#these tags make it sound worse then it really it tbh but it's to be safe

[jinkoh]

adore u

seungcheol x fem!reader

summary: crushing on seungcheol was a really bad idea. sleeping with him, no strings attached, was even worse. and yet...

Tags: ons/fwb to lovers, suggestive, a little fluff, a little angst, best friend!seungkwan; warnings: alcohol consumption; word count: ~4,6k

a/n: i started this ages ago tbh and then didn't rlly know how to end it so it sat in my drafts for a rlly long time but i finally got around to finishing it~

Masterlist

You hadn’t intended for the evening to go like this. It was meant to be nothing but a chill evening with your best friend Seungkwan. But maybe everything had been doomed from the moment he had told you that some of his friends would be coming too. Not that you didn’t like them. You did, one of them just a little bit too much—and that was the whole problem. Despite knowing Seungcheol would never be serious about someone like you, you couldn’t help yourself from being attracted to him. There was just something so charming about the way he looked at you that made your heart flutter. 

“So, when are the other guys coming?” you asked, lounging on his couch, leaning against the headrest. You thought you sounded casual, but your friend had you all figured out.

“Are you asking about the other guys or just one guy in particular?” He looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” You stared back with wide eyes, the clattering coming from the hallway going completely past you.

“Ah, so we’re still pretending that you don’t have a crush on Scoups?”

"I don't have a crush on him! He's just—attractive!”

"Who's attractive?"

Your head snapped around to Hoshi poking his head into the room, while toeing out of his shoes. But worse than Hoshi looking at you with curiosity, was Seungcheol, standing right there in the doorframe, a big box with snacks and drinks in his hands.

"Who's attractive?" Hoshi asked again, making his way into the room.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat that had risen to your cheeks. "No one."

When your gaze flickered over to Seungcheol there was a smug gleam in his eyes.

"Boring," Hoshi pouted, before making his way through the room to the kitchen, a second box in his arms. "You coming, Cheol?"

"Sure," he replied, his eyes still lingering on you. And then he chuckled. He fucking chuckled. You wanted to disappear on the spot. There was no doubt in your head that he'd heard you.

He didn’t let on though, not in a way others would notice. But you were hyper aware of every little move he made throughout the evening. He wasn’t even sitting close to you, nor did you really talk much, but he still had you on edge with the smug glances he threw you from time to time.

When you couldn’t endure his eyes on you for even a second longer, you excused yourself to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind you. After all, you just wanted to splash some water in your face to hopefully cool down a bit. But it seemed that had been a mistake.

"So, you think I'm attractive?" A familiar voice suddenly rang from right behind you.

You swallowed around the lump in your throat before you dared to look up, your eyes meeting Seungcheol’s through the mirror.

"No, I—that was just objectively speaking—"

A laugh slipped past his lips at the way you were fumbling for words. He stepped a little closer, his breath tickling your ears when he spoke up again. 

“I’m objectively attractive?”

“You’re twisting my words.”

"I’m not. Just be honest with me."

A shudder ran down your spine and you felt flustered, your voice shaking a little despite your best efforts to sound tough.

“Why are you making such a big deal of it anyway?”

“Hm, good question. ” he hummed in response, hesitating for a moment before he added, “Maybe I like it.” 

“Like what?”

He huffed a laugh. “You.”

You knew that he didn’t mean it the way you did—he clearly just liked the idea of you in his bed. You knew that—and yet your heart was racing in your chest, excited by the thought that he liked you, in whichever way.

When you didn’t reply and just kept staring at him through the mirror he leaned in even more, his nose nudging against the spot behind your ear, his eyes wandering between the you in front of him and the you in the mirror. “So,” he started again, “what do you think?”

“Me too,” you replied against your better knowledge. This was nothing but trouble, all of this was just a game to him. But you couldn't resist. “I like it.”

He hummed contently, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. "That's a good girl."

His hands found your hips to turn you around, your face mere inches from his, and his gaze fixed on your lips.

God, you wanted this so badly. Still, a small voice of reason was fighting for attention inside your mind.

“Isn’t this a bad idea?” it made you ask, even though you already knew the answer yourself.

“I think it’s the best idea I’ve had in a while,” he replied with a smug smile. “Don’t you agree?”

No.

“Yes.”

Seungcheol couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, before pushing in and closing the gap between the two of you. At first it was just a gentle brush of his lips against yours, tentatively, questioningly; but when you leaned into the kiss he cupped your jaw and pulled you closer. 

Surely this would end badly for you. Seungcheol wasn’t the type of guy who did relationships and you weren’t the best at separating your body and heart. But just for tonight you wanted to indulge. Who knew if  the opportunity would arise  again.

When you woke up the next morning, you found yourself tugged into an unfamiliar bed, a strong arm wrapped tightly around your waist. You couldn’t exactly recall how you’d gotten there, but what you did recall was what had happened once you’d arrived. You remembered the way his hands felt against your skin, the way his lips had explored your body, the way he’d looked at you. There’d been something hungry in his eyes. But somehow he’d also made you feel precious, like something that should be treasured. You knew you were absolutely fucked. 

His arm was still wrapped around you, holding you close but you already felt like crying. When you stirred, trying to free yourself from his grasp he groaned in protest, pulling you closer. 

“I have to get up,” you complained.

“Mhm-hm.” You felt him shaking his head before nuzzling into your neck. “Don’t.”

“Seungcheol, please,” your voice quivered but you hoped he didn’t notice in his sleepy state.

“Why?” 

All of this was really bad for your heart. With the way he behaved you could almost delude yourself into believing this was more than just a one night stand, that maybe his like had meant something more after all.

“I have to work,” you lied. It was a weak lie, he knew you were off on sundays, but he loosened his grip anyway.

You freed yourself from his embrace and got up, hastily picking up your clothes from the floor so you could exchange them for the loose shirt Seungcheol had given you to sleep in. All the while, he was watching you from the bed, his head propped up on one hand.

“Are you coming back?”

“What?” You turned around to him, your shirt and pants clutched to your chest.

“Are you coming back?” He simply repeated.

You had a rough idea what he was implying. But how were you supposed to survive some kind of friends with benefits arrangement with the guy you’d been crushing on for months now?

"Let's just forget about this. It did not happen."

Seungcheol looked at you, an unreadable expression on his face that quickly turned into a cute pout. 

"Well then it can not happen again, right?" 

You wanted to say no and reinforce that it really wouldn’t, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. So, instead, you just disappeared to the bathroom where you hastily slipped into your clothes to escape his flat as quickly as possible. Maybe you’d be able to leave while he was still snuggled up in bed if you were quick enough.

But when you left the bathroom you heard clattering from the kitchen.

“I’m leaving,” you shouted into the hallway, because your manners forbade you from just rushing out even in this situation.

Seungcheol immediately poked his head out of the kitchen, the same pout on his lips again. 

“You’re not even having a coffee?”

“Work. I told you.”

“Fine,” he replied but the pout didn’t disappear.

He walked you to the door, waiting patiently while you put on your shoes and coat, and then opened the door for you.

You felt awkward as you walked past him. “Uh, I guess I’ll see you around?”

“You can also call me, you know?” He reached out for your hand, just briefly holding onto it before letting go again. “Call me.”

You didn’t call him. You knew you wouldn’t call him the second you left his apartment and walked your sorry self to the bus stop. To say you regretted your decision from the night before was an understatement. Having an unrequited crush had been painful even before this. But now that you knew what it felt like to be held by him, now that you knew how gentle his hands could be and how he looked when he’d only just woken up—how were you supposed to ever get over it?

It was stupid to waste any tears on this, it was your own fault after all. But you did anyway, sitting at the bus stop crying until your bus arrived and then crying some more once you’d gotten home.

Avoiding Seungcheol seemed to be the best solution for now, just until your heart had recovered a little. But that was easier said than done. Your social circles were so closely intertwined that it was hard to avoid him without making it obvious. And while you didn’t want to see him, you also didn’t want to appear like some heartbroken loser who cried over a one-night stand (even if you did).

Before long you were sitting in Seungkwan's living room again, squeezed on the couch between a slightly drunk Wonwoo and an infinitely drunker Hoshi, while Seungcheol kept eyeing  you from the other side of the room. He didn't even try to be subtle about it and it drove you insane. You tried to avoid his gaze as best as you could but your rebellious eyes kept wandering back to him anyway. It wasn’t your fault he was looking so cute today, with a pair of round glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose and his dark tousled hair falling into his forehead, almost hiding the way his eyebrows were slightly pulled together.

“Should I get you a new drink?” Wonwoo pulled you out of your trance, gesturing to the empty cup in your hand.

“Huh? Ah, no thank you, I’ll go.” 

You took this chance to escape to the kitchen, hoping to get a moment of peace and collect your thoughts. You should have known better though. Leaving the room hadn’t worked last time, what had made you think it would now?

“You didn’t call me.” 

Seungcheol looked at you with the same pout he’d already given you one too many times.

You shrugged. “Guess not.”

“Why not?”

“Does it matter?” 

“It does.”

“Come on, Cheol, don’t pretend to be bothered by this.” You grabbed one of the liquor bottles, struggling to open it. Before you could give up in frustration, Suengcheol took the bottle out of your hands and opened it for you.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Instead of handing the bottle back to you, he poured some into your cup, reaching for soda next.

“I prefer—”

“Orange, I know.” He mixed your drink, just the way you liked it, as if he’d done it a thousand times before. “So why didn’t you call?”

You huffed a laugh. “I’m just not cut out for this kinda thing. I don’t fancy getting hurt.”

"You were the one that practically bolted out of my apartment the next morning and then didn’t even call. Shouldn't I be the one who's hurt?" He didn’t meet your eyes when he said it, instead focused on refilling his own cup.

"As if you’d get hurt over someone like me."

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow and you knew what he was going to say: What do you mean ‘someone like you’? But you weren’t up for a serious conversation now. And it wasn’t like he’d understand.

“Besides,” you quickly tried to steer the conversation away. “Didn't we agree to forget about all that?”

“I agreed to nothing of the sort. Why would I agree to something stupid like that?” 

“Because we—it was a one-time thing! A bad idea!”

“A bad idea?” He cocked his head. “That’s not what you said last time, Princess.”

Caught off guard by the nickname, you felt your face flush with heat. “Don’t call me that,” you snapped but it didn’t sound very convincing.

“What, Princess? Hmm.” He stepped a little closer, a thoughtful look on his face. “I thought it suited you.”

You automatically took a step back and as a result stumbled into the sharp edge of the kitchen counter. It wasn’t too painful, but you still winced.

Seungcheol chuckled. “Maybe klutz would be more fitting after all?” He sneaked his arm around your waist, his hand covering the edge so you wouldn’t bump into it again. “Or bumpkin?”

“I’m not a klutz,” you choked out, trying your best to ignore your racing heart, overwhelmed by the proximity.

“It’s cute though.”

“Stop teasing me, Seungcheol.” You looked at him with a frown. He huffed a laugh at your complaint.

“Funny, I could have sworn you were into that.”

Heat crept up your neck to the tips of your ears. But before you could retort anything, the two of you got interrupted.

“Uh,” Wonwoo eyed you from the doorway. “Sorry—just—y/n was taking a really long time in the kitchen so I thought I’d check…” He trailed off, his eyes wandering between the two of you.

“Actually,” Seungcheol said with a casual tone, putting a little distance between the two of you. “I’m getting a little tired and was just about to offer y/n a ride home since she’s a little drunk already. Even ran into the counter, the poor thing.” 

“It wasn’t that bad. I’m not drunk.”

“So I shouldn’t drive you home?”

“Huh?” Your head snapped around to him in surprise, only now registering his offer. “Didn’t you drink?”

“It’s soda,” he held out his cup for you as if to prove his point. “But it’s fine if you want to stay, I’m just asking since I’m leaving anyway.”

Wonwoo was still looking at you from where he stood in the doorway in slight confusion. “So I assume you’re fine?” He searched your face for a confirmation of sorts.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Okay, then. I’ll leave you to it.” With that he returned to the living room, you and Seungcheol once again alone.

“So?” He raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Should I take you home?”

It was stupid, really. Both of you knew that you weren’t drunk. And even then, this was literally your best friend’s house. Seungkwan would let you stay over anytime. 

You swallowed. “Okay?”

“Is that a question?”

“No. Take me home.”

Once is a mistake, they say. Twice is a choice. 

And yet, you found yourself in Seungcheol’s bed again, his hands all over your body. He was unbearably sweet with you, from the way he cupped your face when he kissed you to the pretty little lies he whispered.

“I want you,” he mumbled into your bare skin. “You have no idea how badly I want you.” 

It made your heart race but it made it ache too. What he wanted wasn’t you, it was only this: your body in his bed.

“Me too,” you replied anyway, and the smile it put on his face, dimple showing and all, was so adorable you almost wanted to cry on the spot.

“You do, don’t you?” He repeated, more of a confirmation for himself rather than a question to you. 

You didn’t want to think about it, but an evil little voice wondered if he treated others this sweetly too, if he was just as happy to be wanted by others.

“Are you always like this?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

“Always?” Seungcheol didn’t seem to get the meaning behind the question, his expression not dimming one bit as he left little kisses on the corners of your lips before traveling down to your neck and collar bones. “What’s always?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed into the sensation, not willing to sacrifice this moment to your dumb jealousy. “Forget it.”

He chuckled into the crook of your neck. “You love telling me to forget, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

Stirring awake the next morning, you were met with round eyes looking at you. They lit up with a smile when Seungcheol noticed you were awake. 

“Hey.” His voice was still raspy with sleep.

