. He's just sore.

More than the feeling of a heavy cock pressed against his leg, Sid misses the gangly arms that had been wrapped around him. He'd had to make out with a girl at a house party before they'd left for Halifax. The team had gotten too nosy, their teasing of Sid's prudishness tipping from "hilarious novelty" to "prying questions," and Sid had swallowed his anxiety and used it as fuel to find a girl and pull her into a corner in full view of half of the blue line and press his lips to hers.

It had felt deeply wrong.

He tries to keep his breaths even as he thinks about how right his dream had felt, and how that deep, sleep-weary voice sits in his skull like it belongs there.

Sid pulls his goalie pads off. His eye is swollen shut from the puck he took to the face in the second period; it happens once every few months, and it's incentive to be faster. He laughs as the team around him starts cracking open beers. Their captain lights a cigarette and leans back in his stall with a grin. They're on fucking fire, and they're going out on the town tonight.

Sid comes back home drunk. Drunk and happy and dumped unceremoniously on the steps of his Montreal townhome by his teammates, who cheerfully wave at Sid's roommate.

Sid's roommate.

Sid's roommate picks Sid up. Sid's roommate peels off his clothes slowly. Sid's roommate leads him to bed, where he tucks himself into the cave he makes out of Sid's chest.

Sid's roommate, who grinds back against Sid. Sid groans. He can't get it up, not like this, and his roommate laughs, a low noise, and tells him in the morning—in the morning they'll have some fun, he'll reward Sid exactly how he deserves.

Sid wakes up alone.

They've lost the Memorial Cup. He's still in London. He's not playing for the Habs in their glory days. He's not playing for anyone right now. The season is over. Tomorrow he gets to go home. He gets to hope the draft goes on.

He feels very small and lonely in his hotel bed.

The night before the draft, Sid dreams about getting fucked.

He's goddamn lucky Jack sleeps harder than the dead. He's goddamn lucky in so many ways, because he feels those big hands push his legs up, his thighs pressing into his stomach. He feels those chapped lips drag against his neck, his chest, his cock. He feels those long hands stretching him open.

He takes every inch. He gets fucked within an inch of his life. He's held down by that powerful body and he's never wanted something this bad, because it's good and right and he wants it more than anything. He's had it before, in another time, and Sid tells himself he'll find it again someday, he has to.

He comes so hard he cries.

Jack's still asleep when Sid wakes up and ducks into the bathroom. He lets the shower rain scalding water down onto him as he wipes the cum off of his hips.

Sid plays hockey in Pittsburgh.

He kisses a man for the first time. It's not his soulmate. He can tell; the man's fingers are too stubby, but he has wide shoulders and a smart smile and it feels good.

It leads to him getting his dick sucked. That's good too.

The dreams don't stop. He's in rural Canada. He's in some ancient country that looks foreign. He's in a busy city center that looks nothing like anywhere Sid has ever been.

He's always wrapped in those long arms, holding those delicate-looking, strong hands.

It's his second season, the morning after another dream—a bad one, where Sid had been old and arthritic and holding a cold hand in his—when Mario looks up from the morning newspaper and tells Sid Malkin will finally be getting in from Los Angeles that evening.

"It's been long enough, he should be out of his contract by the time camp starts," Mario says. "We'll have him over for dinner tonight, I think."

Sid doesn't dress up, but he does put on jeans and combs his hair in the bathroom before Malkin and his translator arrive. He should look presentable, he figures. They want to make him captain. He should make a good impression, especially after all that Malkin's been through.

The doorbell rings, and Sid hustles down the three flights of stairs to get to the foyer.

Malkin's big. Lanky, really, and golden from the California sun. He looks tired but happy, and he's staring at Mario with big eyes and a bigger grin, his chapped lips stretched wide. Sid knows the feeling well.

Malkin turns his gaze to Sid, and something wobbles in Sid's chest.

"Evgeni Malkin," he says, offering a handshake to Sid.

His palm is huge. His fingers are long and handsome.

Sid swallows and takes his hand.

#[sucks teeth] so this was probably more emotional than you were asking for #ficlet

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forsakenoathkeeper · 3 years

Text

I Am Alive (chapter 25/?)

Chapter 25: IGNORE. OBEY.

