#i keep forgetting to post here so have a reblog instead

[solar-wing]

⚣ Five & One 💪🏻

⚣💪🏻 A/N → This is a re-post and, once again, it was inspired by this post by @gone-batty-fics. I'm leaving the full NSFW version up here since it's not that much, so no need for an extra link. I hope you guys enjoy reading this around a second time and sorry if any of you have been missing it. This was my most popular post on my previous account and I'm sad I gotta start it over, but oh well. WARNINGS: Breathplay/Choking, Implied Size Kink, Jealous and Possessive Behavior, Rough Anal, Violence, etc.

⚣💪🏻 Summary → Five times people thought you needed rescuing from your boyfriend, Jason Todd. And the one time, someone needed rescuing from you.

⚣💪🏻 Words → 7.8k

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

Also, vote in my Omegaverse/Yandere poll here!

⚣ ENJOY 💪🏻

Okay, you got it.

Your boyfriend was a very intimidating and scary guy when he wanted to be. But, that didn’t mean people had to keep asking you if you needed saving like you were some damsel in distress. You weren’t even a damsel! You were a damsmen. Damsman? A Damson?

Oh, forget it. Point still stands, people needed to stop treating you like you needed rescuing. You were fine! Besides, when he wasn’t out hunting criminals, Jason was literally the least threatening person in the world. It was you bitches should be worried about! And if bitches didn’t believe you, bitches could just find out on their own.

Bitch.

The first time wasn’t bad. You considered it actually sweet and could see how under the circumstances someone was not aware of the dynamic between you and the vigilante.

It was a sunny day in Gotham for once. Everyone was out, enjoying the sunshine while having barbecues in the parks, strolling down the street in sunhats and sandals, and going swimming at the local pools. You were no different, seeing the usual moody and depressing atmosphere absent from the sky and deciding immediately to take advantage of it and drag your boyfriend Jason out, making the whole day a date between you two.

You and Jason decided on simple outfits since the sun was out and the temperatures were warmer than usual. You decided on a regular button-up, leaving the top three buttons down to show some skin, which your boyfriend both loved and hated since he could ogle your chest with no shame, but anyone else could do the same. You paired it with some boat shoes and simple shorts that did an excellent job hugging your ‘boo-twah,’ a nickname Jason gave your ass for its large-hand-friendly size, as he liked to say.

“Instead of like boo-tee, it’s boo-TWAH. It’s just out there.” He explained one morning when you had spent the night at his place. Jason, sitting and ogling at his boyfriend in his well-fitted yoga pants and sleeveless hoodie while you made breakfast.

“You are such a nerd.” You laughed at him.

“Well, this nerd scored big,” He responded before landing a heavy smack on your behind, which you chastised him for since he made you almost fling the eggs you were scrambling out of the pan.

Back to the sunny day, Jason dressed simply too but was more relaxed than you. He went for a comfortable pair of joggers, one of his nicer gym shoes, and a tank top covered by a sleeveless hoodie since he got hot easily.

A few months after you and Jason got together, he told you about his double life and his family’s. It explained why when he would spend the night at your house a few times, you’d play doctor while wondering where he was getting all these bruises and wounds. As you and Jason grew closer and began to explore your ‘interest’ in each other’s bodies, you’d find he was actually shy about his body even though the man was built like a tank.

It wasn’t necessarily his body he was ashamed of. It was his scars he actually didn’t like. All things he saw as painful reminders of his more than rough past, especially the bigger ones he had received from Joker. You were patient with him and reminded him at every possible chance that his scars were nothing to be ashamed of. Instead, they were to be celebrated and seen as trophies. Reminders that in the face of everything thrown at him, he came out on top stronger than ever.

Over time, Jason became more confident and comfortable in his body. He bought more shirts, tank tops, and shorts that showed his arms, chest, and legs. Even going as far as cutting the sleeves off some of his hoodies since you owned many pairs, and he loved how they looked on you. He’d prefer to wear yours, but since you were much smaller than him, he’d end up stretching or ripping them. Now, you were no dainty stick or anything like that. You had some meat on your bones and were taller than the average guy. But again, Jason is built like a tank and very much dwarfed you in size.

You weren’t complaining. 

He also loved the benefit of the sleeveless hoodies as they made him look more intimidating, which helped whenever he noticed other guys and girls at the gym ogling you a little too long for his liking. He didn’t care who it was, Jason would always look out for and protect you.

Yet, others seemed to see it differently as you walked down the street in Gotham, going in and out of the various stores. You were both sipping on some slushies while chatting about whatever, Jason holding your shopping bags in one hand. You tried to snatch the bags from him multiple times since you didn’t want to feel like Jason was your butler or servant. Besides, you worked out too. Look at your arms! You could carry Jason if you wanted to.

Okay, yes, you knew that was a lie but you were allowed to dream. You’d get there…someday.

“Jason, give me my bag. I can carry it myself!” You said, trying to reach for the bag again.

“Sorry, Bugs, you know the rules. You’re not allowed to carry anything in my presence. Well, except my love for you. That’s heavy enough as it is.” Jason said with a cheeky smile.

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend’s corny behavior and another one of his nicknames for you. You’d made the mistake of bringing Jason around your best friend during a study session for one of your classes. He revealed your childhood obsession with Looney Tunes and how many times when you reacted to a situation, you were a carbon copy of Bugs Bunny with his sarcasm and behavior.

“Get away from me dude,” You said, putting distance between yourself and the brick wall of a man.

“Ah, get back here.”

Jason grabbed you by your waist and pulled you to his side, nuzzling his face into your neck while tickling your sides.

“Jason, stop!” You shouted in laughter, trying to push him away.

“Never! You are now my hostage.” He joked back with you.

You stood there for a few more seconds wrestling with each other on the sidewalk. Someone should really scold you two for acting so cutesy and loving out and public like that. WE GET IT! You’re in love! Stop rubbing it in our faces.

When you broke apart, you found yourselves outside a bookstore. You saw Jason’s eyes light up even if his face didn’t show it. He turned towards you, giving you his best puppy-dog eyes and pout.

“Oh, get in there you dork. But, don’t max out your dad’s credit card!” You said, successfully pushing him off you.

He leaned down to plant a kiss on your lips before shooting into the store like the Flash. “No promises!” He yelled over his shoulder.

While he was in the store living out his childhood fantasy, you decided to let your ankles rest since you had been on them for a few hours. Jason offered to carry you at one point, and though it was tempting, you declined.

You sat on a nearby bench while scrolling on your phone for a bit. Your head shot up when you spotted someone approaching you from the street. It was two girls, both who looked to be in their late 20s to early 30s, carrying concerned looks on their faces.

“Hi!” You spoke with a smile, waving to the women walking up to you.

“Hey, are you okay?” One of them asked when they got to you.

Now, you had a confused expression on yours.

“I’m sorry?” You responded with a puzzled eyebrow raised.

“We were across the street when we saw that guy grabbing you. We can walk with you to the police station if he’s harassing you.” The other woman said.

‘Were these chicks on crack?’ You thought.

“Um, I think there’s been some confusion–” You started but was interrupted by the door swinging open, an excited Jason springing out of the store.

“BABE! THEY’VE GOT A MINT-CONDITIONED PRIDE & PREJUDICE! Can I get it?! Please!!!” Jason shouted while running up to you and grabbing you by your arms.

You could barely keep off the amused smile on your face while looking around your boyfriend’s shoulder to see the two girls looking shocked and embarrassed by your giant for a boyfriend, begging you for a book like a kid.

Jason turned around as well, seeing the two women staring at you two while he just pulled you closer to his body, wrapping his arms around you.

“Who are your friends, Bugs?”

“Just some nice girls being friendly,” You answered before using your hand to turn Jason’s head back toward you. “Don’t you already have three copies at home, Jason? Why do you need another?”

“Okay, but those are all old copies and are falling apart. This one is BRAND NEW! Never been opened. Please!!!”

You could only sigh at his antics before turning back to the girls, “I’m fine, ladies. But, thank you for asking.”

They both nodded with embarrassment before walking off down the street, Jason watching them with a confused expression before looking down at you.

“What was that about?”

“Don’t worry about it.

This one also wasn’t so bad, but it was still annoying.

Your parents were out of town for a month for their anniversary, so you invited Jason over. When he got there and saw how your cupboards and fridge were damn near empty, he was upset at you for not telling him you had no food and your parents for not supplying you with anything.

Truth be told, they literally just forgot to go before they left. Jason always wondered where you got your forgetfulness from. Now, he knew.

So, he dragged you to your local wholesale store once again with his adoptive father’s credit card to stock and load your cabinets so you wouldn’t go hungry. Well, really so, Jason wouldn’t go hungry since he would be spending a lot of time at your place now. Again, the man was like a mountain, so of course, he ate like one.

You had been in the store for about 15 minutes, and already your cart was damn near half-full.

“Jay, don’t you think this is enough? We don’t have to get a bunch of stuff today.” You voiced, eyeing the growing basket with concern.

“Bugs, you can’t stay in your house for a month and not have any food. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you go hungry?” He responded while grabbing four boxes of your favorite cereal brands off the shelf and placing them neatly in the basket.

If it’s one thing that shocked you to learn about Jason was that he was very clean and organized with anything. You expected that trait more out of his brothers like Tim or Damian. But in truth, Tim was more of an organized chaos type of guy, and Damian was very simplistic, so he didn’t really need to organize much, except for his drawings and paintings, which he sometimes left scattered all over his desk.

Dick was a mess that couldn’t be saved. God bless the soul that ended up with that man.

But Jason was the cleanest out of all of them. The man could barely go two days without scrubbing down or re-organizing something. Again, you weren’t complaining. Every time he came over, he’d clean your room without you even asking.

“Okay, but my parents did leave me money to order out. Plus, I don’t want Bruce thinking I’m using you for money, or anything like that, especially since you keep taking his credit card.” You pointed out to which your boyfriend scoffed in response.

“Please, as much as that man has put me through, maxing out his credit card is the last thing he’s worried about me doing. And don’t worry, he and the rest of the family love you. Honestly, if it wasn’t for you dating me and the fact that you have great parents, I wouldn’t be surprised if the old man didn’t try to adopt you, which, if I haven’t mentioned this already, I don’t recommend.” He finished while heading further down the breakfast food aisle and grabbing boxes of Pop-Tarts.

“Fourth time.” You stated. Jason does not hold back regarding his tense relationship with his adoptive parent.

That was something you’d also been watching him work on. 

When Jason met your parents and saw the relationship between your father and you, it opened up an emotional wound he wasn’t prepared for. And though he still had some resentment toward the Billionaire Playboy, aka the Dark Knight, for not sending Joker to the seventh ring of hell after his death, it didn’t mean he didn’t still care for and love the man. He just had mental blocks he needed to work through, and you’d be there to support him.

Jason was about to give you one of his dorky responses until he realized he forgot the credit card in your car.

“Shoot, I forgot the card in the car. Where’re your keys?” He asked.

You handed them to him, and he gave you a quick kiss and a slap on the ass with a warning to not put anything back before rushing towards the entrance/exit of the store. Rolling your eyes, you moved down the aisle scoffing at his warning. Of course, he knew you were going to try and put some of the items back. Just like you knew him better than himself sometimes, it was the same for him with you. He could predict your next move before it popped into your head which you found very cute but extremely annoying at times.

While you stood there for a few moments scrolling on your phone out of boredom, you heard a voice speak up behind you.

“Excuse me.”

You turned around to see two guys around your age standing behind you. You figured they were trying to get to something behind you, so you moved yourself and your cart out of the way.

“Oh, my bad. Here ya go.”

“No, no! Not that. We were just wondering if you needed help getting your car or getting away from that guy. We saw him drag you in here.”

You barely held back the eye roll that was itching in your skull. Yes, Jason did somewhat have to drag you into the store since you insisted that you didn’t need to go grocery shopping. But, what happened to common sense? If Jason truly was holding you hostage or had bad intentions for you, why in the world would he bring you to a grocery store out of all places?!

Seriously, what were they thinking? That he was going to stick a Fruit-Loops box over your head and torture you with your most hated juice flavor?

A small sigh escaped your mouth before you responded to the boys, “Okay, this is not what it looks like. That guy is my boyfriend, and we’re just grocery shopping. I promise I’m fine.” You assured the guys.

“Are you sure? He isn’t forcing you to say any of this, right? I know that guy’s intimidating, but we can call security or the police to help you.”

Before you could respond, you both heard the sounds of quick footsteps approaching from around the corner. You turned to see him holding a plate with two large slices of pepperoni pizza and a large orange soda.

“Babe, I got you two slices of pizza and your favorite soda from the food court. I know you haven’t eaten today, so I figured you could snack on this, and then we can get you some chicken tenders and fries from your favorite restaurant after we leave here.” He offered while handing you the plate, looking at you with the most adoring gaze.

This boy really did have your whole heart. You could only wonder what you did to deserve someone like him.

When Jason took note of the two other guys standing by you looking dumbfounded, his arm instantly found its way around your waist, pulling you into his side while eyeing the two boys suspiciously and on guard. Anyone that wasn’t your parents, best friend, or his family, Jason saw as a potential threat. Even his family sometimes was included in that list a few times, and living in Gotham, you could never be too careful.

And any excuse for Jason to show you as his to anyone else watching was always an appreciated opportunity.

“Can I help you, fellas?” Jason said, a stern tone in his voice while eyeing the two down with every menacing look he could muster in his eyes.

You’ve never seen two guys who looked like they wanted to shit their pants so bad and run in the opposite direction. They started stuttering out a response before you took pity on them.

“They’re fine, Jay. They were just trying to grab some cereal behind me. I was just moving out of their way.” You threw a look toward the boys, who looked at you confused before they caught on to what you were trying to say.

“Y-Yeah m-man. Just ... um gra-grabbing some Frosted flakes.” One of the dudes said, pointing his fingers toward the boxes right behind you.

Jason eyed that finger with malice before he felt your fingers turning his face toward you.

“Hey, stop it. I’m good. Now, are you going to let them get their cereal and let me eat my pizza before it gets cold?”

A small smile crossed his face while he backed you both up moving the cart as well. You ruffled his hair watching the two boys grab a box and run down the aisle with their tails between their legs. He let out his usual whine, using his other arm to fix his hair.

“Shut up, you big baby. You promised me chicken tenders and fries, so get a move on before I get a food attitude.”

Jason smirked at your words before the hand around your waist moved to your butt, palming and squeezing your cheeks under the ‘hoochie’ shorts you were wearing.

“I know something better that’ll fill you up and take care of that attitude for you.” He whispered in your ear before giving a nip.

At least you weren’t in front of the salads when this was happening.

This wasn’t bad. It was actually funny, and you got a friend out of it.

You and Jason were at the gym, getting a workout in. You decided you both liked going in the afternoon when it was less busy. It was leg and glutes day for you (per usual) while Jason was working chest and shoulders. 

Two of your favorite body parts on him, including his arms, but that’s not important.

Now, you both agreed when you went to the gym that you would do your workouts separately but your warm-ups and cardio together. So, at some point, Jason was on the Smith machine doing a shoulder bench press while you were on another bench doing Bulgarian split squats.

Of course, the gym was a place where people met each other all the time. And, in many of those meetings and interactions, people would find others attractive and want to date or hook up with them. You were no exception to these rules. You were approached many times by both girls and guys, but you always politely declined. Well, you tried at least before Jason walked over and made it clear who you were with.

It was no secret to anyone that Jason did not only get easily jealous at the thought of you giving your attention and time away to someone who was not him, but he was also the living definition of anger issues. Match that with his very selfish and possessive attitude towards you, and you had a man ready and WILLING to do just about anything to anyone who dared lay a finger on you in the wrong way.

So, whenever someone deemed themselves stupid brave enough to approach you and flirt a little or leave a teasing touch to one of your arms, you’d try to give them a warning but it was always too late. They’d quickly find a towering shadow looming over them and turned to see a less than pleased Jason staring down at them with his bulging arms crossed over his chest. These being one of the few moments Jason gladly showed off his scars because they communicated his message quickly and effectively.

Back. The. Fuck. Off.

That was usually enough to get them to do just that. Most of the time, at least.

There always ended up being at least one guy or girl who wouldn’t take no for an answer. This time, it was a guy who kept finding himself next to you during your sets. Jason was watching you from afar with hooded and irritated eyes as he also noticed your gym shadow moving around with you. 

The guy decided to play smart and keep his hands off you since he could tell your brute of a boyfriend was watching his every move. The only reason he didn’t do anything was because he knew if he did, the guy could claim Jason as the aggressor, and since this was your favorite gym because your college’s gym was always crowded, he didn’t want to risk you getting in trouble and banned.

So, when Jason went to the bathroom, the creep took advantage of the moment and offered to ‘spot’ you on your set of squats with the smith machine, which you were sure was just an excuse for him to get behind you so he could ogle your ass and ‘accidentally’ grind his dirty crotch into it.

Luckily, a girl working out nearby noticed your uncomfortable stance when the man came over to ‘help’ you while you were setting up and immediately stopped her workout to shoo him away.

“Dude, he’s clearly not interested. So either go and finish your workout or pack up and get out!”

He tried to get defensive and argue with her, but when she revealed her boyfriend was one of the owners and threatened to have him kicked out and banned, he finally backed off. He made sure to point out how you weren’t even all the hot anyway to mask his hurt pride while you threw an appreciative look toward her.

When he left and Jason returned from the bathroom, the girl unleashed her rage on him as well.

“And you too! I’ve seen you harassing and stalking him all over the gym. I’ll kick your ass out too and have you banned if you don’t leave him alone.” She scolded the dark-haired man.

Jason looked confused while you just laughed before grabbing his arm and pulling him to you, “Nah, don’t worry about him. This one’s good.” You said, reaching up to ruffle his hair, even though you had to stretch a little bit.

Jason pouted down at you in childish anger, “I told you don’t do that! Do you know how long it takes to get this in the right floppy position?” He whined while trying to fix his hair.

She looked back and forth between you two before realization dawned upon her.

“Boyfriend who’s a menace to everyone but is a total baby when around you?”

You gasped, “Girl, how’d you know?”

“Mine’s the exact same.”

“Oh, we’re gonna be great friends.” You declared.

Okay, this time, it was lowkey your fault, but still. People should be able to tell the difference between an actual cry for help and a joke.

Jason decided to take you to one of his favorite cafes in Gotham since you were in desperate need of a study break. You picked up some classes over the summer, so the schedule was much more tightly packed since they had to speed up a four-month course into two with the semester being divided into two sections.

Jason was sitting on one of the lounge chairs reading while you were sipping on some apple juice and reading a fanfic story on your phone. Whether or not it was smut was not important and nobody would be able to tell by the look on your face. At least until you read over one particular part that had you gasping out loud which managed to catch your boyfriend’s attention.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You quickly said, liking the fic quickly and closing the browser, knowing Jason was not going to drop it.

“Uh uh, Bugs. What were you looking at?” He asked, setting his book on the table and moving over to your side of the table.

“Nothing Jay! I promise it was nothing.”

“Oh really? So you wouldn’t mind if I looked at your phone then?”

You felt your cheeks heat up while Jason took notice of your tense stance, peering at you and your phone while slowly leaning toward you from his crouched stance.

“Let me see your phone.”

“No.”

“Give me your phone.”

“I said no.”

“Bugs,” Jason said, now mocking a stern look on his face, “Give. Me. Your. Phone.”

He held out his hand for emphasis, and you felt your fingers reflexively tighten around your smart device. You stared back at him with your own dour expression, “No. Means. No.”

You both stared into each other’s eyes for a moment before he suddenly grabbed at your phone, attempting to snatch it from your hand. It became a tug-of-war over the device while you both consciously tried not to be too much of a disturbance to the other patrons of the cafe.

This is where it accidentally was your fault.

“Help! Assault! Violence! Thief!”

You thought you were shouting it quietly, but there was a reason your family always told you to quiet down when you thought you were speaking at a normal volume. You got it from your mother really. Strong voices and all…

“Dude, fucking back off!”

You both heard the deep voice shout before you watched a guy tackle Jason to the ground, feeling hands coming to your side.

“Oh my god, are you okay?!” This random brunette said while checking you over to make sure you weren’t hurt.

You were FINE. However, you were worried as hell now. Not for Jason at all, cause… Well, ya know.

You were scared for the other guy that had tackled Jason. Your boyfriend did NOT do well with physical touch, considering how long it took him to get comfortable with just cuddling with you. Let alone sudden physical touch? And the man is used to fighting criminals at night and having to be on guard 24/7 if he feels something suddenly grab or touch him? Yeah, you were hoping this didn’t end in a trip to the precinct like last time.

Don’t ask.

“I’m fine. But, I do suggest you quickly get your friend off my boyfriend before he has to go to the hospital.” You assured the girl while warning her at the same time.

She looked at you confused, “Boyfriend? Wait, huh? We thought that guy was attacking you and trying to steal your phone. And don’t worry, my boyfriend’s a professional kickboxer. He can handle him.”

‘Yeah. Mine has anger issues and was trained by Batman and can re-load two guns in under twenty seconds with his arms tied behind his back.’

“AH!”

You both turned your heads to see Jason holding the other guy in a chokehold while looking up at you.

“Aww, man! He spilled my coffee over my book.” Jason whined, “Babe, can you get me another one, please?”

“Yes, Jason. Can you do me a favor and let him go before you break his neck?”

Jason rolled his eyes before releasing the guy, who went into a coughing fit on the ground as he caught his breath.

When he sat back at the table as the girl went to help her boyfriend off the floor after giving you both weird looks, he set your phone on the surface, eyeing you with a quizzical look.

“What?” You asked after he stared at you for a few more minutes.

“Really? Yandere?”

Your heart jumped in your chest, and you were ready to bolt for the door.

“So, all those times you swore you weren’t trying to make me jealous just to get a reaction outta me, were you actually just trying to get me to tie you up and lock you in my room?” He said with a dark look in his eyes and a cheeky smirk on his lips.

HOT BOY DOWN! I REPEAT, HOT BOY DOWN!

Now, this was just ridiculous. Of course, it made sense, but you were thoroughly pissed off when it happened.

You and Jason had returned to his apartment after having dinner with his family at Wayne Manor. Bruce decided he wanted to have at least one family dinner a month, and since you were considered an honorary Wayne and everyone loved you, of course, you were invited. Jason, on the other hand, was still hesitant.

Even though he was working on his relationship with Bruce and trying to move past his mental scars, his family still brought up some sensitive subjects for him. Typically, they made his insecurities flare up a lot more. You were Jason’s safe space. So, he wasn’t really keen on mixing the things that made him question himself and the person who made him feel the most loved and secure together.

You didn’t push, still wanting to go at his pace and let him bring you around more when he was ready. The day of the dinner, you figured he either had a change of heart or somebody had talked to Jason and convinced him to bring you along, and you had a great time. Jason was a bit quiet throughout the evening, but you could see a small part of him was happy at seeing how you integrated well into his family dynamic. He took great pleasure in how you humbled Dick a few times as well.

But, something was off, but you couldn’t tell what it was. You knew Jason was usually the quieter one out of the rest of his siblings. When you were around, he showed more of his goofiness and playful side. You barely saw that at all tonight. You knew he was watching you as you made conversation with Bruce, argued back and forth with Damian, repeatedly told Tim he needed to get more sleep, snapped photos with Steph, joked with Duke, and even learned a little sign language from Cass.

He watched as you offered to help Alfred with the dishes, who respectfully declined, but did make his appreciation known to you and the others, especially Tim.

“I offer to help you sometimes, Alfred!” Tim shouted while chasing after the butler offering his help.

Usually, Jason would laugh at any moment that came at the expense of Tim’s sanity.

None of that happened. 

So, when you got back to his place, you asked him what was wrong. He remained silent as he just looked at you, but you could see there was a storm behind his eyes. When you came up to rub his arm and hug him, his hands shot up to your neck, wrapping around it firmly but not tight to where you couldn’t breathe.

Your hands grabbed his wrists as he maneuvered you against the wall that connected the living room to the kitchen. He placed his lips roughly on yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth while never loosening his hold on your neck.

“Mine. Not theirs, mine.” He muttered against your lips before quickly taking his hands off your neck, ripping your clothes off while ridding himself of his.

In less than two minutes, Jason had you pressed back against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist, and his long and girthy member tucked deep inside your ass, fucking you with hard and menacing thrusts. His large and rough hands were back around your neck, now squeezing around your neck as you moaned breathlessly against him.

Jason took immense pride in your sounds of satisfaction and whining, increasing his already brutal pace in your guts while slowly stealing more of your breath away. Jason’s hard breaths pounded against your face as he stared at your now sweaty and ragged body, limping weakly against him. You placed your arms on his shoulder but were careful to avoid his neck, knowing that along with some other areas on his body were off-limits unless specified otherwise.

This was the dynamic between you two always. Anyone could see how Jason was wrapped around your finger in public and even in private whenever you two were just lounging around and relaxing. In these moments, you were fully under Jason’s authority. You lay completely at his mercy while he dominated your body and controlled where, when, and how you got pleasured. 

The who rarely came into question as though your boyfriend had considered it a few times, you didn’t see a day likely where Jason’s jealousy and possessiveness would let him allow someone else to see you in this manner. No, you were for his eyes only.

And the why, well that was simple. Jason had needs, you had needs. And, no one was better suited to fulfill those needs than your boyfriend. Though with him, anything could spark those needs at any given time. Whether the dark-haired boy was just feeling horny and wanted some ass. You decided to wear a tempting outfit, and he decided he was going to right then and there he would have you, whether in the house, in the car, or in public, it didn’t matter. If he felt you were being a little too friendly with someone else, he’d be happy to remind you about who you belonged to. The why was simple; if Jason wanted you, he would have you. No ifs, and’s, or but’s about it.

“J-Jason... nngh p-please-” You begged, feeling yourself nearing the edge as your dick was crushed between Jason and your hot and sweaty abdomens.

“Say my name again,” He ordered, feeling how he flexed his dick inside you while still pounding your sore hole.

His name fell from your lips in a needy moan as you felt his fingers pressing against your windpipes. You could feel how the wall behind you became slick from your sweat as your body jutted up and down against it with Jason’s increasingly erratic thrusts.

He grunted in approval of your increasingly loud whines as you both approached your climaxes. Jason fully squeezed your neck at this point as he punched your insides with his cock. Your own member was feeling the pressures as well as it repeatedly smashed against Jason’s abs before you reached your end, screaming out in blissful agony.

Jason came to his finish with his own groan as you felt him bury himself with his cum deep inside you. You let out soft little whines feeling his appendage throb against your walls. Even though you knew he didn’t like hands around his neck, he didn’t object to you rubbing a hand down his nape. He gave you a warning glance at first, but when he felt your soft hands rubbing up and down his skin, he visibly relaxed, placing a kiss on your cheek.

The quiet and sweet moment though was abruptly ruined by the sound of Jason’s front door being kicked in and heavy boots rushing into his apartment.

“GOTHAM P.D.!” You heard the intruders shout.

Of all the fucking things…

Well, when the cops came around and found you and your naked boyfriend against the wall, and his hands around your neck, you had to admit it didn’t look good.

You had to quickly explain to the officers it wasn’t what it looked like and that everything was consensual. Against the orders of the cops, Jason did not move one inch off the wall, keeping your body covered with his. He’d sooner dip himself in another Lazarus Pit than let these arrogant blue caps have even the smallest peek at you.

So, with a little charm and finesse, you convinced the cops to walk out and let you and him get dressed. Jason couldn’t decide what he was more upset about. 

The fact that his door was off its hinges, or that one of his neighbors called the cops on him thinking Jason had been abusing you, or that your private moment was intruded upon and some pervy cops basically saw you naked.

Yeah, he was going to be extra brutal on patrol tonight.

After a call was made to Commonionser Gordon at Jason’s request, the cops dropped everything and left you two alone when Gordon made it clear this was a bogus call.  “Jason? Abusing Y/N? That boy is the biggest simp this city’s ever seen. Whoever called that in was obviously misinformed.”

Even if it was true, Jason didn’t appreciate being called a simp. He didn’t deny it, though.

You could barely hold back your laughs to which your boyfriend responded with a harsh smack to your very sore ass. It was a wonder how you were even standing on your legs as they still felt like jelly.

“I’m sorry, but I just can’t see him in that manner.”

“No way, he’s way too sweet and innocent to be like that.”

“Dude, have you met your own boyfriend?”

These were all things said to Jason when he would complain to them about how he was tired of everyone thinking he was a threat to you and not seeing the truth. If anything, you were more of a threat to Jason and honestly, should be placed on a national security watch list for some of the things that have come out of your mouth.

The only one who really knew and understood what Jason was talking about was your best friend, who was the first one to warn Jason. The boy didn’t believe him either at first and ended up finding out the hard way.

Well, it looked like Jason’s brothers were also about to find out as they had come to your school’s campus looking for him. You were happy to see the Wayne siblings, as some time had passed since the last dinner. For some reason, seeing how easily you interacted with his brothers drove up Jason’s jealousy to a new level. As soon as they showed up, Jason placed you on his lap, and you could feel his prominent bulge throbbing under you. You knew immediately you were in for it when you both got home.

When you got up to go to the bathroom, Jason was going to follow you, intending to give you a little preview of what to expect in the stalls, but was stopped by Dick, who said they had something important they needed to talk to him about.

Before that could happen, a new presence appeared at your table, and your best friend visibly and audibly groaned at who it was.

“Hi there.” Jason heard a sickly sweet voice say, turning to see another boy he’d heard of.