“Hey.”

“You don’t work today, right?”

“It’s Sunday.”

“It was Sunday last time.”

You nodded slowly, realizing you had exposed your own lie. “Right. But no work today.”

“Good.” He nuzzled closer, burying his nose in the crook of your neck. “Then we can stay in bed a little longer.”

You let him cuddle up to you, soaking in the way it felt to have him close to you and ignoring how much it would hurt to let go later on.

After what felt like hours just cozily spent in bed, you started to get hungry. You didn’t want to say anything nor did you want to leave, so you decided to just endure the feeling for a little longer. Your stomach sadly didn’t agree with that plan though.  It promptly started to rumble and of course Seungcheol had to hear it, too. 

“We should make breakfast,” he said, peeling himself off you with a cheeky grin. “Can’t have my clumsy bumpkin starving to death, can I?”

The fact he’d called you his let you completely forget the fact he was teasing you again. It just felt so good, so much like what you’d thought it would be like to be his in all your stupid dreams and delusions. Even more so, when he placed a kiss on your forehead and pulled you out of bed. You sat at his kitchen counter while he made coffee and toast and everything about it seemed just as if you were dating. As if you were in love.

After a breakfast that took way longer than it needed to, you decided it was time to go, despite his insistence on you staying longer. He saw you to the door again, pulling you back to him before you could leave for good.

“When I ask you to call me—” His eyes were on yours, intently watching your reaction. “Will you do it this time?”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. This is where you should have drawn the line. But you didn’t.

“Yeah.”

You didn’t just let the mistake become a choice. No, it ended up as a habit. And how could it not, when Seungcheol treated you so well? 

You texted him that you got home that day and Seungcheol took it as the OK to message you more frequently. He sometimes asked you about your day or told you about his and it did nothing to prevent you from growing more delusional about all of this. Mostly though he invited you over. You spent more weekends at his place than not, holing up in his bedroom until Monday rolled around and reality had you back.

The little arrangement between you and Seungcheol wasn’t exactly a secret. You hadn’t told anyone but it was clear that some of your friends suspected something—and of course they did, you left two parties together. And that didn’t even take into account that Wonwoo had somewhat caught you in the kitchen, though you doubted that he would tattle to anyone.

But despite the suspicions that some of your friends were bound to have, no one really said anything about it. You knew Seungkwan wanted to talk to you about it, but he seemed to always bite his tongue. In a way you were grateful for that. What was he going to say? That it wasn’t a good idea? That you’d end up getting hurt because Seungcheol wasn’t the type to settle down? You already knew all that. You didn’t need anyone to tell you.

While Seungkwan and such seemed to be in the know, others were completely oblivious about it. At least Chan was.

You were all sitting together in Hoshi and Woozi’s living room, drinking and playing games the way you always did. You tried to stay sober though—while Seungcheol and you hadn’t arrived together he did offer to take you back with him, and you didn’t want to be the only one between the two of you to be drunk. Thinking about it, you wondered if Seungcheol had sat out on drinking this often before, or if him staying sober to drive was a recent development. You didn’t get to philosophize about it for too long though, because Chan plopped down on the couch next to you, clearly feeling tipsy already. He had a wide smile plastered on his face as he nudged you in the side to get your attention.

“Hey, y/n,” he whispered loudly, the way drunk people do.

“Mhm?”

His smile grew even wider. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Sure.”

“But you can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?” He held out his pinky finger to you.

You intertwined your fingers. “Promise.”

“I heaaard,” he playfully drew out the word in an attempt to create suspense. “Seungcheol is dating someone.”

It took a moment for his words to register, but when they did you felt sick to your stomach. 

“What?”

“I know, right?” Chan giggled. “Never thought he’d settle with someone but he seems serious. Or so I heard, he didn’t tell me personally so shhh,” he dramatically pressed his index finger to his lips.

“Who is it?”

“Mmmmh,” he looked thoughtful. “Probably someone from his classes?”

You nodded. Not because you understood—you clearly didn’t understand any of this at all—but because you were at a loss of how else to respond to this.

You should have known better. You had known better. Seungcheol would never be yours. But you just couldn’t stop yourself, you just had to indulge in the illusion. And now you were paying the price.

With a shaky voice you excused yourself, telling Chan you were going outside for a bit. Your vision was already blurry with tears when you stumbled to the door, taking in a deep breath of the cool air once you were outside.

How long was it going on already? Was he serious about them? Was he ever going to tell you? Of course you couldn’t expect him to be faithful—you weren’t even dating so what was there to be faithful about? But you were sleeping with him. Shouldn’t he at least tell you if he was sleeping with others, too? And shouldn’t he be faithful to whoever it was that he was dating?

You leaned against the cold house wall, trying and failing to keep your composure. No one was outside at this time, the street empty and dark, but you still felt incredibly exposed as you stood there, tears running down your face.

The muted music and chatter of the party could be heard coming from inside and it only made you feel worse. For a moment it grew louder and then there was the thud of the front door closing.

Your head snapped around just to be faced with the one person you didn’t want to see right now.

“I thought—” Seungcheol started, but when he saw you were crying he interrupted himself, his whole posture changing as he rushed over to you. “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

With a worried frown he reached out to cup your face, but you evaded the gesture, shooting him a defiant glare that probably looked way more pathetic than you would have liked, with your puffy cheeks and red eyes. 

“Nothing, really.”

“This doesn’t look like nothing.” His eyebrows drew together even further. 

“Just, you know,” you shrugged. "I should have known better than to get involved with someone like you."

Seungcheol eyed you, confused but also clearly offended. "Someone like me?"

"Oh, come on, you know exactly what I mean. Someone popular with a zillion friends and all that. Someone like you could never be serious about me." Your voice was hoarse from crying, taking away some of the heat in your words. But it was still enough to make Seungcheol angry.

"What are you even talking about? Our friends are literally the same and—” he let out an exasperated sigh, as if he was at a loss of words. “You know, you should really work on that inferiority complex of yours. It's not cute."

That stung. Maybe because you didn’t expect him to say such harsh words, or maybe because he was right, you did feel inferior, as if you weren’t good enough for him. 

“Whatever,” you pressed out, your voice shaky as a flood of new tears welled up in your eyes. “Not like it matters, since you found someone better than me anyway.”

His expression softened a little, unable to keep being angry when you were standing in front of him like a sobbing mess. When he reached out his hand this time, you didn’t back away and let him wipe away your tears with his thumb. 

“What are you talking about?” He asked, his voice confused but gente.

“I already heard it all,” you sniffed. “You’re seeing someone. Chan told me and he had it from—he didn’t tell me. But either way, I already know that you’re seeing someone,” you rubbed at your eyes with the back of your hand, “so we can stop this game already.”

“A game?” Seungcheol whispered, “Is it really just a game?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Would you be crying like this if it was?”

You shrugged. “Does it even matter? You’re seeing—”

“You,” Seungcheol interrupted. “I was talking about you.”

“Me?” You met his gaze in confusion. “But Chan didn’t say that.”

He huffed a laugh. “Because I didn’t tell anyone. I wasn’t sure if you would have been okay with that. I didn’t want to say anything at all before checking in with you, but it just kinda slipped…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his head bashfully. “Either way. It was you, it was always you.”

“What’s always?”

“Always. Ever since I met you.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“But you’re,” you shrugged helplessly, “Seungcheol.”

“And you’re you. And I adore you. ” 

He smiled as he reached out his other hand too, cupping your face and brushing away any tears that were still clinging to your cheeks. “So, no more crying, hm?”

“No promises.” You sniffed again, but there was a small smile tugging on your lips too.

Seungcheol chuckled and pulled you into his chest, your arms naturally wrapping around his waist as he held you.

“So,” he started after a while, “if any of the guys were to ask who I’m seeing—” he let the sentence hang in the air, a playful tone in his voice.

“Then you can tell them it’s me,” you offered sheepishly.

He pulled away to meet your gaze. “And would it be true?”

“Yeah. It would be. Wouldn’t it?”

His face lit up with the smile you loved so much. “It would be.”

Masterlist

#s.coups x reader #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #svt x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #kpop scenarios #seventeen drabble #svt fanfic #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #kebbis.writing

[slut4thebroken]

Timekeeper Raymond Leon pt. 1

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Raymond Leon x reader

Summary | Raymond becomes obsessive trying to catch a suspect.

Warnings | 18+, canon level violence, smut, I’ll add tags for that in the next part, guns, angst?, idk what else to tag tbh

Words | 3k

Notes | Idk when part 2 is coming because I still have to write it but I’ll do my best to get it out soon.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“I’m timekeeper Raymond Leon.” 

You snickered and raised your brows in disbelief— what an introduction. 

“What can I help you with, timekeeper Raymond Leon?” He made no indication that he was affected by your mocking, which wasn’t all that surprising. 

“Someone stole a lot of time and their last known location was with you.” 

“Really? I don’t recall having any visitors recently. Except you of course.” 

“Maybe you just need something to jog your memory.” He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a somewhat blurry picture of you and the man in question. It was clear enough that you could recognize yourself though. 

“That’s not me.” You shrugged. 

“That’s not you?” He asked, pointing to the mostly clear picture of your face. 

“Nope.” As he stared at you, you studied his face, trying not to get flustered by the fact that— for a timekeeper— he’s fucking hot. After a moment, he sighed in what seemed like annoyance. 

“I tried to do this civilly, but if you won’t cooperate I’m going to have to bring you in and question you officially.” 

“Come back with something other than a blurry photo to prove it was me and I’ll talk to you. Until then, fuck off.” He pursed his lips and nodded as he thought. 

“If I have to come back, things will be a lot worse for you. This is your last chance.” He warned and you had to refrain from rolling your eyes. 

“I think I’ll take my chances. You can see yourself out, timekeeper Raymond Leon.” He only stared at you for another moment before standing up and leaving. The second you saw his car pull away, you rushed to pack a bag, not wanting to stay here and make it easy on him when he inevitably returned. 

You did help that man. In exchange for a place to stay for the night, he gave you one of the time bars he collected. You didn’t ask where or how he got them, honestly you didn’t care. With what he gave you, you can spend your days hiding from the timekeeper rather than working and giving him another easy place to find you. 

That proved to be more difficult than you expected though. Multiple times now, he’s almost caught up to you, almost found you, and every time you always run. But you were getting tired and the worst part is that it doesn’t seem like he is too. If anything he’s only more motivated to catch you after all this time— as if it was personal now. 

You were walking down the street, continuously checking behind you— he’s made you so paranoid that you flinch at the slightest sound. When you rounded a corner, your eyes widened at the black car slowly driving in your direction. You immediately turned around and started walking impossibly faster out of nerves, which only seemed to draw attention to yourself because you heard the siren turn on behind you, making you take off into a sprint. Every once in a while you checked behind yourself, finding the car right on your tail. When you turned down an alley, you heard the door slam shut and then loud footsteps, running after you. 

“Stop!” Fuck. Part of you was hoping it would be literally any other timekeeper besides him. But you’ve never had good luck. 

You rounded another corner, chest starting to burn from the exertion, and when you turned down yet another alley, you slowed to a stop at the sight of a building in front of you, high enough that you wouldn’t be able to climb over it. You cursed under your breath and turned around to go back and keep running, but he just caught up to you, slowing to a stop a few feet away and pointing a gun at you. When you staggered back, he followed you slowly, gun and eyes completely trained on you. 

“No where else to run.” He said, making you look around again just to be sure. He’s right. You were surrounded by three buildings, there was no way out other than behind him. 

“This doesn’t seem like a fair fight.” You said, glancing at the gun. 

“I’m not fighting you.” 

“Well I'm not going with you willingly so your options are shoot me or fight me.” He stared at you a moment, then scoffed a laugh and put the gun away. 

“Fine.” 

Truthfully this decision might’ve been a little stupid. You don’t know how skilled of a fighter he is and you’re not even very good yourself. But you figured having a slight chance was better than having no chance. 

Everytime you attacked, he blocked it easily with a smirk— he wasn’t even fighting back. Wanting to position yourself on the side of the only exit, you started trying to circle him, but he caught on almost instantly and made sure he always stayed between you and the street.  

The first time your fist landed on his cheek, both of you were stunned. He snapped out of it though and grabbed your wrist while you were still off guard, then twisted you around so your arm was bent uncomfortably behind your back. He pushed you forward until you hit the wall and then placed your other arm behind you as well. 

“I didn’t even fucking do anything.” You spat, squirming in his grip. 

“You ran, lied, and interfered with an investigation.” He said lowly, pressing his body against yours to limit your thrashing. 

“No shit I ran. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but people like me usually end up dead because of people like you.” 

“I wouldn’t kill you.” He said simply— as if his words would be enough to make you believe him. 

“No… You’d just take my time because I “have too much” and then I’d die.” 

“I would only take back the time that doesn’t belong to you.” 

“Someone gave it to me. I don’t fucking care where they got it from, you should be punishing them not me.” 

“Trust me, we have. But since you aided a wanted criminal, you need to be punished too.” You felt him lean back a little before continuing. “Only ten hours? Where’s the rest?” 

“I wasn’t about to walk around with too much time and get myself killed.” You scoffed, thrashing again. 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

“Go to hell!” He suddenly turned you around, slamming your back against the wall with a firm hand wrapped around your neck. 

“Where is it?” You clenched your jaw as your gaze hardened, ignoring the way your chest was heaving and your stomach was fluttering from the proximity alone. “It’s not at your place, we already checked. So where did you stash it?” 