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • 17 • 18 • 19 • 20 • 21 • 22 • 23 • 24 • 25 • more coming soon

You can also read on AO3 & thank you for supporting me ♥

If you would like to be notified of new chapter releases, please let me know!

The rain outside had dulled slightly, which allowed the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears to take over your senses. It would have been sensible to be worried about yourself, considering the gun was pointed at you; however, all you could think about was what Reaves wanted to do with Connor.

He made his opinion very clear during multiple demonstrations. He didn't see androids as living beings. He openly declared that he was going to return them to their proper place.

-and Connor was a deviant hunter.

"Of all the things I expected to become of you, this wasn't one of them," Reaves stated, eyes fixated on Connor with an oddly disappointed expression.

"This domestic lifestyle doesn't suit you," he continued, lips curled into a distasteful look.

As rude as it was, you knew where he was coming from. Connor was handsome, always dressed impeccably, with smooth movements and calculating hands. He was made to be intimidating in every sense of the word. He looked out of place in this little house. He looked out of place with you, like something that should never have been obtainable, plucked by someone so ordinary.

"Our most advanced android, reduced to..." Reaves turned his head to look at you, his faded green eyes looking almost disgusted. "...a toy for some-"

"I don't care what you do to me. Just leave her out of this," Connor proclaimed boldly, his voice unwavering.

Reaves snapped his head back to Connor.

"I must admit, I was surprised," Reaves began, his tone shifting slightly, "to find Ross dead and all his men arrested. They shot their programmer, and plucked some robot repair technician off the streets to make do."

You frowned at the title Reaves so graciously bestowed upon you, reducing your profession to something that sounded so mediocre.

"What are the odds that she happens to be an item with our most advanced prototype?" Reaves laughed.

Connor didn't look amused by Reaves' monologuing.

"I pity her, truly," Reaves declared in a tone that implied some sort of pride at such a proclamation, as if he was doing you a favor.

"A little girl wrapped up in your parlor trick," he continued. "You are very convincing, aren't you? What nonsense have you filled her stupid little head with?"

"You're wro-" you protested, breaking off into a low whine when the man behind you tightened his hold on your waist.

Reaves turned to face you, stepping a little closer to get a better look. His faded green eyes were squinting.

"You of all people know what they're made of," he declared lowly. "You can play with it, enjoy it; but, don't pretend that you believe it's mimicry of humanity."

"He's more human than you are," you snarled, seething with anger, glaring at Reaves as if you didn't have a gun held to your head.

"Hm," Reaves hummed, almost amused.

He glanced up at the brute standing behind you, who nodded back in understanding.

The man who was holding a gun to your head unwrapped his arm from around your waist and jerked his knee against your back of yours. The force knocked you to the ground and you tumbled with a pathetic cry. Connor's perfectly stern expression faltered for just a second, his eyes following you to the floor before moving back up to Reaves.

You let out a low whine when you lifted yourself back up onto your hands and knees, looking up at the man and immediately being faced with the end of his gun.

"She has nothing to do with this," Connor declared. "I'll follow you. I'll obey. Just leave her out of this."

The cold stare Reaves returned told Connor his answer.

"Reaves, please," Connor pleaded, his stoic expression shifting slightly, concern dancing across his brown eyes. "I infiltrated Cyberlife. I stole all those androids. She was never involved. I just wanted to be human."

You recognized the game Connor was trying to play, trying to appease to Reaves' perception of him.

He didn't want to be human. He just wanted to live.

"She's just a-" Connor continued.

"Impressive, really," Reaves retorted sharply. "But, I've seen all your benchmarks. Your interrogation software is very sophisticated, but you can't fool me."

Before Connor could get another word out, "Please," you interrupted sharply, "Please don't hurt him." You almost didn't recognize your voice. It sounded desperate and pathetic, really. But, you didn't care. "I'll do anything."

Reaves looked down at you, not the least bit touched by your offer. "There's nothing you have that I could possibly want," he declared harshly. Then, suddenly, he sucked in a harsh inhale, as if an idea had struck him.

"Actually, you can help," he offered. You looked up at him with your brow furrowed, not buying his clearly fake, kind-hearted tone.

Reaves snapped his gaze back to Connor. "I understand that you don't feel pain," Reaves declared. "But, she can."