“Xavion.” Jason heard your best friend mutter under his breath.

He knew that name. He’d heard you curse it and mutter it in irritation and anger plenty of times. He purposefully went out of his way to piss you off and pick with you on multiple occasions. He also thought that because his dads were rich and gave him everything he wanted, he was entitled to anything and everything, including other people’s significant others.

No one knew what started the rivalry between you two, but they knew it got cemented when he had sex with your first college boyfriend while you guys were dating and then went on to sleep with any guy you had the slightest attraction to.

So, Jason would be no different when he placed himself a little too close for the dark-haired boy’s liking, trying to maneuver himself away.

“I’ve seen you around on campus before. Are you a student here?”

“Xavion, don’t you have someone else to harass and stalk?” Your best friend commented with an irritated eye roll.

The boy in question only threw a dirty glance at your comrade before turning back to your boyfriend, taking considerable delight in looking him up and down, “Damn, aren’t you a big boy. You’re Y/N’s boyfriend, right? Gotten bored yet?”

Everyone tensed at that, watching how Xavion only got bolder in his flirting, “I’d understand if you did. Y/N’s just not that interesting, and honestly, a little ran through. I’d be happy to show you other options though,” He voiced with a suggestive tone.

Dick, Tim, and Damian watched with slightly nervous eyes as the promiscuous boy moved his hand that was caressing Jason’s arm and placed it around his neck, waiting for the ball to drop as the second Wayne kid's hands began to twitch on the table.

Before anyone could move to stop it, they saw Xavion get literally yanked off of Jason and onto the ground. Your boyfriend and his siblings along with your best friend who began to cheer your name watched as you dragged the slut onto the ground by the back of his shirt and proceeded to WHALE on him.

No one had noticed you coming back from the bathroom, too busy watching Xavion rub his hands all over your boyfriend. When you got closer and saw what was happening, you immediately saw red and picked up your pace, only to dash into a mad sprint when you saw his hand touch Jason’s neck.

Jason after breaking out of his stunned trance immediately ran over to pull you off the screaming boy who was crying for help. Dick and Tim ran over to pull Xavion out of your grasp, just barely managing to save him from what would have been a devastating kick from your boot to his face.

“Touch my boyfriend again and see what happens bitch!” You shouted out at the boy. Luckily, you were in a secluded part of campus, so no one had seen the fight. But, when Xavion had gotten off the ground looking thoroughly fucked up, he tried to run up on you, seeing Jason holding you back and thinking he had an open shot.

Little did he or Jason expect, you used your smaller stature to slip out of Jason’s hold and rushed the boy before kicking your leg up and landing that hit that was taken from you earlier. You took sick satisfaction hearing and feeling the crunch under your foot as it connected with his nose.

Dick, Tim, and Damian watched in complete shock seeing you beat the shit out of this boy. Now, they could really see why you and Jason were such a good match for each other.

When Jason got you back in his arms, he made sure to hold on a little tighter to you so you couldn’t slip away again. Dick and Tim had to help the sobbing boy cradling his broken nose, saying they would take him to the emergency room.

Jason pulled you both back towards the table, sitting you down on his lap as he held your hands down. He could not help how hard he was under you and didn’t care to hide it. Watching that display had him a different level of horny and he frankly couldn’t wait to take you home.

After a few moments passed and you settled down, everyone looked up to the sound of a throat clearing.

“Todd, I don’t know if I ever told you this before,” Damian started, looking at you both with his usual judgemental stare, “...Good job.” He said with a nod toward you.

You were both surprised, Jason especially, as neither of you had ever heard the youngest Robin give out a compliment.

“If you screw this up somehow, which I have little doubt that you’ll find a way, I will not hesitate to end you.”

There was the Damian you both knew.

“I second that motion,” Your best friend added to which you just laughed.

“Shut it, gremlin.” Jason retorted before squeezing you against his body.

“Don’t worry, Damian. I don’t think Jason will do anything to screw this up. Besides, if he does do something stupid, he’ll have me to worry about.” You said, a mischievous twinkle in your eye.

You heard Jason growl lowly against you before grinding you into his lap, letting you feel his hardness poking you through your shorts. You popped his arm to which he responded with a pinch on your ass, your best friend watching in disgusted amusement.

“You two make me sick.”

“Back at you, ugly.” You responded.

Damian turned his head, looking in the direction where Dick and Tim took Xavion to an ER room, “I despise harlots.”

“OH! Speaking of which, thank you, Damian, for reminding me.” You said before leaning over Jason to grab your bag and pull out your laptop.

“What are you doing?” Your boyfriend asked.

“Insurance. I knew the day would come when that hoe went too far. So just in case he decides to go to the university about this little spat, I’m emailing a detailed description of how everything went down, along with photos and evidence of his affairs with various teachers and staff. To them, it will look like Xavion attacked me out of retaliation because he thought I would snitch on him about his sexual misconduct. Now, tell me, babe, did you feel physically violated?” You asked while making various edits to your already drafted email.

“Huh?” Jason replied confused.

“Just say yes.” Your best friend told him with a smirk.

“Um, yes? I think…”

“Perfect! Putting that down for the record, so, if that slut decides to try to get me in trouble, I can show I had completely justifiable reasons to hand him his ass on a concrete platter.” You stated a little too cheerily to be considered not disturbing.

Your best friend was not surprised by this at all, while Damian and Jason looked at you like you had two heads.

“Isn’t the expression ‘silver platter?’” Damian pointed out.

“Yeah, but I dragged his ass up and down on concrete, so it’s a concrete platter today.”

You looked up to see the two Robins staring at you.

“What? Bitches fucked around, so bitches found out. Don’t blame me.” You said while continuing to type.

“I fucking love you,” Jason said while biting at your ear lobe, making you laugh.

Damian could only scoff as he watched you two.

“And people swear Todd’s the threat.”

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

#solar-wing ☀️ #☀️🪽.fanfic #☀️🪽.dcposts #☀️🪽.explicit #☀️🪽.smut #☀️🪽.txt #gay #dc #dcu #dcau #dc universe #dc comics #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x male reader #x reader #x male reader #jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x m!reader #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood x male reader #red hood x m!reader

[party-hearses]

relax, baby | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x f!reader (NO USE OF Y/N)

rating: explicit, 18+ MDNI

wordcount: 5k

summary: joel is full of surprises at work.

series warnings/tags: pwp, explicit smut, v fingering, brief oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, pet names (princess, baby), language, no cordyceps outbreak, lmk if i’m forgetting anything. honestly, this is just filth.

author's note: i wrote this instead of doing homework. my smut abilities are a little rusty, so here’s my attempt at getting them working again. feedback and reblogs are appreciated if you enjoy! <3

“‘Sposed to be a scorcher today.”

“‘Sposed to be a scorcher every fucking day,” you mumble into the receipt book splayed open in front of you.

He isn’t wrong, of course. Just irritating. The Texas summer heat is unrelenting at best, but it’s not anything new.

“What was that, princess?”

You grimace at the nickname. Stupid fucking Joel Miller, your brother’s boss, taunting you while he rummages through the filing cabinet shoved into the corner of the room opposite you.

Your boss, now, too. Sort of.

“Nothin’.”

“S’what I thought.” He pulls his body up to its full height, having found what he was searching for. He holds the file of paperwork in his hands like a prize, slamming the drawer of the unit shut. “You’re lucky to have AC in here, princesa. Not like the rest of the guys, out there in the sun.”

You roll your eyes skyward at the jab. It hadn’t taken long for you to be branded with different variations of the nickname, which, much to your chagrin, isn’t even inventive. The names the guys call you usually revolve around your new position as “office admin” (a made up term), and the considerable comfort (if it could be called that) it offers. Low hanging fruit, in your opinion.

Your brother tells you to laugh it off, to take it as a compliment. A means of being accepted. It’s not worth the argument about power dynamics and the stigma of being a woman in a male dominated profession, especially for a temporary position, so you do your best to ignore it. It’s not like your brother would understand your points, anyway.

“You’re the boss, Joel. You don’t have to be — out there.” You wave your hand at the window, grimy with dust and…grime. Unknown construction grime. Men, you shudder.

“Oh, yeah? Guess I could just post up in here all day with you, huh?” He’s looking at you now, hands on his hips, smirk pulled across his mouth. He grips the file in his hand against his waist, strong fingers nearly crumpling it in half.

He’s irritating, but fuck, if he isn’t gorgeous. All taut muscles, graying scruff, and big, sad, brown eyes. It’s hard to keep your own eyes off him regularly, but it’s an exercise in futility the rare times you’re alone with him.

But you shrug, coolly, playing off the damning attraction you feel towards him. “I don’t care what you do, Miller.”

“Yeah?” he breathes, and he’s there, across the desk from you, palms planted face-down on the cool wood, chin dipped.

You swallow hard, meeting his smoldering eyes. It’s impossible not to notice his tee shirt, Miller Construction scrawled across the left breast, pulling against his chest and biceps. He’s so fucking big.

“You should care, sweetheart, ‘cause you run—” He leans in closer.

“—the whole—” Closer still.

“—fucking—”

You can smell the cedar and sawdust on him. The distinctly masculine scent. it makes your head swim.

“—office,” He finishes, inches away from your face.

Your eyes widen.

“I mean- uh, well, of cou-“ you stutter, but he’s laughing, pulling away.

Narrowing your eyes, you slam the receipt book shut. “Shouldn’t you be at a different site? Not here, bothering me?”

He grins, still chuckling lowly, permanently-tousled curls begging to be pulled.

“You tell me,” he says, gesturing to the now-closed notebook with his chiseled jaw. “You’re my keeper, ain’t ya?”

This fucking guy.

You blow the air out of your cheeks, exasperated.

“I am not,” you say slowly, through gritted teeth, “your keeper. I am helping you out by cleaning up your books and organizing some schedules, while I’m home for the summer. As a favor to my brother.”

He tilts his head, grin giving way to a sly smile. Saying nothing.

“Wouldn’t be working in a fucking trailer for anyone else,” you grumble pointedly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I am payin’ ya, though.”

Joel tosses the file in front of you and drags a chair from the other side of the room — other side of the trailer — to a stop in front of the desk you’re seated at. He plants himself in it, kicking his feet up on the top of the desk.

“For real?” you cry, throwing your hands above your shoulders.

He laughs. He fucking laughs.

“Take it easy, princess. If I’m the boss, and I’m kickin’ back, why are you so high strung?”

Your brow furrows, but you don’t respond.

This strange, almost playful Joel is under your skin more than usual. It might be the heat (you won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it), or the clusterfuck of receipts you should be reconciling (that he gave you at the last minute) — but you suspect the annoyance comes from his newfound interest in teasing you.

You suddenly miss the silent, brooding Joel Miller. The one who left you alone to do your work.

“I’m trying to help you,” you finally spit.

“You can help me by relaxin’, darlin’.” His voice is suddenly low, a deep timbre that vibrates your bones. “Do I need to help you do that?”

His words shoot straight to your cunt.

Instinctually, you press your thighs together, squirming in your seat.

It’s been too long since you’ve been touched, since you’ve been handled properly — the only viable hook-up options in your hometown being the losers you’d gone to high school with, which made them, well…not viable options.

Your body betrays you, need building low in your belly, and of course Joel notices the way you shift in the chair.

The entire tone of the room shifts, if you’re being honest.

“Oh,” his eyes as dark as his voice now, “you do need my help.”

You freeze. Everything in his voice spells t-r-o-u-b-l-e.

“No,” you squeak, “I- I-“

“You, what, baby?” It’s a taunting lilt now, and you feel like every nerve ending you have is melting straight off your body. He quirks his brow at you.

Baby, baby, baby, echoing in your ears.

He raises his body out of the chair, squaring his broad shoulders, and you think your heart might stop.

Making his way around the desk, hands ghosting the edges of the worn wood, his eyes burn into yours.

“So lucky all my guys are out at other sites, baby.” He’s whispering now, dragging his knuckle across your cheek, closer than he’s ever been to you. Looking down at you from his towering height. “So I can help you relax.”

There are stars in your eyes. You don’t even like this man, but his hands on you feel so good.

It’s surreal. You’re just a deer caught in the headlights, looking up at him with your big doe-eyes.

Prey.

You’re sure he’ll pull away again, laugh at you — laugh at the way your pulse picks up under his touch. How it beats against your skin like a bass drum.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he twists his wrist to cup your jaw, strong fingers digging into your flesh. Your lips part involuntarily, a quiet moan escaping.

“Wanna fuck you, princess.” His words are sticky honey in your ears, the nickname hot on his tongue. “Been wantin’ to fuck you.”

All you can do is nod. You’re done for. Putty in his hands, now.

“Can I do that? Fuck you?” He drops to a crouch in front of you, sliding his hand down your flushed skin to your throat, angling his fingers, the delicate webbing between his index finger and thumb pressed right to the base of your neck. He squeezes so so so gently — just enough to make you chase his touch.

“Yes.”

His eyes are black, pupils blown out in arousal. “You’ll be good for me?”

“I’ll be good for you,” you repeat obediently. Quietly. Only for him.

It doesn’t feel like you’re in control of the words leaving your mouth.

He crashes his mouth into yours, taking, taking, taking. Massaging your bottom lip with his scorching tongue, he begs for entrance — and you know in this moment, you will never deny him a single thing.

He licks into you with such a feverish intensity that you have to throw your arms around his shoulders just to remain steady. This action seems to spur him on, as he slides both his hands around your hips, one pulling you closer to him while the other crawls up to cradle the base of your skull, fingers threaded into your hair. He’s crouched over you entirely, nearly dragging you off the office chair. Your own fingers dig into the shoulders of his shirt, his thick muscles dragging you closer and closer to him.

Small in his hands, he breaks his mouth from yours only to haul you up and around, pressing your belly against the desk, your arms jelly as they brace against the sturdiness of the wood. He pulls your shirt up and over your shoulders from the back, peppering kissing up the exposed flesh of your spine, before discarding the garment on the floor. Your bra is next, and he wastes no time in chucking it too, to the floor and using his big hands to cup your pert tits from behind. His whole body is pressed against yours, the buckle of his belt scraping against the small of your back.

“Knew you’d have perfect tits,” he growls, next to your ear. His fingers expertly roll your nipples, massaging them into tight points. It makes you want to cry out. He licks a broad stripe up your throat, nipping the skin just above your shoulder, and this time, you do cry out.

“Be loud for me, baby. Wanna make you feel good.”

“What if s-someone hea-“ you start nervously, your voice shaking as much as your limbs.

Bracing his mouth against yours again, tongue forcing its way in to explore every inch, he cuts off the question you were going to ask.

Ignores the question.

He moves his mouth down your neck again, fingers still kneading against your nipples. Your eyes flick to the deadbolt of the door anxiously, but an extra-hard pinch pulls your focus back as you moan involuntarily. Loudly.

Obviously enjoying himself, he drops one hand to your tummy, sliding it over your soft skin to the band of your shorts.

“Gonna take these off now, okay, baby?” he asks between kisses and nips against your flesh, peppered with goosebumps.

You nod hurriedly. Need thrums in your ears, washes everything except his voice out.

His hand still cupping your breast joins the other in unbuttoning your shorts, and they’re off in record time. They fall to your feet, and you kick them off haphazardly, not caring where they end up.

The only thing separating Joel from you now is your panties, black and lacy and soaked.

You recognize, dismayed, that he still has all of his clothes on, but he’s too busy with his hands on you to notice.

He turns you around to face him, stepping back just enough to rake his eyes over every inch of you. You steady yourself on the edge of the desk with your hands, the hard corner biting into the soft flesh of the backs of your thighs.

“Fu-u-u-ck.” He lets out a low whistle, and for a brief second, you want to cover your body with your arms, slink away shyly.

But he has his hand cupped around your sex lightning fast, and he groans, low and primal.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet for me, baby. Soakin’ through your panties.”

He ducks against your neck again, landing kisses down the length of it, but going further this time, down your breast to take your nipple into his mouth. He suckles gently, hand moving back and forth over the white heat of your cunt, and you arch your back against him. Your body filled with a furious tension, tight as a bowstring.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Take y-your shirt off,” you demand suddenly, your hands scrambling for purchase on the the scratchy material.

He pulls back from you, and you’re left panting, three quarters naked. Nipples impossibly hard from both his mouth and the air conditioning, and you can tell he’s inconvenienced to be pulled away from them.

But he acquiesces, shucking his shirt off quickly, desperate to lave his tongue over your flesh again.

You take him in in the entirety that he’s allowed you — strong but soft, body molded by years of manual labor, rough hands desperate to be stroking you.

Not allowing you too much time, he resumes his stance in a hurry, splaying his hands across your back, nibbling lightly at the supple flesh of your breasts. He runs his tongue over the heavy curve of it, before dragging it across the plane of your chest to the opposite side, taking your other nipple into the heat of his mouth.

Keening under his touch, you mewl his name. Desperate.

“I know, baby. I know.” It’s muffled against the weight of your breast. His teeth just grazing the tender flesh.

He brings one hand around to the front of your panties again, teasing the band stretched over the place your thigh meets your pelvis with his calloused fingertips. The bite of them scrape a heavenly sting against your softness.

You rock your hips up into his palm, begging. Please, please, please. He chuckles lowly against your skin, still biting gently at your nipple, your knuckles white on the edge of the desk.

He breaks his mouth off of you, looking up to meet your eyes through his long, dark lashes.

There’s still one of his hands steady on your back, and combined with the way he’s got himself pressed against you, you’re sure he’s the only reason you’re somewhat vertical right now. The bones in your legs threaten to give out the more attention he pays your body. He ruts his erect length against your thigh.

“You want it so bad, don’t you?”

“Want it so bad,” you echo — his plaything.

“Should’ve asked me a long time ago. Teasin’ me constantly. Makin’ me fuck my fist at night like a teenage boy.” He straightens his body, allowing his thumb to dance over your clit through the material of your panties, but refusing to make direct contact. Making you chase the feeling with your hips.

The notion that he’s ever thought of you in that way makes your cunt tingle.

“Need it, Joel.”

You don’t have the words to tell him how long you’ve thought about him, how even though he pisses you off, you’ve wanted him to fuck you over this very desk since you started working for him. How it’s been too long since you’ve been touched and now you think you’re ruined in the most delectable way.

With a dark smile against your skin, he finally moves his hand over just enough, sliding four fingers down the front of your panties, thumb still on the outside, and fists the thin material. It rips down the seams, and in one smooth motion, he pulls the ruined lace from your body.

You gasp, cold air hitting your cunt.

He takes the destroyed scrap of material and palms his hard cock through his jeans, rubbing the lace against the front of himself. It’s obscene, and you can’t take your eyes off it.

Fighting to catch your breath, overwhelmed by his touch, you watch as he pulls back to shove what used to be your panties in his front pocket before unbuckling his belt, snapping it quickly out of the loops, hands flying then to unbutton and unzip his jeans. He finally shoves them down to knees, the length of them bunching up over his work boots.

Left in his boxers, you can see the thick outline of his cock, and he’s huge.

You had expected him to be big — like, look at him — but it’s more than you could have fathomed.

Your eyes drag from the heavy bulge back up to his face, and he must clock the apprehension in your eyes, because he extends his hand to your cheek, cupping it tenderly.

“Promise I’ll make it feel good. Won’t put it in until you’re ready.”

His hands are large enough over your face that his thumb traces the outline of your parted lips. Without thinking, you open further to accept it inside, swirling your scorching tongue around the digit.

His eyes darken further, though you didn’t know it possible.

“Oh, baby. Baby.”

His head falls back, jaw slack, enjoying the sensation of your mouth on him.

With his other hand, he slides his fingers through your swollen, dripping folds, gathering your slick on the rough tips. He circles your hole with his middle finger, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing, needing.

“This okay?” he asks quietly, and you pause, meeting his gaze with your own. As calm and collected as he looks, his voice shakes just enough to tell you that he’s rehearsed this scene in his head so many times.

You don’t really know how you got here, if you’re being honest, but…

“Want you so bad, Joel,” you whisper, thoughts hazy, pupils blown out.

“Gonna fuck you ‘til all you can say is my name,” he whispers back gruffly.

It makes your cunt clench, his finger still poised there. Your chest rises and falls with ragged breath, anticipating. You can’t imagine how fucked-out you look right now, but based on the way he’s drinking you in, he loves it.

He finally presses his single finger inside of you, groaning at the warmth.

“So tight for me, princesa.”

The nickname hits differently this time — intimate. Filthy. Filling you with desperation.

You cry out at the stretch, his hands so much bigger than your own. One finger of his is the size of two of yours, and you’ve never felt so full. You snake your arms around his shoulders, letting him hold you up, his other hand falling from your cheek to resume it’s place at the small of your back, as he slowly starts a rhythm of fucking into you. His palm stutters against your clit, and you can feel your slick dripping down onto it.

It’s so much.

Your senses are overloaded with him, and he hasn’t even put his cock in you, yet.

He does, however, nudge a second finger at your entrance, and it’s enough to make you drop your forehead onto his broad shoulder, his muscles rippling as his wrist and fingers move against you.

You press your open mouth into his shoulder, muffling your cries.

Sliding his ring finger in beside the other, he scissors them, stretching you open, open, open, while at the same time he performs a much more precise ministration on your clit, rubbing small circles that make you squeeze your eyes shut. Chests pressed flush against one another, he buries his face in the length of your hair.

Despite the air conditioner, the room is humid with body heat, and sweat starts to collect at your temples. Every inch of your skin is flushed, Joel breathing heavily next to your ear.

“Want you to come for me, baby. Can’t fuck you right ‘til you come for me.”

You lean further into his body, under the trance of the rhythm of his fingers. He drags his free hand up the length of your back to wrap around your hair, gently pulling your head back to look into your eyes.

“uh-uh, baby. Wanna see you. Don’t hide.”

Your cheeks flush crimson, your eyes half-lidded, lips kiss-swollen. Seeing the way he studies you, the tip of his tongue resting on the pillow of his top lip, his fingers so big inside of you — your orgasm approaches quickly, your hips working with his hand to get you there.

Your breathing starts to stutter, and his eyes are on fire watching you. Memorizing every movement you make, how he’s taken you apart at the seams. He speeds up the movement of his thumb, just slightly, but it’s enough to tip you over the edge.

Convulsing around his thick fingers, you cry out, loud, loud, loud. The deadbolt on the door a distant memory.

In fact, you dare someone to walk in. To fuck with Joel Miller taking what he needs from you. They’d never recover.

“Yes, baby. Look so fuckin’ beautiful coming all over my fingers,” he growls, fucking you through the electric waves rolling through your body, tugging your hair harder.

He’s kissing you again, swallowing your remaining moans into his mouth, and you feel like you’ll never recover. You may never walk again — and it’s just his fingers.

Sliding his fingers out of your pulsing pussy, he drags them over to your hip, your own slick smeared across your abdomen. He drops his other hand to your other hip, and before you know what’s happening, he’s lifting you up on top of the desk. On top of the files, and receipts, and work you’d just been doing.

If he doesn’t care, then neither do you.

Obediently leaning back on your elbows, he sets you far enough back that he can hook his hands under your knees to pull them closer to you, your tennis shoes dangling between you. It makes you giggle, which makes him smirk.

But it’s only a second before he’s pushing your knees back again, opening you up to him. His eyes drop to your glistening pussy, pink and swollen from his fingers.

“Fuck, baby. Don’t know how long I’ve been waitin’ to see this little pussy,” he hisses, before dropping his head to lick a hot stripe up your wet center.

“Holy shit, Joel,” you breathe, “that feels so good.”

He licks his lips, your sweetness shiny on his beard. “Next time I’ll make you come with just my mouth, baby. Need’ta fuck you, now.” His voice is low, but the promise of next time wraps itself around your chest and squeezes.

You bite your lip, nodding, watching him through your lashes.

He gently sets your legs down enough that your feet drop to the top of the desk, but he keeps one hand on your thigh to keep you open for him — exposed.

“Won’t ever get tired of lookin’ at that pussy, baby,” he coos, “so keep it open for me.”

You’ve never been talked to this way before, and it sets your skin alight. Never been handled this way before.

You’re so fucked.

With his free hand he shoves his boxers down, his hard cock bobbing back up against the dark hair trailing below his bellybutton with a wet thwack. All of the blood you have left in your body rushes to your cunt (you’re sure most of it was there already), and your mouth pops open involuntarily.

You know you’re staring, but you can’t help it. He’s so. fucking. big.

“Will it…um, will-“ you stammer, gaze dragging up his body to his face.

He crowds you, a deep hunger in his eyes, hard cock in his fist. Poised at your entrance, pre-cum beading at the tip.

“Know you can take it, baby,” he growls.

“Okay,” you whimper, warmth blooming across your chest.

He slides his empty hand under your thigh, caressing the skin gently — a stark contrast from the way he’s gripping his cock with his other hand. It feels reassuring, almost tender.

“Ready?”

You mewl, scooting your ass an inch or so forward to egg him on. He grips your thigh, his large hand spreading all the way beneath it.

He presses into you slowly — excruciatingly slowly — but it’s enough to make you drop your head back and whine at the delicious stretch. He keeps his hand at the base of his cock, and you’re not sure if it’s for your benefit or his.

His eyes are glued to where he’s breached your entrance, watching you stretch to accommodate his girth, and it takes his breath away.

“Fuck, princess. So tight. So fuckin’ perfect for me,” he grunts, but it’s gentle, as if he’s in awe of you.

The sting of it gives way to furious pleasure, and you want him to move faster as he gives you more of himself.

“Joel,” you whisper, face to the ceiling, “faster, please.”

He grunts again, but feeds more of his cock into your hole, sliding his palm around the curve of your thigh to rub your clit. It send electric shocks through your limbs, your pussy clenching around him at the sudden pleasure radiating from your center.

Your knees are still pressed into your chest, folded practically in half, and he keeps going, and going, and going, until his pelvis is pressed flush to yours, bottoming out inside of you.

He stills, breathing ragged, to grip your jaw and bring your head down, saying through clenched teeth, “Lookit, baby. Lookit that. You took all’f me. The whole fuckin’ thing. I want you t’see.”

Your eyes, half-lidded, gaze at where he disappears into you, your aching lips strained against him.

“Made for me,” he says, and you can tell how much he’s restraining himself by the way he ticks his jaw and squeezes his eyes shut.

Thinking about anything but how fucking good your pussy feels wrapped around him.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, “Joel, please.” You lift both your feet off the desk, wrapping them around his waist in an effort to pull him in closer — to make him move faster.

“Baby,” it’s his turn to drop his head back, snarling at your tightness. But he gives you what you need, rocking his hips into you finally.

Pleasure swirls in your core, and you know it won’t take long. He’s still rubbing your clit, but the movements are erratic and messy, his focus on how good you feel on him. His other hand inches up your side, grabbing at your breast, anchoring himself to you while the bottom half of his body thrusts in and out of you expertly.

You’re both dewy with sweat, and as you’re lost in the way he moves against you, feeling the tip of him bumping up into the furthest depths of you, he leans forward and licks up a stray bead of perspiration rolling down your neck.

The eroticism of it makes your whole body shudder, and he gasps at the way your body reacts to him.

“Not gonna last long, princess. Feels too good,” he manages to spit out, subconsciously increasing his speed drilling into you. He can’t believe he has you open so wide, taking all of him.

He knew the moment he saw you that you were made to take his cock.

“Gonna come, Joel.”

“Come for me, baby. Gimme one more,” he encourages huskily, opening his eyes to watch you raise your hips to meet his every thrust.

Knowing that he’s watching you drags you higher and higher until the tension of your body snaps, soaking his abdomen with your release.

His hips stutter against you, and he stills as your cunt tightens even more around him, your walls fluttering against every inch of him. His thumb, still grazing your clit, presses into it firmly, making your toes curl.

“Joel,” you drag his name out in a harsh whisper, fireworks bursting behind your eyes. It’s never been like this. You can’t go back to it not being like this.

He’s right — it doesn’t take long, you whimpering his name pushing him past the point of no return, and he spills inside of you, his cock pumping every drop he has.

Your legs tighten around him, holding him in place as he slams both palms down on either side of you on the desk, a deep growl emitting from his chest. His tousled hair hangs in front of his eyes, his neck and chest flushed red.

“Fuuuuck.” He mumbles, sliding his cock out of you so, so slowly. As if he doesn’t want to pull out ever.

You release your legs just enough to let him step back, but as you go to close your legs, his spend dripping out of your stretched open pussy, he grabs your thigh and wrenches it back open.

“Waitaminute,” he grunts, and you can feel his other hand searching for something across the top of the desk, scrambling through the files and papers you had neatly stacked.

Busy trying to catch your breath, you don’t notice when he brings his phone to the front of you, opening his camera and snapping a photo of him dripping out of you.

“Joel! Ohmygod!” you giggle, as he smirks at you. Your cheeks flush deeper at the idea of him keeping that photo, of even wanting that photo, and you bat his hand away and close your legs quickly.

“I’ll delete it if’ya want,” he offers, but you both know that not what you want.

You hum teasingly.

“S’what I thought,” he says, running a gentle hand over your now-closed knees. “‘Sides, gotta keep something to remind you that you’re mine.” His hand follows the curves of your body to your tits, and he tweaks your nipple one final time.

Leaning in to kiss you, his tongue warm in your mouth, he whispers against you, “Better put your panties on, princess. Gotta keep it all inside you.” Prying your legs apart again just enough to slide his palm through them, he cups your sex with his large hand.