“Fuck you.” You muttered, making his grip tighten on your neck. His free hand grabbed your wrist and he looked down at it, making you do the same. “Hey!” You tried yanking your wrist free as the numbers kept going down and down. He left you with 30 seconds, then looked back up at you. 

“I’d talk quickly if I were you.” 

“This is not fucking legal!” Your eyes kept rapidly glancing between his face and your arm— 25 seconds now. 

“Either you tell me where it is and I take it back, or you time out and no one uses it anyway.” 20 seconds. 

“Okay— okay I’ll tell you, just- give me my time back.” You rushed out, chest heaving in fear rather than arousal now. 

“Tell me first.” 

“Fuck!” 15 seconds. Your eyes burned with unshed tears as you watched yourself grow closer and closer to death. Should you just tell him? Give him a fake answer? Maybe he’s bluffing… But you don’t know for sure whether he is or not. Ten seconds. “Please- please, I’ll tell you—” You whimpered, but he just waited. Five seconds. “It’s in my apartment!” Your time was going up now, but only back to 30 seconds. 

“We already searched there.” 

“I- I have somewhere to hide it. Please.” 

“Show me.” He said as he gave you an hour. Pulling away from you, he motioned for you to start walking, so you did. “I doubt I need to remind you, but if you try anything, you’ll be dead in an hour.” 

“Fuck you.” You muttered, bottom lip quivering. You were glad you were at least in front of him so he couldn’t see you wipe your tears. You can’t even remember the last time you’ve been that scared. 

He walked taciturnly behind you, his boots heavy against the pavement compared to your worn down sneakers. 

“Why are you doing this?” You asked, not bothering to try and face him. 

“Why am I enforcing the law? Because it’s my job.” That made you halt suddenly and you couldn’t help yourself when you turned around. 

“Bullshit.” You spat, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’ve been fixated on me for weeks just because it’s your job? It’s only a few years, the other guy had hundreds. Why am I so fucking important?” He stared at you silently, his cheek flexing as he clenched his jaw, and you did your best not to shrink under his gaze. 

“I’m not giving you more time until I have what was stolen so I suggest you hurry up.” You huffed and rolled your eyes at his response, then turned around to keep walking. As you neared your apartment, you tried to think of a way out of this. You weren’t lying when you said you had somewhere to hide it in your place but you couldn’t just give it up that easily. 

You entered the building and walked up the stairs, then down the hall to your door. Fumbling with your keys, you tried to give yourself more time to think, but he caught on quickly. 

“Stall all you want but you have less than an hour before you time out so I wouldn’t recommend it.” 

“How do I know you’re not just going to leave me with this anyway?” You spat, turning around to face him. 

“Because unlike you, I’m not a liar.” He countered and you tried to maintain eye contact— to not give in. But after only a few seconds, you clenched your jaw and turned back around to open the door. 

“I need to go to the bathroom.” You said, setting your keys down on the counter as he scoffed a laugh. 

“Sure. After you give me what I came here for.” 

“I need to go now.” 

“Then you better hurry up.” Your teeth grinded together painfully as you glared at him, but all he did was raise his brows, waiting. 

“Fine.” You opened a drawer in the kitchen and grabbed a screwdriver, then walked to your room as he followed, carefully watching you. You eyed the messy space and gave him an annoyed look. “They could’ve at least put everything back instead of completely trashing my room.” He didn’t respond. Just waited by the door impatiently. 

You walked over to the nightstand and picked up the alarm clock to unscrew the back. You only bought this clock a couple weeks ago for the sole purpose of hiding the time capsule since you knew they’d search your apartment. 

Reluctantly, you took it out and set the clock back on the side table. He walked closer and held his hand out, but you hesitated. Despite the fact that you’ve been obsessively anxious and vigilant for the past couple weeks, they’ve been the most relaxing weeks of your entire adult life. You weren’t always hours from death, you didn’t have to overwork yourself to the point of considering just laying in bed and letting yourself time out. 

“Please.” You said quietly, looking up at him. “Please… Can’t you just- say I got away? Or that someone stole it from me?” You begged, grip tightening on the capsule.  

“No.” Your face fell from just that one word. Even if he gave you back the ten hours, you’d still be dead before you could find work. You looked around the room, gauging how close you were to the door or window and if you’d have a chance. “Don’t do something stupid. You’ll only make this worse for yourself.” You turned back to him, eyes starting to burn with tears once again. 

Impulsively, you decided to take your chances and go for the window since it was already open. You barely made it a foot away from it before a gun was going off, making you jump and squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the pain you were sure you’d feel. When you opened your eyes, you saw a new hole in the wall in front of you, only inches to the left of your head. 

“Fine!” You yelled, voice breaking. Turning around, you threw the capsule at him and he caught it effortlessly. “Just fucking leave. I don’t want the time back.” You knew you probably only had half an hour left, but you felt completely and utterly defeated and exhausted.  

“We’re not done yet.” 

“I gave you what you wanted.” 

“You still broke the law. Numerous times.” 

“Seriously?” He just stared at you. “Fine. I’ll time out there instead.” When you walked passed him toward the door, he grabbed your wrist, making you freeze. 

“Not yet.” He said, then after a few seconds, released your arm that now showed two hours. “Let’s go.” Your gaze shifted between his hands, one with the gun and one with the time capsule. You knew you had to try something before you got in the car because after that you’d have no chance. 

“Remember what I said about doing something stupid?” Your eyes snapped up to his. 

“What so I’m just supposed to willingly fucking kill or incarcerate myself by going with you?” 

“Yes.” He all but shrugged, making your gaze harden. Eventually you just huffed and walked out of your room to the front door as he trailed behind you. 

The walk back to his car was silent and while you tried to walk slowly, every once in a while he’d nudge your back with the gun, warning you. When you rounded the corner only a block away from his car, you recognized the man across the street. 

You met him a few days ago. He was on 20 minutes, frantically begging on goers for any type of job they’d be willing to give. So you gave him a day. He seemed to recognize you too, then noticed the timekeeper behind you. He looked the other direction, spotting the black car a little ways down, and seemed to understand what was happening. Pulling his hood up, he started walking in the opposite direction you came from, then crossed the street so he was behind you. 

You heard a loud step, then turned around to find the timekeeper catching his balance before turning around to see who had pushed him. You reached for the gun and since he was distracted by your savior, you managed to take it from his loose grip, making him turn back to face you. His eyes quickly changed from shocked, to completely fucking pissed. You took a couple steps back and pointed it at him, watching the other man run away. 

“Give me the capsule.” You said, gaze shifting to his hand for half a second before looking at his face again. When he took a step forward, you took one back and adjusted your grip on the gun. “Set it on the ground and kick it to me.” You urged. 

“No.” 

“Excuse me?” You asked, brows shooting up. 

“If you want it, you’re going to have to kill me.” 

“Please just give it to me.” You begged, knowing you didn’t have what it takes to do that. Slightly lowering the gun, but still keeping your guard up, you stared into hard, unforgiving eyes. He was suddenly rushing toward you, and it all happened so fast that you don’t even know what you did, but one second he was moving forward, the next he was on the floor. You could see blood pooling in the pavement and you almost gagged at the sight of the hole in his leg. 

“Oh my god— oh my god, I- I didn’t…” You quickly threw the gun as if it had burned you and kneeled down next to him, anxiously looking between his pained expression and the wound that was gushing so much blood it almost made you throw up. “Are you okay?” 

“Are you fucking kidding?” He hissed, making you flinch. 

“Sorry— I’m sorry.” He stared at his leg for a second before growling and discarding the time capsule on the floor so he could put pressure on his leg. “Where’s your phone?” You reached for his coat pocket, making him flinch back. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” He spat. 

“You need to call someone or you’ll bleed out!” How is it possible that you’re more panicked than he is right now? He seemed to understand his options though. 

“Fine.” You reached in his pocket and took out his phone to call 911, making sure to specify that it was a timekeeper that needed help so that they didn’t take their time. You don’t know why you did that for him though. He was about to arrest you for god's sake. After hanging up, you put it back in his pocket then reached for the time capsule, making sure to stay out of arm's reach. You gave yourself three days, then set it down next to him. 

“I’m sorry for shooting you. I honestly didn’t mean to.” He gave you a look of almost disbelief and irritation at the fact that you’d said something like that. 

“You’re not running?” He asked, breathing getting more and more labored. 

“I’m waiting until I hear the siren.” 

“Why?”

“Because I shot you and I feel bad.” You said sheepishly, making him scoff. 

“After all this time, you care enough to make sure I don’t bleed out?” He snarked. 

“Would you rather I go?” You asked, gaze still nervously moving between his eyes and his leg. He let out a quiet huff and rolled his eyes. “Please don’t try to find me again.” You begged. 

“You shot a timekeeper. You’ll be lucky if the order isn’t to shoot on sight.”

“Please.” You whispered urgently. 

“I don’t have any control over that. But even if I did, I’m not going to stop.”

“Please, Raymond.” Your head snapped up at the sound of sirens quickly growing closer. Before you stood, you grabbed the gun just in case. “Please.”

“Run all you want. I’ll find you eventually.”

Part 2

#raymond leon smut #raymond leon x reader #raymond leon #in time #cillian murphy

[callmegaith]

The only thing ineffable bureaucracy showed me is how hyper focused this fanbase is at seeing one thing and one thing only and everything else is a result of that one thing

1) no, Beelzebub and Gabriel are not a straight couple. Nor is Crowley and Aziraphale a gay couple. Stop the non-binary erasure or go outside and talk to an actual non-binary person cuz clearly you have no clue what non-binary is "they're straight presenting" wtf? If you think that please give me your name so I can block you. Cis people, I fucking swear.

Reminder that Beelz used they/them pronouns btw. Sorry that Beelzebub doesn't "pass" for you, it doesn't make them any less non-binary. Not to mention it was stated and already IS CANON that none of them have genders. They're god damn demons and angels, bruh.

2) "it's Gabriel's and Beelz's fault that ineffable husbands didn't get their happy ending": no. It's their own damn fault for not communicating and Aziraphale's inability to accept Crowley as he is. Gabriel and Beelzebub put each other first. Y'all sound salty as hell cuz two people managed to work their relationship out and yours didn't work out. "But if they didn't get together---" y'all really saying shit like this??? Do you hear yourself? That's so sad. Wishing for the doom of one LGBTQ+ ship cuz the other fucked themselves over. THEY CAN BOTH CO-EXIST. And you know what? They will. Cuz Ineffable husbands is clearly canon, the story just wants time with them cuz they're the main characters, not like Beelz and Gabriel who were side characters so had their story summarized.

3) "that should have been ineffable husbands" no, cuz Crowley and Aziraphale aren't Gabriel and Beelzebub. They're different characters with different backgrounds, personalities, relationship structure, and different relationship dynamic in general. They'll get together in a way that fits THEM. And that way requires ups and downs that makes them finally understand that they're perfect for each other without the need for either of them to change.

4) Gabriel was such an asshole wish Crowley got his revenge and--- bla bla BLA : Crowley was happy for them. You hold a grudge over Gabriel that Crowley himself doesn't. Y'all worse than a literal demon. Smh.

Be happy for what we got and look forward to the future where ineffable husbands will certainly become canon and it'll be worth the wait. Don't tear down the LGBTQ+ presentation we got just cuz the main ship didn't get the limelight THIS TIME.

Let things cook, that's how writing WORKS.

But I'm just an Agender demi person and tbh? I would prefer if things took their time.

I love both ships a lot but I'm not gonna hold pitchforks over one ship getting a happy end and one still developing. Come next season, that happy end for Gaberiel and Beelzebub might not last. We DONT KNOW. Do we really need to sacrifice one for the other? Why can't we be happy to have both?

Just really think the vibe of the fanbase rn fuckin SUCKS and I'm not enjoying trying to go through the ineffable bureaucracy tag and seeing people complaining about how it should have been ineffable husbands or how it's their fault.

Okay? Alright.

After this imma start blocking ppl I swear. Just had to throw in my two cents.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable bureaucracy

[astermath]

unexpected guest *ੈ✩‧

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve isn’t too pleased when you come home with a stray kitten. money is tight, you’re both working full time, and he was never too fond of cats to begin with. somehow, you manage to convince him to keep it anyways.

word count: 1.7K

tags: established relationship, steve and reader are living together in Indianapolis, normal sized font below the cut!

notes: been a little unmotivated recently but nothing motivates me like imagining steve harrington holding a cute animal tbh. he always struck me as a dog type, but I feel like he’d enjoy cats too. thanks to @inkluvs for helping me decide on a title and rambling with me &lt;3

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further steve harrington related content! requests are open!

The pitter patter of heavy rain made for an eerie symphony outside the apartment you shared with Steve. The air is foggy, humid, and it usually wouldn't make him feel this unsettled. No, in fact, he quite likes the rain. When he's inside at least, cuddled up with you on the couch to inevitably watch whatever you wanted on the TV.

But the apartment is empty, at an hour when it normally shouldn't be. Steve's eyes find the faint red glow of the oven's clock; you should have been home an hour ago. Worry settles in his stomach at the thought of all the reasons you could possibly be late. Maybe you were stuck somewhere, kidnapped, or worse.

His socked feet tread along your hardwood floor, pacing with his lip caught under his teeth. Steve knows you’re a capable woman who can handle herself, but you’re never late. He knows you’re always getting home as fast as you can, having missed him and your lovely apartment all day.

He's already reaching for the phone to call you when he hears the familiar jingle of your keys behind the door. A feeling of intense relief washes over him when you open the door and he's met with your beautiful appearance. Wet, messy, and disheveled, but beautiful.

He wastes no time, strong arms winding around you as soon as your coat is off, face buried in your soaked hair.