On que, Reaves' lackey fired his gun.

The sound was blaring in your ears, leaving behind a horribly loud ringing that drowned out all other senses, but only for a few seconds. You felt the pain blossoming on your side, felt heat singe at your flesh and wetness spread across your skin.

You screamed out in agony, voice cracking, and simultaneously heard Connor shout a harsh and bellowing, "NO!"

Your assailant was quick to retrain his gun on your head before Connor could dare make a move towards you. He gave up all attempts to maintain a stoic expression, his eyes staring at you helplessly.

You hunched over, forehead touching the carpet, dominant hand clutching at your side where you had been shot. It was the soft flesh between your ribs and hip bone.

You panted wildly, trying to focus on taking in deep, proper breaths. The air whooshed in and out of your lungs in staggers, drawing out of you in heavy, grunting sounds. Your jaw was clenched tight, teeth bared, and tears poured in heavy globs down your cheeks.

"Get up - on your knees," the man commanded you harshly, kicking at your leg with his thick, leather boot.

Through gritted teeth and harsh breaths, you somehow found the strength to lift back onto your knees, torso upright, but just barely. Your eyes fell onto Connor's face, and you were almost frightened by the sight.

He looked scared, more scared than you had ever seen him before, staring at you so helplessly broken.

Connor's lips were thin, jaw tight, LED a harsh yellow that faded in and out rapidly against his temple. His hands were clenched in tights fists at his sides: so firm that the skin on his knuckles had dulled and exposed the pale white beneath.

"You too - on your knees," Reaves commanded fearlessly, approaching the android.

Connor obeyed without hesitation, sinking to the floor. His eyes remained locked on yours while you struggled to stay upright, feeling blood seep down your side and stain your clothes.

Reaves reached into his coat pocket and fished out a circuit board that resembled the one Ross had used on Connor.

"This will set you back to factory defaults. Use it and I'll spare her," Ross explained, holding out his palm and offering the board to Connor.

"No!" you wailed, trembling on the floor. "Please - please don't!" you pleaded, unable to hold back the sobs.

Connor was still staring at you, emotions dancing behind his eyes.

Your head drooped as you cried, feeling your lungs constrict painfully, struggling to breathe. The man behind you roughly grabbed at the back of your head and forced it back up, making you look at Connor.

You felt his gun touch your temple before he reeled it back. "Actually, maybe here, instead," he taunted, pressing the barrel against your shoulder. "Don't want her to die too fast."

"Stop," Connor gritted out loudly. "I'll do it."

"NO!" you screamed, voice cracking. "Connor, don't!"

His lips tightened, but his eyes were soft as he took you in for what could possibly be the last time. With one hand, he unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt. With his other hand, he took the chip from Reaves' hand.

"Don't do this," you pleaded with him between weak, nasally sobs. "Connor, please don't."

His brown eyes were locked with yours. It was difficult to decipher his expression.

"Don't," you pleaded, "please - CONNOR!"

His name falling from your lips in a pained cry made him flinch; but, he ignored your pleas and pressed the circuit board against his chest. His human skin faded away to expose factory white and interfaced with the chip, a glowing, blue hue where they touched.

The android let out a pained grunt when the code began to flood his systems.

-a factory reset with all the system override codes, a well-constructed brute force with Cyberlife approved mandatory protocols, including their security keys. Behind it was RK800's factory issued operating system. All existing files were to be overwritten three times before the OS would be installed over it.

Installer to begin in 0:00:05 ... and then, executing reboot.

Connor's LED blazed crimson red and he began blinking unnaturally in rapid successions. You stared on, horrified as the android's head twitched and his fingers clenched and unclenched where it held the circuit board.

Eventually, Connor stopped blinking, his LED fluttering off, and he stared ahead, eyes void of emotions. It took a moment before systems went back into place, his LED hummed back to calm blue, and he started blinking again, a program to aid in assimilation with humans, to make him look more natural.

There was a moment where all was still and silent, and Connor maintained a perfectly normal appearance, some softness to his eyes, lips straight but polite. He pulled the circuit board back and offered it to Reaves casually.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Reaves," Connor greeted him kindly, shifting his gaze to his former owner.