“You tore ‘em to pieces,” you whisper back, a dark smile on your lips. “Pretty sure what’s left of them is in the pocket of your jeans.”

“Mmm, you’re right. Guess I’ll have to fill you up again and find a way to make sure you can keep it in.”

Electricity shoots through you, and you miss his hand as soon as he pulls it away to drag his boxers and jeans up.

You drop your legs, despite how much they’re shaking, and pick up your clothes scattered across the room. Once you’re dressed (as much as you can be without panties), you stretch up on your tiptoes to kiss him again, while he does what he can to tame his hair with his fingers. It makes you laugh, and he matches it warmly. He kisses you again and again.

“Why don’t you, uh, take the rest of the day off? Done plenty of work here. I can clean up,” he smirks at you, nodding his head to the messy desk, where you’re pretty sure some of his cum had slipped out.

“Gee, thanks, boss. Can’t wait to get back to it Monday.” You wink at him, pulling your body away and picking your bag up from the coat rack next to the door. Hand on the doorknob, you glance back at him, a smirk of your own on your face.

“Oh, and because you didn’t ask — I am on birth control.”

His eyes widen in surprise, but you laugh and close the door behind you, headed home.

You don’t even know how fucked you are, yet.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller tlou #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller #tlou #tlou fic #pedro pascal fanfic #joel x you #joel x reader

[forbidden-sunlight]

yandere! holy knight with saintess!reader scenario [part three]

warnings: obsessive behavior, profane language, religious themes, implied manipulation, physical harassment.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your mobile devoice or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Reblog to support content creators!

Part One

Part Two

Epilogue

Hey guys, welcome to part three of this collaborated series with @deathmetalunicorn1! I am currently on break and won't be back until the 14th, but I figured that since I had recently finished this, might as well post it for everyone to enjoy! I will make a post when I come back, so no worries, I'm not going anywhere yet~!

On another note, please keep in mind that no bullying is tolerated on here. If there is, then this segment and the other chapters will be removed in its entirety.

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see what will happen in today's episode :)

Yoo Kyung-Mi had been born with beauty and was taught to use it to her advantage. Her mother knew what she was talking about. Why else did she remarry a wealthy man and make their lives so much easier? It was so much better than barely getting by on their own, trapped in a dingy apartment and worrying if there will be enough food money until the next paycheck. Kyung-Mi went to university, found work at a gaming company and subsequently, a shadow to use to elevate her reputation. A lackey really, but she preferred the term shadow. It sounded much nicer. 

Her shadow was another game designer; instead of being the literal, living example of a dowdy-looking office worker, her shadow wore nice clothes. She always treated everyone equally in their department, helped whenever she could with their next project and had a nasty temper when provoked. Yoo Kyung-Mi found this out the hard way when she borrowed a coworker’s proposal and presented it at the next meeting, elevating her status as the director in charge of Labyrinth of Love. Her shadow had the fucking nerve to show her the security footage of her being at that extra’s computer, downloading the sample from the desktop and storing it in a flashdrive. 

She tried to deny it, playing the cute card of forgetting to mention the extra as being a collaborator because she was so stressed about the meeting before telling the shadow to make sure to finish her proposal on time because time was money. And then the fucking bitch grabbed her by the hair and slammed her forehead against the wall!  Her, the goddamned director! She could fire the shadow’s ass if she wanted to! This was workplace harassment! 

“You’re not the director yet, you idiot.” The shadow whispered in the shell of her ear. “That was an informal announcement, so you’re still an equal amongst us commoners. Honestly Kyung-Mi, when are you going to stop masquerading people’s creations as your own? I’ve told you back in university, during those seminars, that it would bite you in the ass. But you don’t listen.” 

“You wouldn’t be anywhere without me! You cannot live without me!” She spat. Then the shadow backed off, leaving the office as there hadn’t been a confrontation in the first place. Kyung-Mi didn’t know if the shadow was fucking mental or just didn’t give a shit about getting laid off….but she needed her shadow. It was her shadow’s creativity, like everyone else in the company, that helped MorpheusTech make millions from their products. Without them, there wouldn’t be any money. And Kyung-Mi wouldn’t have any ‘inspiration’ to elevate her status in the company. Tit for tat. 

On Monday morning, the shadow presented to the board with a game of her own. And everyone fucking loved it more than hers. Claimed that it was a breath of fresh air from the classic otome game formula. More interactions with the extra characters plus the main cast? And your choices will either boost the gamer’s stats like the Affection Meter, Morale, Reputation, or lower them? It would only be available on their digital store, and they could offer free demos to TubeTubers who have played their products in the past? Sold. The Labyrinth of Love was put on indefinite hiatus. Greenlight Fly Me To The Moon. Give her shadow everything she needs to make sure this project is a success. The company was counting on you, Kyung-Mi. Honored beauty. 

So she did. She stayed late at the office when it was past time for her to go home or go on a date. She missed her massage appointments, her precious Sundays had spent at home working on fine-tuning the game mechanics instead of shopping. Her toys started to lose interest in her. Yet she preserved because she was the heroine in this world and she would not lose.

But the final straw that broke the camel back had been all the shadow’s fault. 

Kyuing-Mi had been eyeing the gorgeous hunk Young-Min from Human Resources for a while. Tall, dark, and looked absolutely ripped in that three-piece Armani suit of his. Oh, did she mention that he was rich and super sweet? Well, now you know. When she had finally mustered the courage to approach him and confess her feelings for him (maybe use him to get rid of a certain someone), she found him with the shadow. He asked the shadow if they could get a cup of coffee later, averting his eyes and looking bashfully at the shadow. His face resembled a tomato when the shadow accepted the invitation, when the shadow smiled at him, and left to go on their break.

Honestly, the shadow should have realized that coveting someone who didn’t belong to her meant being bludgeoned from behind with a stapler. Kyung-Mi will admit that she did….she was a little angry. But if the shadow is dead, the villainess is dead, then that means she has finally everything. Not. She lost everything and got hit by a truck while crossing a busy intersection, desperately trying to search for a job before she lost her townhouse. 

Yet there was always a light at the end of the tunnel, right? Why else would she be here, possessing the heroine of Fly Me To The Moon, Cosette Lovelace? Sure, her character is supposed to be a gamer who got sucked into here and must clear it as a redeemed villainess, but where is the fun in that? All Kyung-Mi wanted to do was pursue after her bias, Sir Palamedes the second-in-command of the Holy Temple’s paladins. 

Of all the capture targets that were created in the shadow’s game, this is the one she had spent most of the time designing and writing both tragic and smutty endings with him. Thank God the shadow never knew that Sir Palamedes’ character concept looked exactly like Young-Min, from his mannerisms right down his little tic of fiddling with his hands when he was nervous.

Obsessed? No, she was observant, thank you. 

With the help of the Affection Level System, her own little playthrough guide, she was able to achieve the objectives needed to enter the Holy Temple of Aesir and unlock Sir Palamedes’ route. Everything was going smoothly until that damned extra, Harry or Harrow, had stopped her from staking her claim on Sir Palamedes. She threw something in her face, and she passed out on the floor. When she, Cosette, regained consciousness, it was almost nightfall. 

Swearing under her breath, she scrambled upright and smoothed out her grass stained skirts before all but running towards the cloisters leading back to her new private quarters. However, from seemingly out of nowhere, two older Sisters flanked her, blocking her path. She was about to turn up the innocent charm, claiming that she hadn’t meant to fall asleep under the tree with a cute  smile  when both of them wordlessly grabbed by the shoulders and hauled her into a cell. A fucking cell! Her! The heroine! 

She asked for food, and was given bread with water. When she was cold, she received a blanket and was left alone until morning. The same Sisters came back, grabbed her again and took her to the sanctuary. The pews were filled, every Brother and Sister was in attendance. The paladins circled around the altar. Her precious High Priest was there, and was her bias. So that fucking extra Harry. 

She frowned. “My flock, what is the meaning of this -” She didn’t get a chance to finish her question because a bolt of white-hot pain seared through her body. What in the world?! She looked down at the floor and there were runes under her feet, then glared back at the Sisters balefully. They had pushed her into a magic circle. How dare they do this to her?! 

Staggering to her feet, she turned her attention to the High Priest. “Father, why am I being subjected to this treatment? What have I done to you, to this congregation?!”  

“You dare to ask such a thing when the crimes against our Brothers and Sisters are so heinous that I cannot repeat them?” Harry said. She looked like shit, honestly, and she probably would look worse if she had that stupid blindfold removed. 

Yoo Kyung-Mi had never seen this character in the game, even in the demo trails….so why does Harry look so damned familiar? 

She watched Harry step forward from behind the altar, past the High Priest and Sir Palamedes. She walked down the steps, and stopped just a few feet away from the magic circle. 

“You know what you have done, Sister Esther. No…You are not worthy of being called a Sister of this Holy Temple. You are a heretic, a liar, and an adulterous beast who has dared to try and defile one of us by using an Asmodian Seed. Where and how did you acquire it?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about-” That was when the pain began again. “You-” And again. Fuck, this hurts. It really hurts. 

“Please answer the question and do not try to be clever with your answers lest you actually enjoy being in pain.” Harry said peevishly. “You know what it is because you were the one who had implanted inside Sir Palamedes. Is this not true?” Harry raised her voice. “Were you affected by this wickedness, Sir Palamedes?”

Her precious bias nodded, his beautiful violet eyes hard and cold. “I was, Lady Harrowhark, and swear by the Oath of Fidelity that I was its intended victim. I dare not think what would have happened, if you had not been there to save me.”

“You heard him. Answer truthfully this time.”

So she did. She spat in the bitch’s face. “Allow me to ask you a question, Harry. Who the fuck are you to give me orders?”

Applauded gasps and murmurs bounced across the temple’s walls. One Sister fainted from hearing such profane language, having to be carried out by two of her closest Brothers. 

But Harry didn’t react. 

Instead, she withdrew a handkerchief from her robes pockets and carefully wiped away the spit. Once she was done, she pocketed the dirty rag. Then she lifted her hands up and moved them to the back of her head, untying the mother-of-pearl cloth. She pulled it down, and two eyes that sparked like a pair of sapphires stared right at her.  Sapphires. Eyes. Cosette, Yoo Kyung-Mi, felt her heart drop into her stomach at seeing those eyes. 

The eyes that belonged to the shadow. The eyes Young-Min said were so beautiful that they took his breath away. 

“I am Reverend Sister Harrowhark, God’s Beloved. I am the Possessor of His Eyes -”

“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST FUCKING DIE ALREADY?!?” Kyung-Mi screamed. “YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME, STOLE FROM ME, AND YOU HAVE THE GODDAMNED NERVE TO LEAVE A PIECE OF YOURSELF IN THIS GAME?!” 

“Heretic -”

“YES, I GAVE IT TO HIM! I GAVE SIR PALAMEDES THE ASOMEDIAN SEED BECAUSE I WANTED HIM! IF HE WERE DEFILED, HE WOULD HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO MARRY ME, AND I WOULD FINALLY BEAT YOU! YOU WERE ALWAYS MY SHADOW! YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO COVET WHAT WAS MINE, YET YOU KEPT TAKING EVERYTHING AWAY FROM ME! IS THAT A GOOD ENOUGH ANSWER, YOU BITCH?!” 

Harrowhark’s mouth closed, tightening into a thin line before she averted her gaze towards the choir pews, where three cloaked figures sat in silence. “Does this outburst suffice as a confession, Your Imperial Highness?” She asked them. 

The one on the right stood up, pulling back his hood and revealing himself to be, indeed, The Glorious Sun of the Helux Empire, Emperor Maximus IV. A tall, broad-shouldered man with golden hair and possessed one ruby eye. He had lost his left one in a war. That was all she knew about him. 

But seeing the  identities of his companions, once they pulled back their hoods, that brought Kyung-Mi’s muddled brain back to reality: her parents, Viscount and Viscountess Lovelace. Shit. Fuck. FUCK!

“It does. Words cannot express my anger and disgust at the thought that such a heinous crime would be enacted in the House of Aesir. Allow me, Your Holiness, to carry out her punishment here and now.”

Harrowhark frowned. “Your Imperial Highness -”

“I am already here, Your Holiness. And I have only exercised my royal authority once since I ascended to the throne twenty years ago. If it makes you uncomfortable to do it in the presence of the congregation, I am more than happy to privately announce these crimes in the palace’s interrogation chambers. It is your choice, Your Holiness.” He, the most powerful man in the Empire, lowered his head to Harrowhark. 

Harrowhark sighed. “I beseech you to not address me in such a manner Your Imperial Highness, nor to humble yourself in my presence. In the Holy Temple of Aesir, we are equal under His Eye. Please, raise your head.” The Emperor did. “In regards to the heretic…she must never darken the footsteps of these sacred grounds again, or anywhere else. What happens within the circle of nobility is no concern of mine. The church cannot be intertwined with matters of the state. We are from entirely different worlds, but we must work together to ensure that our people live in peace. Is this a satisfactory answer, Your Imperial Highness?” 

Kyung-Mi choked on her saliva. It would be awful to be separated from her bias, but to also have her silver spoon being taken from her too? She did not want to spend her second life struggling to make a living! She is supposed to be the most beloved person in this game! Everything is supposed to go her way, not Harry’s!

She watched in anxious anticipation as the Emperor, The High Priest, and her parents huddled together, speaking softly until they separated. The Viscount and Viscountess stepped to the side as the others stepped forward. 

The Head Priest glanced around the congregation, raising his arms as he spoke. “Cosette Lovelace, daughter of Viscount Lovelace. For your crimes and heresy against this most holy place, you are excommunicated from the Holy Temple of Aesir until the end of your days. May Aesir forgive you, because…in my heart, at this moment, I cannot bring myself to do so.”

He then stepped back, and the Emperor stepped forward. 

The Emperor inhaled a deep breath, closing his eye for a moment before addressing the congregation. As he did so, palace guards entered from opposite sides of the chapel near the altar. 

“I, Emperor Maximus IV, hereby use my authority in the Holy Temple of Aesir under the witness of all those in attendance. I condemn you to live the rest of your days in prison, in a cell with no windows. You tried to bring darkness to this sacred sanctuary, therefore, you will spend the rest of your days in darkness.” 

Kyung-Mi’s knees buckled, collapsing onto the carpeted floor as she stared at the Emperor in shock. No. No, this can’t be happening! I’m the heroine! I’m supposed to live a life of luxury! I can’t go to jail!  When she saw her parents descend down the stairs, her anxiety slowly dissipated into hope. No. Not yet! They love me! They wouldn’t allow their only child to starve on the streets like a beggar or rot until she was an old hag, right?!

CRACK.

Kyung-Mi’s face stung from the slap she’d just received from her mother. Quivering, she touched the reddening cheek, peering through the curtain of her blue hair at her parents. Her mother was sobbing quietly, covering her face in her hands as her father wrapped his arm around his wife’s quivering shoulders. 

“You are no daughter of mine.” That was all he said before he left alongside his sobbing wife. They left her. They fucking abandoned her when she needed him the most, these….these bastards! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO HER? WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAVE TO GO THE SHADOW’S WAY? IS IT SO AWFUL TO HAVE A HAPPILY EVER AFTER OF HER OWN?!

Then she screamed. She screamed and kicked and cried as the Emperor’s guards tied ropes around her wrists, dragging her down the aisle, towards the doors. Kyung-Mi looked over her shoulder, tears spilling down her face as she stared at Sir Palamedes, hoping Young-Mi would understand she made a mistake and just wanted to be with him, please please save her. 

But he did not look at her with tenderness and devotion as he had in the demo version of the game. Sir Palamedes stood rigidly by Harrowhark’s side, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his eyes cold and guarded. 

It was over. She had lost again. Fuck. FUCK!

©️do not repost or use any of the characters depicted here without the author’s permission. forbidden-sunlight, 2024

Taglist: @sweetbatherodonkey @lxdymoon0357 @certifiedsimpinggalore @queenmimis @amidst-the-tempest @mochinon-yah @tonightwrites @yandere-dark-cupid @average-yandere-enjoyer @thatstrangesheep @faux-ecrivain @cassanderasblog @navierkalani

#forbidden-sunlight #yandere x reader #yandere male #fem!reader #yandere #ns.fw #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #tw religious themes #cw religious themes #cw obsessive behavior #tw obsessive behavior #cw harassment #tw harassment #18+ mdni #mdni #minors do not interact #minors dont look #no minors please

[astrophileous]

Love Bugs (Pt. 06)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): cursing--there's a lot of it--like a lot, psychopathic behaviors, being held captive, verbal and physical violence, degrading nicknames, talks of death and unaliving someone, strangulation, PLS READ WITH CAUTION BECAUSE THIS PART IS REALLY GRIM I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING

Word Count: 4200-ish

Tag(s): I'm tagging everyone who requested to be tagged prior to the long hiatus, pls tell me if you'd like to NOT be included in the tag list for future updates, thanks! @marvelousgoldroses @jay-2s-world @whore-of-the-pumpkin-patch @maxinehufflepuffprincess @cat-or-kitten @littleshadow17 @itzz-me-duh @geeksareunique @paisleebubbles @whateverrrrrrrrs @crazyunsexycool @louderfortheback @wifeyofeveryone

Author's Note: HI EVERYONE HOW ARE YOU?? I know this is long overdue, but pls enjoy the new part of love bugs! I'm so happy to be posting again and I hope you like what I've got in plans for this series. I think we only have one or maybe two chapters left for this story (depending whether I want to write an epilogue or not lol) but in the meantime, pls enjoy this part and don't forget to LIKE+REBLOG+COMMENT !!! thank you 🌹

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

The bullpen of FBI headquarters was still reeling in the aftermath of a Derek-Morgan-shaped hurricane.

Emily was just about to enter the vicinity again when she heard the tail end of Derek's furious words, right before Hotch had ordered him to retreat.

"What was that about?" Emily asked as she approached Rossi's side, eyes never straying from the two men who soon disappeared into Hotch's office.

Rossi never addressed Emily's question. Instead, he gestured for her--and everybody else in the room--to be quiet with a finger on his lips, before he pressed the unmute button on the telephone.

"Hello?"

The UnSub's head jerked at Rossi's unfamiliar voice. You were barely successful in getting him to calm down following Derek's unexpected outburst, but the sound of Rossi's voice was threatening to throw all of those poor attempts straight out of the window.

"Who is that?" he demanded warily. "Where's Agent Hotchner?"

"He had to step away for a second," Rossi notified. "I'm SSA David Rossi. I also work with Agent Hotchner and Agent (Y/L/N)."

"I know who you are."

"Yeah? I still don't know who you are, though."

A responding groan vibrated from the other line. "Why does everyone keep asking me that? Do you think I'm fucking dumb?"*

"No one thinks anything here, pal. Just wanted to know who I was speaking to, that's all." At the UnSub's clear signs of agitation, Rossi quickly added, "It'd be nice to know the person who clearly means a lot to (Y/N)."

Rossi's reassurance obviously managed to trigger the intended effect it had sought. Everyone could see how the UnSub physically deflated at Rossi's words, meaning that hopefully he was soon going to let his guard down.

"I can't tell you who I am," your assailant said, still adamant, although his resolve was wearing thin with each word he had stated. "You're just gonna use it to track me down and keep us apart."

The last syllable of his sentence was emphasized by the weight of his dagger on the side of your neck. You instinctively winced at the unwelcomed touch of the blade before schooling your expression once more so your captor wouldn't notice.

"I promise you, no one is going to do that," Rossi said.

"He's telling the truth," you decided to chime in, surprising everyone including the UnSub whose grip of the dagger had teetered dangerously closer to your pulse point at the sudden proclamation. "They are good people. They don't break promises or tell lies. I promise you, nothing will come between us."

The silence that fell next was heavy with the UnSub's hesitation. Bracing yourself, you forced your head to tilt back, locking eyes with him who was still standing like a guard dog right behind you.

"I swear, Darling," you vowed.

The lull in your voice--or perhaps the fact that you had called him darling in front of your team, which he could arguably take as a display of affection--must have stirred up something in his twisted mind. He actually preened at you before his eyes went right back towards the direction of the camera on the wall.

"My name is Arthur," he confessed.

A particular thread of memory in your brain immediately lit up.

Back in the bullpen, JJ and Spencer were finally returning with documents containing your phone records that they had promptly asked Kevin to gather. Spencer didn't waste any time before perching himself on his desk to start rummaging through the thick pile of files.

"Arthur?" Rossi repeated the name, eyes flicking over to Garcia with a silent request to start cross-referencing the name with the other names they had acquired so far in the investigation.

The tech analyst didn't need to be told twice. She began typing furiously on her laptop as Rossi's attention was drawn back towards the projector.

The UnSub hadn't moved an inch. His hand was still just as sturdy on your shoulder. The blade was also still just as cold as it pressed onto your skin.

One wrong move, and you would end up no better than a slaughter animal on the cold hard ground.

"Do you have a last name, Arthur?" Rossi asked.

The entire bullpen held their breath in anticipation. Rossi had planted the bait as strategically as he could. It was up to the UnSub to take it and slip up the one information that would give them a major lead to end this case once and for all.

But before the UnSub could respond, a muffled beeping resonated in the air, through the telephone line, and finally into the bullpen. The sound was enough to make your assailant faltered.

"I have to go."

It was the last thing he uttered before the line, along with the livestream, went completely dead.

The atmosphere was laden with restlessness as everyone tried to make peace with the fact that they had just lost the only mean of communication they had with you. Without the feed from the livestream, no one could possibly know what was going on. The team would have no idea if something were to happen to you.

They would have no idea how to determine whether you were alive or dead.

"Did you find anything yet, Garcia?" Rossi questioned, although in all honestly, it sounded more like a desperate plea.

The thick regret behind Garcia's eyes gave Rossi the answer he needed to know.

"I can't find any Arthur in our files, sir," Garcia informed.

"Anything from her phone records? What about the hospital?" Rossi tried again.

Emily shook her head almost remorsefully.

"Nothing yet," Spencer spoke up from his place on the desk. "Not a single thing stands out from her records."

"What now?" JJ sighed, exhaustion and worry beginning to decorate the lines on her face.

The whole bullpen stood still, as if everyone was waiting for a slice of miracle to descend into the room, holding a map that would eventually lead the team to where you were still being held captive. But such a map didn't exist in this piece of reality, and the BAU knew that they were running out of time.

"Garcia, did you record the livestream by any chance?" Spencer asked at last.

"Yeah, of course I did."

Penelope punched a few keys on her keyboard before the projector once again came alive with the footage from the livestream.

"Can you fast forward to the very end?" Spencer requested. "And then play it again backwards to the beginning."

"What are you thinking, Spence?" JJ wondered.

"I don't know. I just... maybe there's a detail we missed. At this point, even the smallest piece of clue is worth pursuing."

Several pair of eyes glued themselves on the screen as the livestream footage ran backward at a faster speed. Bated breaths waited in tension for just the tiniest hint that the team could scour to determine your location.

"Wait. What was that?" Spencer interjected. "Garcia, play that again."

"What? What is it?" Emily spoke up.

"Look at her hand." Spencer stood up from the desk, approaching the screen to get a better look. "She's knocking against the chair. Garcia, zoom in on her hand. The left one."

Penelope did as she was asked. "Is that--"

"It's morse code," Rossi muttered, realization overtaking his countenance.

"What is she saying?" JJ questioned.

"A-U--" Spencer began spelling out loud, "--T... Auto. She's spelling auto."

"Auto?" JJ's forehead creased. "As in... auto shop?"

"Her records said she went to a mechanic a week ago," Spencer recalled. JJ immediately rummaged through the papers on Spencer's desk, but the pages flipping inside of Spencer's mind moved at a thousand times more speed than any normal pair of eyes ever could. "Dinozzo's Auto Service, 894 Southwell Street."

"Got it," Penelope chimed in from her place in front of the laptop. "Dinozzo's Auto Shop. Originally owned by Carlo Dinozzo before it was passed down to his two sons after his death a year ago."

"Any of them named Arthur?" Rossi asked

"Nope. Luca and Piero."

"What about the employees?" Emily suggested.

"No. I'm not seeing any Arthur anywhere near that place."

"We profiled that the UnSub could be holding down a steady job in his everyday life," JJ said. "He might not even be related to that place. Maybe (Y/N) encountered him there by chance?"

"Nah, I doubt it." Rossi shook his head. "The bastard's too sophisticated to leave anything up to chance like that. He must have found a way to orchestrate it one way or another."

"There must be a connection somewhere, then. No way he just chose a random place off the map," Emily muttered. "We should cross-reference the name to anyone associated with the Dinozzos."

Penelope began to frantically type something into her laptop. "We've still got three names here. Oh, never mind. Two names, 'cause one of them is dead."

"What do we have on them?" Spencer asked.

"First is Arthur Doyle. He went to high school with Luca and Piero Dinozzo, works in a local company, and looks like he travels a lot for his job," Penelope explained. "There's also an Arthur Harrison, works as an accountant in the heart of Arlington. His dad and Carlo Dinozzo were long-time pals. Apparently, his dad was an accountant too and used to handle the shop's finances before Arthur inherited the office. Oh."

"What? What'd you find?"

"Arthur was engaged," Penelope murmured, "to a Claire Dumont. They were gonna get married last year but the wedding was called off just one month before the D-day."

"Where's Claire now?" JJ asked.

"She moved to Ohio shortly after the breakup, and... oh my God. Guess what?" Penelope looked up, her eyes widening almost comically. "She just announced her engagement three months ago."

Spencer hummed. "That could be the stressor."

An image of a woman suddenly appeared on screen, right above the paused footage of your hand. Everyone stared at the picture in shock.

"That's Claire Dumont," Penelope murmured.

JJ held her breath. "She and (Y/N) could be sisters."

"We've found our guy," Rossi declared. "Garcia, pull up every known address associated with this man. And hurry, we don't have much time."

"I have three properties so far connected to Arthur Harrison. Sending the addresses to all of your phones."

As JJ, Spencer, and Rossi rushed to exit the bullpen, Emily turned around and called out to the others, "I'm grabbing Morgan and Hotch!"

Without stopping to knock, Emily pushed open the door to Hotch's office, ignoring the slivers of tension dancing around in the air.

"We may have something," Emily announced to the room. "We think we know where (Y/N) is."

Your assailant--Arthur, as it turned out--pulled his phone out and pressed a few buttons in, silencing the beeping. Once the noise was gone, the room was quiet again.

He looked at you, then. Piercingly. You squirmed underneath his scrutiny.

"Wait here," he eventually said. "I'll be back."

Without taking a second to breathe, Arthur flew past you and towards the direction he had appeared from earlier.

"Wait! Wait. Where are you going?"

The sound of steps ceased on top of concrete. You waited with bated breath for his response. But the only sound ever came was that of the metal door, and as quickly as you could count to three, he was gone.

At last, you were alone once more.

The traces of adrenaline had begun to dissipate out of your system, leaving you in a shivering mess inside that damp concrete room. Once again, you attempted with all of your might to free yourself from the state of confinement you were in. But the metal cuffs binding you to the chair only dug further into your skin the more you tried to escape, while the chair itself stayed nailed in place no matter how hard you tried to rock it.

After a few more minutes of futile attempts, you were forced to face the reality of your situation.

You were never going to get yourself out of that dingy place alone.

Huffing a breath, you knew that there was nothing more you could do except to hope that your team found the hidden message you had left for them to solve.

And with that last thought conquering every room your head, you let yourself succumb to the impending darkness.

You woke up gasping for air.

It took you a few seconds to remember where you were, to remember that you weren't back in the comfort of your apartment and instead, you were still holed up in the darkened cold room where your abductor had been keeping you captive.

It took a few seconds more to realize that the drowning dream you just had might have been a tad bit more real than you initially thought.

Still reeling in shock, you peered up and locked eyes with your abductor, eyes barely registering the empty bucket he was holding in one of his hands. It didn't take a genius to conclude that he was the one responsible for your drenched state.

"W-what?" you stuttered meekly. "What's going on?"

He only stared at you in response.

"Arthur?"

You shrieked loudly when Arthur threw the empty bucket against the wall, sending a resounding "bang" throughout the whole room and breaking the plastic object into two misshaped pieces.

"Arthur--" you gasped, searching for your voice that seemed to have disappeared beneath the layers of brewing fear, "--w-what... what are you... what's going on? Talk to me."

"I don't want to talk to you, you fucking bitch."

The beating inside your chest fastened. Before you could ask yet another question, Arthur had lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging your head back so you could stare directly into his eyes.

"You're a fucking liar," he seethed. "You lied to me. Everything you said was a lie, wasn't it?!"

"I don't--" you hissed, trying to ignore the biting pain in your scalp, "--I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Stop fucking lying!!!"

A sharp smack reverberated in the air.

It was only when the ringing in your ear grew louder did you realize that Arthur had slapped your cheek.

Hard.

Ignoring the tingling on the side of your face, you lifted your head once more. The room was spinning, tilting your balance left and right, but you held your ground through it all.

"What did I lie to you about, Arthur?" you asked carefully.

He threw something at your feet. It clanged against the hard ground below before landing face up near your toes.

It was your phone.

But the fact that Arthur somehow had your phone in his possession wasn't what caused the sick feeling to stir northward in your belly.

It was what you were seeing on the now cracked screen of your phone: a picture of you and Derek. A selfie that you had impulsively taken of the two of you in bed after one of your nighttime escapades.

For awhile there, you had briefly forgotten about that photo. It was another lost memory in the ocean of rubble left behind in the wake of your fallout with Derek. Seeing that photo again after such a long time triggered waves of emotions that you had been desperately burying for the past few weeks.