You chuckle, awkwardly shuffling one of your arms from in between the embrace to rub over his back.

"You're late." He mumbles into the crown of your head, before pressing a kiss into it.

"I know, I'm sorry, I just got really held up at work."

Steve frowns at your excuse. Your boss is really nice, and you're usually never back late. Plus, it's a Tuesday, the café you work at couldn't have been that busy, right?

That's when he notices your other hand, clutching a bag filled with what at first glance seems like random stuff and a blanket.

"Whatcha got there, hm?" He pulls away slightly, head tilting to motion to your mystery bag.

"Oh, nothing," you try your best at a convincing smile, "just some leftovers from work." You swallow, and when you meet your boyfriend's eyes he's giving you that look. It's the same one he gives you when you ate the last bit of ice cream, or when you try to get out of running errands. You suck at lying, you're both well aware of that.

The silence is broken when a soft, squeaky noise erupts from the bag. Your feeble attempt at covering it up with a forced cough is apparently not enough, because Steve is now reaching for the bag, wanting to see for himself what you'd brought in with you.

"N-No, Steve!" You pull your arm away, careful not to shuffle the bag around too much. Whatever was inside was probably fragile, he thought. "It's a, uhm... It's a-- a surprise!" You try to sneak past him to head to your bedroom, but he stops you by wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

"Honey," he leans his head down so his lips are close to your ear. If you weren't so focused on covering up what was in the bag, you were sure your knees would have buckled at the sound of his sultry voice, "you're gonna tell me what's in the bag, alright?"

Your shoulders drop slightly, a defeated sigh emitting from you as you turn around. "Will you promise not to get mad?"

"Sugar..." His brows furrow, already worried about what's it going to be.

"I'm serious," you look up at him with puppy eyes, "promise?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He could never deny you anything when you were looking at him like that. "Fine, promise. Just-- Just show me, alright?"

You crouch down, taking off the blanket that was pretty much drenched from the rain to reveal a box. You're really careful, hands a little shaky, and Steve's curiosity grows by the second.

Finally, you open up the box. He has to squint for a moment, not sure what he's seeing exactly, so he crouches down across you to have a better look.

In the corner of the box is a tiny lump of black fur, mewling surprisingly loud for its small size. Its blue eyes are almost entirely overtaken by the size of its pupils, and it's shaking a little from what he can only assume to be the cold.

"Baby, where did you--"

"Side of the road." You reached out to run a single finger under the kitten's chin, and it wobbles a little from the contact. It couldn't be more than a few weeks old. "It was all alone, sopping wet and shivering." You sniffle, and Steve's heart nearly shatters at the sight of you tearing up over it.

"It probably wouldn't have survived if I didn't do anything," a stray tear rolls down your cheek, "so I took it to the vet for an emergency checkup, got some wet cat food, and-- I don't know, I just... Look at it, Stevie."

The small feline stares at him, not scared, just curious as to who this large creature in front of it is. Steve frowns, resisting the urge to pet it before he starts to grow an actual attachment to it.

"Honey, you know we can't keep it..."

"Why not?" You sound hurt, but you know all the reasons why. First of all, Steve doesn't even like cats. He's always been a dog person, wanting to live out his six children fantasy with a golden retriever as a pet one day. Second of all, money is tight. You both work your asses off trying to save up for a better place someday, an actual house, and a pet can bring a lot of unforeseen costs with it. Yet something in you remains hopeful. That something is also aware of the effect you have on your boyfriend, and how convincing you can be.

He gives you a thin lipped smile in an attempt to comfort you, but you're not meeting his eyes. You're too focused on the little blessing in front of you, that you've already secretly named; Olive.

Steve tries to lean in and hug you, but suddenly, the kitten jumps out of the box and onto his lap. He feels its little baby claws go straight through the fabric of his sweatpants, wincing slightly at the feeling as he attempts to capture the little rascal in his hands. To no avail, as little Olive keeps climbing up his lap and onto his sweatshirt. It's surprisingly fast, for how tiny it is.

"H-Hey, come on now, this is my favorite sweater! You're puttin' holes in it you little demon!" Steve seems a little frazzled, not sure how to delicately handle an animal this small. It seems so tiny and fragile, yet it’s jumping around like it’s Spider-man or something.

You watch as your boyfriend continuously tries to remove the kitten from clawing at his sweater, and though you’re trying to be serious about convincing him and all that, it’s kind of hard when you’re looking at just about the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. You’re already so weak for the sight of Steve by himself, let alone accompanied by an adorable little cat.

Eventually he gets a hold of Olive, holding her up with his hands as it tries to gnaw at his fingers. “Oh you’re totally staying in air jail now young lady.” He glances over at you. “She’s a girl cat right?”

You nod, and he can tell you’re holding back your laugh.

“What?”

You snort. “Nothing, just— for someone who doesn’t want a cat, you already seem pretty attached.”

“Wha— I— Ow!” he winces when Olive starts digging her sharp little fangs into his thumb. He doesn’t let go of her though, still holding her up with a gentle grip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m just— disciplining her for the next person to get her.”

“Mhm, totally.” You grin, reaching out to pet the little black lump of fur he’s holding. She seems to respond much calmer to your touch. “Maybe… You wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of fostering her then?” You look up with those same puppy eyes again, and Steve thinks this is probably the deadliest combo he’s ever witnessed. Not only does he have to deal with your pleading gaze, but it’s now accompanied by the cutest little animal too. He’s only human, after all.

He sighs, carefully setting Olive back down into her box. He just looks at her for a second, surprised at how full of life she is. He always thought cats were lazy and indifferent to their surroundings, but this little one was practically bouncing off the walls.

“No—“ he starts.

“But Stevie!”

“Uh uh uh!” he holds up a finger, halting your sounds of protest. “You didn’t let me finish, sugar.”

You huff, rolling your eyes.

“I was gonna say, no,” he reaches out a single finger to scratch under Olive’s chin, “because I have a feeling we’re just going to keep her anyways.” His eyes return to yours, and he can see the hopeful glint in your expression. “You really like her, don’t you?”

You nod, smiling warmly. “Do you?”

“Well,” he wiggles finger, watching how she tries to play with it, “maybe she’s growing on me a little.”

“You love her.” You grin.

“Well, what can I say, I got a lot of love to give.” He reaches out his arm to pull you close, wrapping around your shoulder and planting a kiss on your head. You both just sit there on the floor for a while, playing with your newfound pet until she gets all tuckered out.

“You know,” you speak softly, not wanting to wake her up, “I’m really glad you agreed to keep her.”

Steve smiles, eyes still watching Olive sleep so peacefully. The contrast to her previous hyper activeness is stark. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Well,” You leaned your head against his shoulder. “I have a feeling she’s going to fit in here well. Like a little family.”

His heart swells with warmth at the word ‘family’. You know that means a lot to him, and in a way, he agrees. It’s a great first step to building something more akin to a home.

“And… Maybe I already got her chipped and registered at the vet before I got here.”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course you did.”

“Love you.” you chuckle, knowing he’s going to forgive you for your impulsiveness either way.

He kisses your head once more. “Love you too.”

tag list <3

@palmtreesx3

#stevemath #aster writes stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fan fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington writing #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fluff #domestic steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x fem #joe keery imagine

[weskin-time]

listen, i'm throwing this request in here because we frankly don't get enough of this in the x reader tag, character x injured/sick!reader. it doesn't even have to be anything super angsty if you don't want it to be. like i just want the fluff of an overwatch character fretting over reader with a sprained ankle lmao

(any characters are okay tbh, write for whoever you have ideas for!)

Hello anon!! i hope this works for you! i had a lot of fun writing this and i might make more later on. >:3

please give me more OW requests. mm brain rot <3

TBH i don’t really like genjis one i might rewrite it later on so keep an eye out for a post

D.Va, Genji, Ramattra X GN!Hurt/Sick!Reader

Not beta read

cw- injury, pain,

Hana “D.Va” Song

gaming with your girlfriend was almost mandatory as you started your relationship

you were fine with that, in fact you were happy to join in her streams and hang out with D.Va and finish to get some quiet time with Hana.

But. you two played different types of games.

You loved character driven story games, open worlds and side quests

and she was a world champion, mmorpgs, real time strategy games, fast paced games you never really tried

But she asked one day if you wanted to play LOL with her on stream you said yes of course

but wow was it a learning curve, and a new thing you had to adapt to. fast paced clicking and key mashing hurt your fingers and wrists.

you have no idea how Hana doesn’t have wrist problems worse then she does if you just played for a few days and your pointer finger felt stuck and pain would throb in your forearms.

Hana ended stream that night and took a breath to regain her self. You were chilling in the same room as her, her set up more impressive than yours as you turned off your own PC and turned your chair to face her.

Getting up from your semi uncomfortable office chair you walked over to her as she stretched, you went to grab her water bottle to refill it for her but as soon as your hand grabbed the bottle pain shot through your forearm and wrist making you involuntarily wince.

Her eyes shot to you in worry before she completely understood what happened, “Aww I hope i didn’t push you too hard that last round.”

You chuckled and shook out your arms, it really didn’t do much. “It’s hard to keep up with you in these games Ms Professional ESports World Champion.”

It was her turn to laugh, “Get good.” She got up and grabbed the bottle herself and shut down her PC. “You good though? Got Gamers wrist?”

“Up my forearms and everything, clicking finger is sore too.” You flex your fingers trying to get the stiff feeling out.

“Didn’t you used to play a religious amount of Cookie Clicker back in the day, without auto clicker?” She points out as you follow her out of y’all’s gaming room and to the kitchen.

You have a scoff, “My child self didn’t know what that was, i was rich on cookies. And it didn’t hurt all this bad.” You rested against the island.

She paused by the fridge, filling her bottle up with the water. “I have some extra wrist braces if you’d like, they work wonders.”

“Please.” Your response came instantly before you could even process the last part of her sentence. It made her snort with how desperate you sounded and she almost overflowed her bottle.

“Come here, give me your arms.” She turned around and leaned against the other side of the island in front of you.

You did and held out your forearms to her with a confused look.

She wrapped her hands around for forearms and began to squeeze them, massaging them firmly, perfectly in the place where it hurt the most. A whine left your throat at the feeling of sore pain meeting soft comforting pain. Her fingers dug into the meat gently as she circled the muscle, slowly making her way down to your wrists where she provided the same treatment. Your head rested on the island counter as you slumped over, heaven was in her hands.

“Thank you Hana.”

“You’re welcome bunny.”

——————————————————————

Genji Shimada

sleep deprivation sucked.

2-3 hours a night was all you were going off of. it wasn’t enough to keep your brain healthy or your body.

constant headaches, unfocused eyes, micro sleep, confusion, it all was ass

but there was nothing you could do in the moment to fix it, you just kept staying awake at night to either game or finish work projects and paperwork.

sickness sometimes finds you when you’re like this, nauseous from lack of sleep, headaches making your eyes hurt.

you tried your best to fight back the sleep that demanded itself, but failed.

Genji was silent in his approach to your desk, you knew he was there, you could sense him.

Your laptop was too bright, your eyes were unfocused and you could barely feel yourself slowly lean forward to the desks surface. A hand on your shoulder wakes you up enough to realize you were holding down a single key on your keyboard and the open document on your screen now had a long line of Vs.

“Hiya Genji.” you slur almost, as you closed your eyes only for the entire world to pulse around you, sounds were too sharp and too dull at the same time, breathing in and out seemed to take all your strength, but your strength was elsewhere trying to fight off sleep.

“You don’t look too good.” He stated flatly, his helmet off as he rested in comfortable clothing.

You glance up to see him, eyes focusing on his face, “Thanks.” was all you had the energy to respond with.

He looked at your laptop, reading what you were writing but telling by his confused and concerned face you think you just wrote gibberish that your brain thought sounded like a normal sentence.

“How long have you been awake?” His voice dripping with concern but his voice buzzed in your ears and bounced around your head for a second before you could process what he said.

“I’ve had 5 hours of sleep this week.” You yawn and look away from his wide eyed expression.

It was Saturday. 11pm.

Your body didn’t have enough energy to even move it felt like.

“Okay,” he dragged out the word and closed your laptop. “Let’s get you to bed yea?” The way he said it made you know there was no changing his mind.

You didn’t want to admit you needed sleep but at the same time your head was throbbing and the thought of cuddling with your Genji was enough to perk you up more.

You mumbled out an okay before trying to stand on wobbly knees, your body feeling light yet heavy at the same time. A flesh hand came to steady you and hold you before you heard a sigh and suddenly you were swept off your feet and being carried to the bedroom.

“You need to take better care of yourself.” Concern laced his words as he placed you on the bed carefully.

“I know I know,” you made a grabby hand motion at him and he smiles, soon making his way to the bed as well, cuddling up beside you. You used his still flesh side as a pillow as he laid on his back. “I’m sorry Genji.”

He ran fingers along your scalp, scratching softly, putting you in a trance. “I know you don’t do field work anymore but you still need to rest.”

“I will, I will.” Was all you could mumble out before almost instantly falling asleep. the last thing you felt was his lips against your forehead.

The next morning Genji barley let you leave the bedroom after you slept for nearly 14 hours. He made you food and sat and ate with you in the bed while the two of you watched Cowboy Bebop. Your work could wait till monday, you just wanted to enjoy the last day of the weekend resting with him.

—————————————————————

Ramattra

you were out for a walk with Ramattra

the spring air buzzed with life as you two passed by trees, bird song filling silence, bees resting on flowers as they bumbled their fat little bodies around

it was a nice walk, one to clear your mind and his systems, just to think and be together

you didn’t see a tree root and you fell and ate dirt, twisting your ankle

“oh ow ow ow ow ow.” you let out a string of curses from behind clenched teeth.