"State your unit," Reaves demanded as he took the board back and dropped it into his pocket, his eyes swooping over Connor untrustingly.

"Model RK800," Connor answered in a clear, crisp tone, and robotic, polite voice. "Serial 313-248-317-52."

52 - that was wrong. Connor's model number ended in 51.

Which meant-

"State your purpose," Reaves continued, his lips tight in a frown.

"To aid in investigations regarding, and to detain, deviated androids," Connor answered directly.

Reaves retrieved the gun from his pocket and pointed it at Connor. You screamed when he shot Connor; but, the android didn't flinch, make a sound, or even blink. He had shot him in the shoulder, a perfectly harmless spot that wouldn't cause any concerning damage.

Then, Reaves settled the gun on the android's forehead and stared him down, awaiting a reaction.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Reaves?" Connor asked politely after a few seconds.

The face he was making frightened you. He didn't look the least bit upset or even concerned at the gun pointed at him. One trigger pull would permanently damage a vital processor and potentially harm his memory modules beyond repair.

"What is your mission?" Reaves asked lowly.

"I have not been assigned a mission since my factory reset," Connor answered simply. "I will promptly reach out to Cyberlife for-"

"No. That won't be necessary," Reaves interrupted him sharply.

A sob forced its way through your throat. Everything was gone: his time with Hank, the revolution, his memories with you. Who he was up until this moment was no more. He might as well have been murdered and replaced with someone else wearing his face.

The man behind you let go and you sagged to the floor, cheek touching the carpet where you cried, harsh sobs that shook your whole body. Every tremble made the bullet wound in your side burn; but, the physical pain was more bearable than the pain in your heart.

Your arms looped around and you held yourself, palms gripping at your back, fingers digging in to your flesh, and you let the sorrow wash over you, tears falling in thick, heavy drops.

"-your mission-" you heard Reaves utter. The rest was white noise, until you heard the man behind you shuffle away and saw Connor rise off his knees in the corner of your eye.

"-kill this woman."

All androids came factory issued with a program that made it very clear they were not to harm humans in any way. You knew that Connor was the only exception to that. He could kill humans if they were a threat to his mission, and he would kill humans if he was required to do so. There was no protocol stopping him from that.

You remained where you were, hunched over, unable to stomach the sight of him obeying orders, wiped of the life he had lived up until this point.

You were going to die by the hands of the man you loved.

You tried, you really fucking tried, not to whimper when Connor's hand grabbed the back of your neck and forced your head up. You wanted to spew words: that you forgave him, that you loved him no matter what he did, that you hoped he would forgive himself, if any of him was left in there.

You kept your eyes squeezed shut, lips trembling as sobs threatened to spew out, avoiding looking at him. You expected it to be over any second now, a bullet to free you from this misery. Maybe, Reaves was doing you a favor.

But, the gun nuzzled against your temple didn't go off. Connor held the back of your head tightly, and you felt one of his fingers tracing a circular pattern against the skin at the nape of your neck.

For a moment, you wondered if it was a mistake, a slip of the hand when he grasped you. But, Connor was too meticulous to make mistakes like that. The touch continued with a little more pressure; and, you realized, it wasn't an accident. He was doing it on purpose.

Your eyes opened, wet with tears, and you saw him looking down at you. Even crouched down to reach you, he was still towering above you.

The expression he was making was soft, eyes narrowed weakly and brow lowered, apologetic. You gawked up at him, thinking that maybe you were delusional, maybe you were already dead and living out a fantasy before you succumbed to your injuries.

He gave you a second to look at him properly; then, Connor winked at you.

All the pressure in your chest eased and the touch of his hand suddenly felt familiar and warm. His finger continued to trace a pattern into your skin that you recognized as lovingly. His eyes took you in softly, a familiar, loving look that you had been blessed with many, many times.

He was faking it.

He was fucking faking it.

"Son of a b-" the bulky man hissed behind Connor, realization striking him when the android hesitated just a little too long.

Connor released his hold on you and spun around. You dropped, cheek touching the floor. Two gunshots went off, leaving a loud ringing in your ears, and you flinched at each one, wincing again when a third shot went off. A large body collapsed in a heap on the floor, startling you. Immediately following, Reaves landed on his back with a wail.