The longing, the guilt, the heartache.

The regrets.

The regret of ending your little arrangement so abruptly in such a hostile manner. The regret of not telling Derek sooner about the baby. The regret of maybe never being able to see Derek for one last time.

But most importantly, it was the regret over not revealing the truth of what your heart felt for him that was eating you alive.

"You're fucking him," Arthur fumed, eyes blazing with an indescribable fury that made your entire body shudder.

"Arthur, please... I can explain--"

"Shut the fuck up."

He stepped forward once more, crowding your personal place and rendering you helpless underneath his psychopathic gaze.

"Tell me the truth, and if you dare lie--" Arthur paused, his hand disappearing behind his back before it appeared again with a dagger that he promptly pressed against your abdomen, "--don't ever dream of meeting your child."

"Okay. Okay, I'll tell you the truth."

"You're fucking him, aren't you?"

The bile in your throat had tripled in size. Swallowing it down, you tried to even your voice out as you answered, "I was."

"Ha," he scoffed. "I knew it. You fucking whore. You're no better than any of them."

To your relief, he eventually chose to retract the dagger and stepped away from you, opting to circle the room like a distressed lion in a cage. But even with the blade no longer touching your skin, you knew very well that the danger wasn't over yet and that things could escalate even further in a matter of seconds if you weren't careful.

"Arthur," you called out to him softly, slowly, as to not startle him and risk doing something that would trigger a psychotic break. "Arthur, please. You have to listen to me. That arrangement ended long ago. It meant nothing to me. It happened long before I met you."

Arthur's voice echoed coldly as he replied, "I don't believe you."

"Please, Arthur--"

"That's his child, isn't it?" he cut you off, pointing the tip of the dagger at your belly. "What he said on the phone. He said my child. That's because it's his. You're having Derek Morgan's child."

"No--"

"I thought you were different. I thought you were the one." The dagger in his hand shook with venom. "But you're just the same as the rest of them."

"I'm not. Please, I'm not--"

"I have to start searching again. For the one. You're not her, which means she's still out there."

"Arthur--"

"I'll have to get rid of you."

"Arthur, please!" Your voice cracked, leaking of terror and desperation larger than anything you had ever known. When something wet touched the side of your nose, you realized then that you had started to cry. "Arthur, you have to believe me. I've ended everything with him. There's nothing between us anymore."

The words you uttered kept lingering in the air in a bubble made out of despair. But as if every single one of them had fallen on deaf ears, your captor paid no attention to them. Not even a single acknowledgment to your pleas.

Instead, he had begun taking careful steps forward. Silent and deadly, like a predator stalking its prey.

"Arthur, please! I choose you!"

To your shock, his steps faltered upon your words.

For a moment, you could taste relief on the tip of your tongue before it was washed away by the knowledge that you were not entirely out of the woods yet. But from the corner of your eye, you could see the slight loosening of Arthur's grip around the dagger. It filled you with enough hope to push forward.

"I'm choosing you, Arthur," you stated confidently, trying to convince him of your sincerity. "I don't care about Derek. I'm done with him. I'm done with my old life and everyone in it. I'm ready to leave everything behind to be with you. I choose you."

"You choose me?"

"Yes. I choose you to take care of me. To take care of this baby. The three of us can be a family. How does that sound?"

Seconds ticked into minutes. Minutes stretched into a long silence. The anticipation threatened to break your chest in half.

When he finally began to move once more, Arthur surprised you. He threw the dragger towards a darkened corner in the room, far away from his reach and, most importantly, far away from the possibility of it harming the growing life inside of you.

When Arthur took off the ski mask he had been wearing since the first time you opened your eyes in that harrowing place, you weren't at all surprised to see the face staring back at you. After all, it was the same face belonging to the man who had stopped his car for you when your own car had mysteriously broken down in the middle of the road just around two weeks prior. The same face who offered a business card of his friend's auto shop where you eventually went to get your vehicle fixed.

In retrospect, you should have been at least a little bit suspicious by the whole ordeal, but was it really your fault for choosing to put your trust in the good of humanity?

You knew there was no point in dwelling over what-ifs anymore. Arthur would've found a way, like any psychopath would, and you would've still ended up being tied up in this dismal room with him.

"Did you mean it?" Arthur asked.

You put on your best fake smile before answering, "Yes."

He grabbed you in his arms in just two long strides.

You wanted to throw up. You hated the feeling of his fingers stroking your back. You wanted to kick him away and get this piece of shit as far away from you and your baby as possible. You wanted to rid yourself of the lingering smell of him that had now undoubtedly transferred into your skin.

And maybe, you would've done all of those things if it was only your life that was on the line.

Unfortunately, fighting back was a luxury you couldn't afford anymore. So, you were forced to stay quiet instead, letting your captor whisper sweet nothings in your ear as if it didn't repulse you even being in the same room as him.

You were close to counting towards the 200s in your head when, suddenly, a clanking noise in the distance ripped your attention away.

In a split second, Arthur had peeled his arms from around you and got back on his feet. You knew then that he must have heard it, too.

You watched as he stepped away, dragging a crate from one corner of the room and placing it strategically underneath the only opening on the walls. He got on top of the crate to allow himself to peek outside, but whatever he saw must have startled him greatly. Because the next thing you knew, he had backed away from the wall in the blink of an eye, face crumpling in what could only be described as panic.

"The cops are here," he managed to sputter out.

"What?"

Your heart was hammering inside of its cage. The cops are here. You realized then that the team must have solved the clue you left them. They had solved the case, and they were coming to save you.

Derek was coming to save you.

"What did you do?!"

In a moment of weakness, you had allowed yourself to rejoice in the promise of freedom that you momentarily forgot you actually hadn't possessed it yet. The slip-up was miniscule, but it wasn't fleeting enough to escape the attention of your captor.

"You tricked me!" Arthur's voice boomed throughout the room, carrying rage unlike anything you had ever known. "I trusted you, and you lied to me! Again."

"Arthur--"

This time, there was no room for negotiation.

Arthur didn't even waste a millisecond before he dove forward. He was a lion, and you were the deer. His sharp teeth were calloused fingers, and they dug into your skin as Arthur tightened his grip around your throat.

"You lied to me. You lied to me."

He repeated those words like a mantra, his voice drowned out by desperate gasps as you tried to scour for what little bit of air you could still revel in. Your feet and arms shook beneath their restrains. Your head pounded from the pressure that had gathered inside your skull.

In that moment, death was imminent.

You could feel it coming. You could feel its claws clutching every single drop of life that was still remaining in your bloodstream. It was a battle between the two, and unfortunately, death was winning.

As the dark spots in your vision spread into a massive blotch, you allowed yourself to say goodbye. To life. To the world. To the memories of your loved ones whose faces you wished you could've memorized one last time.

To Derek, the one who could've been, the one you wished had been.

And to the child in your womb, the one you wished you could've met, the one you wished you could've saved.

When darkness came, you expected it to be cold and unforgiving, but as it turned out, darkness was easy. Simple. It welcomed you into its home with open arms, shielding you from the cruelties of the mundane world.

As it pulled you deeper into its abode, you could faintly hear the sound of your name being called repeatedly. It sounded similar. It sounded like home.

But this was your home now, so without turning back, you allowed darkness to lead you further down the dim path. Away from the pain and the heartbreaks of life. Far from the evil that lurked in the streets behind their well-crafted masks.

In the darkness, there was nothing.

In the darkness, you were nothing.

And nothing was exactly what you were going to be.

#derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x y/n #derek morgan self insert #derek morgan fic #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan imagine #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan angst #derek morgan smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #shemar moore #love bugs

[watchmegetobsessed]

AND THE GRAMMY GOES TO

A/N: this is literally just a little something i thought of upon seeinf this pic of Lizzo recording Harry lmao

WORD COUNT: 698

SUMMARY: The moment Harry wins another Grammy.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

“And the Grammy goes to…” Trevor Noah starts the big announcement as he opens the envelope and the whole room goes eerily quiet.

You have your eyes glued to the stage, you’ve forgotten about how uncomfortable your dress feels around your chest (note to yourself, corsets only look good, but they are straight from hell when you actually wear them). You’re holding your breath while both of your hands are gripping Harry’s underneath the table and his hold is just as tight, his palms sweating as you all wait for the winner’s name to be dropped.

You allow yourself to peek at him and you see his blank stare, but you know there’s a whole tornado behind it, his mind is probably racing faster than ever and you almost miss how he is anxiously kicking the foot of his chair as the silent moments tick by.

When you look back at the stage you see Trevor opening the envelope, but instead of saying what’s inside, he looks behind, as if he was searching for someone and when he steps over to the adorable old lady in the line behind him, you already know.

Harry won.

He won another Grammy. 

“Har-Harry Styles!” the lady screams and you jump to your feet, unable to control your excitement any longer.

“Oh my God! Yes! Yes!” you scream and jump around, like a deranged football fan after her team just won. Everyone around is cheering and clapping and you look at Harry who has his face buried in his hands, his shoulders gently shaking.

“Baby, you won! I’m so proud of you!” You practically jump on top of him and he finally lifts his head, all his happiness reflecting from his eyes as he jumps to his feet and gathers you in his arms, squeezing you so tight that air gets knocked out of your lungs, but it’s okay, because you want to feel it all, you want to feel his pride and happiness in the moment he deserved so much. 

“You did it, H! I’m so so so proud of you!” you bounce in his arms before he pulls back and his lips land on yours, probably for the first time ever at an event like this. There are thousands of people around you, but in that moment it’s just you and him, sharing this magical experience he earned.

When he lets go of you to accept more congratulations you keep jumping and clapping with your hands up in the air, screaming in happiness and then you spot Lizzo behind you, her phone in her hand as she records your reaction.

“He won! My man won another Grammy!” you scream into the camera, making her laugh before it’s her turn to hug the winner himself. You’re out of breath by the time Harry heads up to the stage and you have to fix your dress so you don’t flash on national TV.

“Oh my God, this is amazing,” Lizzo laughs next to you and peeking over her shoulder you see that she is watching the video back, you’re acting like you just lost your mind while Harry is just hugging everyone one after the other.

“Don’t you dare post that anywhere,” you warn her, but you already know from the look in her eyes that she won’t gatekeep this one.

“Oh babygirl, your birthday is coming up, right?” She laughs like a maniac as you gape at her, pretending to be shocked, but before you could say a word Harry’s voice is heard coming from the speakers. 

He starts his totally random acceptance speech, rambling on about how thankful he is and how much this means to me, his gaze keeps flickering down at the award in his hands and you’ll never forget that smile that’s etched onto his face in that moment.

“...so, thank you so much and, erm…” he looks up, eyes swiping over the crowd before landing on you as he continues.” I wouldn’t be here without you.”

It seemed like he was addressing it to mostly his fans, but from the way his eyes were piercing into yours, you knew that it was meant only for you.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

[daisynik7]

Give You Blue

Chapter 3: Umbrella

🎶 I can't stop the rain, but I will keep you dry 🎶

Pairing: Eren x f!reader, Reiner x f!reader (past relationship)

Rating: Explicit (this chapter does not contain any explicit material, but the series as a whole will remain Explicit)

cw: switching POVs (reader is in 2nd person, Eren is in 3rd), angst, a little bit of fluff

Word Count: ~2.9k

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Give You Blue Masterlist | ao3 | Give You Blue Taglist

Summary: With your classes as a distraction, you manage to survive a month into your breakup. However, you hit a snag when you run into your ex for the first time since the start of the semester. And, as if it couldn't get any worse, you forget to bring an umbrella on a day with heavy rainfall. Luckily, someone comes to your aid. Author’s Notes: Introducing Eren’s point of view! Hope you enjoy this one! Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated. Thank you so much for the support! If you want to be tagged in any future chapters, please let me know in the comments or interact with the Give You Blue Taglist post. Appreciate y’all! Divider created by @/mikeykuns.

Eren hates his major. 

It’s not that he dislikes biology. In fact, he adores it. He has fond childhood memories of Armin sneaking encyclopedias from his grandpa’s library so that the two of them can flip through each page, eyes wide open in awe at the information displayed. Eren has always been particularly fascinated with science.

No, it’s not biology; he hates being pre-med. He’s only doing it because his father, the renowned Dr. Grisha Jaeger, gave him an ultimatum. It was either pre-med or no tuition, without any room for compromise. Eren’s fate is to become a physician, whether he likes it or not, all because it’s what the Jaeger patriarch wants. To be fair, he’s never stood up for himself. Zeke, his older brother, is in med school at Marley. He can’t be the sole disappointing son; he just can’t. 

So, instead, he suffers. One month into the semester, and he’s already struggling with organic chemistry. Freshman year, he aced biology, no problem. But chemistry? It’s a totally different language that he can’t comprehend.

Inside the lecture hall, he stares at his graded quiz, a big 53% scribbled in bold red ink. He glances at the other students, sneaking a peek at what they got. His concerns lessen slightly, spotting a few other 50s. Luckily, because the exam was so difficult, the professor informs them that it will be weighted. Still, this isn’t good enough. He’ll have a hard time explaining this one to the doctor.

When class is dismissed, Eren remains in his seat, head in his hands, re-evaluating his life choices. Is it going to be this way the rest of the semester? The remainder of the schoolyear? For the next decade? He’s only a sophomore; it’s only going to get harder from here. There’s so much pressure to do well right off the bat. After all, a high GPA is required for him to get into the prestigious Marley School of Medicine, the same university Zeke is currently attending. The standard has already been set high, and Eren needs to reach it if he doesn’t want to be considered a failure. 

There’s a heavy burden weighing him down, sometimes he finds it difficult to breath. The first semester of freshman year was a breeze; he had a good handle on his classes, snuck into a few frat parties with Mikasa and Armin, made fond memories with his friends. It was fun. Now, it’s anything but. He signed up to be an RA to have his own personal space so he could study. Basically coop himself in his room without having to resort to the library across campus. He tries to see his friends, but rarely goes out to a party. Armin, of all people, joined a frat last semester and has invited Eren out several times, always resulting in him declining. 

College is no longer enjoyable. And maybe for him, it was never meant to be. Is this what his life is going to be in the future? All work, no play? Is he destined to become like his workaholic father, who is hardly home? His brother, who’s aged twenty years despite being under thirty? He’s constantly debating in his mind if this is the route he wants to take. It keeps him awake at night, stressing about it. 

Eventually, he gets up out of his seat, slinging his backpack across his shoulders, his other hand grasping a large umbrella. The forecast predicted rain all afternoon. Fitting for how he’s feeling at the moment. 

Walking out of the lecture hall and towards the exit, he notices someone standing near the door, leaning against the wall, face buried in their hands. He approaches closer, realizing it’s one of his residents. And she’s crying.

~~~

It’s been a month since Reiner broke up with you. Your classes have been a well-needed distraction, keeping yourself focused on assignments rather than memories of your past relationship. Still, when you’re in bed every night, desperate to fall asleep, the flashbacks play on a continuous loop, keeping you awake. It’s been difficult to get a proper amount of sleep because of this. It’s a vicious cycle, one you haven’t quite figured out how to get out of. But like Annie said, baby steps. 

With your midday class over, you walk to the nearest vending machine, purchasing a canned coffee beverage to fuel your perpetual exhaustion. Caffeine has been one of your saving graces during this trying time, aside from the support from your friends. It also helps that you haven’t seen Reiner since the drastic breakup. You’ve been actively avoiding all of the usual spots you used to frequent with him, going out to the cafeteria, library, or the mini mart at odd times of the day. He hasn’t reached out to you, most likely giving you space until you decide to initiate. What do you even say? You’re trying to move on, and keeping in contact with him would only make it harder. But there’s no denying it; you miss him. 

As you step towards the exit, you notice all the other students clad in their waterproof coats or holding umbrellas. It’s pouring now, and you’re not prepared at all. Annie’s reminder last night resurfaces in your brain a little too late. She mentioned how it was supposed to rain today, and you probably brushed it off. Or maybe in your rush to get to class this morning, running on only two hours of sleep, it slipped your mind. 

Directly across is the next building. Thinking quickly, you hunch underneath your backpack, making some sort of makeshift shelter, and hurry over, doing your best to avoid getting soaked. There’s a large crowd of students leaving one of the lecture halls. You push past them, pausing near the exit, trying to decide what your next move should be. And that’s when you her him.

“Coco?”

Your heart drops when you hear his voice, uttering that all too familiar nickname. Slowly, you turn around, seeing Reiner standing before you with a pretty, blonde woman beside him. 

“Oh. Hi.” You do your best to sound nonchalant, actually stunned by his presence.

He swallows hard, clearly nervous. “I didn’t know you had a class in here.”

“No, I don’t. I was just passing through. I, uh, forgot my umbrella, so I’m trying my best to avoid the rain.” You glance down at your shirt, spotted with droplets. “Obviously, it’s not working,” you add, with a small chuckle. You’re surprised that you can laugh when there’s dread suffocating your lungs. Seeing him in the flesh, after weeks of miraculously avoiding him, is hitting you harder than you imagined. 

Reiner stares at you, concern in his eyes. The same expression he’s given you throughout your life whenever he was worried about you. “It’s pouring the rest of the day. You’re going to get soaked.” It’s genuine the way he says it; like he still cares about you. It makes you regret coming here in the first place. 

“We can walk you to your dorm, if you want.” Her voice startles you for a second, forgetting she’s here as you fixate on your ex. She gives you a small smile when she continues. “I’m Christa, by the way. Nice to meet you.” 

You shake her hand, introducing yourself. Glancing at her sweatshirt, two deltas stitched across with a floral pattern, you comment, “I like your letters. They’re very cute.” 

Her smile widens. “Thank you! My big gave it to me last semester. Are you also in a sorority?”

“No, I’m not,” you reply, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

She wiggles her finger at you and Reiner. “How do you two know each other, then?”

“We’ve known each other since we were kids. We grew up together,” Reiner answers, a hint of pride in his voice. “We’re best friends.” He glances at you, checking your reaction. You look down at your sneakers, wet at the soles, trying not to show the emotions rattling inside. 

“That is so sweet! Well, if you’re ever interested in joining a sorority, we do informal recruitment in the fall, formal recruitment in the spring. You should stop by the house some time for dinner, maybe during the nights Reiner is hashing.”

“Hashing…?”

“Sorry! So used to speaking in sorority language! Reiner is one of our hashers. He helps serve food and wash dishes, in exchange for a paycheck, of course. His shifts are usually at dinner.”

You finally meet his eyes. “Oh. I didn’t know.” 

He opens his mouth, wanting to respond. Then Christa nudges him with her elbow, giggling. “How can you not tell your best friend that you have a job?!”

He avoids your gaze, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I forgot.” The truth is more complicated to explain; you don’t blame him for that. Still, it hurts. You’re so used to knowing everything about each other. Now, he’s practically a stranger. 

Christa, blissfully unaware, repeats her earlier offer. “We can walk you to your dorm! And we can talk more about Delta Delta if you’d like.” Her offer is kind, even with the ulterior motive, trying to recruit you. It’s not the sales-pitch that’s deterring you, though. It’s the idea of sharing an umbrella with them, forcing yourself to act like it’s all fine and dandy. That he didn’t break your heart a few weeks ago so that he can hang out with sorority girls like Christa, gorgeous, sweet, and sociable. It’s not her that bothers you, not at all. She has no idea the pain you’re going through. Reiner does, and it makes you angry knowing he wants to play pretend for the sake of his image. 

“It’s okay, I can walk on my own from here. Greek Row is on the opposite side of campus, it doesn’t make sense for you to walk me.” You’re not going to accept the offer, no matter what. It’s better this way. You’d rather get drenched than subject yourself to this. 

“C’mon, Coco. We really don’t mind,” Reiner urges.

We. It’s a simple word, no significant meaning behind it. To you, it’s devastating. It used to be you and him. Now, it’s him with somebody else. You’re the third party here. And sure, they’re probably just friends, but the insecure part of you is going insane, wondering if he’s already moved on. 

More adamant, you say, “I’ll be fine. Seriously.” You give Reiner a stern look, one he recognizes instantly. He’s seen it many times before, and he knows that he should just drop it. Christa’s eyes dart between you two, picking up on the tension. “Okay, well, I hope you take up my offer for dinner. I’ll let Reiner contact you to schedule a time.” She smiles at you, waving. “It was really nice to meet you, Coco.”

Reiner makes a strangled noise in his throat, caught off guard by his special nickname for you being used by somebody other than him. You’re surprised at yourself when you let out a genuine chuckle, grinning. “It was nice meeting you too.” You’re not annoyed at her for calling you that. In fact, you’re relieved. In a way, you feel liberated from it. It no longer belongs to him. 

You’re overwhelmed with emotions as soon as they leave side-by-side under his umbrella. You wait until they’re out of sight, leaning against the wall, hiding your face as the tears stream down your cheeks. Suddenly, and at the worst timing, you hear a familiar voice call out to you. Peering up, you see Eren, your RA, standing in front of you.

You meet him in passing every now and then, walking out or into his room while you’re going the opposite direction, exchanging a friendly wave or pleasant greeting. There’s always a pleasant smile on his face, as if life Is great and everything is going to be fine. This is the second time he’s witnessed you crying, two times too many at this point. You’re hot with embarrassment, being caught a blubbery mess once again.

“Hi,” you sniffle, drying your cheek with your sleeve. 

“Are you okay?” He’s concerned, of course. Similar to the first time you burst into tears upon meeting him.

You take a deep, shaky breath before responding, “Yeah. I’m fine. I just…I didn’t know it was going to rain.”

It’s silent between you for a moment, Eren processing the situation before speaking. “If you’re heading back to the dorms, we can walk together.” He holds the curved handle in up, smiling. You’re grateful he doesn’t question it further, understanding there’s more behind your outburst than just a little bit of unforeseen weather. 

Once outside, he opens the umbrella, revealing a blue-sky pattern over your heads. You laugh at the irony of it. 

“Pretty cool, right?” he beams, holding the handle between you. “I always like to carry a bit of blue with me whenever it’s a gloomy day.”

“I love it,” you reply, returning his bright smile. “Almost makes it feel like it isn’t raining at all.” You huddle next to him, trying your best not to bump your shoulder against his. “Thank you. I would have been stranded if you didn’t come along.”

“No problem at all. Just consider this one of my responsibilities, as your RA.”

“To show off your super cool umbrella to your residents?” you joke, smirking.  

He turns his head to face you, gazing at you kindly. “No. To keep you safe and protect you.”

You focus your attention on the ground, avoiding any puddles and ignoring the slight flutter in your belly. “You might be the best RA ever with that kind of mindset.”

He chuckles. “Well, I haven’t forgiven myself for making you cry the first night I met you. So I’m doing my best to make up for it.”

You cover you face with your hand, remembering that humiliating moment. “Oh god, don’t remind me. It really wasn’t you. I was in a fragile state and apparently, red velvet cupcakes were triggering at the time.”

The rain lets up a bit, reduced to a drizzle now. Eren stares in front of him, relaxing the grip on the handle. “Are you feeling better now?”

You choose your words carefully before replying, “Yeah. I think so.” It’s not a confident answer, though it’s the best you can do, without going into detail about it.

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

The two of you walk in silence for the next few minutes, listening to the soft trickle of raindrops against the pavement. There’s something peaceful about the rain when you’re not getting absolutely drowned by it. You look up, admiring the blue-sky pattern, feeling the tiniest boost of serotonin on an otherwise dreary situation. “You’re doing a great job, by the way.”

“Huh?”

A little louder, you repeat, “I said you’re doing a great job. Being an RA and everything.” You’re unsure yourself what you mean by “everything”. He’s basically a stranger to you. However, for some reason, you’re comfortable around him. 

“Oh. Thanks.” You can tell he’s surprised by your comment, which makes you smile to yourself. 

Another moment of silence passes as you approach the dorms. “I’ll have to find a way to thank you for this,” you say. 

“You really don’t have to.”

“If it weren’t for you, I’d either be stuck there, crying. Or back at the dorms, drenched from head to toe.” You remove the keycard from your pocket, swiping your ID at the door. 

He holds it open for you, beckoning you to enter first, folding and tying his umbrella closed. “Well, if you must know, I love Pocky.”

“Pocky?” You raise your brow at him, amused.

“You know, those little stick treats, covered in chocolate.”

“Yeah, I’m familiar. I’m just surprised by your answer,” you grin, stopping in front of his room. 

“Hey, I told you I have a sweet tooth, right? Just get me a box of that, and we’ll call this even.”

“Okay,” you reply. “I can do that.”

He watches you walk the rest of the way down the hall to your room. You face him, giving him one last wave before you enter, retreating inside. You set your bag down and sit at the edge of your bed, surprised at how okay you’re doing, despite running into Reiner. Maybe you really are doing better.

Soon after, your phone vibrates, notifying you of a text. When you check it, you find yourself staring at the screen, frozen in place.

Reiner: Hope you made it back to your dorm okay.

~~~

You’re doing a great job. On a shitty day like today, those five simple words give Eren the validation he needs. If he can’t be great at chemistry, it’s nice knowing he is succeeding in another way. It makes him feel good, as if he’s finally doing something right. Being appreciated for it isn’t expected, but it sure is nice. 

He doesn’t see or hear from her until a few days later, when he comes back from one of his classes. Outside his room, he spots a plastic bag hanging on the doorknob, a note attached to the outside of it:

Eren, thank you for keeping me dry from the rain the other day. Consider us even now. 

He smiles reading her name signed at the end of it. Peeking into the bag, he sees at least a dozen Pocky boxes scattered inside. 

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[phoenixyfriend]

A lot has been happening today that rep calls could affect. UN vetoes, KOSA, Julian Assange, UNRWA's funding crisis and Israel's demands that it be completely dismantled, the large number of bills we just learned are on the docket for the coming week, and even the good news that is recent successes by the BDS movement.

And like... I care about this stuff. I want to talk about it. But it takes an emotional and mental toll to do it, and it takes time, and... there are two reasons to write up reference, update, information posts:

Compensation. I'm not a journalist, but if I were, I would in theory be getting paid for the information I collect and share to my audience. However, I am not, and am doing this for free. I have gotten maybe $5 in donations since I started this project, and while I recognize that this is probably because people are (quite rightly) donating instead to Palestinian charities or local campaigns or something, it's a basic fact that I am not actually being compensated for this work.

Promoting change and activism. This is in fact my main goal: to have a positive impact on current events by giving people a guide on the news and politics because there's so much happening that's hard to keep track of, and if I'm already doom-listening to half a dozen political podcasts, I might as well save other people the trouble, right?

The thing is, like... most of the reblogs on my guidelines and helpful posts are from me, to me. I am the one reblogging. I am desperately trying to get these things to circulate so I can make a difference, but... no dice. Some of the posts are admittedly pretty long (my 'how to call your reps, here's some verbiage' post is 3.4k words), and I can imagine some people are saving it for later, and then maybe forget, or they don't want to share something controversial, and like... I do get that. I do.

But it does mean the posts aren't circulating, and thus they're having less of an impact, and I can't help but feel like there are other things I could be doing to help that would be more effective. More bang for my buck, except it's my time and effort instead of my money. Like, maybe it would have more an effect if I hunted down a wider variety of elected officials I could bother instead of instructing other people on how to bother theirs? Maybe going to protests (which would be a huge commitment due to distance) would be more effective than trying to help ensure that the effectiveness of "I actually have a vote and you are losing it" of calls has the weight of numbers behind it.

Especially since I did try to blaze it, and tumblr mods rejected the post. I don't know why. It's not against ToS, since none of it was disinformation or election interference, which is the only reason given on the FAQ for why things might not be approved for blazing, but who knows.

Maybe tumblr just decided the possible blowback on them for blazing a pro-ceasefire post would be too much.

I don't know. I just... it's just really disheartening to try to help and it gets stymied because, as much effort as it might be, it doesn't reach more than a (comparatively) tiny audience, especially when my relatively low-effort polls and shitposts get easily ten times as many notes with way less energy put in.

EDIT: This is not a post that I need to have reblogged. this is just me bitching. This a vent post. What I am asking people to reblog is my activism posts that I spend hours on to try and help nudge things in a better direction. Please reblog THOSE. This one doesn't need reblogging unless you have an actual comment. Reblogging this post just to reblog, with neither useful comment nor encouragement, is not helping me with my issue of 'not paid, not making an impact' or helping with any important causes.

#personal #vent post #phoenix politics

[yandere-kokeshi]

Yandere Hobie and Miguel with a gn darling whose Aromantic

Warnings: yandere behavior, ALL PLATONIC!

A/N: day two of posting! hope you enjoy <3!

Hobie Brown: 

Has no problem with it and already knows about your boundaries. The minute you sit him down, tell him you’re Aro — he finishes your sentence with a smirk, and laughs at your sheer expression when he doesn’t react in a way you’d think. 

Extremely respectful, even as a yandere; already going out of his way to be respecting your boundaries and never brings up anything romantic, only plain Platonic uses. He makes sure your comfort and health comes first, and always seems to know what to say next whenever you two talk. 

Might as well have a label pin as Most Protective Best Friend™. Always knowing where you are, ensuring you’re taking good care of yourself, no idiotic or trash love interests will come near you when he’s around, and clings to you one way or another. Hobie loves to sneak in little touches when acceptable, especially if it’s around your shoulders or waist.  