Your ankle throbbed, it felt warm and tingly at the same time, pain shooting through your foot and up your shin. You do what your dumb brain tells you to and you roll it to make sure it’s not broken, thankfully it isn’t but the pain takes the air from your lungs with a sharp gasp.

Ramattra stared down at you on the ground, unmoving as he studied you. He watched as you tried to get back up with only the use of one leg, holding onto a tree for support as you stood with your leg raised like a dog that’s paw got stepped on.

“Fragile things you humans are. You tripped and now you can’t stand?” His voice wasn’t as harsh as it once was many moons ago, but he still said it with some form of exasperation.

You set your foot on the ground, testing it and instantly regretting it as pain erupts again.

You ignore his comment, “Oh gods I don’t know if i can walk back.”

“Weakling.” He said but held out his arm for you to take. There was no malice in his vocal synthesizers.

You did, leaning against him. Thanking him as you both turned around and took a step to head back to base. As you tried to put weight on your ankle you winced and let out a hiss.

“I really fucked myself up good.” You laugh a little as you stare down at your feet.

“Do you need me to carry you?” His voice buzzed with slight concern, you wouldn’t have noticed it unless you had spent enough time with the Omnic, and you have.

You look up at him with a smirk, a look that pokes him, “You goin soft on me Ram?”

He tenses a tiny tiny bit more than he already was, “No!” He said a bit too quickly. “It would take us ages to get back with your condition and I am not going to wait on you. It would be faster for me to carry you there. Simple.”

You ponder for a second, before nodding your head. Why would you ever give up the opportunity to be carried by this giant?

Ramattra let’s out a fake sigh and grabs you by the midsection, lifting you up and placing your butt on his right shoulder. You were expecting to be carried in his arms but sitting on his shoulder was way more fun already. You felt like a bird resting on his broad shoulders.

“Thanks, you big softie.” You pat his head to make your point.

He moves his right arm to hold your hips, keeping you stable and you use his arm as a grip. “I’m not doing this for you.” He grumbled but the way he made sure you weren’t going to fall off said otherwise.

He waited for you to give the word and he started to make his way back, you on his shoulder and enjoying being really tall.

#tezi post #ask! #overwatch x reader #overwatch #overwatch imagine #dva #hana song #ramattra #genji #genji shimada #dva overwatch #overwatch 2 #genji shimada overwatch #genji overwatch #ramattra overwatch #genji x reader #genji shimada x reader #ramattra x reader #dva x reader #hana song x reader

[luneariaa]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

DEEPLY INHALES

Young nanami giving words of affirmation please please please

hiii OMG this took me quite a bit to decide on how and what to do tbh,, but anyway, you and young nanamin will be in a relationship here!! (o´▽`o) 💛💛💛

he might appear as ooc here omg but anyway hoping you enjoy this dear anon!! (ᵔ◡ᵔ) 💕💕‼ also, mentions of reader having insecurities etc. totally not projecting-

idk what i wrote either :")

tagging @jadeee <33 || dividers by @/cafekitsune ! 🌻

In all honesty, you never really knew the feeling of being deeply loved by someone. You never consider yourself as worthy and deserving of such a special treatment.

That changes when you meet Kento Nanami, of course. It started when you got transferred to Jujutsu High to try improving yourself both academically and wanting to become a jujutsu sorcerer yourself; even when your mother was against it at first, but eventually supporting your decisions.

You don't know how, but it has gotten you two in a very special relationship as right now too.

Nanami surely may appear as a man of a few words, yet he still makes a clear effort for you. He would always, and always, try his best to be there for you. It's one of his traits that you adored so much.

But despite everything, the insecurities and doubt still existed within you; not really knowing on how to possibly get rid of such feelings. You couldn't help yourself, which causes your mind to sometimes make you anxious, and rethinking the same thought over and over again.

Today is just one of those days, and you don't have the courage to confide your problems to him-- afraid of burdening him with your mere thoughts. So, you decided to just try to ease your mind by settling yourself on the couch after turning the TV on, since it's the weekends after all.

And of course, while your eyes are on the TV, you aren't focusing a word from it at all.

Though, not too long after, the sounds of feet approaching can be heard, yet you didn't even spare any glance at the source of sound because you fully know on who it is, taking a seat next to you on the available space of the couch. One of his hands reached for your shoulder and give it a comforting squeeze.

He doesn't even need to ask much judging by your facial expressions alone. He knows; he knows that something is bothering you. The slight slump of your shoulders has given it more away too.

"Did anything happen?"

Nanami tries to ask in a very delicate manner, yet understanding if you're not ready to tell him about it. The concern is evident at this point, and it made you feel guilty in a way.

"No, nothing happened," you shake your head with your gaze lowering. "It's just one of those days-- or just me, I guess."

You genuinely didn't know on how to talk to him regarding matters as such. But the thought of potentially ignoring him and pretending that you're alright makes it pretty worse than it actually is.

But of course, it wasn't enough to convince him, clearly knowing that there's something that you're hiding on. Upon noticing on how you didn't even look at him, Nanami gently uses his fingers; tipping your chin up so that you're facing him now.

"Are you sure?" It might seem a simple question; meant to be asked by anyone when one doesn't believe the other, but this one has a hint of genuine care and concern lacing his voice. He doesn't believe you.

Those three words are enough to make you completely go silent for a solid few minutes, before finally giving in, knowing that he's not going to give up on the matter.

"I mean it. It's just-- my thoughts, they're quite a mess right now, and I don't even know what to actually say.."

"Was it because of the exam?"

"Well, that's a part of it." You chuckled lightly, but your inner turmoil hasn't even subsided yet. "It's kinda ridiculous though.."

"I don't care if it seems ridiculous or not," Nanami still maintains his voice in a soft way, never intending to raise his voice or even using any harsh words. "If anything, I would be glad to listen to any of your problems."

Even if it's a minor thing from the past or so, he would always lend you an ear whenever you needed to talk to him.

You gradually released your breath that you didn't realize you've been holding on, adjusting your posture a bit before finally deciding to answer him.

"You know, sometimes.. I can't help but to wonder; am I a good lover to you? I know that both of us are still young, but.."

You begin to fiddle your fingers out of nervousness that's slowly building up within you.

"I'm scared if I ever mess things up."

The blonde-haired male ponders over your confession for a bit, before he moves himself closer to you-- taking ahold of your shoulders, and made you look at him so you two are now face to face properly.

He tells you understandingly and calmly, "A good lover isn't perfect."

"Just so you know; we all have our own imperfections, even I do. I have flaws, yet you accepted as who I am, and as I do to you. You never once judged me, and I forever will be grateful for your existence."

"No one is perfect, after all. It's simply impossible to meet someone with such qualities. It would be highly unrealistic, and I hope you do realize that."

By this point, your eyes shifted upwards to meet his own, yet you couldn't find any traces of irritation or even lies as he tells you those words. It feels pure and genuine, clearly coming straight from what lies within his heart alone.

When he acknowledges the look you gave him, a small, yet content smile is present; partly as a sign of reassurance, that he only saves it for you. His hands didn't even leave your form either, determined on making you believe on each of his words. He doesn't want you to doubt him, because everything he says is the mere truth, not just something that you wanted to hear.

"You are already a great partner for me, so don't ever doubt yourself anymore." No matter how many times, he would gladly repeat those words for you. Because you mean a lot to him.

Who would've thought that someone like Nanami to ever speak out such sweet words to anyone; to you? An absolute sweetheart, you were rendered speechless for a while there after he finished speaking, affecting your whole being in the best ways possible.

And it almost made you feel foolish to ever have shown that you doubt yourself for it, when all he feels is genuine love and care for you.

Once the realization really hits you, your cheeks is slowly becoming more pinkish, finally able to absorb his words to your heart and mind; taking your time to understand it deeply in the process. He's really that one guy; one who simply doesn't leave you over something that could be deemed as ridiculous.

"You truly mean it..?"

"With every fibre of my being, I do." You didn't even realize that your eyes have gotten teary, feeling a little emotional over this whole situation. He knows that you two could make it through this relationship, with proper care and effort from one another.

It's not something he would easily admit to someone, which makes it even more special to you. One of his hands now moved up towards your cheek, and the other around your waist as he tenderly brushes away the tears that managed to escape from you.

"You mean a lot to me, even if I didn't show it that often."

You didn't even realize that you may or may not have been bottling up your emotions over your silent thoughts, which makes it more evident when he pulls you into a warm embrace; all while whispering some comforting words to you.

"Hey, it's alright, okay? It's alright, I got you." Is one of what he said while rubbing circles on your back-- the embrace position still stays.

"I know and I'm aware that I might not appear as the most openly affectionate person-- barely saying the words, 'I love you', or anything along the lines to you at times.."

"But remember my words, alright? I do care about you, so much than I did about myself. I love you too much, you're everything to me. Please don't ever forget that."

@luneariaa. do not repost; reblogs are alright. all rights reserved.

#aria's post 𖥔 ݁ ˖ #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kento nanami #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami x you #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x you #jujutsu nanami #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

[monimccoythings]

Bad Pick up Lines

I'm facing writer's block in this Bowser x reader so for now we are getting this T.T but I wanted to pull something after leaving it with a cliffhanger. I really love my Bowser x reader series hopefully I'll get to continue it some day.

`Previous Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4

tags: @loveforfandomsstuff @harpy-space (Please tell me if I'm forgetting someone, unfortunately I'm very dumb and forgetful)

Your head hurt, just like a nasty New Years Eve hangover. What happened?? The last things you remembered was a blast, a lot of fire and smoke and then...

Oh no.

You immediately opened your eyes. You were inside a darker and grittier castle, certainly not the Disney Princess vibe Peach had going on. What the fuck.

This couldn't be happening. You were dreaming. You had inhaled too much smoke and were in a coma at the ER. There was no way this was Bowser's castle.

He seemed to like the Middle Ages dark castle style, whelp at least the bed was cofortable. Still, you didn't want to stay longer than you needed to. If everything that had been told about your ex cutie patootie was true, which you were sure it was. What awaited you inside this walls was something worse than death.

Fuck, you had treated him like a pet, you had babie talked him, dressed him up, fed him apple slices and combed his luxurious red mane!! You would do all of that again given the chance tbh. It was worth it.

Escaping seemed impossible, the room you were in was too high; and the doors, though more obvious, were too heavy for you to move, whoever put you in there (Bowser) wanted to make sure you didn't get out.

You felt sick, even if you haven't had anything to eat since that morning. Was this how it ended?? With you dying because once you called the turtle equivalent of Genghis Khan 'chimken nugget'.

You heard thundering steps approaching your room. Big man was coming. There was no place for you to hide. Better face death with dignity.

The door opened and the King of Koopas himself came in. Woah. He was even bigger than you remembered, las time it was too smokey for you to see clearly, but boy did you see know his might and glory. I you put it him in your lap now the weight of his head alone could easily break your legs.

Your eyes quickly diverted towards his face, and noted that he looked anything but murderous. He had this weirdly dilated puppy eyes like the Puss in Boots in Shrek 2, his hair had been sliced back, and he was wearing a purple bowtie. Given his actual size, it wasn't as cute as he thought he would look. Still, you swallowed down the urge to laugh at the randomness of it all.

"Did you sleep well?" Wow, his voice was even more thunderous than last time, and now that it wasn't high pitched, it actually sounded kinda nice and fitting, but you couldn't let your guard down.

"Yeah?" You weren't sure where he was going with this. Bowser raised one eyebrow in confusion "Are you asking me?" "No?" God this was going to be a bloody mess.

Bowser, for a behemoth of his size and mass, looked kinda sheepish. It would be endearing if he didn't tower over you and could't crush you with a single hand.

"You-you know, it was quite helpful my bed was there..." He looked at something scribbled in his hand, squinting his eyes. "... for when you hell-fell! from Heaven..."

You snorted a bit, you couldn't help it, that was the worst pick up line you had ever heard. The tension dissipated from your body, only to return with full force when you realised that he may take offense in you laughing. You quickly clasped your hands over your mouth a blush colouring your cheeks.

Apparently he took it as you blushing with delight, because he shyly scratched the back of his head. It was cuteness oversized. For a second you saw your little buddy again, enjoying your pets, gradually warming up to you, and quietly listening when you rambled about everything that crossed your mind.

"Ha... that was a good one..." You managed to say. "I actually have like, so many more." He seemed happy that you had liked it. Oh you actually wanted to hear them all.

They did not disappoint, each one of them was as good (or bad) as the first one he had told. So cheesy. You felt more eased in his presence the more pick up lines he told, at certain point you felt like back at Peach's castle, but the sizes had been reversed. If you made a huge effort to look past the numerous atrocities he certainly had comitted, you could see that he was just lonely.

"Hey, wanna hear my pick up line?" For a second, he looked shocked. Nobody had ever told him a pick up line before. You cleared your throat, hoping it was as fun as it was to you. "So... Are you into the bad types? Because I am bad at everything."

His eyes shone with mirth, glad your audience loved your terrible sense of humour. You smiled at him and he smiled back. Peach had warned you due to previous experiences that once Bowser got a hold of someone he very rarely let them escape their grasp.

It seemed that Bowser had now moved his fixation towards you. Maybe you were not ready to jump into marriage immediately, and maybe you needed to return home to your job and duties. However, you wouldn't mind exchanging phone numbers... That could be a good start.