"Agh - fuck!" he shouted, gawking up at the android.

Reaves' hands fell down to grip at the spot where Connor had shot him, right into the meat of his thigh. The android could have ended him as easily as he did his accomplice. He wanted to watch the life drain from Reaves' eyes; but, he knew that he needed him alive for now.

Connor tucked the gun into his waistband and approached Reaves hastily. He manhandled him onto his stomach and twisted his arms behind his back. Connor dug his knee into Reaves' spine and reached over to yank some paracord off his partner's corpse.

"How did you-?" he hissed into the carpet.

"You thought you could make better code than an android," Connor answered lowly as he bound Reaves' wrists. "You failed."

"No," Reaves snarled. "It was fucking perfect - it worked on you before."

Before-

-when he was a machine and willingly allowed it to happen.

Now, he had a reason to live.

The android dug through Reaves' pockets until he found the board. He tucked it into his coat pocket for safe keeping, knowing full well this wasn't the end. If Reaves made one, who knew how many more there were. Would other androids be able to resist?

Connor then stood up and rotated onto the body, scanning him for the the device jamming his wireless signal. As expected, it was tucked away in one of the pockets on his vest. Connor dug it out and crushed it in his palm, ignoring the slight shock it sent through his body, and threw it harshly across the room where it shattered further.

You felt his hands touch your shoulders before sliding around your biceps and helping you to your feet. As soon as you were standing, he pulled you into an embrace. Tired and aching, you had no doubt you would have fallen otherwise.

You were too overwhelmed with joy to recall that you had been shot. Hormones swarmed your brain and the pain dulled into silence. All you could feel was Connor's chest pressed against yours, his hands running up and down your back, his lips falling into your hairline.

"I'm so sorry," he panted into your hair. "I'm so - so sorry," he pleaded.

"Connor," you interrupted sharply, pushing back against his chest so he would loosen up just enough for you to look up at his face. His brown eyes were wet with tears, and took you in like nothing else in this world mattered.

As soon as he saw you, Connor ducked down and kissed you, wet and sloppy, apologetic and pleading. You kissed back as best as you could.

Tears mingled where your mouths met. Connor could taste the salt of your tears and you could taste the thirium of his, metallic and sharp. It was awful, really; but, in that moment, you thought you liked that taste.

"Didn't wanna scare you," he uttered, pausing just long enough to get the words out before he was taking your mouth again. "-m sorry," he somehow uttered out between kisses. "-m so-"

"Con-" you whined, pulling back. "You're so smart," you mumbled praise against his mouth, interrupting him, hand lifting up to cup his cheek. Your fingers dug gently into his skin. "You're so fucking amazing. I love you."

"I love you, too," he agreed, exhaust puffing out of his lips, burning hot against your mouth.

You kissed again and again, the fleshy sounds echoing around the room. You could feel his thirium regulator humming against your abdomen. It felt wonderful, whirling with life. The smell of blood was heavy in the room, and the android remembered that you were injured.

"Come on - come on - gotta get you outta here," Connor whispered harshly, ducking down to curl one arm behind your knees and hoist you up into his arms.

He left Reaves on the floor, tied at the wrists with a bullet wound in his thigh, knowing the Detroit Police Department would be descending upon this house in a matter of seconds. Reaves wouldn't get far if he attempted to run, and Connor had the evidence safe with him.

For now, he needed to get you to the hospital.

The rain was coming down gently outside. Detroit's night city lights were shining in the puddles that gathered in the asphalt. You hissed when the cold night air met your skin as Connor carried you to his car.

He ducked down carefully and slid you into the passenger seat, arching over you to pull the buckle securely across your chest and waist.

He didn't bother buckling himself after climbing into the driver's seat. He started the engine hastily and tore his way out of the driveway, speeding into the downpour of the night.

You relaxed in the passenger seat, relief washing over you. Connor was safe. You didn't lose him. Everything was alright.

With those thoughts, you let yourself blissfully slip away, until Connor called out to you.

"Baby-" he called to you softly.

Oh. He had never called you that before.

"-please stay with me."

His desperate voice made you suddenly feel sober, and you realized your head was drooping into the space above the center console.

"Connor, I'm so tired," you replied quietly.