Treats you like a younger sibling. Laughs when you make mistakes or piss off Miguel, teaches you guitar, sometimes spoiling you and giving you advice when needed. But his actions could be somewhat of what boyfriends do. He ‘pays’ for your food, surprising you with things that you’d least expect, and gives you tight hugs. Let’s not forget about the knuckle rubs on the heads too, and light kisses on your forehead.  

A man who you can rely on for support, help, and secrets. No matter what, he’s here for you, with open arms, and ready to give you the entire world if you asked. Hobie is more on the affectionate side, and with your permission, he likes to kiss your cheek and forehead platonically; nuzzling his nose as the two of you laugh. 

Sleepovers galore. Every other night, the two of you are in each other’s bedrooms, doing parallel play if you’re okay with it, and often showing you things he seems interesting. 

Miguel O’Hara: 

Confused by the term, but when you take time to explain to him, Miguel is quickly on board and nods along; being awkwardly quiet as he takes in the information. He’s older, but is respectful. It may take him some time to understand, but nevertheless, Miguel will follow your boundaries. 

Not the best at showing his appreciation, especially if you prefer physical touch, or words of affirmation. Naturally, he gives you gifts, listening to you when you require things, and going out of his way to make sure you’re taking good care of yourself: making dinner, letting you use his money to buy whatever, and get enough vitamin D.  

More possessive than ever. Doesn’t like sharing, and likes keeping you to himself so that you can bother him. Even though he might give you the side eye, he frankly enjoys you talking about anything — especially if he’s working.

Everything you can expect from a romantic relationship is the same with Platonic, just considerably toned way up with him defending or protecting you. Miguel is haunted by the thoughts of you being hurt, which means you are by his side 24/7, which also comes with another talk: no dating. 

Not a huge fan with you going on dates, especially if it’s away from him. But, he’ll come to term with it sooner or later — but expressing strict rules he expects you to follow. Things like he has to meet your s/o immediately, know their background, and questions them on things about you. 

Will gently say ‘I love you’ at the most randomest times. Really tries his best to show his affection, and with his past, it’s hard. Whenever he says it, it’s almost like he didn’t mean to say it – the words seemingly passing through his lips as he looks at you lovingly. 

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

#kokeshi!! #yandere blog #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere male #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere platonic #platonic yandere #platonic atsv #yandere atsv #yandere across the spiderverse #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel x reader #yandere spiderverse #yandere spiderman 2099 #yandere spiderpunk #yandere hobie brown #yandere hobie x reader #yandere atsv x reader #atsv hobie #atsv miguel #atsv spiderpunk #atsv spiderman 2099 #yandere x gn reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #aromantic #x aro reader #the icons are not mine #they belong to their rightful owners

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Five (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genre: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors / ageless blogs interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list). 

Author’s note: This is SO VERY ANGST. More angst than any other chapter so far. STRAP IN GIRLIES (GN). I'd love it if you feel like sharing what you think - your feedback means the world to me. ILY :-* Reblogs, comments, and asks are literal power-ups in my day and I appreciate every single one!

Word count: 8.3k for this part. 

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

You’re spiralling. 

You’re pissed off and you’re hurt and you’re somehow still horny as hell (somehow, perhaps even more horny since Santiago helped you out in that very particular way of his). You feel all in a tizz, like you don’t know which way is up; but even so, you’re pretty sure you’ve simply been going around in circles, and it’s dizzying. Santiago makes it easy to do that when you follow his lead, after all – all the more reason that you’d had to get out finally, all those months ago. 

Safe to say, you’re a little bit worked up. Too many thoughts are racing through your head. Resentment that he could get you all riled up like that, have you come undone, and then straight up deny you. Like it was some power play all along and that all he wanted was the satisfaction. On the other hand, a dreadful longing spikes at the thought that maybe he really did just want to protect himself, because he wouldn’t know how to find his way out this time if he got lost in you all over again. 

The main thing you’re feeling though – a bitter shard of pain stabbing through any sense of pleasure you may be left with - is a singular fear. 

What if he really doesn’t want you anymore? 

He wants you, yes, on some level. His admissions in the kitchen about wanting to kiss you confirmed that much. But his desire for you had always felt like an unstoppable force. Like something he couldn’t help or hope to control. Like a raging fire. He had told you that he loved you, wanted you, needed you, all those months ago. And while you are sure that remains true at least in part, you are terrified that all you leaving had achieved was to teach him how to live without you. And, contrary to that, his touch had simply confirmed how hopelessly consumed by him you still are, all your progress - moving on and rebuilding and forgetting - unravelled in mere moments by his fingers. 

You resent that too. His power over you, when you always prided yourself on being strong – needing no-one. You have never liked to feel like the one who is compromised, in any situation. You always prefer to be the hunter as, that way, you’re not the one who gets hurt. But Santiago? Santiago is lethal, and he has always known your weak spots.  

Maybe that’s why you had stormed angrily to your room, subduing your heavy footsteps reluctantly, only for the sake of your dear buddies sleeping soundly in their beds. Maybe that’s why you had hastily cleaned up, throwing on some fresh clothes from your case – a low cut top and some obscenely tight jeans. A splash of perfume. Some lipstick. All in the hopes of heading out to the local bar and searching for the kind of late-night attention which feels in your control. Seeking a desire which feels manageable. Trivial almost, instead of the kind which burns. 

Part of you – a small part of you, at least - recognises you’re being ridiculous, irrational, reactive, even as you zip on your boots. But there is another part of you that simply can’t stay here in this house with him a moment longer, feeling like he doesn’t want you the way you want him. 

You feel like, while you’ve been breaking apart for all these months, he was healing. It’s cruel maybe, that you would wish for his desire to burn him as much as it has a hold over you – but perhaps you’re not perfect. Perhaps you’re only human. 

Whatever. It doesn’t all need to make sense right now. Your head’s all over the place. You’re not really thinking straight at all. You don’t know whether you want to cry or scream or get your brains fucked out (or maybe all of the above - not in that order). And so, you’re definitely not thinking when you throw open the door to the bathroom, recalling that you’d left your necklace on the counter. If you were -thinking- perhaps you would have heard the rushing of the water. Perhaps you would have heard the muffled, bitten back groans emanating from the shower cubicle. 

Fuck. 

If you weren’t thinking straight before, every thought falls right out of your head altogether when you swing open that door. Namely, when you see Santiago, his body slanted into the wall as he palms his thick, straining length in something of a frenzy. 

You should retreat, probably. In fact, yeah. That's exactly what you should do. But, the sight of him there arrests you, and you can’t help but devour every detail of him. Your eyes skim over him only fleetingly, and yet your memory of his body fills in the gaps, meaning you’re able to see far more of him than you could otherwise in the split second your eyes rove over him. 

He is stripped down, his body curled into the tiled wall, his forehead and one shoulder bracing himself as the stream of water thunders down on the back of his neck and his broad, lightly muscled shoulders. 

His thighs are slightly spread and his full glutes are clenching as he fucks his hard, veined cock into the circle of his left hand, squeezing tight and showing no mercy, his pace relentless. 

From the way his nipples are pebbled and the way you observe the tightness of the muscles coiling in his back, you can guess that the water is cold. Perhaps, that he had attempted to cool off after what had happened downstairs, seemingly to no avail. His need is heavy and urgent and burdening his hand, the veins popping in his slick forearm as water sluices over every contour of him and still, his want is evidently raging. 

The most important detail of all, however, is that his eyes are closed, droplets of water beading in his long lashes, and a wracked moan sounding from around his own fingers as he shoves them over his tongue. 

Fuck. 

He’s licking them clean. He’s tasting you. Tasting your juices from his fingers and pumping himself raw from the thought of it. 

Holy shit. 

He wants you. 

You see it now, clear as day. He wants you to the point of desperation. Helplessness. To the point of coming undone with his need for you. His want rages even beneath the stream of a cold shower, taken in hopes of subduing himself. He works himself urgently in his fist, in hopes of finding his release. You find him here, like this. 

Unfinished. 

You can see it much more clearly now. You see how he wants you. You see what you do to him. What you still do to him. 

You see now that saying no to you likely took every scrap of control he had, and now that is gone, there is nothing left for him but you. 

As you enter, Santiago hears the door creak open – you weren’t exactly sneaking- and he immediately tilts his body to the wall. It’s automatic - showing his ass rather than his dick in his hand, likely in case one of the boys had just walked in on him. But, when he sees it’s you stood there, all slack-jawed and honey-eyed, he foregoes the need to hide. He turns towards you instead, his length twitching as it grows even more rigid and more ruddy at the sight of you. Santiago’s eyes hooded and desolate with want as he looks you up and down in your ridiculous, come-fuck-me clothes. 

Santiago knows fine well that you only wear red when you want to be shown a good time. You feel like a flare, on display, and maybe you’d feel stupid -like scrubbing this red paint from your mouth – if his need was not blatantly on display too. If his predicament did not seem even more dire than yours. 

Finally, though, as you look and he lets you, you register the intrusion, and with a series of stunted vowel noises which barely make it past your teeth, you are dragging your eyes away from his. Your legs like jelly and skin flushed beneath your tight clothes, you are clasping the door handle and turning on your heel. Your only objective is to make it out of there, even if you turn to vapour in the hallway after the fact. 

“Where the fuck are you going?” Santiago asks gruffly, and you are not sure what he means. Not sure whether he means to ask where you’re headed out to so late, or to inquire why in the hell you’re leaving the room now that you’re here, but God, you’re not sure anymore that you could answer either question in any way that would make the slightest bit of sense. 

You’re just not thinking straight. Can you be blamed? Look at him. Look at this, all for you. 

So, you freeze, breath held in your lungs as you grip the handle – your back to him, and about to swing the door open to hasten your exit. Instead, though, against every shred of good sense you have, you push the door closed, ever so gently, with you still on the inside. You turn, preposterously slowly back towards him, and when the sight of him stood there, wet and dripping, face all stern and languidly palming himself in the circle of his hand hits you, you flatten your back to the panelled door. Truth is, your legs feel so weak that you could barely stand without it. 

And, as if that wasn’t quite answer enough, Santiago continues to look at you insistently. 

Well? The quirk of his thick brow seems to enquire. Where the fuck are you going? 

Your voice comes out all breath. “Nowhere.” 

You’re going fucking nowhere, apparently. Only ever around and around in circles with Santiago “Pope” Garcia – but suddenly, you could care less.  

Your eyes lock then, and it takes less than moments for him to be on you, his wet hands fisting everywhere - in your hair and your clothes - and dragging your mouth onto his in a sudden, consuming crush. Your hands snake into his hair, squeezing cool shocks down your forearms as you wring rivulets of water from his grizzled curls, grabbing handfuls of the length at his crown to pull him deeper into you, his tongue hot and supple and buried in your mouth. Your top sticks to you, wet and sodden in all the places he has grabbed up handfuls of your flesh, or pressed his hot body flush against you. 

He drives you back, into the door and the awkward mess of towels hanging there on hooks. 

“Fuck,” he bites off into your mouth, and you surge forward with this barrelling want, walking him backward and slamming him against the cool tiles with a thwap and enough force that he grunts. Still, it barely slows him down at all, his hands all over you and his kisses still devouring, ripping the air from your mouth. 

There is no romance in this, you think. Only need, raw and animal, and you are surprised that you show enough restraint not to tear each other down to the floor and go at it right on the tiles. Still, you barely show any more restraint than that. 

“Shit. Fuck. Turn around. Turn around,” Santiago rasps, entirely wrecked already, barely able to get the words past his mouth. His cock looks almost painfully hard, and entirely insistent against your ass as he spins you and roughly bends you over the counter, pots of toothbrushes knocked into the sink and soap rolling who knows who cares where. 

“You want this?” he asks as he presses you into position, little precision or ceremony in it – just a rough, raw urgency, entirely untamed. 

You can see yourself reflected in the mirror above the sink, blurry and steamy and bent over, and that’s exactly how it feels. Everything; blurry and steamy and close and tight. He’s as hard as the cool marble surface digging painfully into your hips, and you’re as hot as steam and as wet and slick as this mirror and you’re melding into one another – not single bodies anymore but shapes and a mood and a feeling, and there is nothing else. 

“Princesa?” Santiago pleads, even as he tugs your jeans down over your ass, removing the bare minimum of clothing to give him access where he needs, the garment still tight and unforgiving around your thighs, not allowing you to move  - barely at all. “You need me?”

“Yes. Fuck me. Need you,” you beg, and you hear him spit unceremoniously into his hand -not that he’d need it- and slather it all over his length, groaning as he makes contact with his sensitive, needy dick as though he might spill over his knuckles with the anticipation of stuffing you full alone. 

Still, he holds on -by a thread – and your eyes roll back into your head as you finally feel the blunt tip of him notch clumsily at your need-swollen entrance. 

Then – ohhhhhh- then, there is the dull ache shortly after as the girth of him pushes through your wanting folds. You grunt at the initial stretch as he works himself inside of you, but pinned between the counter and his surging hips there is nowhere for you to go, and his need sinks into you inch by inch until he fills you all the way. 

You succumb to your ragged breaths and mewl for him, you arms practically giving way beneath you as you press them into the cool surface to keep you standing. He fills you, and God, you’ve missed this. Have missed how full you feel with him inside of you - in every sense of the word. The way his hands grip your hips in that specific spot he likes. 

You have missed his girth. Could swear you can feel every inch of him pressing outward against the tight grip of your heat as he fucks his cock into your hole, bottoming out with a delicious, wracked, stuttering moan, the sound alone causing pleasure to bloom around the drag of him deep inside you. 

Still, despite this fullness - you also feel the give of your walls to him, your slick and eager heat actively suckering him in. He stutters his hips as you clamp tightly around him and then, so help you, he finally begins to move. 

Jesus, this feels even better than his fingers, even better than you remember, and you relish every moment as he fucks into you, bareback and desperate, your pleasure coiling up impossibly quick as the straining mass of him works you open, hitting all of your sweet spots. Your legs tremble beneath you with adrenaline and want, and you feel Santiago’s thighs flush against the back of your legs, his hips snapping against the cushion of your ass as the counter edge bites painfully into your hinged hips. 

He's not taking his time with you. Not teasing or planning or thinking. You can tell by the undone grunts and groans he’s submitting to you already, that -for once- he is far too consumed by his own need to contemplate yours. Can tell by the sloppy pace of his thrusts and the lack of attention to your clit or your breasts or anything else but filling you - his hands fisting in the meat of your hips as he takes what he needs, gives what you crave – that he’s not even trying to make you come… but goddamn it if he isn’t going to get you there all the same. 

Soon too. 

God, the head of him is rubbing exactly where you need, and you can’t remember the last time you felt this good with a dick inside you. Your cunt is primed for him, still sensitive from where his fingers fucked you open and it isn’t going to take you long at all to reach your peak. 

Even without seeing him properly, in the misted-up mirror, you can tell that Santiago is going feral behind you. Filling you deeply and haphazardly, his fingers leaving imprints on your skin. 

You hear a snarl, and see a pearly flash of teeth as his lip curls up from how good you’re making him feel. 

“Fuucckk,” he groans, his head tipped back now, that pretty chin pointing up to the sky and his mouth dropping open – you can vaguely see in the mirror

His broad hand smooths firmly down the middle of your back and over your ass - grabbing handfuls of you- before he retraces his path, sliding his hand up between your shoulder blades and winding his hand in your hair, grabbing and pulling until your spine is curled back for him like a bow, your ass arced up and allowing him a deeper angle of penetration which sends tingles all the way to the tips of your toes when he hits just right. 

You practically yowl for him, your whole body trembling and shaking, sweat trickling down the centre of your cleavage as the layers you did not have time to dispense of overheat your skin. As your clit is nudged into the lip of the counter in a way that shouldn’t work for you, probably, but totally does, the intermittent slap of Santiago’s hips against you providing a pleasing rhythm. 

It’s uncomfortable, and hot, and cramped, and in some ways painful to be rammed up against the surface like this, but you wouldn’t tell him to stop for the world. You wouldn’t tell him to stop because the way he’s taking you feels divine, Santiago burying his want for you as deep as it will go, releasing his punctuated, abortive gusts of breath in time with his thrusts.

You feel drips land on the small of your back, and whether its water cascading from his dampened curls or beads of sweat from the exertion rolling down his temples you do not know or care. 

You only know that you want more. 

Determined as ever, you plant your hands firmly on the counter as he fucks you near boneless, driving through your hips until you meet his thrusts, working him up higher, finding the angle which hits just right and-

“Unnnngggg.” A whimper falls from his pretty mouth and his thrusts are suddenly far more shallow, slow, nudging against your nervy, sensitive entrance. His breaths are coming in deeper, heavy gusts now and you might be afraid that he was about to stop - if you weren’t so sure that he was, in fact, gearing up. 

“Santiago,” you complain as he blunts the sharp edge of your precipice with the break in rhythm. You urge him to give you more, and he uncurls his fingers from your hair and adjusts position. 

Obligingly, he wraps his stronger arm around your chest to guide you closer to standing, pressing his chest to your back, his head hooking over your shoulder. And, with his other arm, he reaches forward towards the steamed mirror, using his palm to clear a window from the condensation. 

“I wanna see you,” he rasps, a hoarse, gritty whisper in the shell of your ear. “Wanna watch you.” 

God, it’s too much. The way his arm is wrapped around your front, strong and yet tender as his forearm braces across your chest and his fingers dance tenderly over your jaw. The wracked, undone voice of him, whisper soft. The contrast between this and the certainty of his thrusts as he finds a new rhythm. As you find a new rhythm together, entirely in sync. 

Slowly, so slowly, he draws out of you, ensuring you can feel every single inch of him, the tantalising drag of him through your folds making your quiver. Then, he snaps back into you all at once, so suddenly shoving himself up into you, balls slapping against your ass, each repetition of this pattern building you up. God, you want him to spill himself inside you, and you think vaguely that it is the only thing which could quench you. 

It is your undoing when his eyes find yours in the mirror, and this all becomes real. No longer fantasy like your unreliable recollections of him all these months. No longer shapeless, tangled, blurry bodies, but now so very suddenly, you are looking at you and him, with all that means. 

The look in his eyes gives form to this act, as though the love settled in them is the very thing giving form to the way he fills you. He is at once stern - his brow burdened, heavy-lidded with need, his eyes sunk into a pit of desire - yet soft. His strong nose is crushed up against you as his lips caress your neck. His eyes dance over your face, taking you in as you languish up against him. 

His eyes are molten when they find you again, dancing with a soft, subtle heat not unlike firelight, long lashes fluttering in disbelief at the sight of you. At the feel of you wrapped around him. No longer just a body or some carnal need, shapeless and intangible. 

Instead, Santiago and you, and your bodies moving as one. 

His soft lips and rasp of stubble break from the column of your neck as his thrusts become sloppy, and you feel his hot breaths come thick and fast against your skin now. 

He missed you.

He missed you, and this is what he’d meant. Had meant he needed to feel you wrapped around his dick. Moaning his name. Needed to see you being his. Missed you being his. God, you missed that too, in so many ways. 

A moan rips through you as you approach your peak, and you plead profusely with him. 

“Don’t stop. Santi. Please.” 

You don’t ever want him to stop. 

As you clamp down on him, your fluttering core wrings his own orgasm from him too, and then he’s pulsing his load into you, thick and warm and abundant, his thighs quaking against yours and his arms gripping on to you more tightly – this time for purchase – as though this might be the time his knees finally buckle if he doesn’t hold on to you. 

You can feel his racing heartbeat hammer from his chest to yours as he holds you flush to him. Can feel his mouth suck at the column of your neck, his tongue sliding along your pulse point and tasting your perfume. 

You come down from your high, thrumming with it. Wet and messy between your legs as Santi drags his softening dick out of you, letting your juices and his seed slip down your inner thighs. 

You feel good. Blissed out. But, as ever, with you and Santiago, there’s always a catch. The joy is immense, but, guaranteed that one of you - if not both - will find a way to ensure it is short-lived. 

Indeed. All too soon, you begin to feel that creeping sense of regret hollow-out your stomach. 

You can see it on his face too. The uncertainty. The lack of understanding of what this all means. About what to do next. It is evident from the way he so quickly moves away from you, picking up his shorts and t-shirt and covering up his body. Similarly, you hike up your jeans without even cleaning up, and as much as you might have hoped for a joyful, intimate moment, you know that it’s already too late for that. The moment that the insecurity, doubt and uncertainty had crept in on each of your faces it had become self-reinforcing. A spiral. Running in circles. 

“Shit,” you sound out, in a clear peal of regret, planting a hand over your face in distress - despite everything. 

“Sounds about right,” Santiago agrees in a monotone, brows drawn down and his gaze fixing on a spot of tile, unable to look you in the eye, despite having been buried inside you only moments ago. 

“No,” you stress, bringing a second hand to your face. There’s something else. Something that makes you feel stupid and sick. “I…. I mean, shit. I changed my birth control up and I… I mean we…” Santiago snaps his eyes back up to you now, alright. You curse when you note the writhing of his taut jaw, set and a little annoyed. Your softly puffed expletive which follows is contrite, but it doesn’t help. 

It’s not like you -or him- to make a mistake like that. And yet, you had all the same. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

You bristle at his harsh, accusatory tone. How quickly things sour. “It’s not like you checked!” It is his turn to bristle now, and so you opt to be harsher still. “Besides, I didn’t exactly think you were going to be quite so quick on the trigger, Santi.”

He narrows his eyes at you, his riposte about his stamina not even required. He got you off, didn’t he? So, your attempted distraction is futile, as he manages to stay alarmingly on topic. You fold your arms across your chest as he steps towards you, feeling on the back-foot as his flattened palm nags through the air to punctuate his words. “It didn’t occur to you to mention that before we fucked?” 

“I forgot. I switched up my method and I’m not technically covered yet. It’s marginal, you know. Most likely fine. I mean, what’s another 24 hours? Besides, I didn’t exactly plan on this, did I?” 

He scoffs, then he purses his mouth until much of the colour drains from his lips. “Oh yeah. Sure you didn’t.” 

You raise your eyebrows, and jut a hip out to the side for good measure. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

Santiago shakes his head softly. Plants his hands on his wide hips, making himself larger. You don’t shrink back from him, but you note it. “For real?” He flashes his line of teeth now, a lopsided, disbelieving lilt of his lips – no happiness in it. Not at all. “I know you love to pretend like I’m the bad guy, right? That serves your narrative or whatever? Bullshit, honey. You knew exactly what you were doing tonight.” You snort out a huff of air through your nose, your look all steel as you prepare to deny his claims. You falter though, with his next words. “I can’t get off without you, Santiago?” he mimics, and your comeback dies on your lips. “You wanna put this all on me now? Believe me, I gave it everything I had to stay out of-“

“-My vagina? Yeah, great job, Pope.” You throw your hands up in the air and they slump right back down again. “You’ve had everything up in there except your damn tongue.”

“Let’s go then, sweetie,” he challenges, nodding to the rear of you, his voice taut rather than inviting. “Hop up on the counter and spread your legs, I’ll make it 3 for 3.”

It’s unfamiliar to you, this tone of his. It makes your heartbeat rage. You swear you can even feel the pulse of it in your tongue. “Fuck. Whatever. I’m not having this conversation with you.” Your adrenaline spikes at the prospect of another argument and you turn on your heel, looking for an exit. 

However, before you can retreat, Santiago’s broad palm contacts your arm to stop you – open hand, no force applied – and you turn your head over your shoulder. “At least tell me you’re going to take care of this,” he bites off, with a clear attempt to restrain his aggravation, expression sullen. 

“Of course I am.”

“How?” 

You think. “I’ll go to the pharmacy in the morning. I’ll deal with it.” You pump your brows emphatically. “Okay?” 

You shrug his hand off of you then with apparent disdain for his touch, and in spite of his (relative) tolerance of your acerbic tone, that is apparently the move which fractures his composure. “You know what actually blows my mind? The way you can be nice to me just long enough to get yours. Pretty fucking convenient.” 

You feel your face twist with the weight of a sour expression, mirroring his. “Why are you always like this?” You don’t wait to hear his answer, the adrenalin propelling you away, down the hall and closer to your room, but his footfalls follow closely behind you, hot on your heels. Your voice is a whispered hiss, as, somewhere in the back of your mind, you are vaguely aware of the need to keep it down – the other boys are lights out by now. “Why can you never just fuck me and be happy about it, huh?” You spin to face him, chest to chest and facing off. 

“I knew this was a fucking mistake.” 

Your pulse is in your throat. “Right. Maybe it was. That’s all I ever was to you, I guess.” 

Your voices raise, slowly creeping up in volume as you each get lost in this intimate bubble of angst. Of resentment. On some level, you know you could stop now - before it gets worse and you say things you will only regret (or worse, hear things you’ll wish you hadn’t). You know that you should stop, but it feels… oddly necessary. 

Like it’s inevitable. Like you’ve been waiting all this time to fuck and fight because it’s all you know how to do with him anymore. At least, it’s all you know how to do when loving him heart and soul seems off the table. 

The space your bodies create is tight, leaning into each other’s circle of personal space. 

Santiago’s fingers bridge like a claw and he taps them against his own chest, his eyes needling you like he could sew this up once and for all. Tie off all those loose threads of blame which sit frayed between you. He’s angry. Angry and riled and pissed and even so, there is still this eerie sense of calm about him. 

You’ve seen him really let loose. You’ve seen him kill, for Christ’s sake, and yet he’s still measured and restrained in the face of you. That should make it easier to bear the brunt of his sharp edges, but that’s not quite so. There’s something about the precision of his anger when it’s focussed on you. The fact it feels so considered, so targeted only makes it cut deeper. “You know what? I’m tired as shit of always being the fucking bad guy here. You wanna get into it, huh?” His voice breaks now, splitting like shrapnel, lodging in your chest. “I told you I love you and you fucking left me.” 

“That’s fucking bullshit!”  

He’s not happy that you said that. He rocks from foot to foot like he’s priming for something. Scoops a hand over his jaw, around his taut mouth. You’re close enough to hear it rasp, the fleck of his stubble bristling against his palm. “Oh, it’s bullshit?”

Your voice comes out hot now, your words bitten off between your teeth, flecks of spit cast from your mouth. “Yes! Because if I hadn’t left you never would have told me! You told me because I left you! You told me to fucking punish me. To try and drag me back in.” 

“Wow. Jesus fucking...” He laughs, but it is a cold, brief sound. “That’s fucking rich, cariño.” His eyes glint like knife licks, and he plants his hand indignantly against his chest, jutting up his chin. Puffing up his chest and making his body all angles. Protecting himself. “That’s really what you think of me, huh?” You try to look away from him, but his eyes chase you for an answer. 

Is it? Is that what you genuinely think of your best friend? Is that what you think he’s done to you? Tried to do? 

If so, no wonder you’re so fucking angry. No wonder your body is trembling with it. 

But the truth is, when pushed on it, you have no intelligible retort you can form. No evidence you can offer. So, instead, in your panic over losing ground, you opt to minimise. You throw your hand up dismissively and you turn on your heel, stomping towards your door at the end of the hall. “Fuck this.”

This time, his footsteps do not follow, even if you can still feel his eyes boring into your back. You think that might even be the end of things, until…

“No,” he sounds. A forceful, robust note which fills the whole hallway. A command to wait. This isn’t over. 

With you and him, it’s never going to be over, is it? 

You turn towards him and he is fixed in position, stance set wide and chin dipped down, eyes blackened half moons as he looks at you. “Just let me get this straight. If I’m the one who drags you back in? What the shit do you call what you just did?”

You scoff. “You were a very willing participant, Pope. Or, I dunno. Why don’t you just consider it payback for all the times you fucked me around?” 

He’s biting words back as he listens to you now. You can see them, in the tilt of his head and the flare of his nostrils. In the flip and curl of his tongue settled around his upper lip, dragging back and forth just below his filtrum. “Revenge, then? Really? Is that what this weekend has been about for you? You really that vindictive?”

“No. Don’t be ridiculous.” You dismiss him again, as though not one of his complaints about you can possibly be valid. Or, rather, revealing you are currently unwilling to admit it even if they are. After all, you’re as stubborn as he is. Each of you trying so desperately to palm off the blame for how fucked up this became. 

Santiago paces towards you then, footfalls rhythmic and steady as he swallows the space between you in the hall. “Jesus. You don’t even give a shit, do you? Think I deserve to have my heart crushed into fucking dust?” 

Hot, angry tears spike at the corner of your eyes as you spit your words, jabbing his shoulder with your pointer finger. “Like you give a shit that I left?” 

His dense brows draw down, his whole face a grimace, his voice practically booming throughout the hallway, close enough that the sound of it rumbles in your chest. “I don’t know how else I can say it. I never wanted to lose you.”

“Yeah? Well you never fucking had to!”

Santiago is the one who turns from you now, pacing back in a loop, both hands lifting and dragging backward through his grizzled curls, flattening them to his head in disbelief. He rounds back to you, spittle glistening on his lower lip from his tirade. He’s waving his arms now, everything being thrown upward just like the hideous lurch in your stomach. “You’re the one who ran from this!”

Well, that’s the biggest pile of shit you ever heard. You fold your arms to your chest, becoming guarded and taut where he becomes more frenzied. “Oh ho ho,” you scoff. “Now that’s a grade A delusion, right there.” He mumbles something under his breath, shaking his head from side to side in a long, disbelieving drag. In denial. Still. “You’ve been running, Santiago. You’ve done nothing but run from this. Even the whole time I was right next to you. Especially then.”