#bowser #bowser x reader #super mario bros movie #mario movie #bowser x y/n #bowser x you

[freshbakedbreadstick]

No. 1 Party Anthem - Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader - Chapter One

Past!Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

Carmy Berzatto x F!Platonic!Reader

Richie Herimovich x F!Platonic!Reader

Summary: You finally grab the bear by its ears and face it head on, despite all the unanswered questions. 

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. Heavy spoilers. Mentions of self harm, grief, death, mental health issues, strained relationships, smoking.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: OMG thank you all for all the kind words and love ! ! ! I'm gonna b honest with you all, after i posted the prologue I completely logged out of my account for the week LOL I was SO nervous abt it and so I just left it alone 😭 but I'm back with the first official chapter ! Also, I am opening the taglist for this series, so please let me know if you want to be tagged ! Thank you to one of you lovely readers for asking about that ❤️ your comment was very appreciate bc tbh I completely forgot abt even considering making one 💀 thank u babes ily and I hope you all enjoy !!!

Taglist: @marysucks-blog

PROLOGUE / MASTERLIST

The rumble and honk of a car driving quickly down the street took you out of your thoughts. 

Here you were, once again, on the sidewalk and across the street from The Beef. This time, it was not some odd hour of the night but rather 4 o'clock in the evening. 

After tossing and turning all night long, you rose early that morning much to the insistence of your mom and dad, who were very much eager to get you to reunite with Natalie, with bags under your eyes and stiff joints. You trudged around the house, jumping at every small noise that somewhat resembled the notification sound of your phone, before finally giving up and plopping down on the sofa to send Sugar a text. 

'Hi Sugar, it's me. Nice to talk to you again. I'll swing by The Beef at around 4 if that's okay with you.' 

About 5 minutes later, a loud buzz made you drop a glass of water to the floor.

'Of course! I'm so happy to hear from you! I can't wait (:' 

You could feel a pit forming in your stomach as you read the message. You can practically hear the way her voice lifts in excitement as you read it. To make matters worse, the smiley face felt like it had a mind of its own and it was taunting you. It practically said 'Remember the good days? Remember how close you and Sugar were? Before everything happened?' 

With a shallow breath, you threw your phone onto the nearest soft surface and scooped the broken glass up with your bare hands.  

Your parents fussed around you all afternoon before you left. At first, they said it was to make sure you were okay with going over there but it became pretty clear that they were pretty much just making sure you weren't going to back out. While you understood why they were chasing you around like a chick chased their mother hen, you got tired of it really quickly.

"Mom, I'm serious, I'm okay!" You insisted, pulling your shoe on and pausing at the threshold of the front door. 

"Are you sure? Do you want us to come with you? How about you let us drive you-" 

"I'm fine!! I'm going now!" 

With a sigh, your mother glances at your father before nodding, "Alright honey, be safe." 

With a weak smile, you headed off. 

And now here you were, finding yourself halfway down the street and being honked at by someone in their car. 

Snapping back to the present after replaying your hectic morning, you jump at the realization that you were unconsciously halfway across the street and heading towards The Beef.

"GET OUT THE WAY!" The person in the car yelled, sticking their head out the window. 

You ran to the sidewalk and half slammed your body against the wall, chest heaving. You had no idea what took over you and made you move without thinking but here you are now, in front of the same place you vowed to never be at again after Mikey's death: The Beef.

"Fuck…" you murmured to yourself, trying desperately to catch your breath as you closed your eyes. 

Focusing on the sounds of tires on pavement and rustling leaves on trees, you took a breath. You counted from 1 to 100 and then back to 1 again. You then opened your eyes and counted 5 things you could see, 4 things you could touch…

With a hard swallow, you turned around, ready to walk to the front door now. It was past 4 now but from the messages you got earlier from Sugar, you knew that there was 'no rush' and to just 'come in the front door'. 

"I can do this, I can do this…" you whispered to yourself and lightly jumped in place, hyping yourself up. 

You pushed forward, rounding the corner of the wall and to the front door, when BAM! Some guy just slams into you. 

You fly backward, stumbling as you try your hardest to avoid falling onto the pavement. 

"Watch it, idiot!" Some guy in a high vis vest barks at you before marching away with a wrapped sandwich in his hand. 

You stare, mouth open in silent shock and confusion, unable to respond. If this guy had bumped into you about a year ago, you would have practically beat him up yourself. Mikey would've had to come out of the restaurant and drag you off the guy, laughing and cheering all the way. His strong arms would wrap around you and somehow lift you up and off, voice husky in your ear as he alternates between voicing good humored apologies to the guy who had the misfortune of being an asshole to you and murmuring about how hot you looked while you defended yourself.

But in this moment, all you could do was regain the little confidence you had and go back to the task at hand: walking in. 

You swallow before standing up straight, plastering on a faux confident but cool grin onto your face. With your head held high in a way that you used to do but doesn't feel like you anymore, you jam a fist into your pocket and use your other free hand to push the front door open and waltz in. 

Cooly, you scan the empty restaurant. It seems like the lunch rush was very much over by now and the last customer for a while before the dinner rush had crashed into you and left moments before. So now, it was just you and The Beef. 

"Give me one sec!" A loud and charmingly obnoxious voice yelled from the kitchen. 

Your facade slipped as you heard this voice. Instantly, your shoulders sagged as you let out a quiet but pained laugh under your breath. 

The booming voice of Richie got louder and louder as he came out of the kitchen and to the counter, "How can I help you-" 

He paused. You immediately stood up straight again, a wide and sly but fake grin spreading over your face. 

Richie blinked, frozen. His eyes were wide and mouth had dropped slightly open.

After a couple seconds, the awkwardness started to set in for you, prompting you to speak up, "Jesus, Richie, you look like you've seen a ghost." 

In an instant, Richie snapped back to reality with a grin on his face, "COUSIN!" 

You winced at the volume, apparently not being the only one as you heard a couple muffled groans and protests from the kitchen as well as someone saying "what?!"

Richie threw his arms out, wide, before dropping them and racing around the counter to you. With a laugh, Richie's arms enveloped you, squeezing tight. 

You stiffened up immediately, feeling bad for not reciprocating instantly like you used to do. But whether or not that bothered Richie, you would never know because as fast as he enveloped you in a hug, he pulled away. 

"Cousin, what the hell are you doing this side of the country, huh?!" He grinned and placed his hands on his hips. 

"Oh my gosh!" Another voice said. 

Your head whipped to see Sugar at the doorway to the kitchen. She clutched a clipboard in her arms but as both of your eyes connected, she let it fall to the floor with a clatter. 

You can see her eyes well with tears as she raced around the counter to join you and Richie and as she got closer, she blinked them away. A wary smile appeared on her lips as she stood next to you, making her look a cross between nervous and relieved. 

"Richie, give her some space. Oh my gosh, hi!!" Natalie gasped. 

You winced a bit and smiled, "Hey…" 

You wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and stay there forever. 

"Shit cousin, I had no idea you were coming here! If you let us know beforehand, we could've made you a welcome party or, or, or something!" Richie said, ignoring Natalie. 

"How the hell have you been? How was it out west? I heard you got back in town but had no clue you were coming over here to visit!" Richie continued, going on and on and on. 

You stared at him, eyeing the way he looked rugged and much more tired than usual. But Richie was the same old Richie, loud and brash but caring when he wanted to be. 

Your eyes wandered from Richie's frame over to Natalie, who seemed to be analyzing your body silently. Her eyes were filled with worry and her fingers rapidly intertwined with themselves as she gave you a look that meant to say, 'Is this okay? Are you okay?'

You glance back at Richie before your eyes fell behind the two and to the entrance of the kitchen where a crowd had formed. 

And in front of that crowd was Carmy. 

Your shoulders tensed up, visibly enough to make Natalie perk up and whip her head around to see what you were staring at and make Richie go silent. The two glanced at Carmy and, unbeknownst to you, gave him a look of warning. 

Carmy wiped his hands on the towel he had and stared back, silent. His body language was unreadable and you couldn't tell whether or not he was upset at seeing you. Either way, you could feel the hair on the back of your neck stand. 

"Carmy…" you said, voice hoarse. 

You cleared your throat and awkwardly nodded, acknowledging those around him. You recognized a couple faces and others seemed unfamiliar but either way, they all looked at you with curious and cautious eyes. 

After stewing in silence for a bit, Sugar spoke up, "Carmy… say hello". 

Carmy blinked, eyes still set on you making you feel pinned to the spot. You could feel your breakfast swirl in your stomach as his eyes glared into you, analyzing your every move. Finally, he nodded and turned around, making the crowd behind him part like the red sea as he moved back into the kitchen. 

Suddenly, another face appeared in the doorway of the kitchen before yelling out your name excitedly. Fak came racing out of the kitchen, following the same path that Richie and Natalie took, before stopping in front of you.

"Holy shit!," he exclaimed happily, "Your home!" 

Your shoulder sagged. 

Home. 

You were home. 

He giggled to himself, not at all noticing your reaction "I haven't seen you in forever, how are you?" 

"Jesus man, give her some space she just arrived," Richie began, already launching into an argument. 

"What do you mean? I'm perfectly fine!" Fak said, head snapping over to Richie before the two began to bicker. 

Natalie rolled her eyes at them and turned to you, still concerned, "Just ignore them. Are you okay, sweetie?" 

You stood up straight again, wiping the wide eyed expression you didn't even know you had on your face for one with a lazy smile, "Yea, I'm okay." 

She reached her arm out, hesitating for a second to see if you would reject her, before resting her hand on your forearm when you seemed okay with it. She gently ushered you around the bickering men and behind the counter, to the kitchen. The crowd watching dispersed with curious eyes and kind smiles from those you recognized, letting you two pass through. 

As you walked through the kitchen, gulping as your eyes retraced each corner and crevice you had tried to forget about, your eyes stopped briefly to look at Carmy. With his back towards you, he silently chopped some vegetables, seemingly ignoring what was happening around him. 

"Here we are," Sugar said, quietly announcing to you to get your attention. 

You turned and dug your heels into the ground, soles squeaking as you did so. Sugar jumped back and glanced at you. 

"Can we… I'd rather we talk outside." You announce, voice wavering in a way that made your previous confident persona waver. 

Right in front of you stood the door to the office; an office you were very much familiar with as you too had spent many times there. All those memories, all bittersweet at this point, came rushing back; the nights you spent arguing over bills and paperwork with Mikey, the days you came with a bag of donuts from your favorite shop nearby, the intimate moments where your and his lips connected behind the closed door, the moments in which you hid in the office and cried your heart out. 

Sugar noticed the way your eyes had become misty and promptly led you to the back door of the kitchen and to the alleyway.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, that's okay. We can talk here.” she said soothingly.

Her voice was so comforting, making you feel nauseous. You hated the way that Sugar would always act very motherly, even when you were all kids. 

With a shaky breath, you nodded and smiled anxiously, “I'm okay Sugar, you don’t need to worry.”

Glancing at you, Sugar smiled softly. But her smile quickly dropped when she scanned your features, taking in your face again. 

“You look,” she began quietly, “You look good.”

You chuckled to yourself, knowing damn well that she was wrong, “Thanks, you too.”

Richie bursts out the back door, with Fak in town, still bickering.

“My God you two, just stop!” Sugar yells, getting the two to finally snap their mouths shut. 

Fak playfully salutes Sugar, a knowing look on his face while Richie rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. 

“Yea whatever. I’m just happy to see you again, cousin.” Richie says, directing his body to you, with a tone of softness in his voice that felt so foreign that it made you shiver. 

“It’s nice to see you too,” you said softly, rubbing your hands on your thighs.

It was silent for a bit as the four of you all glanced at one another, unsure where to start and what to say. Each party had so much they wanted to say to each other at that moment, but you knew that the three people standing before you had the most to say to you. 

Carmy came out the back door, silent and unsurprised to see the four of you glance in his direction. He closed the door behind him and stood off to the side, away from all of you. He then proceeded to take out a pack and light a cigarette, quietly puffing. 

“Cousin, did you even say hello? It’s rude as hell to just ignore her,” Richie said, a bit agitated at his dismissive behavior.

Yet Carmy ignored him, staring out to the side and away from you all, his blue eyes flickering, but refusing to even glance in your direction.

You could feel your eyes prickle and your throat tighten, regretting even showing up. Carmy was the one person you haven't seen the longest and here he was, ignoring you as if you didn’t even exist.

“Hey,” Richie barked, taking you out of your thoughts, “At least look at her!”

Richie began to stomp forward to Carmy, making you and Sugar flinch as you watched. Fak moved forward, reaching out to Richie and mumbling quietly to get him to stop. Right before Richie could grab Carmy by the shoulder, Carmy spoke up.

“I’m glad you're okay.”

Your mouth dried up.

His eyes turned to you and all you could see in them was pained understanding. He knew you weren’t okay; an okay person wouldn’t just pack up and leave the night after her boyfriend’s funeral. But, he saw that you were alive and the fact that you showed up here after so long meant something. 

It meant that now you were okay.

“Thanks Carmy” you said, making everyone’s head turn to you. 

Richie rocked his jaw and nodded silently, stepping back from Carmy. 

The three of them watched as Carmy lifted his box of cigarettes and offered one to you. They then watched as you walked forward, arms that had wrapped around your body falling, to grab one. He fished his worn lighter from his pocket, carefully lighting the cig you held around your lips for you, before pocketing it and leaning back against the wall.

You take a deep drag, letting the nicotine smoke fill your lungs before exhaling. It soothed your nerves, reminding you of the moments that you spent outside with Carmy, avoiding the yells from inside the house during a Berzatto family event. 