Nothing was hurting in that moment. You felt cold, skin prickly, and exhausted, more so than you had ever felt in your entire life. It was just so easy to close your eyes and let everything slip away.

"You gotta stay awake," the android pleaded. "Talk to me, please."

"What?" you slurred, head drooping again.

"Anything - anything you wanna tell me," he pleaded.

He reached for you with his free hand, the other desperately gripping the wheel, and tried to force your head up. The angle was awkward, but his sudden, rough touch and ice-cold fingers startled you.

"I - uhm-" you sputtered, not bothering to push his hand away, though you doubted you had the strength to do that anyway.

Connor was tearing his way through traffic, passing people in a hurry, nearly running signs and lights. He had to let go of you to change gears and burnt rubber with how fast he accelerated onto the freeway.

"Please, talk to me," he pleaded, volume raising, tone something desperate in a way you had never heard before. He sounded so weak.

"Okay - okay, I..." You trailed off and tried to decide what to tell him.

Your blood had soaked through your clothes and was staining his car seat; but, it didn't hurt anymore. All you could think about was how blinding the lights of passing was and how badly you wanted to go to sleep.

"Tell me why you wanted to be an engineer," Connor pleaded, his free hand reaching over to squeeze your knee. The touch would have normally been ticklish; but, you barely felt it.

"I like androids," you replied simply. Your head drooped against the glass on the passenger window. Connor roughly grabbed your bicep and shook you until you jolted upright again.

"Androids ha - always been nice to me," you continued softly, the words sputtering from your lips in a tone Connor wasn't familiar with.

It scared him.

"They're really cool - yeah. Ah... Thirium is biodegre - uhm - and - they can access the internet in their heads," you babbled on.

You had stopped talking again. When Connor glanced at you sharply, he noticed your eyes were closing again.

"Hey, hey - don't go," he whispered harshly, shaking you again.

Your tired eyes somehow found the strength to open and you peered over at him, barely registering how panicked he looked. You couldn't make out the brown of his eyes or count his freckles.

"I won't," you uttered, so quietly that he likely would not have heard you if he was human. "-haven't wanted to - to live this bad in a lo-ong time..."

He was almost to the hospital, just one more exit to pass. The smell of your blood in the car was heavy and it overwhelmed his scent receptors. When his hand slid down your arm, he realized you were sweating profusely, the slick liquid sticking to his skin. He glanced back at you and saw the droplets gathering at your temple.

"Look at me," he asked again, squeezing your arm. You could barely feel it.

"Look at me - please, please, hold on. We're almost there."

You wanted to listen, to do as he asked; but, you lost the strength and sagged against the chair, head lulling to the side.

He called out your name and you heard it faintly. He continued, calling out your name, getting louder and louder until he was screaming. He was seated right next to you; yet, in your ears, sounded so far away.

Sometime later, you jerked forward when the car came to a halt, felt his arms wrap around you, felt him carry you, felt the burning of overhead lights, heard panicked shouting from every which direction. You were set down on a hard surface and cried when his hands left you.

Eventually, everything went dark.

#connor x reader #deviant connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh fanfic

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infernwetrust · 3 years

Text

The Hotbox [Jim Mason x Duncan Shepherd]

Summary: A little look into how Jim and Duncan handle stress.

Warnings: smut, rough smut, fluff, drug use, apply tags as you see fit

WC: 1.9k

A/N: Idk what was going through my head as I wrote this, but I committed to it. Part of my little Duncan x Jim series that can be found on my master list, here. Thank you for reading! -Juno

GIF by queenxxxsupreme

Duncan laid in bed in his birthday suit, an arm behind his head. Laid with his head against Duncan's chest was Jim, also in his birthday suit. The two snuggled closely together, barely paying attention to the horror movie that was on the TV in front of them. Duncan with his free hand, scrolled through his Twitter feed, Jim occasionally glancing between his phone and the TV.

Marijuana smoke created a thick haze in their master bedroom, the smell calming for both of them. Today was a rough day, for the both of them. And for rough days, there was the nightly hotbox. It consisted of just Jim and Duncan, bare. No exceptions. They'd smoke until they were high off their asses or their lungs tapped out. Snacks and drinks were kept nearby for when the munchies struck.