He steps towards you, driving your body back into the door without making a scrap of contact with you. From the force of him alone. He leans his face in real close, his movements disconcertingly slow - cautious and deliberate. It’s not threatening – you don’t feel physically unsafe at all - but you can tell from the flare of his nostrils and that gunpowder glint in his eye that while his movements may be constrained, he’s still arming himself with a coming barrage. 

You flatten yourself – your back to the shut paneled door-  and Santiago lifts his hand, reaching up to you. Pincering your chin deceptively tenderly between his thumb and forefinger, making sure you look at him. “Right. And you’ve been so perfect, huh?” His eyes needle you, making it impossible for you to wheedle out of this one. To dismiss him. He’s making sure you take at least some accountability for your part in this. “Fucking other guys to get back at me? Insisting we keep it a secret? Pissing off to another fucking continent, two days early, by the way, before we’d even put things right?” You break eye contact, your vision of him blurred by wilful tears. He releases your chin from his grip then, but the space between you remains tight. Close, even as you feel a million miles from him. “Christ - it’s like you never fucking wanted this to work. Never believed I was worth it. How am I supposed to work with that?”

Hot, spiking tears spill over onto your cheeks. You scrub them away with a flattened palm but it still doesn’t slow them down. 

“Please,” you beg limply, shaking your head from side to side. You want him to stop this. You just want this to be over. 

“I was never the guy someone would bring home to their mama, was I? Too fucked up and too broken for that? Hands too bloody, right, to be good enough for you?” You balk audibly in protest at his words, but even so, it sends a hot flash of heat to your cheeks. 

Is there some truth in it? 

Had you been afraid of what he’d done, even though the blood on his hands matches yours? Or… maybe because of it? 

Your lower lip begins to tremble as the ire in Santiago’s eyes burns you, hot like coals. But he has more to say. “I get it. It’s easier to blame me for everything that got fucked up, right?” He beats his palm emphatically against his chest and flattens it there. “I’m hardly a fucking Saint, I’ll admit that much. But do you honestly think that I ever wanted to hurt you? That this doesn’t fucking hurt me?” 

No. You want to say “no”. No. That’s not what you believe at all, but instead the words that find their way out are cruel and petty. “Well you did. You hurt me!” 

You wish you could get rid of it, this anger in your chest. You only want to love him… but you tried that, and since it didn’t work, it somehow feels like the anger is all you have left to fill this hole in your middle.

His eyes tighten, and Santiago jabs his finger back and forth, his voice hoarse as he pushes the words out from the pit of his chest. “It never mattered, what I did or didn’t do. It was never going to be good enough for you.” 

“That’s not true. At all!” You spit back. “It’s you who thought that. Not me. Not me. You wouldn’t even fucking try.”  

Santiago scrubs a tear away from his own cheek now. His voice creaks and cracks apart. “I tried. I did. But you only want me under certain conditions right. If I quit. If I get out. Maybe if I’m someone fucking else.”

“That’s not fair, that’s not how it is. For fuck’s sake, Santi.”

You are both entirely undone now with this ugly rage, tears wetting your cheeks, and this resentment and blame twisting your words and your faces into something unrecognisable. 

That makes it all the worse when Frankie’s torso pokes out of his door in the hallway. You know that the two of you are not yourselves. Frankie’s face twists with disappointment and concern in equal measure, and you fold your arms across your chest defensively, feeling embarrassed that he is seeing you this way. At your worst. Why do you and Santiago always seem to bring out the worst in each other? You’d swear blind to anyone that he’s the best person you know. 

“Guys. What the fuck?” Frankie ventures. His voice is grogged by sleep, and you get the feeling he would step out into the hall if he wasn’t entirely nude behind the door frame. 

Feeling suddenly ashamed, with the contrasting softness of Frankie’s eyes on yours, you feel the urge to run from yourself and what you’ve become, all twisted up like this. You push past Santiago in the hallway, storming down the stairs as tears now cascade freely down your cheeks. You don’t even make an attempt to mop them up now, letting them course down and drip from the point of your chin. 

Then, with an aggravated sigh, Santiago follows you too, in pursuit, despite Frankie’s barked pleas that he “leave it alone, cabrón”. 

You push out of the threshold and into the night, the cooler air a welcome relief. You pace away from the house, wanting to leave it, to leave him entirely, but your body will not let you. Will not carry you far enough away, and your steps quickly run out of steam. 

When Santiago finds you, you are stood with your back to him, looking out towards the white crash of waves. He comes and stands next to you, hands gently clenched by his sides. 

“Look,” he begins, staring out at the expanse of water. You feel your anger cresting and with it comes a wave of sadness. “I love you. But maybe you’re right. Maybe… we’re not good for each other. Maybe we just… can’t make each other happy.” 

You shake your head softly. Tip your eyes to the sky to stave off yet more tears. “I just wish we’d never changed things.” You wish more than anything that you could simply swallow it. Go back to how things were before. 

“Don’t,” Santi implores, turning to you with his hands cupped as though in offering, soft and haphazard and trying to catch on your elbow, your shoulder, your hand. “Don’t say that. Please. No matter how fucked this got… You’re the best thing I ever-” 

But, your anger is not done. Your palms raise in the air, forming a barrier between your bodies - a defence against his brutal love - and you snatch yourself away from him. Your voice is once again harsh as it rings in accusation, words tearing from your lips like bullets. “-Let go?”

There is a beat. 

“Seriously. You’re gonna stand there and tell me I could I have fucking stopped you?” 

You raise your palms and plant them to your face, splayed fingers tugging in disbelief from your temples, sliding down to your mouth - drawing your cheeks into a grimace. You look at him and his face is once again taut with blame. His mouth a thin, downturned line. But even now….. Somehow, even now, you want to kiss him. Want to kiss him until he is soft again, like you know he can be. 

Why would he never turn soft for you - not all the way? Soft in your arms? Why would he never? 

He shifts his weight from foot-to-foot under your scrutiny. He sees the anger melt away from your face, but his is not done. “I mean, fuck. What do you want from me, huh? You want me to come with you? Just drop everything?” 

“Just stop, Santi,” you plead, weakly, but there’s no way he heard you over his own tirade.

“My whole career. This shit I’ve got going on with Lorea. Pick-up and move here? Huh? Tell me? What do you want from me?” 

You fold your arms across your chest, closing yourself off to him. “Please, just drop it.” 

“You want me to have dinners with you and your family on Sundays? Take the nephews to the playpark, huh?” 

He won’t stop. He won’t stop talking, stop pushing you, and you can’t take it. You’re going to snap. 

“Go fucking grocery shopping? And get married and have babies and-?” 

“Yes!” you finally yell, your whole body craning forward as you fire your answer out through your throat, the word coming out scuffed and sudden; but nothing if not truthful. Your eyes go wide, quivering with tears as well as the shock of your revelation. The shock of revealing something you can barely even admit to yourself. 

That is what you want. With him. 

Santiago is evidently as shocked as you are too. Stunned into silence, in fact. He takes a perceptible step back from you, punching out a breath like he’s just been struck with a body shot. All the tension drops from his limbs, and his arms flop uselessly to his sides.

But, instead of backtracking, from somewhere, somehow, you finally find the courage to stand in your truth. “Yes,” you say shakily. “I want that, you asshole.” And, at those words, you interpret the most repulsive thing you’ve seen in his eyes all night. Pity. “And you, meanwhile? You’d rather get shot in the guts than do that with me, wouldn’t you? Something so mundane as being happy? Something so fucking worthless as loving me?” You tear your head away from him, whip your gaze away as you cannot bear to look at him. Cannot bear to see your true wants rejected. With a final question, you stab your pointer finger against your sternum with enough force that it hurts. “I’m not a mission, so I’m not worth it right? Not important?”

He shoves his hands in his back pockets, his gaze dropping to the floor, to a neutral spot between you. His voice all but cracks apart, small and broken. “I told you that I love you.” 

“That wasn’t enough!” You bite your words off before you can even think, and his eyes snap back up to yours then. Wounded. Glassy. You regret the words as soon as you have spoken them, but it is far too late to recall them now. You can see that they cut him - and you can even understand why they would hurt. What an awful thing to have said, you think; that his love wasn’t enough. 

It was everything. 

Everything. 

Wasn’t it? 

Even so, here you stand, still waiting and hoping that he can offer you something more than that alone. A solution, perhaps. A way to fix this. 

Instead though, Santiago simply nods slowly. Contemplatively. In resignation. He stands eerily still. Eerily quiet. Entirely stoic. “Right. Well.” His hand rasps back and forth over his stubble, and his voice is entirely sunken. Defeated. He’s a soldier. Your friend. Your lover. But most of all, now he’s someone who appears to have stopped fighting for you. He looks you in the eye, all of his anger dissipated. Voice scrubbed clean and entirely dispassionate. “That’s too bad then. Because I don’t have anything else I can give you.”

He turns from you now, and you grab onto his arm. “Believe me. The only thing I ever wanted from you… With you, was a future, Santiago.”  

It breaks your heart when he quietly, slowly extricates his arm from your grasp, slipping through your fingers like fine sands. Did you really think that you could do that? That you could keep on pushing him, without eventually pushing him away? 

A divot notches in his brow. “Mmm-hmm. Well I guess we fucked any shot at that now, didn’t we?” 

You search his ashen eyes - almost in desperation - for some of that all too familiar fire. For any sort of spark for you. 

Godammit, as soon as the anger has gone, you want it back. You want something; only because it seems a damn sight better than nothing at all. 

You can’t handle it - the thought that any future with him is being taken off of the table once and for all. You know - if you step back from this - that you’ve been far from perfect. That you’ve been bitter, volatile, reactive. Maybe even cruel, at times. You know, in truth, that you shouldn’t be so hung up on the past -on what happened all those months ago and beyond- but it’s the only thing Santiago has ever given you to dwell on. How were you supposed to move on, when he’s never been able to look ahead with you?

Still, all of a sudden, being faced with any and all possibilities of a future with him being ripped away from you, it is all you want to talk about. The past and your grievances and the blame now seem wholly irrelevant. You feel bile rise into your mouth. “Listen. It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. Just… How do we get past this, Santiago? That’s what matters.”

He stops, halting his retreat back to the house. He turns, slowly. And, Santiago takes your hands into each of his. Looks at you solemnly, as your eyes flit over his face in doubt and fear and regret. He bundles your hands up together, sandwiching them together between his warm, steady palms and he gives them a squeeze - full of finality. “Maybe… Maybe we don’t,” he sounds, flatly, voice scrubbed clean of emotion. And, the only thing worse than hearing his words out loud, is that he looks like he believes them. 

For once, Santiago “Pope” Garcia seems cold, and it hurts more than any of his fire has ever burnt you. Maybe the anger, horrible as it feels, is better. Because it is better than nothing. Better than losing him altogether. 

After all, what is it that happens when the fire goes out? 

Well, you suddenly feel like you’re about to find out. 

You suddenly feel like it’s truly about to be over. 

And so, you clasp your hands over your mouth and you sob, fleeing towards the interior of the house, because you have no place else left to run but away from him.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia #oscar isaac #ride or die series

[daarka]

For those late to the party who want to know what the hell is going on with #OpenDnD, #StoptheSub, #DnDBegone etc, and why everyone is cancelling DnDBeyond subscriptions, I tried to do a crash course as succinctly as possible. OpenDnD.Games is a great resource for more in-depth details, and if you wish to do so, you can cancel your DnDBeyond subscription through this direct link (as there have been many reporting trouble in locating where to do so). Edit: Tweaked the very first detail below, as someone reminded me it was not a wholly accurate statement as I had initially written it. Apologies to everyone who already reblogged the first version of this :')

Hasbro acquired Wizards of the Coast (WotC) some time ago, but recently they got new leadership who said in an interview that they see D&D as "under-monetized". Hasbro is on the decline with finances, and WotC is its biggest cash cow. Why milk that cash cow through producing more content when you can instead revoke a legally irrevocable license that makes it impossible for 3rd party content creators to exist?

America loves a good monopoly. The old license that permitted the community to grow to what it is today was OGL1.0a, and without it, D&D would not be what it is right now, nor even close. They tried to shift to OGL1.1, a new license that is, in a word, PREDATORY. Horrific, nasty shit.

OGL1.1 was quietly sent to large creators to sign. It then got leaked. The community erupted. The backlash was loud and unanimous. WotC was radio silent for like two weeks. They finally gave a single-sentence "we'll explain soon" tweet on DnDBeyond's account. Then more silence.

A WotC employee reached out to large creators to blow the whistle on WotC. The source was verified, and they shared that WotC sees the community as an obstacle between them and their money, all they care about is bottom line, and they're delaying in hopes we forget and move on.

And also that they are mainly looking at DnDBeyond subscription cancelations to gauge the financial impact; they don't care about our sentiments, only our money. So everyone erupted into signal boosting for others to unsubscribe as the single and best way to make ourselves heard. Cue the mass unsubscribing.

Today (January 13th 2023), a shitty PR piece was posted on DnDBeyond full of blatant lies and, in my opinion, barely-contained saltiness. Right before that, though, OGL2.0 leaks came out; the tweaks they'd begrudgingly made following the backlash. 2.0 is basically just as bad as 1.1; they just spoke of it as being more changed than it was.

In other words, they keep bold-faced lying to a community of rules-lawyers who recreationally read fine print :)

Meanwhile, Paizo (creators of Pathfinder) has come to the rescue, vowing to release a truly open license that will allow everyone to continue pursuing the livelihoods they're passionate about; this is the Open RPG Creative License, or "ORC".

Canceling subscriptions immediately sends a potent message, even if you may have to resubscribe later for functionality in your games. You'll still have the remainder of your billing cycle to enjoy paid perks.

Everything's a little on fire, but I think we'll be okay ♥️

OGL1.0a was never meant to be revocable, as loudly stated in the past couple days by the very people who authored it. It is very likely that WotC is actually just bluffing and bullying, and is actually powerless to revoke it--something many lawyers more knowledgeable than myself seem to be suggesting. In which case, it is my greatest hope in all of this that 3rd party creators are able to continue doing what they love, with no further interruptions.

Remember: the majority of WotC and DnDBeyond employees feel the exact same way we do, but they don't have a choice. Hasbro is the enemy here. Be kind to each other, and know where blame should and should not be placed. If you want to stay up to speed, the account of @.DnD_Shorts seems to be a very active and informed voice, largely responsible for sharing the first leak. If Twitter makes you want to puke, I completely understand; DnD_Shorts also has a YouTube channel with frequent updates on the situation posted in video format.

It's cathartic to me to try to signal boost this stuff, and provide summaries that might help others stay informed. It helps me feel like I'm somehow able to affect these nasty things that are otherwise just inflicted onto lil guys in the community like myself.

However, this has been beyond exhausting and stressful. I'm going to start untangling myself and stepping back from posting about this issue so I can hopefully restore some of my own sanity.

It's been really crazy--in a good way--to see the power this community has when rallied together under a common threat. It makes me proud to be in that community.

At the end of the day, all TTRPGs are really just exercises in creativity and fun. The golden rule has always been and should always be that there is no right or wrong way to play, other than what suits you and those you play with. Likewise, no one should ever feel guilty or judged by others for playing one system over another. It's okay to like D&D5e despite all this. No matter how much they've tried, Wizards of the Coast cannot claim jurisdiction over the invaluable memories you've made, and what has become a creative outlet for countless people. Myself included.

Boycotting is a great way to be heard, since they only care about money. But continuing to use the content you have to play D&D5e is your prerogative, and hurts no one. Furthermore, it's also okay if you can't cancel your DnDBeyond subscription because you rely on it too heavily for your games. That doesn't make you a traitor. That doesn't estrange you from the community. DnDBeyond, at its core, is a great tool that is popular for a reason; it's the new leadership that is forcing it to become something it wasn't meant to be. One day, I hope to be able to resubscribe in good conscious, and I hope that day is soon.

To reiterate, if anyone's even read down this far... be kind to one another. Keep in mind that big enemies win when the party is divided. You can love or hate anything you want in the TTRPG sphere, but how you feel about it does not invalidate someone else feeling the opposite.

Be kind. Be patient. Be empathetic. We're already coming out on top.

#if youre considering taking an opposing stance to the community just to be contrarian or highIQ just. breathe. #the devil doesnt need as many advocates as he has honestly. #opendnd #stopthesub #dndbegone #dndbeyond #ogl #wotc #wizards of the coast #hasbro #dnd #dnd5e #ttrpg #paizo #pathfinder #onednd #dungeons and dragons #rpg #orc #open rpg license #openrpg #critical role #cr #daarka gekkers

[lunarzstarz]

(12 Days of Kinkmas) Day 3: Exhibitionism

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader x Steve Harrington

Content Warning: NSFW 18+ minors dni, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, fingering, spanking, praise kink, p in v sex, unprotected sex, dom(ish) bisexual Eddie and sub(ish) reader/Steve, nicknames (sweetheart, sweet thing, baby, good boy), Steve has a bisexual awakening, Steve’s thick dick (honestly cannot stop thinking about it)

Summary: You and Eddie give Steve an extra special Christmas gift…

A/N: Let’s just pretend I didn’t post this 2 days late…anyways I’ve wanted to write a Steddie x reader fic forever so here it is I hope you like it :)

As always likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Word Count: 3.5k

You were laying on the couch in Eddie’s trailer, legs resting on his lap while he watched the TV. Winter was here and it was time to start saving money and thinking about Christmas presents for friends and family. 

“Okay so far I’ve got a mug for Wayne, new dice for all the boys, the girls are getting make up, Nancy a new dress, Robin a new sweater, but I still can’t think of anything for Steve” you sigh, setting the list aside. You and Steve had been friends for a long time, but when it came to birthdays and Christmas you were clueless on what to get him, never feeling fully satisfied with the gifts you gave him and he always managed to get you something great. 

“What are you getting me?” he turns his attention to you, and you roll your eyes, throwing your pen at him. 

“Cologne and a blowjob” you reply bluntly, teasing of course, you had an extra special gift for Eddie this year.  

“Same as last year? You know me so well” he smiles blissfully “Can I get a preview though? These pants are getting pretty tight sweetheart” he palms himself and you lightly kick his stomach. 

“Come on Eds, what do we get Steve? He’s your friend too you know” you huff, wrecking your brain to think of something better than last year. 

“A girlfriend?” Eddie snickers.

“Oh come on that isn’t nice, you have to stop bullying him for that” you tut, nudging him. 

“I’m sorry I can't help it, the man probably hasn’t got laid since eighty four” he laughs again, focusing on the TV again. 

“Yeah well, lest we forget that you would be a single virgin right now if it wasn’t for me, so you have no room to talk” you remind him. 

“I know, but I’m not and I love you for it” he shifts from his position to lay on top of you “Come on, you’ve been gift planning all morning, I’m bored.” You knew what that meant, especially by the bulge now pressing against your thigh. 

“You really are insatiable, you know that?” you look down at him as he rests his head on your chest.

“Thanks baby” he grins up at you stupidly before sitting back again. You positioned yourself on your knees next to him and your hands went straight for his belt. He lifted his hips so you could slide his jeans and underwear off, his hard cock resting against his stomach. 

“You owe me later” you say before taking him by the base and pumping him at a painfully slow pace. There was so much pre cum, like he was aching for your mouth, like you hadn’t sucked him off this morning already. 

“Don’t worry I’ll fuck you nice a good later, just shit- stop being a tease” he hisses when you swipe your thumb over his leaky slit. You lean down and spit onto his tip, letting it run along his length to help you slide over him easier. He bucked his hips impatiently, his head hitting your lips when you lean down to wrap them around him. 

He gathered your hair in one hand, the light tug felt nice as you slid him further into your mouth, he never pushed you, knowing your throat was probably still sore from his roughness earlier. So instead he let you do it your way, slow and teasing, but keeping up a pace knew got him there after a while and made him feel good. This was the pace that made him make all those sounds you loved, the whiney sighs, the deep groans. 

“Fuuuck sweetheart, never get tired of this mouth” he moans, thumb brushing the side of your head as you take him halfway, pumping the rest of him, bringing your free hand up to cup his balls. “Love having my cock in your mouth don’t you? Take it so well” he praises, hips moving involuntarily. 

You knew it would take him a while to cum like this, but you didn’t mind, he was right, no matter how much you acted annoyed when he asked you to suck him off, you always would. You loved the weight of his length on your tongue or when his salty cum dripped down your throat. So you went on like this for at least twenty more minutes, stopping every time he was close to build up his release. 

“Gonna cum next time baby, just keep sucking, just like that” he instructed, balls tightening as he felt his orgasm approach. 

You paid no attention to the sound of tires on gravel outside, or the footsteps approaching the trailer, you were only focused on making Eddie feel good. That was until there was a knock on the door a few feet away from you. 

You pull off Eddie with a pop “Shit, it’s Steve!” you whisper yell. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” He matches your tone.

“He’s here to pick up the things I got for the christmas party, quick put it away!” you go to sit up and fix yourself, but Eddie’s grip remains on your hair. 

“We aren't finished here yet, maybe we could give him an early christmas present” he has that menacing smirk on his face. 

“Eddie no, you have no idea how he would react!” you warn him. 

“Please, he’s a guy who hasn’t been with anyone other than his right hand in at least six months, trust me” he pushes you back down again “now get back to work, it hurts” he groans when your tongue meets his tip again. “It’s open!” Eddie calls in a sing-song voice, he couldn't wait to see Steve’s face.

“Hey, is Y/n around? Said she had some…stuff for t-the…party” Steve trails off when he turns from shutting the door to see the two of you. 

“She’s a bit, christ- busy right now, but I’m sure she will be more than happy to help once she’s finished” Eddie says, trying to keep his cool. 

“I-I um could come back later if-” Steve was flushing pink, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight, your mouth wrapping around Eddie’s cock, the way he was looking at him like he was next.

“Don’t worry about it Stevie” Eddie says, calling him by the nickname you usually had reserved for him “take a seat, won’t be much longer with a mouth like this” Steve took a seat in the armchair opposite, eyes blown wide as he watches Eddie lose himself, he looked like he was about to cum in his pants. “Think she’s got a present for you Steve, a real good one” he says, head falling back. 

“That’s it sweetheart, right there fuck- fuck- right there” he whines loudly, holding you in place as he let his load into your mouth. You give him a few more pumps, making sure you got every last drop. He pulls you off, spit and cum dribbling down your chin, you swallow and wipe it with the back of your hand. 

You look over at Steve who is still staring at you open mouthed, pupils blown wide from watching you. “Hi” you give him a shy smile and he gulps, Eddie sitting with a smug grin on his face. 

“You gonna give Steve his present? He seems like he really needs it” Eddie’s eyes drift to the prominent bulge in Steve’s sweatpants, Steve turning bright red and trying to hide it. 

You knew what Eddie was hinting too, you were no stranger to him letting other people have you or threesomes with his friends, it was just something that was a part of your relationship. Eddie never got insecure or jealous either, he got off on it and after had their way with you, Eddie would be there to fuck you ten times harder, it was his way of reminding you, no matter who you slept with, in the end he was always better. 

Eddie got up from his spot on the couch, planting a kiss on the top of your head as a way to say thank you “Your turn Stevie.” 

Steve gulped “I- uh, you don’t have to-” he started rambling.

“Relax, she just wants to make you feel good, nothing to worry about” Eddie gestures for him to take his spot next to you. 

“And you don’t- you’re okay with this?” he asks Eddie, confused by the whole idea.

“More than okay” Eddie says casually, taking the cigarette that was behind his ear and lighting it “you don’t have to of course, up to you, but you look like you need to let off a load, that right hand not cutting it anymore?” he teases. 

Steve rolled his eyes, Eddie had been bringing up the fact he hadn’t gotten laid in months almost every time they were together, it was really starting to piss him off. He looked over to you, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from sucking on Eddie’s dick, tits almost spilling out of your shirt. Eddie was right, his hand wasn’t cutting it anymore and the tension had been building for weeks now. 

“Okay” he said, standing up from the armchair and sat next to you “are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asks you now. 

“Are you?” you gave him a weak smile, he looked nervous, you couldn’t blame him after being best friends with you for years.

“Yeah” he said, taking a deep breath “should I?” he tugs on his waist band. 

“All you need to do is relax, just do what feels right” you place a kiss to his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, his lips parting slightly as his eyes shut. You kissed along his jaw and stopped below his ear “You gonna let me take care of you Stevie?” you ask, grazing your hand over the outline of his bulge. 

“Fuck yes” he says, grinding against the palm of your hand, the touch of someone else already feeling ten times better than his own. You smile against the skin of his neck, placing light kisses, finding a spot to suck on to leave a few marks. 

Meanwhile on the other side of the room, Eddie has stripped down to his underwear and shirt, lounging in the armchair, cigarette in one hand while he lazily strokes his cock with the other as he watches you two. 

You pull back the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, reaching for his hard-on. He sighs when you brush against his leaking tip, he was already making such a mess for you. He lifted his hips to get out of his clothes, bottom half bare so you could get more access. Your eyes go wide, out of all the people you had been with, Eddie always had the biggest dick. Steve wasn’t as long as Eddie, but definitely much wider, you couldn’t help but think how he would feel stretching you out. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks when he realizes you were staring. 

“Nothing, it’s just big” you practically drool at the sight, taking him by the base and giving him a light squeeze. You leaned down to lick a long stripe from his sack to his tip, tongue lapping up the pre cum that had dribbled down his length, you felt his hips buck beneath you. 

“Please” he threw his head back once you suck his tip into your mouth, starting to pump his girthy length. You let yourself drool a gag on his tip, the sloppier you were the more he seemed to like it. His hands fisting at his sides, you pull off him, pumping your spit and his pre cum along his shaft slowly, not wanting him to bust his load so soon no matter how much he needed it after so long. 

Eddie stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and stood up again, taking a seat behind you on the third and final spot on the couch. “Don’t tease the poor baby sweetheart” Eddie teased, Steve twitched in your hand at the pet name “get sucking.” You did as he said and placed Steve back in your mouth, picking up your pace “She likes it when you hold her hair, loves it when you fuck her throat” Eddie said, watching Steve struggle to find something to hold on to. 

He gathered your hair up, lacing his fingers close to your scalp so he could tug lightly. You felt him hesitantly pushing your head, if it were Eddie he’d be fucking your throat raw by now. “Don’t be shy Stevie, she can take it, can’t you sweetheart?” Eddie says, hand coming down to connect with your ass, the pain dull considering your clothes still being on, but it went straight to your core. 

“Mhmm” you hum, making Steve groan as it vibrates through him, his confidence building as his tip starts prodding the back of your throat. Eddie had trained you well when it came to deepthroating, but with Steve’s girth it was a bit harder than usual. You let your jaw go slack, Steve pushing your head down further until you gagged, then pulling you off again to compose yourself.

“Come on, you can do better than that” Eddie coos, pulling your pants and underwear over your ass and down to your knees, spanking you harder. “Use her, she can handle it” another smack, harder again, this one definitely leaving a mark. “Gonna get her nice and ready for you Stevie, you want Steve to fuck you sweet thing?” he asks, placing a kiss to the mark he left behind. 

“Yes, so bad” you reply, another smack. 

“Best get to work then, gotta show him how good you can be for him” Eddie said, spreading your ass and spitting on it, letting his drool run down to your cunt, mixing with your slick. 

You let Steve guide his cock back into your mouth, prepared to take him all the way. He pushed you this time, when he felt the restriction of your throat, he slid further in “Fuck, feels so f-fucking good” he whined, hips bucking up to fit the last of his length down your throat. 

“That’s it, taking him so well, sweet thing” Eddie praised, his fingers coming down to tease your entrance. “All she wanted to do was make you happy Stevie, wanted to give you something special this year, isn’t that sweet” Eddie said, pushing his fingers into you “Though I just think she wanted an excuse to have your cock.”

You can’t say anything, too busy focusing on the feeling of Eddie’s fingers knuckle deep in your cunt and Steve fucking your throat. “Oh shit, m’gonna cum” Steve moans grew louder, fucking into you faster, the feeling of your throat constricting around him so tight was bringing him so close to the edge. 

“Go ahead, cum down her throat, she wants it bad don’t you?” Eddie felt you squeeze around his fingers “fuck yeah she wants it, wants you to fill her up.” 

Steve’s grip on your hair grew tighter as he held you flush against his base, the scarce hair of his happy trail ticking your cheek. He came with a loud whine, thighs shaking beneath you as his cum painted your throat.

“Holy shit” he panted, pulling you off so you could get your breath back. 

You gasp, spit and cum dripping onto your chest “Did such a good job baby” Eddie pulled you back so he could kiss you, partially to soothe you and partially to taste Steve on your lips. “Look at him, made him feel so good” you both watched as Steve tried to gather himself, chest heaving beneath his shirt, hair clinging to his damp forehead. “Think our girl needs a reward don’t you Harrington?” Steve opened his eyes to look at him, our girl. 

“Y-yeah” he said, starting to come down from his high. 

“What do you say sweetheart? You want Steve to fuck your pussy, think he deserves it?” Eddie asks, kissing the side of your neck, hand reaching to your front to stroke your clit. 

“Fuck- yes!” you moan, leaning into his touch. Eddie leaned back, placing you between his legs so he could watch Steve fuck into you. 

“Come on Steve, don’t make her wait any longer” Eddie encourages him out of his pleasured daze. He gets up on his knees in front of you, getting rid of the bunched up clothes around your ankles. Eddie hooked his hands behind the backs of your knees to pull them to your chest, making sure you were spread for Steve. 

“Pretty isn’t she” Eddie says when he catches him staring at your slick cunt. 

“So pretty” Steve agrees, stroking his cock a few times to get it hard again. Tapping his tip against your wet clit “Just, let me know if you need me to stop.”