Suddenly, a deep funny feeling began to strew about in your belly. It felt odd and you tried to suppress it, but you just couldn’t help it. You barked out a laugh. 

It surprised you and everyone, not at all expecting it. You felt your cheeks heat up, horrified as to why you just laughed. 

You breathed in, only for it to come out as another laugh. Your horror was then replaced with amusement, making you laugh even harder. 

Sugar, Fak, and Richie all averted their gazes, a mixture of remorse and shame written all over their faces. 

You laughed even harder, slamming your back against the wall before sliding into a crouch. Your body shook so hard as you laughed, barely able to keep the cigarette between your fingers. 

Carmy looked away, an empty look on his face as he too chuckled to himself. 

After laughing so much that your belly began to hurt, you finally spoke up between dissolving giggles, “What the fuck am i even doing here!?”

Natalie turned her back to everyone, clutching her body in her arms. Fak walked forward and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. You didn’t even look at him as he hooked one of his arms under your arm and helped you up from the floor to stand against the wall again. Your knees buckled slightly as you continued giggling and wheezing in an attempt to catch your breath.

Fak stepped back and sighed softly, watching your chest heave as your breathing began to stabilize. 

An uncomfortable silence fell as you caught your breath, leaving the four of you in limbo to listen to a couple cars pass by and the wind blow softly by.

Carmy straightened up, making everyone except Sugar turn to him. He dropped the cigarette he was smoking and crushed it under his shoe. He then reached behind him to untie the knot of his apron and then moved to his neck where he took it off completely. He thrusted it forward, pushing it to you.

“Okay Chef, break is over.” He said. 

You looked over at him, finding no fear or sadness on his face, before nodding and grabbing the apron. He stepped back and turned, moving to open the back door and step inside. 

Sugar, Fak, and Richie all turned to you.

“Break is over,” you repeated and began to tie the apron around yourself before opening the backdoor and walking back inside. 

#the bear #carmen berzatto #reader #carmen berzatto x reader #michael berzatto x reader #mikey berzatto #carmy berzatto #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #carmy the bear #richie the bear #mikey the bear #carmy berzatto imagine #richie berzatto imagine #mikey berzatto imagine #sugar berzatto #natalie berzatto #neil fak

[magicalbats]

Day 14: Orgasm Denial

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7925

Warnings: Afab!reader, (lots of) gendered language, social power dynamics, boss/employee, upperclass/lowerclass, tbh I’m not entirely sure how to tag some of this xmdkxkdnd, manual masturbation, dacryphilia, I wanted reader to be a bit of a bimbo in this one so if she seems stupid that’s why lol

A/N: sorry this one is late! I am officially behind on my prompts now but regardless of how long it takes I WILL be completing this Kinktober challenge! Unfortunately the real world demands attention sometimes but I’m not giving up 😤

⭐

Stamping down the urge to nervously fiddle with your hands, you clutch at the front of your arpon to keep them still and try very hard to focus on what the man in front of you is saying. The Palais Mermonia housed a great many regular faces, some of which you only saw from time to time and could not seem to commit to memory, and yet you’d been seeing mister Danon’s more and more often than anyone else’s recently. You didn’t understand why that would be though, and had at first written it off as mere coincidence. A simple matter of happenstance and nothing more. 

But then it kept happening at an ever increasing frequency until it seemed like you were running into him almost every day now. Only then had it occurred to you, in a far off, distant sort of way, that he must have been making a concerted effort to talk with you like this. That was the only reasonable explanation for it that you could glean, because the one person you saw at the Palais with any amount of real regularity was the honorable Iudex himself and certainly not the man who’s job description you could not seem to recall. But that didn’t exactly explain why. 

You wanted to understand what would make him seek you out like this, so you attentively listen to mister Danon when he speaks even though you sometimes find him a bit difficult to follow. He seemed like he was probably a good person and respectable enough, but he had a strange habit of jumping from topic to topic without much rhyme or reason that you could discern. One moment he would be talking to you about matters of work, about documents he needed to have signed or the latest gossip that had everyone all in a buzz, and the next … why, he would suddenly say something off hand about recreational activities to do in the city or places to dine, a book he’d read recently and even the types of food he fancied. 

It was all very strange, and listening to him talk does not help in the slightest. In fact, it actually seems to make it worse. 

You didn’t have the slightest idea why he would want to discuss upcoming stageplays with you nor why he should feel the need to announce that his favorite dish was aspic as if it was something that should be of great interest to you. It was all really quite strange. 

“You see, if you take a few fish when they’re still flopping around and fresh,” He tells you, eagerly gesturing his way through an explanation you hadn’t asked for. “That will guarantee their taste and ensure your aspic comes out just divine. Like something straight from the Gods themselves, if you want the honest truth of it. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything more sumptuous!” 

“A - ah,” You make a valid attempt to smile politely but it was difficult to keep up with him like this. What did you care for the precise steps to make such an unappetizing sounding dish? 

“You know, if you were interested, cherie … I could make it for you to try, if you would like. Ah, what I mean is — it might be nice if we can sit down together and chat over a meal at my residence. Just the two of us.”

Your brows slowly crawl straight up to your hairline. “Oh.” 

Before you can think to say anything else, an attention grabbing thud against the marble floor makes you spin around and a smile quickly overtakes your face. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette! It is a pleasure to see you today.”

The kindly man sends you a slow, vaguely bemused half-smile. “Good afternoon, mademoiselle. Mister Danon. You looked like you were having a rather lively conversation just now. I hope I didn't interrupt anything important?” 

“Of course not, monsieur. It was nothing important at all.” You beam up at him, eager and happy to hang on his every word no matter how benign or minuscule. Much to your surprise, though, he sends another unreadable look over your shoulder and when you turn back to Danon you’re more than a little surprised to find him slouched as if in defeat. Your eyebrows quickly make the climb up to your hairline again. “Mister Danon, are you alright? Goodness, you suddenly look quite unwell.” 

“Yes, everything is fine. Nothing to worry about.” He waves off your concern, but it doesn’t escape your notice that he makes a concerted effort not to look directly at you now and instead turns his attention towards monsieur Neuvillette. “Forgive me, your honor. I’m afraid I must be going now. My break is almost over and my presence will be sorely missed if I fail to show up on time.”

The stately Iudex inclines his chin in a brief nod of acknowledgment. “You needn’t apologize, mister Danon. On behalf of all of Fontaine, thank you for the hard work you do.” 

Giving monsieur Neuvillette a stiff bow, he turns to do the same to you. “Mademoiselle.” 

You quickly bob a perplexed curtsy back. “Monsieur?” 

Ignoring or perhaps not hearing the question in your voice, Danon pivots on his heel and makes a hasty retreat down the long corridor without so much as a backwards glance. You can’t seem to shake the feeling you’ve said or done something wrong though, and you watch him go with a tiny flutter of anxiety in your chest until another soft thud of monsieur Neuvillette’s cane on the marble floor pulls you around again. 

With a small frown in place, you tip your head back to look up at him when he comes to stand next to you. “Monsieur Neuvillette?” 

He offers you a small, gentle smile, no doubt meant to placate and soothe, though it does little in the way of good. “Please do not look so put out, mademoiselle. Would you like to accompany me to my office?” 

Nodding, you fall into step beside him. You find yourself listlessly fiddling with your hands now, unable to stop it when it felt like you'd made some horrible faux pas, and they anxiously flit over your front to smooth out invisible wrinkles. What a strange and confusing situation to end up in, and with no idea how to navigate it either. It seemed like you’d done the exact opposite of what you’d initially set out to do … you didn’t understand it in the slightest. 

“Forgive me for asking you such a strange question so suddenly, but … did I say something to offend mister Danon just now?” 

Noising a quiet sound of consideration, monsieur Neuvillette thinks on that for a brief moment. “I am certainly no expert on the topic, mademoiselle, but if I am not mistaken I do believe mister Danon harbors a romantic interest in you. I believe he may have felt slighted when you said what you were discussing was of no importance, and he took it as a sign of rejection.” 

You jerk to a sudden halt with an inelegant scuffle of your heels. “Romantic?” Eyes widening in mute horror, you feel your cheeks start to grow uncomfortably warm. That did make sense, you were more than just a little stunned to realize. The way he made the effort to find you wherever you were working, stop you and talk to you; the way he would casually sprinkle in bits and pieces of his personal life and subtly suggest food, diners, places to go and things to do … had he really been laying out suggestions this whole time hoping you would show an interest in him back? But — “But he never said … oh, monsieur Neuvillette, I had no idea!” 

He looks at you with a soft, sympathetic smile where he’d stopped half a pace in front of you. “It is alright if you didn’t know. Situations like these can be difficult to — parse sometimes, and I do not think you acted with malicious intent. Come, let us continue this over a cup of tea.” 

Embarrassed and roiling with a crushing sense of guilt, you slowly trail after the Iudex to his large, exquisitely furnished office where you quickly fall into your usual habit of preparing the chinaware while he situates himself on the ornate lounge. It is muscle memory alone that sees you through your task, motions practiced and subconscious after working at the Palais for so long, which comes as a great relief in that moment. You were far too preoccupied with this startling revelation to give the pouring of the tea much thought. Mister Danon’s intentions were shocking enough but, perhaps even more so, you’re surprised at your own lack of awareness on the matter. 

You felt rather bad now, for listening to him so attentively and humoring the conversations he was always keen to share with you. Had he mistaken it for budding affection on your part? Have you unknowingly encouraged him to keep trying or, somehow worse, made him believe you were merely toying with his feelings this whole time? What a terrible thing to do to another person, intentionally or not. 

Monsieur Neuvillette silently regards you when you bring the tea over on a silver tray but you can’t bring yourself to look at him while you set everything down on the low table in front of him. He was always nothing but kind to you despite your lower station of housekeeper, just as he was with all of the staff that kept the Palais functioning as it should. Everyone from the notarizers and the title clerks right down to even the janitors were treated with nothing but respect and dignity, and that very much included you. But you were a bit too ashamed, too guilty to meet his gaze right now, and you quickly shuffle back a polite distance once everything is laid out so you can further avoid his eyes. 

A stretch of quiet settles over the room, and you have to try very hard not to start fiddling with your uniform again. 

“Won’t you make yourself a cup and join me?” He ventures at last. 

“I couldn’t, monsieur Neuvillette. But thank you.” 

He seems to deliberate over something for a short beat before half turning his body on the lounge to look up at you. “I must apologize for prying like this but what about the situation with mister Danon has you so upset? If you didn’t know what his intentions were then you certainly cannot be held responsible for not acting accordingly.” 

You hesitate to discuss this matter with him, well aware that it was improper and impolite to talk over such things with not only the aristocracy but also the man who was effectively your employer. It felt very much like an unspoken boundary that should not, under any circumstances, be crossed but … when you take in monsieur Neuvillette’s imploring expression your resolve starts to crumble. He was a wise and exceptionally astute figurehead who always treated every case laid out before him no matter how small or insignificant with the utmost care and consideration. Perhaps he would have some insight to share with you, or at least some advice. 

“Well,” You finally relent, tipping your chin down to shyly regard your buckled shoes. “I’m aware that this might sound a little odd but I just feel so guilty about everything … I should have realized sooner why he kept seeking me out like he did. As silly as it is, I can’t help but feel like I tricked him somehow.” 

“That is a silly thing, isn’t it?” He agrees in a soft, endlessly patient tone. “How could you have tricked someone if you weren’t aware of what they wanted from you? In the unlikely event that a case such as this were presented to me, I wouldn’t even be able to rule in favor of misrepresentation on the defendant’s part. You have to act with knowing and intention to be held accountable for trickery.” 

You despondently mull that over for a long stretch. Logically, you knew what he was saying to be true and you, as everyone else in Fontaine, trusted his judgment implicitly. It wasn’t so much that you doubted him but, rather, your guilt was so great that it couldn’t accept this answer. The thought alone that you might have broken mister Danon’s heart after stringing him along for months almost brings tears to your eyes. 

“Does that mean you wouldn’t deign to punish me for it?” It’s barely more than a whisper. 

“No, not unconscionably. No one in their right mind would.” 

It feels like you're withering on the spot. You didn’t understand it yourself, why you were so upset to hear this rather than relieved at finding you hadn’t broken any laws or regulations that would hold you accountable. Even if mister Danon were to try to file a suit against you to mend some of his bruised ego it sounded like he wouldn’t even have a case to stand on — and that was good. 

So why did it feel as if you were skating by without making proper amends for the transgression?

“Mademoiselle?” 

You finally bring your head up to look at him. “Do you think mister Danon will forgive me if I apologize?” 

Monsieur Neuvillette’s expression softens, taking on a truly remorseful edge. “I don’t know, little one. He might. I can’t see into the future any more than you can, but I think if it’s something that bothers you so much then it certainly wouldn’t hurt to talk to him about it.” 

Blinking back a sudden deluge of tears, you take an impulsive step towards him with the tray clutched to your chest. “Oh, monsieur Neuvillette, I don’t know what to do! How can I possibly ameliorate my actions if he might not even accept my apology? I — I didn’t mean to lead him on!” 

Very neatly, calmly, monsieur Neuvillette folds his gloved hands on his lap and studies you for an indeterminable amount of time with that closed and shuttered expression. You aren’t sure how many minutes pass when you’re a right mess inside, all your emotions kicked up into such a veritable whirlwind that it’s all you can do just to hold it together. But, at length, he eventually draws a careful breath. 

“What I’m hearing is that your guilt over this matter will not be dissuaded until you feel appropriate action has been taken against you to right what is, in your mind, a very serious wrong, intentional or not. Is that correct?” 