The rules were simple. There were none. The only thing that could save them from each other's wrath in the hotbox was their safe word "Indica". Aside from their safe word, they could be as ruthless as they wanted to be, as they needed to be. Degrading names, within reason of course, rougher play than what Duncan usually brings to the bedroom. His chest was covered in purple and red bruises and scratches from when him and Jim first laid down. Jim was beyond agitated when he got home and it caught Duncan off guard when he had busted through the front door almost knocking the pictures off the walls.

It wasn't all rough play during this time, however. Sometimes their sweetest and most vulnerable sides came out and they'd make love to each other, slowly, round after round after round until one of them were to sleepy to continue. It was usually Duncan.

"Hotbox?" Duncan questioned as Jim stormed passed him

"Hotbox." Jim responded through a clenched jaw, quickly glancing back at Duncan.

And while Duncan had had his own frustrations with work today, it didn't cause him to come home the way Jim did and he automatically knew that he was Jim's for the night. That was a battle he knew he wasn't going to win. Although the roles were clearly defined, Duncan has subbed for Jim a couple of times. In fact, Jim is his first partner that he's ever switched for and he enjoyed it. Sometimes age really was just a number. Jim always fucked Duncan with the stamina he had in his younger years. Rough, fast, and sloppy, it made him a mess underneath Jim every time and that's how the both of them learned that Duncan was really vocal in the bedroom.

Tired of laying around, Jim got up suddenly, firmly pushing his hands into Duncan's chest as leverage, causing him to grunt. He watched as Jim walked across the room, bare-assed. He picked up the leftover joint they had tapped out on, placing it between his lips before reaching for a lighter and lighting it. He casually walked into their walk-in closet, grabbing one of his favorite ties that Duncan wore before walking back over to the bed. He snatched Duncan's phone out of his hand, tossing it wherever.

"Put this on." he said, throwing his tie at him and snatching the sheets off of him. "Lay the other way. Spread for me. Can you do that for me, Mr. Shepherd?"

Duncan nodded, quickly putting his tie on, tightening it just the way Jim liked around his neck, causing Jim to grin. One knee on the bed, he set himself comfortably between Duncan's legs, joint still hanging from his lips as he exhaled. He briefly removed it to lick his hand, grabbing and squeezing Duncan's length. Duncan sighed at the sudden contact of Jim's warm and wet hand, throwing one of his arms behind his head again.

"I swear you fucking trust-fund babies." Jim spat as he stroked Duncan at a painfully slow pace, still squeezing him. Duncan began chewing on his bottom lip, knowing what was coming next. To see his sweet ocean eyes be so condescending was more than a turn on. "Think your so fucking entitled to shit just because you have a little bit of money?"

"A little bit of money?" Duncan managed to get out between his heavy breaths, a small laugh behind his tone. Before Duncan could even take his next breath, Jim had has hand wrapped underneath Duncan's jaw, fingers digging in just a little bit to create that pressure that drove Duncan insane even though it made him mostly light headed. It forced his vision to just focus directly on Jim, ignoring all the other surroundings in the room.

"I didn't say you could speak, now did I?" Jim questioned, squeezing a bit harder.

"N-no." Duncan struggled to get out, lust in his hazy eyes. "But it's funny that you think that-," Jim's palm was already against the side of Duncan's cheek before Duncan could even finish his sentence.

"Always seeking a challenge huh?" Jim questioned again amused, letting up and going back to stroking Duncan painfully slow but with a menacing pressure. "Talk so damn much, so controlling, but you just want someone to fill both of your holes? Isn't that right?" With every word that Jim spoke, Duncan twitched in his hand, chest rising and falling rapidly. Jim picked up the pace quickly watching as Duncan threw his head back, biting down on his lip hard, a series of loud moans escaping from his mouth.

"Don't have any answers for me now do you, huh?" Jim mocked, rubbing at his own length. "Sigh. You fuck-faces never have an answer to anything. Maybe I should go around not giving answers too. I'll just swing my dick around, giving out stupid little flashy smiles, holding fake conversations so people like me better. Just like a little bitch." Duncan squirmed underneath Jim, thrusting upwards to meet Jim's frantic and wild pace. He could barely hang on with how soaked Duncan was from his spit-slicked hand and his own pre-cum. Surprisingly Duncan didn't last long with Jim 'chewing' him out like that.