You nod and Eddie laughs “Don’t think she will, but how sweet, isn’t he such a good boy for us sweets?” Eddie smiles up at Steve, his cheeks heating up again, did Eddie have this effect on everyone? 

He lined himself up with your entrance and pushed into you, the two of them watching your face contort at the stretch. “Fuuuck” you gasp, the sting was something new. 

Eddie grinded against your back, groaning as he watched Steve’s thick cock sink deeper into you. “That’s it baby, taking it so well” Eddie whispers whiney praises in your ear. 

“S-so big” you let out a shaky breath, the ache making your eyes water as he bottoms out. You hold onto his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he starts the slow rock of his hips. 

“You feel so good, so fucking tight” Steve grips onto your hips as he pulls out to the tip, slamming back into you. 

“Oh my-” the air is knocked from your lungs as he repeated his actions. You were unable to form words, respond to whatever Eddie was whispering to you with loud cries or whimpers, he soon gave up and focused on rutting his hips into you. 

Eddie didn’t think Steve had it in him, but he was pounding into you at an unforgivable pace, hips slapping against the backs of your thighs making the lost lewd sounds echo off the walls. Steve doubled over, hitting you at a deeper angle making you scream with pleasure as his thick cock dragged against your g spot. 

His face was inches from yours and Eddie’s, he leaned down and kissed you, sloppy but you didn’t mind. Then after a few seconds he pulled away, looking at Eddie, you could see a switch go off in his mind as he leaned in and kissed him on the lips, you felt Eddie shiver beneath you. Steve pulled away again, clearly shocked at his own actions, but not disappointed. 

“Knew it” Eddie said to you, sounding winded like Steve had taken his breath away. 

Steve didn’t stop or comment on the kiss at the time, instead he picked up his pace, fucking into you brutally. It was filthy, the wet sounds of your pussy, Steve’s moans and Eddie panting in your ear, hot breath on your neck as he chased his high. You were all covered in a sheet of sweat, it beading on Steve's forehead as he tried to keep up his animalistic pace, the smell of sex in the air. 

You were in heaven, body pressed between two of the hottest boys in Hawkins, it felt more like your christmas present. Tears welled up in your eyes as the feeling of core shaking pleasure took over you, Steve’s hips stuttering and Eddie’s rutting faster against you, all three of you chasing your highs. 

“Aww look, you’re making her cry Stevie” Eddie coos, letting his hands roam up your shirt to your tits. “Is Steve making you feel so good? You gonna cum sweet thing?” he pinched your nipples hard making you shriek, smiling against the skin on your neck as he started sucking on it. 

“Oh fuck- shit- I’m gonna cum again, where you want it?” Steve grunted, hips faltering as his orgasm approached. 

“I-inside” was all you could manage as you reached your release. One last drag of his cock had you cumming with a loud cry, pure pleasure coursing through your core, cunt clinging tightly to Steve, tipping him over the edge too.

“Holy- fuck, fuck!” he moaned, thick spurts of his cum coating your walls and filling you up. He fucked his load into you, making sure you got every last drop. Eddie wasn’t long to follow, his hips coming to a stop and the feeling of warm cum on your back a few seconds later. 

The three of you lay there, stacked on top of each other unable to move, not saying a word all too fucked out to form a sentence. The only sound was the three of you catching your breath, basking in the after glow of sex. You let your eyes drift shut, head fuzzy, knowing that someday this would happen again. 

#lunarzstarz 12 days of kinkmas #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #stranger things smut #stranger things #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson stranger things smut #steve harrington smut #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steddie #steddie smut #steddie x reader #steddie x you #steddie x y/n

[emilykaldwen]

*pinches the bridge of my nose*

Okay kids, sit down. I think things in the fandom space needs a little clarification.

Fan Artists and Fan Fiction writers are frustrated and upset about how the reblog rate has plummeted over the years as the rest of the internet moved to a 'hit the heart to help the algorithm'. Tumblr doesn't work that way. Likes don't do anything for a post, it just locks it in your personal scrapbook.

You Do Not Have to Reblog things YOU do not want to

When people say 'reblog the post' they mean reblog instead of ONLY hitting the like button. Tumblr relies on reblogs to put things on your dash. If you're liking something, then it hits your interests, and you should be reblogging it.

HOWEVER YOU ARE NEVER OBLIGATED TO REBLOG ALL THE THINGS.

Most people, including myself, will reblog from friends because we're friends! I support your foray into a fandom space I have no understanding of, but odds are if you are into it, then some of my other mutuals may be into it so I'll reblog. But I'm not out here reblogging every post I see from people I don't know in fandom spaces I'm not familiar with. It's my blog. I curate what I'd like. Some people have a dozen sideblogs for every fandom niche interest. Some of us just have the one blog and you strap in for whatever fandom chaos we go on. If you tag me in something, I occasionally miss it because I get the notification on my phone but don't have the free moment to do it and forget. Or maybe I add it into my queue.

When you are creating something you need to be mindful of your audience.

I'm in my mid 30s. I do not play in the Disney space (I know Disney Descendents is popular? That came out waaaaay after my time I don't know what it is), I don't know what that girl with the ghost band thing is that was going around a few years ago. I have fellow adult friends who do not engage with fan creation that involves minors. Additionally, I've seen people create OCs for shows like Criminal Minds. Hey! more power to you, I've never watched the show, and I know there's fic out there (I had someone tell me about a what I think was a Harry Potter/Criminal Minds crossover??? wow), but it's not going to get the same kind of traction as say, a Teen Wolf fan work.

I'm not saying don't create for your niche interests! CREATE! BE FREE AND MERRY! but understand that those creations just won't get the same kind of traction because it's a niche interest.

We create for ourselves, we share to find other people who enjoy our hobbies.

Which brings me to my second point:

NO ONE IS KNOCKING ON YOUR BEDROOM DOOR TO MAKE FRIENDS

Making friends is hard! I totally get it. But a sure fire way to turn people off way fast is to start a conversation with me but make it abundantly clear you care about nothing that I say/offer and are just waiting for your turn to talk so you can tell me about YOUR things and expect ME to ask questions. Conversation is a two way street. It's a back and forth. It is not me sitting there like a parent patiently listening to my child tell me about the cool toy adventure they're doing. I'm not your parent. I'm not your captive audience. I'm another person, and if you want friends - MEANINGFUL friends - then you need to make an effort to engage with people.

And it's hard. It's hard because so many people out there are very navel-gazey, and people get so caught up in the excitement of their own creations that they forget to ask other people about theirs. And... you're gonna have to be okay with that. You're gonna have to be okay with it feeling like pulling teeth, and know that hey! you're never gonna be buddy buddies with everyone. You just keep being you, you just keep showing the kind of person you are, and eventually it'll happen.

It's taken me over a decade to form meaningful mature friendships online. I've had friends over the years, ofc, but it's only now, when I can approach something with clear expectations and not thinking everyone is off having fun without me in some little clique, that I've been able to connect with people more honestly. And taking a five year break from tumblr helped a lot with that. I bought a house, I got a new job, I did other meaningful things with my life that wasn't on the internet.

The internet isn't actually a popularity place. You do not have to be popular to exist. I have been on tumblr since the inception pretty much. I have 200 followers and I only interact with 10 of them, maybe 15. And I'll tell you that outta those 200, 90% of them are blogs that haven't updated in years. A follower count does not promise reblogs, does not promise friends. It's literally impossible to be best buddies with 2000 people, to have a meaningful connection with every. single. one.

anyway I'm tired. I'm too old for this shit. Go touch some grass, go get off tumblr and play a new video game, join a book club, read more books, do things that aren't perpetually refreshing your dash and thinking everyone is off having fun without you because I promise you it's not fucking true. You need to have a life offline. You need a hobby that doesn't involve the computer. Seriously. Go touch grass.

[inklore]

I saw you post about how people should like to comment on writers work but I slightly sympathise bc some people are embarrassed and/or think that their comment/reblog would be useless. But more people are coming to this app to read a fic like another wattpad or an ‘easier’ ao3 instead of using their acc to post what they like yk

Srry for the rant <333

no need to apologize for the rant it’s always welcome here if it’s done in kind and yours was <3

i get what your saying about people coming to the app thinking it’s like all the other reading platforms but if we’re being honest i’d say ao3 is easier, better selection, plus when someone views your work your ‘hits’ go up and that can sometimes help more people find your work if they go by that / sort the fics on ao3 like that. wattpad literally has the same system of ‘views’ on your work that help boost it, but also commenting there is really big (as someone who was once on wp comments meant everything which is why i don’t get how ppl don’t understand that comments are everything here as well).

you could also say these other platforms make it seem like tumblr works the same way and it doesn’t, but even when writers try to spread the word on that fact not everyone wants to listen or sees it because people don’t rb (which tumblr was made for that let’s not forget).

but on this great app it doesn’t matter how many people view our work, read it silently, press the little heart, no one will see it unless you rb it. and being shy about commenting and thinking comments won’t matter is backwards thinking to me. how do you think writers feel knowing they have 100 notes and 10 of them are rbs and 0 comments? like we know there’s people out there reading our work and not even giving the pointless heart to it and there’s not much we can do about it, and yeah we are so grateful for all of it, but what we wouldn’t give to even have ONE PERSON comment some emojis on our fic. let us know that someone other than ourselves actually liked it. a ‘like’ can mean anything, it can mean nothing. it does nothing. it’s nice, it’s acknowledging, but that’s all it does. it’s a silent compliment that keeps our minds wondering.

if you weren’t embarrassed to read the fic you shouldn’t be embarrassed to comment on it. i’m not trying to sound harsh but it’s 2023, half the population reads fic. devours it. ppl are famous authors because of it now or get ‘tiktok fame’ over liking it. you commenting ‘omg amazing’ or putting two little emojis in a writers comments is only going to make them feel seen. feel great. feel like they’re not just posting stuff on here for bots. so i don’t super sympathize with people who are embarrassed because i just can’t wrap my head around it. but i’m also saying it’s okay and i’ve never once saw a writer get mad over anything someone has commented on their work (unless it’s been mean or a criticism they didn’t ask for or a ‘part two pls’).

if you like something on here reblog it!!!! comment on it!!!!!

#as someone with anxiety adhd and depression i get the being nervous about it but i’ve literally pasted a quote from the fic and added #thot emojis after it #like that’s all it takes to make a writers day #i literally went down someone’s masterlist and devoured and commented on every fic #thinking wow i’m probably being annoying #but i didn’t care because their writing was so fucking amazing and i NEEDED to tell them #reading is silence is for the books in your bedroom not tumblr #in** i’m too lazy to rewrite the sentence #yell shout #if you like it comment #reblog it #▸ laur answers

[vgilantee]

200 mile (per hour) club {tangerine}

bullet train tangerine x fem!reader SMUTTY (minors DNI)

requested: n/a

words: 5.8k

a/n: I have had this thought for weeks since finally watching bullet train and writing this very much was a “fuck it we ball” moment. also canon is taken as a suggestion during this fic because in order for things to work, some of the plot must be ignored

This fic contains smut! I don’t normally post smut here, and have rarely reblogged smuts. But… i really wanted to write this and share it so here we are. The reader is afab :) and the codename is… a personal favourite 😅. the original idea/draft of this fic was sent to @jangofctts but as said above, fuck it we ball and the full fic gets written!

warnings: afab!reader, swearing, smut!, unprotected sex, fingering, mentions of masturbation (fem), p in v, bad attempts at northern british vernacular, use of the word cunt instead of pussy (not intentional it's just... it flows better), no proofreading we die like men, canon is a suggestion (aka canon variance),

pronouns: she/her

MINORS DNI. any minors liking/reblogging/commenting on this fic will be blocked.

(this is your reminder that i am australian and therefore use british english and punctuation. while i do make errors, often times it is a difference in english type)

You wedged your phone between your shoulder and ear as your partner, Evaline, spoke about the nuances of a cartoon they had gotten really into while the pair of you had been in Japan. 

“Listen, Ev,” you handed the teller your crumpled yen notes with a smile - asking for a ticket to Kyoto - as you spoke down the phone, “I love you and am happy to listen to you talk- Arigatou Gozaimasu- to you talk, but can this wait until after I’m done?” Despite being partners, they were the one to stay in whatever hotel room you were set up in and work as your handler. 

Squeezing between the crowds of people, you quickly made your way toward the bullet train station. You glanced at your ticket, checking the platform for the umpteenth time since getting the ticket to make sure you were walking in the right direction. 

“You know that if I bottle this up, it will only make it worse when you get back.” You snorted in amusement, swapping the ear your phone was pressed to. “But fine, okay. I’ll keep conversation job oriented.” You thanked them just as you stepped onto the train. 

Carefully, you made your way toward your seat, sliding down into it before unzipping your small backpack. 

“So your target will be getting on the train in two stops, but won’t be getting off until Kyoto so you have time.” Out from the small pack, you pulled out a book, leaning back to rest against the wall and kick your feet up onto the joined seat beside you. The perfect way to carefully watch the aisle. “But you will be at Kyoto in about two and a bit hours. You read the briefing I sent you?” It was their not-so-subtle way of asking you if you actually knew who your target was.

“You sat beside me as I read it.” You laughed. 

“Just checking.” Their voice sing-songed down the phone. “Last thing; codename.” You breathed out, almost hoping that they had forgotten and you would be able to choose your own. Sometimes you thought that Eva gave you your codenames to get back at you for something, or just to have a laugh from their end of the jobs. Only once did they forget and you got to pick your own codename. But only once. 

“Alright, what is it this time?” You could practically hear their smirk as they replied;

“Angel.”

--

Between jobs, sometimes you and Evaline got to hang out and just relax. Although you were partners, you didn’t always get moments together were you could just be friends.

So you ordered room service of the most expensive wines and liquors on the list and got drunk together. 

As usually happens, the drunken chatter turned to a game of truth or dare, asking questions that had never come up in your friendship or partnership before. 

“Okay, okay okay,” despite already having your full attention, Eva tapped at your knee. “Truth or dare?” Although the dares were quickly discarded after you ate a full spoon of hot sauce and Eva nearly threw up after putting nearly a full banana down their throat, the question was still asked.

“Truth please.” You fell back as you dragged out the ‘e’ sound.

“What petname makes your knees go weak?” 

---

“Are you fucking with me right now?” You nearly dropped your phone. You heard the sounds of Eva throwing their head back laughing, and the short shriek as they nearly fell off their chair. 

“Sorry, sweetcheeks. That’s the name you’re stuck with.” They reply between laughs while you let out a hum, half closing your eyes suspiciously. “Anyway, enjoy your book. I’ll check in with you when the target gets on the train.” 

You felt your body shift forward slightly as the train finally took off from Tokyo station and you let yourself sink comfortably into your chair. The book you were reading was one that was worn from being dragged around for the last few months and many, many attempts to read it. So you had been taking every opportunity to read little bits and pieces when and where you could. You unfolded a dogear you had made in the page and continued reading the beat-up little book, the sound of the train speeding along its tracks becoming a soft white noise in the background. 

Just as you flip the page, out the corner of your eye you see someone sit down in one of the seats opposite you. You let your eyes flick up to see who it is, and try to hide the way your breath catches as you recognise him. 

His hair is a little longer, and his three-piece is all in place and free of blood, but you had run into him enough times to know him with the smallest of looks despite all the differences. 

But you return your eyes back to your book, pretending that there wasn’t a reaction somewhere inside of you at seeing him again. 

“I hope you aren’t here alone.” You spoke without looking up. “Nobody needs to deal with only one half of the Wonder Twins.” He let out a snort and you saw his fingers appear on the top of your book as he leaned across the table to push the book down. The forced movement had your eyes finally met his. 

“Never go on a job without him.” He winked, doing very little to try to hide his smirk.  You rolled your eyes, marking your page and swinging your legs off the seat to face him properly. “Good to see you again, gorgeous. Been a while. Too long really.” He looked you up and down slowly, as he spoke, tilting his head and twisting one of his rings. 

“Not long enough.” You replied with a half smirk, and he raised a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “So, what’s your name today?” He leaned back with pride, opening his thighs slightly and folding his arms. 

“I’m Tangerine, he’s Lemon.” You couldn’t help the laugh that broke through, and your hand shot to your mouth to cover the rest of the noise. 

“Wow, your handler must hate you.” You said, shaking your head and amusement still present in your voice. Tangerine’s eyebrows pinched as his mouth dropped open a little.

“First, we have no handler, thank you very much, darlin’. Second, I thought the names were quite clever.” You raised your hands in surrender, tilting your head. “But alright, if you think our’s are so bad, what name ‘ve you got, hm?”

If you had paused, for just a moment, before you spoke, you would have realised far sooner.

“For now, I’m Angel.” When he repeated the name back to you with a hum, you realised. Somehow, Evaline had known he would be on this train with you, and that you would cross paths. They knew about the business flirtationship you had with Tangerine, having been stuck listening on more than one occasion, and they were also very good at remembering things, including you drunkenly telling them what petname turns your knees to jelly (and a man who sometimes also had that power). 

Your mouth opened a little as you let out a small breath and silently prayed that he didn’t notice your reaction. Once you recomposed yourself, you reached for your phone. 

“So, Angel,” Tangerine leaned forward and leaned on the table, flexing his shoulders slightly and you had to fight the way your brain gave you the image of him calling you angel while his shoulders flexed above you, “what’re you doing in Tokyo? Business, or pleasure?” You glanced at him over the top of your phone as you sent Eva an all-caps message of thinly veiled threats. Tangerine emphasised the word pleasure in both his tone and a slight raise of his eyebrows.”

“Business, for now.” You meant the statement more as you would be a tourist once the job was done, but the moment you stopped talking, you could see a particular look in his eye. 

“‘For now, aye, Angel?” Tangerine’s tongue ran along the back of his top teeth, and your core tightened. You could only hum your reply, worried that if you tried to say anything your voice would break. 

You notice as his eyes look past you, over your shoulder and down the aisle to the door. He nodded at whoever he saw - you assumed his brother as he never worked with anyone else - before looking back at you and tugging his blazer tighter over his shoulder. 

“So sorry to love you ‘n’ leave you, Angel,” Tangerine stood in the aisle and ran his hands down his chest, smoothing down the fabric, “but business calls. Maybe I’ll see you later.” With a final smirk and wink, he walked away. You listened for the sound of the train carriage door opening and closing, before you let out a sigh and sunk down into your seat.

You hand shot out as you suddenly reached for your phone, Evaline’s number already on speed-dial. The moment they answered, you skipped over pleasantries, quietly yelling at them down the phone. 

“How the fuck did you know he would be on this train?” 

“Ah, so he found you, then?” You could hear the smirk in their voice as they brushed past your rudeness

---

The first time you met Tangerine and Lemon, they were doing a snatch-and-grab in a warehouse that you were in the process of clearing. They had walked in, guns drawn, to you stood over a body in the middle of pulling a machete out of his throat. 

The sound of moving feet and the cocking of guns had you freeze and look up at the men. You mirrored each other as you each slowly raised your weapons and took the other in. 

They were in clean suits, ties gently tugged loose, and each had a plastic poncho tucked into their belts for easy access. 

“Who the fuck are you?” The shorter of the pair spoke, his accented voice bouncing off the walls in the otherwise silent room. 

“I’m not with them.” You lifted a bloodied boot and kicked one of the bodies by you as you spoke, joking and trying to gauge whether the new-comers were the backup or not. 

“I can see that, love.” The other man tilted his head forward with a smirk, and you ignored the warmth that began to rise. “You just here for the kill?” You lowered your weapon, hoping that they would mirror your movement now that you knew they weren’t on the same side as the various men who laid in pools of their own blood around you. 

“Take whatever you’re here for.” You gestured around to the doors behind you. “I’m just finishing up.” You dragged the machete along the inside of your sleeved elbow, cleaning off the blood before sheathing it at your hip.

You had walked out of the building shortly after that interaction, but the moment you met Eva in the waiting car, they turned to you immediately with a smirk.

“You good?” You sunk slightly in the seat and tried disappearing into the plastic sheet that protected it from blood and other fluids. 

“That taller one was… goddamn.” 

---

It was the first of a half-dozen run-ins with the twins, each time talking more and occasionally helping each other when things got sticky. And of course, Evaline made comments about your attraction. 

“Did you suggest this job on purpose or did you find out they were here afterward?”  You were almost afraid to hear the answer. Evaline was beyond clever, and should they have wanted, they would easily have been able to made it into a tech sector of a government agency. But instead, they chose to work with you and use their brains for less than legal means. So it wouldn’t have surprised you if they had gotten into one of their phones, or seen them on one of the many cameras in airports and around Tokyo. 

“Maybe this, maybe that.” Eva giggled at you, and you could hear the shiteating grin on their face. “Enjoy the view!” They sung the last syllable before hanging up on you, and you swore, slamming your phone down into the table. 

You felt the train pull into the first stop and you let yourself recline back again and relax. You weren’t normally on edge during a job, it was something you had been doing since you were eighteen and while you had nerves and your brain ran a hundred-mile a minute, it was never something that had you feeling it in your fingertips and the back of your neck. 

Though the edge that Tangerine had you on was different. It wasn’t one where you were wanting to look over your shoulder, hoping your reflexes wouldn’t be needed. But he had you in anticipation. Your body telling you that you needed him and was waiting for his fingers to graze your skin. And now he had that cursed codename to wrap his accent around. 

With the knowledge that Tangerine was on the same train as you, the book was no longer of interest. You had to read the same sentence over and over before you actually absorbed it. So as the train took off again, you shoved the book away and climbed to your feet. 

---

  “Please tell me that’s not who I think it is.” The twins jumped at the sound of your voice, letting out f-bombs as Lemon held a hand to his chest. 

After making your way through train cars, exploring out of both curiosity and in case of emergency, you found the twins having an apparently heated conversation in the baggage area of their train car. They were engrossed in a seemingly heated conversation about ass cheeks. You weren’t entirely sure, only hearing the tail-end before deciding to interrupt.

On your way down the corridor, you glanced at each person in their seats, pausing for a millisecond when you saw the twenty-something with face tattoos angrily slumped in his seat. 

The twins looked at each other quickly, then over your shoulder to where you were pointing with your thumb back down to where he sat before finally back to you.

“Depends on who you think that is, Angel.” You rolled your eyes at Tangerine then shifted your weight so that you were more fully facing Lemon. 

“Are you idiots kidnapping or returning the homeless-looking White Death’s son?” In the cramped luggage space, you did your best to put your hands on your hips. “Because one of those is certain death.” 

“Aww, you worried ‘bout us, Angel?” You let out a scoff at his comment. 

“You wish, I just need to know how far away from you I need to stay.” Tangerine muttered a joking ouch and you and Lemon share a look. 

“Returning ‘im.” Lemon ignored his brother, already used to and over his attempts to flirt. “Best of the best tasked with bringing him and his ransom back.” You cocked your head with a teasing smile. 

“Oh, ‘the best’, huh?” You replied with a hummed laugh. “Well, if that’s all… best of luck with,” you made a rough circular gesture with your hands, “all of that. I’ll probably be seeing you later.” You stepped between the two men, though Lemon stepped further away when giving you space to pass through. You could hear their interrupted argument reignite as the door closed behind you, and you continued to make your way through passenger cars until you reached the bar car. 

Inside, you saw a man clutching a bottle of dark liquor under a blanket, eyes hidden by sunglasses. You ignored him, not one to judge someone getting black-out drunk on a train, and stepped behind the bar, reaching around until you managed to make yourself a simple vodka and sprite.

Leaning on the bar counter as you sipped your drink, you took in the unconscious man. You almost choked on your drink as you realised who it was. The Wolf. You scrambled to pull your phone out of your pocket, speed dialling one of the only contacts you had in your phone. 

“Eva, we have a problem.” You carefully walked over to the Wolf as you spoke, noticing the blood on his hands and the lack of movement under the blue blanket. “Wolf got on the train early.” You quickly went back to the counter and swapped out your now-empty glass for a pair of ice tongs. Using the tongs, you moved the blanket away from the Wolf and found staining the white of his suit was a pool of dark blood, entry wound clear as day. “And it looks like somebody got to him first.”

“What do you mean? No, that’s not possible.” You could hear Evaline frantically type as they spoke. “God fucking dammit.” They sighed. “Fine just… take a photo of his body. Hopefully we can convince them that you killed him so we can still get paid.” You did as you were told, knowing that you would have to spin this in a way that would not end up with the pair of you getting killed for lying. 

After taking the photo you moved the blanket back to where it had rested, not wanting whoever killed him to know their victim had been found. 

“I guess you can sit back and enjoy the rest of the ride now.” Eva sounded defeated as they spoke. You hummed in agreement, then turned and left the car to return to your seat. 

On your way back to your original car, you saw a stressed looking Tangerine walking toward you. It took him a moment to see you as he checked each person sitting down while he walked, and when he did the stress fell from his expression and was replaced with a cocky smirk. 

“Angel!” The way he said the name sent a pulse to your core, but you refused to acknowledge it, not wanting to show him the effect the petname combined with his accent had on you. “Good to see you, gorgeous.” He finally reached you, barely a step in front as he looked down at you. “What’s up?” 

“My job on this train’s been done.” You shrugged. “Get to enjoy the ride to Kyoto.” The corner of Tangerine’s mouth quirked. 

“Wanna give me a hand with mine?” You couldn’t tell if the offer was serious, or if it was a friend or potential business partner. But there was a greedy and horny part of your brain that wanted to spend as much time with him as you could before leaving Japan. 

“Oh you must be in a lot of trouble to need my help.” You turned around, beginning to walk back in the direction you had just come from. “Who’re we looking for?” You felt him come up close behind you, the brush of his hand against yours. 

“Can’t get enough of me, huh, Angel?” Tangerine’s voice was low in your ear, his breath hitting flyaways. Your breath hitched for a moment hearing his voice so deep and close to you. Then just as quick as the invasion of personal space came, he was gone again. “Some geezer in a bucket hat with thick rim glasses. Stole som’ing from us.” You thought you were imagining the sound of a smile in his voice, attributing it to his usual cocky demeanour. 

As you walked together, you and Tangerine spoke about yourselves - as best you could without revealing too much about your personal identities. You were quick to notice the way he would always include at least one “angel” in each sentence, saying it slightly differently each time. 

You felt Tangerine slide his hands onto your hips from behind, holding your breath as he leaned down and whispered into your ear. 

“Maybe once this is all done, we can spend some time together, Angel.” You spun around and felt his hands slide across your covered skin as you did, trying to compose yourself. Your body betrayed you though, your thighs very obviously squeezing together slightly, caused by the way he all but moaned the name into your ear.

“Fuck it.” You stepped back, letting his hands slide away, then grabbed one of his blazer lapels, dragging him the short walk to the cramped train bathroom. He made a surprised noise but made no effort to fight you. 

You pushed him down onto the closed toilet, turning to lock the stall door and spun on your heel to look at him. Tangerine had his legs spread, showing off his thighs as he let his hands rest on his upper thighs. He had a smirk on his face, only breaking it to poke out his tongue and lick his lips. You dragged your bottom lip into your mouth slowly, biting it gently. 

“Well fuck, love.” You dropped your lip with a short exhale, feeling that last little bit of resolve crumble. In the cramped bathroom, it only took you two steps to get to him, but you paused just in front of his thighs. “You’re welcome to sit.” Tangerine closed his thighs and brought his hands back to your hips, thumbs pushing up the fabric of your shirt to expose peaks of skin. You stepped forward, guided by his hands, and sat down on his strong thighs. 

It was the closest you had ever been to him, and the smell of his aftershave mixed with the feeling of his thumbs on your skin had you using what little resolve you had to stop your hips from rocking, grinding down to create any sort of friction. 

Tangerine had tormented you since he found you with your codename, and you could feel your heartbeat in your core grow each time he said it. It was cruel, how much he made you need him. 

Your hands refound their home on his lapels, pulling that last small gap closed to bring his mouth to yours. 

The kisses were hungry, desperate. Breathing each other in relief at finally having the intimate contact. Tangerine brought one hand up to the back of your neck, applying pressure with his thumb where your jaw met just below your ear. He used the change in hand placement to bring you even closer to him, and you let him, greedily shifting your hips closer to him with a slight grind. He hums out a groan against your mouth and you feel the tightening of his dark slacks. His mouth moved to your jaw and neck, leaving mouthy kisses against your skin. You let your hips continue to rock against him, noticing his own hips move slightly underneath you. Moving your hands away from his blazer briefly, you made light work of the buttons on his white shirt, loosening his tie so it hung undone around his neck.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, Tan.” You knew it was pathetic, confessing your long-term attraction for the British assassin. His fingers dug into your skin lightly at your words. 

“Feelin’s mutual, Angel.” His words were low against your skin before he quickly moved away from you. “Hold tight.” You tightened your grip on his blazer, quickly wrapping your legs around him as he stood up in the small bathroom space. 

Tangerine in his haste all but dropped you on the sink counter, and you let your legs fall from around him. One of his hands moved down and began its work undoing your jeans, running the backs of his fingers along your stomach and hips so he could feel the soft skin there, and you shivered at his touch and the sudden cool of his rings. 

When his hand made it to your hip, his other moved down to mirror it, two fingers on each side and tucked under your waistbands. 

Your hands slid to his shoulders and you watched through hooded eyes as Tangerine gradually moved down to a low squat, taking your bottoms with him. You shivered both from the cool of the train air conditioner and the way he was staring at you. As he stood, you kicked off your shoes and pants, allowing you to reopen your legs fully and allow Tangerine back into place, his hips pressed against yours. 