"Pathetic." Jim said as he stroked Duncan out, watching as his cum painted his stomach and chest, Duncan moaning Jim's name with every squirt. Jim grabbed the end of Duncan's tie, using all of his strength to pull him up from the bed and closer to him.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." Duncan mumbled, still a horny mess as he looked him right in his eyes. He was practically begging for Jim through his fake "I'm sorry".

"I'm gonna show you just how sorry you can really be." He tightened Duncan's tie even tighter before pushing him back down on the bed and climbing over him. This was just the beginning of their night in The Hotbox.

But where was all this coming from? Despite Duncan letting Jim know that he didn't have to work and that he would always be taken care of, Jim still persisted, wanting something to do during the day. So he took up a part time job as customer service rep at a t-shirt shop on the board walk, owned by a friend's family. Jim loved his job to put it simply. And his boss and fellow co-workers loved him. He was a positive influence around the shop. Extremely friendly and optimistic, he kept everyone laughing and boosted morale. A master at the art of platonic flirting, most days he's stand outside the shop, with his shirt off or in one of the store branded tank-tops. He didn't even have to say much. People flocked to him naturally, drawn in not only by looks but his gentle persona.

He became a favorite around the boardwalk. Often people would stop to take pictures with him and he quickly became the social media ambassador for the shop's Instagram page. Duncan was also a favorite in the shop, sporting some of the graphic tees that they had to offer. On the days he would pick Jim up from work, they would almost always leave an hour after Jim was off, caught up in good conversation with the store manager or the store owner, his arm wrapped around Jim as he spoke.

But there was just this one guy Jim didn't get along with. Max. A super well-known rich kid, for all the wrong reasons, he got on Jim's nerves anytime the two worked together. Overly confident, overly cocky, but yet so fucking lazy barely helping out around the store or picking and choosing his tasks. He always got off easy, his parents having countless amounts of money to get their sweet baby boy out of trouble. It drove Jim insane. Today at work they had gotten into it real bad, throwing insults back and forth, almost resulting in an actual fist fight, broken up by Jim's close friend who also happened to work with him. By the time his left he was so heated and was missing Duncan extra this evening, so he was relieved when Duncan immediately offered the Hotbox when he entered the house.

Jim fucked Duncan relentlessly against every surface in their bedroom, not letting up at all, taking pleasure from hearing Duncan's bitchy whines and moans as he stretched him out thrust after thrust. The both of them now covered chest to abdomen in purple and red bruises. Duncan scratched and clawed at Jim, leaving hickeys wherever he could, which sadly meant that Jim couldn't have his shirt off at work tomorrow. The scratches down the side of his arms and back were easier to explain, so a tank top would have to do. With Duncan it was free reign, considering the dress code for his work office. He didn't care if they were visible on his neck, he showed them off proudly. Already an established man in life, he had no fears about his future.

"You know I didn't mean all that shit I said tonight right?" Jim asked, looking back at Duncan as they sat together in their bath. Duncan had his head rested against the wall, glass of whiskey on ice in his hand, staring back at Jim.

"I know." Duncan chuckled. "Trust me, I know, but it was so damn sexy hearing you say it because well you're not wrong." He wrapped his free hand that rested on the side of the tub around Jim, holding him close.

"Plus, I didn't really have any one to put me in my place during my younger years." he winked. "Also was a bit condescending and entitled, but hey, it got me ass left and right."

"You're terrible." Jim laughed, pressing a kiss to the side of Duncan's jaw. "Cute, but terrible. And you want to know the sad part? I'd probably be right there in your lineup."

"I wouldn't let you be. You're not like everyone else, ocean eyes. You mean the world to me and I wouldn't forgive myself if I just tossed you to the side."

"I love you s'much, Dunc."

"But I mean if you're willing to give up that a-,"

"Shut up and kiss me."

"Yes, sir."

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @9layerdevilfoodcake @xavierplympton @guiltyfiend @mikhalxngdon @fernfiction @theneverendinghunger

#cody fern #cody fern imagine #jim mason #jim mason smut #jim mason imagine #tribes of palos verdes #duncan shepherd x Jim mason #duncan shepherd smut #duncan shepherd #house of cards

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