His mouth was quick to return to yours, eager to nip at your bottom lip and distract you from the cold of his rings and the feel of his hand sliding its way up your thigh.

You jolted when his thumb started rubbing light circles around your clit, whimpering into his mouth at the sudden change in stimulation. 

“Tan.” You sighed out his name against his mouth and to your relief, he began to move his thumb faster, adding a little more pressure as he did. You could feel him smirk against your mouth, and you retaliated by bringing one hand to the back of his neck and weaving fingers through his curls, giving them a slight tug. Tangerine grunted, pulling away while you held his lower lip gently between your teeth. 

“All good, Angel?” You hummed out an affirmative, knowing your voice wouldn’t hold, not when his thumb never stopped moving. 

Gradually, his hand moved down until Tangerine’s fingers were met with your building slick. You sucked in a harsh breath as he swiped two fingers up your cunt, collecting as much of the fluid as he could. He pulled his hand completely and you watched as he stared in fascination and you followed his line of sight to see as Tangerine rubbed his thumb and forefingers together, pulling away occasionally to see tiny strings connect his fingers. 

At the feeling of your eyes on him, Tangerine’s own flicked up to you. With a smirk, he quickly returned one hand to your core and the other sat on your bare hip, the hem of your shirt bunching on his wrist. Distracting you with a tight squeeze of his hand on your side, he slid a finger into you, dragging it out slowly only to quickly replace it with two fingers. 

Your head fell back against the mirror behind you and your mouth fell open, as Tangerine began an almost torturous paced drag of his fingers in and out of your cunt, matched by the movement of his thumb on your clit. Your hands blindly grabbed at his arms and shoulders, while Tangerine left open-mouthed kisses against your neck and jawline. 

As your nails dug into your skin, Tangerine moved between stretching his fingers inside of you, curling them upward to draw a broken moan from your throat, and pulsing his fingers in and out of you at an ever changing pace. He licked up the column of your throat as you whined out his name, and with every movement he made, he seemed to be trying to figure out which sound was his favourite. 

The wet sounds of his fingers working you were all but drowned out but your moaning and whining and pleading. 

“Tan, please-” your beg was cut off by the feeling of his spit hitting your cunt, adding an extra fluid into the mix quickly coating his hand, “need more.”

“I’ll fuck you properly in a minute, angel, promise.” You felt his low voice against your jaw. “Want you to cum on m’ fingers first.” Despite his generally cocky attitude, Tangerine wasn’t mean. He wasn’t going to get you so worked up with his fingers not to let you cum. 

Your grip on his arms tightened, desperate to grab onto something as Tangerine’s brutal pace never slowed. You felt the knot get tighter and tighter and your eyes rolled back, unable to bring your head up off the mirror behind you. With a broken moan, your cunt tightened in pulses around his fingers before finally the tightness let go. Tangerine’s fingers and thumb never stopped moving, greedily working you through your orgasm as your chest heaved and whines and moans bounced around the tiny bathroom. 

Tangerine slowly pulled his fingers out and you whined as he did, still sensitive. Once you managed to bring your head up and reopen your eyes, you were met with the glorious sight of Tangerine lazily sucking his fingers clean, eyes half lidded at the taste. 

“Angel, that was the most gorgeous thing ‘ve ever seen.” Your cheeks warmed at his words. “And you taste just…” Tangerine let out a short hummed moan, the only description he could think of. 

You reached out with slightly shaky hands, pulling him close enough that you could reach down and undo his belt, letting you at the fastenings of his slacks. Once they were undone, you moved your hands up slightly, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way and pushing it back so you could drag your hands across his stomach. Your mind was still lightly foggy and you almost couldn’t believe the sight was real. 

Not that you would ever admit it, but there were more than a few nights where you had dreamt of what shirtless Tangerine would look like. And more than a few where your fingers had worked while you imagined they were his. But reality was so, so much better. 

Tangerine pulled you from your thoughts with his thumb gently running across your bottom lip.

“Still wi’ me?” There was a softness in his eyes, and his cocky smirk had dropped. 

“Yeah. Still here.” Your words were soft, and Tangerine smiled. 

With your hands still resting on his stomach, Tangerine reached down with his free hand, the other still holding your jaw, and thumbed away the elastic of his underwear to pull out his cock. You watched for a moment as he gently stroked his already hard cock, before pushing his hand away with one of your own, taking his cock in your hand and slowly gliding it up and down. You felt the weight, the veins, and your eyes flicked up to see his roll back for just a moment. 

You slide your hand up from his stomach to his chest, and gently lean forward to nip at his jaw. As you do, however, you slip back slightly, and fall into the small sink. You let out a tiny shriek as you fell, and Tangerine’s eyes darted open. He lets out a snort and an amused breath falls from your lips. You shook your head, taking your hands away from him completely to place them on the counter and pushed yourself out of the sink. 

“You all good, Angel?” Tangerine put no effort into hiding his amused smile and you rolled your eyes. 

“Maybe the sink isn’t the best place for this.” A shit-eating grin made its way onto Tangerine’s face. 

Before you could react, Tangerine pulled you toward him and you immediately locked your legs around his waist. You both let out quiet moans as his cock brushed against your slick-coated cunt, the friction against your clit encouraging you to roll your hips again. 

He picked you up as you ground against him and took two steps so your back met with the wall. Once you were pressed firmly against it and Tangerine knew that you wouldn’t fall, he moved one hand down and adjusted his cock so that he head pressed against your cunt. He dragged it up and down a few times, collecting your slick and cum as lube, before pressing in. 

Although he had stretched you nicely with his fingers, Tangerine’s cock pushed in far further, and you whined at the tight feeling of him stretching out your cunt. He moved slowly, letting you adjust to his size, until finally he bottomed out. Tangerine rolled his hips, not pulling out very far but still creating a nice friction while you got used to the full feeling. 

With a gasp of his name, you told him to move. And move he did. At an almost blinding pace, Tangerine pulled out until just his tip was inside of you, before pushing all the way back in. He braced himself with one hand squeezing the underside of your thigh, and the other pressed firmly against the wall beside your head. 

Your cunt squeezed around him as he moved. Although you both wanted to take your time and enjoy this at a slower pace, you were on a bullet train and he had a job to finish. So as fast as his hips would allow him, Tangerine ploughed into you. 

Once again, your head fell back against the surface behind you with a light thud, and Tangerine immediately returned to his assault on your neck and anywhere he could reach. You knew that in an hour, all the skin on your neck and jaw would be coloured purple and red, hickeys blossoming all across the skin. And while you knew the comments you would get from Eva and the looks you would get from other passengers, you didn’t care. 

Leaving one hand to scratch at Tangerine’s chest and shoulder, you brought the other down to rub circles on your clit. 

Against your skin, you felt the low rumble of Tangerine’s moans and gasps, and you clenched around his ever-moving cock trying to coax as many of those sounds out of him as you could. 

“Close, Angel.” It took you a moment to realise that he wasn’t asking if you were close again, but was warning you that he was, and your nails ran down his chest at the realisation. 

“In me.” While it wasn’t a full sentence, it was the best you could muster as he piledrived into you, leaving fingertip bruises on your thigh. Tangerine let out a broken moan at your words, more than happy to oblige. 

His hips began to stutter and you sped up your fingers against your clit, not wanting to be left with a built up orgasm for too long after his. After two particularly short thrusts, Tangerine’s hips froze and his head fell against your shoulder as he came inside of you. Not long after he had finished, your cunt clenched around him as you came again, high-pitched moan falling from your lips. 

Tangerine slowly dragged his cock out of your sensitive cunt, and you whined at the feeling. He gently sat you down back on the sink counter, knowing your legs would likely betray you. After using some toilet paper to clean off his cock, Tangerine gently pushed himself back into his underwear, glancing down at the stain you had made. You tiredly smirked, only to flinch as he brought over some clean toilet paper and as gently as he could, cleaned up much of the fluids that had made it onto your inner thighs. 

You sighed contentedly once you were clean, and happily accepted the gentle peck on your lips. 

“Once I’m done with this job,” Tangerine spoke softly as he picked up your discarded bottoms and guided them up your legs, kissing the skin before it was covered as he made his way up, “I’m takin’ you on a proper date.” 

mutual tagging: @websterss @jangofctts (i know i tagged you already but you're also now a mutual so two tags!) @faeology

post fic note: although i do not condone cheating nor the invasion of the private lives of celebrities, i DO condone aaron (allegedly) cheating on his crusty-ass, groomer wife with his bullet train costar joey. (also a couple of my warnings read like ao3 tags but they do still count as warnings so... leave me lmao)

reblogs and kind words are always appreciated

#char writes #tangerine blurb #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #bullet train tangerine x reader #tangerine x y/n #bullet train tangerine x you #bullet train tangerine x y/n #tangerine fanfic #smut warning #tangerine x reader smut #tangerine x you smut #tangerine smut #tangerine x y/n smut #bullet train tangerine smut #bullet train tangerine x reader smut #bullet train tangerine x you smut #bullet train tangerine x y/n smut #˚:✧｡• smut warning

[yagirlwrites]

(Not) My Baby (4)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N makes a decision with the help of her friends but Rafe isn't going to like it.

A/N: Not me posting this at 1am on a Thursday lmao! Y'all it's finally here! Part 4! I have been in such a massive slump and had huge writers block for many months. Honestly don't know how I wrote this tbh🤣 That being said I'm not super happy about my writing here but I'm posting it because y'all deserve to get it immediately, you've waited long enough! Hope you enjoy this part! Love you all❤️

Series Masterlist

My work is my own; it's not to be copied, transferred or translated. Reblogs, comments, feedback are always welcome and appreciated❤️

Happy reading! 🥰

(Not) My Baby (Part 4)

"So what are you gonna do?" Y/N sighed at her friend's question. She knew it was wishful thinking that they might finish breakfast before Stella brought up the issue. To be fair to her, she hadn't mentioned it all night and Y/N managed to actually get some sleep because of it.

But now it was time to face the music and deal with her problem. Fuck.

"What are we talking about?" Lena's voice came from the doorway, the girl looking like she had been through the wringer. The girls at the table almost giggled at her messy appearance, given her usual insistance on being put together at all times.

"Well, hello to you too. Couldn't be bothered sending a text that you'd be home late? Again?" Lena blushed at Stella's words, knowing she was right and she had messed up. Yet again.

Since her and Kelce started dating she had become more and more forgetful of their rule - always let each other know where you're staying the night. They had a few rules in their roomate agreement, this one being the most important one. Hell, she invented the rule herself. And yet, here she was, constantly breaking it.

She knew Stella wasn't really mad, but it still made her feel embarrased. How she let a guy distract her like that so often, she didn't understand.

"Yeah... Sorry." She let out a sheepish smile and Stella rolled her eyes, motioning her to join them at the table.

"While you were getting busy with your man, we have been in a crisis!" Lena's eyes widened, slightly concerned, slightly suspicious.

"Expand." Y/N's head met the table and let out a muffled groan. Lena looked at the girl in confusion.

"What happened??" Stella folded her hands, getting ready for a dramatic retelling. Y/N remained face planted on the table while Stella caught Lena up to the latest drama.

Many 'he did whats' and 'oh my god's' later, interrupted by both Stella's and Lena's laughter at the sandwich incident, Lena was finally in the know about the Rafe situation. And boy was she loving it.

"I fucking knew he was into you! I knew it-"

"Can you please not?" Y/N had gotten up from the table and planted herself on the couch mid-story, not wanting to deal with any of it so early in the morning. Or ever. Preferably she would deal with it never. She just wanted to go back to bed and sleep for several weeks. She was exhausted.

Lena and Stella gave eachother knowing looks but said nothing further about it. Instead they plopped down on the couch either side of her and Y/N knew the ordeal was far from over. They wouldn't let her keep ignoring it. Sometimes she hated having friends who knew her too well.

"So what are you gonna do?" This time it was Lena posing the dreaded question.

"I don't know." It was an honest answer. The only one she had. But she knew her friend would not be satisfied with it.

"Well what do you think?" Y/N closed her eyes, trying to mentally prepare for everything that was about to unfold.

"I don't know...." She sounded tired. And Stella felt a pang of hurt on her friend's behalf.

Lena, however was not going to accept that as an aswer. She was a doer, she always thought three moves ahead and prepared for everything. 'I don't know' was not in her vocabulary. Usually that was someting Y/N loved about her, but at this moment she resented it.

"Well lets figure it out." Lena started. "It is a good opportunity."

"I know that." Y/N begrudgingly admited.

"So what's holding you back?" Y/N looked at Lena as if she was stupid for posing the question. Lena was not bothered.

"Don't say it's cause you don't like him because I know that's not really the reason. You're pragmatic, you know this is a good chance to network. So I'll ask again. What's holding you back?"

While Lena was right about her being pragmatic, she just didn't understand how big of a factor her dislike for Rafe was in her dillema. Whereas Lena couldn't fathom why she'd let something silly like that get in the way of a good opportunity to make connections, she felt sick to her stomach at the thought. The mere idea of being on his arm while he flaunted her was making her flushed with anger. She knew she couldn't explain it to her friends though, so she didn't even try.

"I don't know. I just hate the idea of giving him what he wants and seeing his smug face-"

"You're getting something out of it too." Lena, annoyingly pointed out.

"Not as much as him." At Y/N's words, Lena finally grinned.

"There it is." Lena's words made Y/N look at her in confusion.

"What?"

"What's holding you back. You think its an unfair deal. He's getting more out of it than you are." Lena explained.

Y/N's brow furrowed in thought. Stella was quiet the entire time, knowing not to interrupt the two girls when they're debating something. She learned long ago it was a bad idea. It was best to let them figure it out and not get involved.

Y/N realized Lena was right. She was feeling resentment because she felt like she would be giving him a lot more than she'd be getting in return and it made her real mad.

"Yeah... I guess so." Lena nodded.

"Good."

"Good?" Y/N asked, exasperated.

"Yes, good. Now we know the problem. Now we can solve it." Lena said as if it was the simples thing in the world.

"Oh it's that simple?" Y/N's sarcasm was felt but ignored as Lena continued.

"So what do you want?" Y/N looked at her confused, again.

"What do I want?" She repeated.

"So what do you want that he can give you?" Lena asked again. Y/N frowned.

"Yes. He's getting the better end of the deal. So even the odds." She was explaining it as if it was obvious. Y/N didn't think so.

"I don't want anything from him."

"Don't be stubborn." Lena interrupted. "There's always something you can get from someone. It's just a matter of figuring out what you want."

"I don't want anything from him!" Y/N repeated, a bite in her voice.

"Now you're just being childish."

"Let's not get nasty." Stella finally piped up, seeing that this was not going in the right direction.

"How am I being childish?" Y/N bit out.

"You're letting your feelings cloud your judgement. Stop letting your dislike of him lead the converstation." Lena spoke evenly, making sure not to push Y/N further than she had. They could both be stubborn and they knew it. Lena didn't want to fight. She was just trying to help her friend. The problem was she wasn't always the best at showing it.

"Okay, lets take a step back." Stella interjected. Hands up in what she hoped was a calming gesture.

"I think what Lena is trying to say is that you might be holding yourself back from something that could benefit you because you're letting your feelings for Rafe get in the way of seeing the bigger picture."

"I don't have feelings for Rafe." She quipped back.

"You know what I meant, Peach." Stella's use of her nickname softened Y/N's features some. She was realizing Rafe was now causing her to fight with her friends. The thought infuriated her. No way.

Y/N sighed and closed her eyes, trying to clear her head. They were right. When it came to Rafe, he always managed to unhinge her and anger would lead her actions. But she was smarter than that. She wouldn't let him get in the way of her friendships. And she wasn't going to let him being a dick be the reason why she misses on a good opportunity. One that could do her a lot of good in the future.

That's when it hit her.

When she opened her eyes her friends were looking at her with bathed breaths, anxious for her next move.

"There is something." Lena smiled.

"But he'll never go for it." Y/N was doubting herself. It was crazy.

"Babe, he's in a position where he can't refuse you. He's got a lot to gain from this but he also has a hell of a lot more to lose if you say no." Lena reasoned.

"She's right. I'm pretty sure you could get a kindey out of him if you wanted to." Stella joked and the girls laughed.

"That's a bit much, Pumpkin." Stella beamed at her friends words.

"All we're saying is, he won't be able to refuse you. He's desperate. He needs you." Lena explained.

"Okay." The girls grinned, Stella jumping up in excitement.

"So what is it?!" Y/N smirked. Oh it was a good one and he was going to hate it so much. The thought made her giddy.

--------

It had been days since the sandwich shop. Since he poured all his shame out to her and asked her to help him. Since he embarrased himself thoroughly and put his fate in her hands.

It has been days of radio silence. He was getting antsier every second, feeling like he might crawl out of his skin in suspence. Truth was, he had no idea what was going to happen. She really didn't like him and she could refuse to help him so easily, leaving him the deep deep hole he dug for himself. She didn't owe him anything. He wasn't great to her in the past and he regreted it. Had regreted it for a long time. He tried making things up with her for months but she was so unreceptive to his efforts, and then she pushed his buttons and he'd lose himself all over again.

And now he was at her mercy. She could embarrass him by telling the whole world about what he had done. Or she could just ignore him, letting him stew in his misery. Leaving him stranded and giving his father the perfect opportuinity to cut him off for good. Disown him even. He was losing his mind.

It has been days and everyone around him could feel his sour mood. He was twitchy, easily irritable, incapable of focusing on anything and constantly fiddling with his phone. Constantly writing and deleting texts, to what they assumed was the same mystery person.

None of his friends knew what the hell was going on with him but none dared ask, knowing it would most likely end with him shutting them out further. He was moodier than usual, which they didn't think possible.

Kelce and Topper knew the only person who could ever affect him like that was his father. Or Y/N. Both in very different ways, of course, but in simmilar intensity.

His friends never knew what it was that him and Y/N had going on, never understood the odd relationship. They knew they'd get punched if they brought it up though, they learned it the hard way.

His father was a whole other story. They both knew, for the most part, how Ward Cameron treated his son. Having grown up with Rafe, they'd seen enough of their fraught dynamic to understand there were serious issues there. Their friend never confided in them fully though, preferring not to talk about his father at all. But every once in a while he'd get that glazed over look in his eyes, the dark cloud around him palpable. They knew then that something had happened involving his father.

This time was different though. He wasn't depressed, he wasn't angry from an argument with his dad. He also wasn't buzzing with nerves and excitement from a row with Y/N. It was unusal and unnerving and the entire appartment was enveloped in the odd energy.

So when Kelce had insisted he needed a night out Topper agreed. Kelce had demanded he needed to unwind and that after football practice he expected his two best friends to take him out for drinks and help him get his head straight. They agreed, Topper knowing Klece's plans had nothing to do with his own well being - and Rafe because Kelce rarely ever expressed that he was having issues, usually the most chill out of the group. It made him feel too guilty to reject him. Even though he'd rather do anything but go out tonight.

But there he was, waiting for Kelce to finish up his practice so they can go to the bar where he fully intended to excuse himself after an hour. The sun was just beginning to set as he fiddled with his phone in his hands, willing it to do something, snap him out of his misery. The orange and pinkish hues enveloped the sky as he heard someone approach him in the parking lot. He was leaning on his car as he looked behind him and nearly dropped his phone in shock.

There she was. She was standing right in front of him, the last rays of sun casting a halo around her. She took his breath away.

For a moment he stood there gaping at her, not quite able to process that she was actually here after days of no contact, after days of him wishing she'd call or text or even email him, give him anyhing to go by.

She cleared her throat, breaking the awkward silence. He snapped out of his daze and took an unconscious step forward. She eyed him warily. He looked rough. As if he hadn't slept.

A sliver of guilt crossed through her but she quickly crushed that down. This whole situation is his fault and she had every right to take even more time, than just a few days, to get back to him. She reminded herself to keep her head in the game, to not get distracted.

"Hey." She spoke first.

"Hey." He sounded breathy, unsure.

"Can we talk?" He nodded, nervous to what she was there to say. He wasn't sure how she found him but guessed she probably talked to Lena. Lena would know he was waiting for Kelce.

"I've thought about your proposition." He gulped, bracing himself for the worst.

"Yeah?" He wished she would just rip off the band-aid and reject him instead of dragging it out.

"I've realized you'd be getting a lot more out of it than me -"

"What do you want?" He interrupted her, cringing inwardly at the sharp glare he was met with. But he couldn't wait another second.

"For future notice, I want you to not interrupt me again." He almost rolled his eyes, almost.

"Noted. What do you want?" He sounded nervous and she almost smiled. Almost.

She looked to he right, taking her time to apreciate his vehicle, letting him stew for a few more agonizing moments while he waited for her answer.

He looked at her, impatient, ready to jump out of his skin, shake her, fall to his knees, beg her to just say it.

Her eyes met his again and she smiled. It was a beautiful sight, but he quickly realized the smile was one of mischief. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. She glanced back at his car. Then back to him. Then back to the car. Then back to him. She gave him a pointed look, raising her eyebrows.

He looked on in confusion and she rolled her eyes at his ignorance.

"The car." She finally spoke. His heart was hammering in his chest from the suspense.

"Huh?"

She looked back at the car and he followed her eyes finally realizing what it was she was saying.

"No way." He spoke before he could even process his words. She nodded her head.

"Okay." She shrugged, swiflty turned around and started walking away. No look back, no explanation, no chance to barter. Panic rose in his chest.

"Wait!" She stopped in her tracks but didn't bother turning around. His mind was running a thousand miles an hour. This couldn't be what she was asking of him? Surely she wasn't that crazy? Surely she didn't expect him to give her his car.

His car. A black, 1967 Ford Mustang, complete with white stripes. A picture of sleek elegance and power, with the classic leather interior and and an upgraded motor, the rev of which caused goosebumps to rise on his skin every time he turned on the key. His pride and joy. The first thing he ever bought for himself. His father protested, of course he did. He would have preferred a more modern vehicle, something that showed status. Not an old muscle car. But Rafe was adamant and as soon as he turned eighteen and got access to his trust fund, he found Clarence and never looked back.

She was his most trusted companion, which is why it was hitting hard that Y/N wanted to take her from him. Couldn't she have picked anything else?

"You seriously want me to just give you my car?" His voice was incredulous. She turned around and calmly walked back to him, as if she had all the time in the world.

"Of course not. I'm not that cruel. Or crazy." She smirked while he looked at her in confusion. What was she getting at?

"I don't expect you to give it to me. Not forever anyway." He blinked at her, still confused.

"I want free use of your car for... In the name of fairness, let's say I'd get to keep it for as long as this charade lasts." His heart was slowing down some, glad she wasn't insisting on actually taking his car from him.

"So... when was it you told your family we were dating, again?" He gulped, redness on his neck and cheeks visible.

"Three months ago" he almost whispered. Her eye twitched but she forced herself to stay calm. The prick.

"And how long did you tell them we've been together?" He gupled again. This was more and more emabrrassing with every minute.

"Three months." She swallowed down her anger that was rising again at his bullshit.

"So let's say six months backlog... and however long this continues. That's how long I get to keep the car. That sound fair to you?"

He wanted to say no. To argue. To call her crazy and beg her to pick something, anything else. But by the look in her eyes he knew it would be pointless and only serve to further his embarrassement. She was determined. This is what she wants. And he has no choice but to give it to her. He has no fucking choice and she knows it.

"Fine. But-" she interrupts him before he can finish his sentence.

"Gas included." He nearly choked on his saliva at her words. She was pushing him to his limits. She wanted him to pay for her gas too, while she drove his car around flaunting it in his face. The redness on his face was now also from anger. She was enjoying this.

"Fine. Fine!" She smiled.

"But that's it!" He continued. "I agree to this and we have a deal? You'll do it? No second guessing, no going back on it. You'll do it?"

He was looking at her with such desparation it tugged at her heart. This really was important to him.

"Yeah. Yeah I'll do it." She nodded along with her words.

He felt like crying. It was as if a ton of weight was lifted off his shoulders. He was still upset about Clarence. Obviously he was. But mostly he was relieved and happy that he wouldn't have to be embarrassed in front of his family. That she was going to do it. She was going to help him. He wanted to hug her in thanks or yell at her for manipulating him. He wanted to pass out from all the stress - of the situation, of the past few days, of suspence.

"So when's this wedding?" She dreaded asking because if there's anything this situation had taught her is that Rafe always can and will piss her off more than she thought possible. Every single time.

He was nervous again. He sighed and Y/N knew she wasn't going to like the words that came out of his mouth.

"Two weeks." He finally said.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

----

Taglist: if anyone wants to be tagged in future work let me know; @r0und3bitch @lovelornanonymity @mentallynot-here @wishing-i-was-rafes-princess @goldenjo @emeloyy @kanib45 @clinelyn @magnificantmermaid @hey-sunrisee @mannstarkey @harringtonstudios @totallynotkaibiased @popcrone818 @bookaholics-stuff @zzzina7 @fangirlwithlou @namelesssav @rafesxgold @cmac-writes @malfoytargaryen @alinaharlow @mveggieburger @theyluvmesblog @withbeautyandrage @sierrahhh @harrys-humble-housewife @piceous21 @vifuckingp @ditzyballerina @xoxo3m1ly @jessmaybank @whore-4-drewstarkey @palmwinemami @mew227 @dustbunniess @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @starkowswife

#rafe cameron #(not) my baby #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x oc #outer banks fic #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx #my work #nmb #fanfiction #fanfic #enemies to lovers #fake dating #slow burn

[searchingforakeythatdoesntexist]

It started as it will end, with a garden with this post -> link

"Stuntman / Stuntwoman / Stuntperson: a person employed to take an actor's place in performing dangerous stunts on purpose"

Day 12 : “Funnier my way” - Good Omens, Gymnast/StuntPerson AU

Aziraphale *angry*: You're being silly! Hurting yourself like this...

Crowley *pouty*: Naaah. Stunt person, that's what I am!

Aziraphale: Well, Dear, it is dangerous. *sigh*

Crowley: *sigh loudly* It's not if you're doing it professionaly. And I am. Very professional. Me.

Aziraphale: ...

Crowley: ...

Aziraphale *kindly*: Does it still hurt?

Crowley *softly*: ...Yeah. Still hurts. But doing it my way is funnier, Angel.

[Previous] [Next Day] [First Day]

Don't forget to 💕/ reblog ;-)

Personal challenge: a simple sketch each day

Goal: forcing me to keep things simple - inking, shading, just a few sashes of colour

Improvement pursued: to get the movement, the emotion, finding how to add depth, learning how to leave things barely finished

Max time allowed: 2 hours instead of 8-20 on my previous projects - well, 2 hours for the complete sketch, then 1 more hour for editing their lovely quotes - AND drawing the Minisnake!Crowley.

Today's theme chosen by me: Well, this time it definitely feels like it's the theme that HAS CHOSEN me. I was scrolling on Tumblr and found this old "Gymnast Vs Stuntwoman" video I have already seen on YouTube months ago. But my GO-rotten brain made me think "WOAAA this is splendid AziraCrow Arrangement's vibes, doesn't it'". Aaaand... Voilà.

Trivia: when I started this Challenge, I wasn't very comfortable with Aziraphale soft curves - partly because I always tried to draw unrealistic bodies and "healthy" (whatever that means) silhouettes, and partly because it reminds me of my own bigger roundnesses and I can't stop feeling ashamed about it. But now I like to draw realistic Aziraphale more and more, sometimes plushy, sometimes a little bit more muscular (you'll see it in my future Ice Skating Tribute). It is a long road for me, but I like it a little more each day .

Trivia2: I love so much their wings tattoos. And I am particularly proud of the winged-sword because when I imagined it, it only took 10 minutes doing it. I am having so much fun in this Challenge, because I don't have time to think or hesitate. It's very refreshing for an indecisive and perfectionist artist like me.

How did it start? I reblogged here but my brain didn't want to stop...

"Hey, Good Omens Fam, listen, listen.

Is it just my Good-Omens-rotting brain speaking, or there is some Aziraphale/Crowley's Arrangement vibes here?

Feels like a kind of funny Fem!AU to me...

Aziraphale: If I may? *performs their gymnastic routine with a perfect sense of timing, beautiful and powerful, everything is neat, calculated, an rightful Angel in disguise with their sculptural body and their lovely blond curls*

Crowley: My turn. *performs the exact same gymnastic routine with an almost-perfect sense of timing, failling clumsy and weirdly sensual, everything seems chaotic but it IS (?) calculated, an bloody Demon in disguise with their messy gestures and their red disheveled long hair*

Aziraphale: ...

Crowley: WOT? Job done!

Aziraphale, *sincerely concerned* : Mate, didn't you just hurt yourself on this last jump?

Crowley, *blushing*: Ha! No way. I am a professional. Very professional, me.

Aziraphale: ... ... .... *raise eyebrows*

Crowley, *blushing A LOT*: ...Yeah. Still hurts. But my way is funnier, Angel.

Aziraphale: Oh dear. 🥺🙄😌"

And YES, the stuntwoman dit it ON PURPOSE - almost of it. See for yourself, they are so lovely, having so much fun together.

#Good Omens #Crowley #Aziraphale #Aziracrow #Ineffable husbands #Ineffable lovers #David Tennant #Michael Sheen #ElenthyaAndGoodOmens #ElenPersonnalChallenge #Ineffable dumbasses #Ineffable Idiots #Ineffable Gymnast #Ineffable StuntPerson #my art #art #ElenthyaGallery