You blink, more than a little surprised at how concisely he’s grasped your thoughts on the matter. It almost sounds foolish when he puts it like that, in such blunt terms, but there is no denying the pang that resonates within you. “Yes, monsieur. I feel terrible for what I’ve done …” 

He seems to hesitate, his brows drawing inward almost imperceptibly. “Guilt can function as its own form of punishment as well, and a very effective one at that. But you must understand something, mademoiselle. The law simply is not applicable here. There is no legal recourse and, therefore, no system in place to enforce any sort of repercussions against you.” 

You take another step closer, feeling fervent and hot. “Then will you punish me, monsieur Neuvillette?” 

Abruptly, he goes very still. “I am hardly in any position to mete out such discipline,” He says slowly, carefully. “And, far more importantly, I’m not quite sure what you would have me do. I don’t believe this situation would call for a monetary fine or even any corrective action on an employment level … and I’m certainly not going to spank you over my knee like a child.” 

Flustered heat crawls up your neck to settle in your cheeks. You hate the way your knees grow weak and knobby at the thought of that, but you were decidedly in agreement with him. It would have been inappropriate for him to strike you in any capacity, least of all over something like this. Still, though … 

“Isn’t there something to be done?” 

Monsieur Neuvillette’s expression settles back into that somber mask again, eyeing you for a drawn out beat before he finally issues a clipped sigh. Leaning back to recline against the lounge, he stiffly crosses his legs and once more settles his folded hands atop the bent knee. “Come here, little one. Stand next to me.” 

Your feet almost don’t want to move from the spot but you force them to uproot so you can cautiously shuffle forward. You aren’t sure what to expect when your cotton stuffed head was such a mess, but all he does when you come up beside him is hold out an expectant hand. It takes you a moment to realize what he wants and you flush even hotter as you pass him the tray. Taking it from you, he sedately sets it aside on the cushion before fixing his attention on you once again. 

“This is another topic in which I lack expertise but I might have something in mind that could satisfy your need for penance. However, I will not force or otherwise coerce you into it, and you will likewise be free to walk away at any time. Once you have decided you’ve made the appropriate dues for leading mister Danon on, as you put it, then this arrangement will end immediately. Is that agreeable to you?” 

You bob your head in a quick nod. “Yes, monsieur Neuvillette. Thank you.” 

Squaring his broad shoulders, the usually kindly disposition with which he carried himself outside of the courtroom fades and is replaced by the stern set of his mouth, the slight tension along his brow, to indicate that it is the Chief Justice sitting before you now. A chill runs up your spine at the change in him, so subtle yet unavoidably obvious, and a sharp look from pale lavender eyes stops you from saying anything. You’d never before been subjected to such a hard expression from him and you can’t quite stop yourself from sympathizing with whoever was unlucky enough to find themselves standing before him in court. It really wasn’t any wonder why he held the title of supreme judge in all of Fontaine when you saw him like this. 

“Do not thank me yet, mademoiselle. If you would be so kind, please lift your skirt for me.” 

Your spine stiffens with a tremor so powerful it very nearly bowls you over on the spot. Obediently, though, you reach down with numb hands to gather the full, flouncy material of your uniform and shyly hike it up along with the lace petticoat underneath. 

“Higher.” He commands, intently observing the slow ascension of your skirts. “That’s it, up around your waist. Good.” 

Sucking in a faltering breath, you sway unsteadily on your feet and try not to lose your nerve. The thought that you would be able to alleviate your guilt with this steels your resolve though, and your hands start to shake as your stockinged upper thighs are revealed to him, the simple garters holding them in place and, finally, your lace panties. Your face is on fire while you nudge everything up a little further to make sure it was satisfactory and to his liking despite still harboring some very real doubts about this in the back of your mind. 

He did say he wasn’t going to spank you … didn’t he? 

Casually, monsieur Neuvillette reaches out a hand to slip long, elegantly poised fingers into the space between your thighs and you suck in a sharp gasp when he nudges them up against your cunt just so. The touch is featherlight and barely there, but it makes more blood rush into your face to leave you rattled and a bit dizzy. But you don’t pull away from him as he takes his time petting over the apex of your fleshy mound and the slit running along your body, determined to see this through. Somehow having him touch you like this was not nearly as embarrassing as the way his expression doesn’t change while he does it, you’re quite ashamed to realize. 

“Are you sensitive here?” He asks you softly, prompting you to swallow. Hard. 

“I … I don’t know. I’m not sure.” 

Quietly clicking his tongue, monsieur Neuvillette presses up against you a little more firmly, gloved fingertips digging into your defenseless clit to make you jolt and give a startled yelp. “You seem responsive enough to me. I only know of this particular activity in theory but … well, it doesn’t really matter. I believe we should have no problem at all using this method for your penance.” 

“W - which is, monsieur?” 

“I believe I’ve heard the people call this ‘edging’ before. It sounds rather dreadful, doesn’t it? Like some sort of barbaric torture technique.” Carefully observing your face, he pushes up even harder to grind tight, mean little circles against that sensitive pleasure button, and your eyes grow big as you stiltedly rock forward on your toes. “I suppose it could still be called that, depending on who you asked. The instigator or the receptee. I’m sure they would have drastically different opinions on the matter.”

Whimpering, you numbly readjust your hold on your skirt to make sure it stays up and out of his way while he’s doing this. Not that you were entirely sure you liked this specific method in terms of punishments when it was so obvious your body was eagerly responding to it – from the way your pussy clenches around nothing and starts to slick for him and even to the way your nipples stiffen against the inside of your shirt – but perhaps that was a good thing. Would you have really been able to say your penance was paid in full if this trial were not appropriately challenging?

“Wh … where?” 

Blinking at the little mouse squeak noise, monsieur Neuvillette just keeps rubbing over you with that steady motion of his hand. “I beg your pardon?” 

Trying valiantly to keep the fluster off of your face and failing miserably at it, you shyly avert your gaze. “I was just curious … where did you hear of this?”

“A reasonable question.” He relents, allowing the smallest note of humor to color his voice. “While it is true I don’t often partake in such crude conversations, it can be a little hard to avoid at times. Even here, in the Palais Mermonia. I believe they refer to it as ‘water cooler talk’.”

“Oh.” You’d overhead such things before too, now that you thought of it. The other women who worked at the Palais were more prone to gossip, joint complaints about their husbands or beaus, fawning over babies and first days of school, and academic achievements, while the men … they would sometimes change topics when they saw you coming but more than once you’d caught snippets of inappropriate conversations. A recent visit they’d had to a brothel or perhaps how they fantasized about doing certain things to their partners. You always felt mildly scandalized whenever it would happen, shocked that such discussions were being entertained at the Palais, and yet — 

Letting out a slow, stuttering breath, you carefully glance down at yourself to look at monsieur Neuvillette’s hand disappearing between the soft pudge of your thighs. This was vastly more inappropriate than any ‘water cooler talk’ and that realization embarrasses you a great deal. Your cheeks feel a little hotter, your blood pumping harder, and you whine, very low in your throat. Was this really an acceptable form of punishment? 

You think it probably is, because the shame that comes with it is potent and cloying, especially when your hips give a weak judder at what he’s doing. To think that the Iudex himself was touching you like this … 

“Does that feel good, little one?” 

Twitching at the sound of his voice, you give a stilted nod. “Yes, monsieur, thank you … but — but I don’t think I quite understand. Are punishments supposed to feel good?” 

“Not necessarily, no. But this is only a part of it. Relax, sweet girl. I will ensure your guilt is appropriately mitigated in due time.” 

You still don’t truly understand it, but you allow yourself to ease into it anyway. Relax into his touch. Slipping your eyes closed, you just take a moment to feel the sensation of him rubbing over your cunt. The press of his firm fingers pudges your lips to highlight how soft and pliable they are, the blunt tips of his gloves sinking into the slit. Even the thin layer of your panties is not enough to lessen the drag in any meaningful way, and it doesn’t seem to take long at all for you to start feeling sticky with arousal. It’s copious and excessive, almost implausibly so considering that he’d only touched you in this one specific spot thus far. Hardly at all. 

You hadn’t thought you would be so easily excitable and yet the proof of it is in the way you tremble for him, the way your breathing gradually picks up to make your breasts heave under your blouse, and it quickly becomes difficult just to stay standing in place. You wanted to twist and pull away, give your drooling cunt even a moment's reprieve, but you don’t give in to the urge. That wasn’t what he’d agreed to, and you trusted his judgment … 

So you stand there, trembling, while your stiff nipples cut up into your shirt in search of the same friction, and you try not to cry out. Your pussy tingles against his hand, the pressure it exerts so constant and steady that it rapidly starts to feel like the building pressure in you is reaching critical mass. Much sooner than you could have anticipated or guessed, it was as if your body was particularly weak for monsieur Neuvillette’s dutiful attention. 

Softly wheezing when your legs buckle and threaten to give out, you subtly tip your pelvis further into his hand and it becomes that much more apparent how wet you really are. How stiff and engorged your clit had gotten. A violent shudder tears through you at the meaty, swollen drag of it under his fingers, head tipping back and. - - 

He retracts his hand so suddenly it leaves you lurching in place. Raggedly gasping at the sudden loss, you turn wide, wild eyes on monsieur Neuvillette but he merely gives you that same somber expression as he interlaces his fingers on top of his bent knee once again, unfalteringly casual about it. 

“That will be all for right now, mademoiselle. Thank you.” 

You just gape at him, stunned and confused, with your skirts still hiked up around your waist like a shameless fool. “Wh - wha —“ 

A look of sympathy flashes across monsieur Neuvillette’s face. “This is the penance you wanted so badly. As many times as you like, I will bring you close to orgasm but I will not let you actually reach climax. It is the only suitable punishment I could think of for your specific … transgression.” 

It takes a great deal of effort for you to do it, but you suck in a slow, shuddering breath to steady yourself. “I … I see. Thank you, monsieur. I understand now.” 

“Very good. Now, run along. I’m sure you’ve got work to do elsewhere.” 

He offers you a small smile that you think is meant to be reassuring but it does very little to distract from the throbbing ache in your cunt or calm your pounding heartbeat. Numbly, you drop your skirt and petticoat back into place and run your hands over it to smooth out the (now real, not imagined) wrinkles as you slowly make your way towards the door. It was like you were in a trance. 

“And mademoiselle?”

You pause, turning to look back at him. “Yes, monsieur?” 

“I would like to see you in my office again around noontime. Please do not forget and don’t be late.” 

~*~

It hadn’t taken you long to realize just how insidious and cruel this strange brand of punishment truly was. You left his office such a sticky mess between the legs that even trying to clean yourself in the powder room did little good against the slick oozing out of you to stain your panties and make them stick to you, moulding against your cunt. It serves as a near constant reminder of how close you’d been to climax, how monsieur Neuvillette’s fingers had felt touching such an intimate part of your body, and how torturous it had felt to have that friction taken away so suddenly. 

The wisdom of the Iudex impresses you even now though, for you did indeed see why he’d deemed this the only appropriate corrective measure that would fit the crime. You had unknowingly strung mister Danon along with your feminine charm and wiles, so it did indeed make sense to turn that back around on you in some way. 

And although it does take a while, the distracting pulse in your cunt slowly fades into an afterthought in the back of your mind while you flit about the Palais tending to various tasks and seeing that everything was as it should be. At some point you even start to forget how your damp panties cling to you and that makes it much easier to view this trial as an easy obstacle to overcome. You would simply allow monsieur Neuvillette to carry out this task a handful of times, consider your self flagellation completed and then move on with your life. 

Yes, this really was the best method of making your peace with the situation. 

Comforted in your conviction, you return to monsieur Neuvillette’s office at the appointed time and issue a gentle rap at the door. His voice filters through without missing a beat, calling for you to come in, and you enter without reservation. 

Perhaps you should have been more wary of underestimating him or this game you were playing but you think nothing of it as you make your way across the room to stand in front of his stately desk. He looks up at you with a brief smile that inexplicably makes your pulse thrum a little faster, and that surprises you slightly. Catches you off guard. 

“Thank you for your punctuality, little one. I have a meeting scheduled after lunch is over so I wanted to tend to you before I got too busy.” 

Self consciously, you avert your gaze. “Are you sure this is alright, monsieur? I don’t want you to go hungry because of me.” 

“Nonsense. I planned accordingly and already ate before you came by.” Not lingering on the thought for very long, he takes a moment to straighten a stack of papers and neatly set them aside, out of the way. Nudging his high backed chair out from under the desk, he half turns and situates himself first before reclining against the backrest and finally looking up at you again. “Come. No need to feel shy.” 

His words have the opposite effect of making you feel ten times more shy than you originally did, and you can feel yourself starting to blush again as you slowly round the desk to come up beside him. Standing just a scant few inches from him like this it occurs to you, suddenly, that you probably should have been a bit more apprehensive about returning to his chamber like this. He was going to touch you again … oh, perhaps you had not thought this through all the way.

“Here.” He says, drawing you back into the moment with a gentle pat against his leg. “Sit on my lap, little one. This should make things a bit easier for both of us.” 

The flush that crawls up your face is an intense and overwhelming one. “M - monsieur, I — I couldn’t possibly be so presumptuous!” 

“Is it presumptuous if I’m telling you to do it?” 

Your spine stiffens at the slightly hardened tone in his voice, the edge that seems to cut across any of your weak excuses, and you quickly realize it is once again the Chief Justice sitting before you now, not the kindly monsieur Neuvillette. And he was looking at you very expectantly. 

Swallowing your nerves, you reluctantly shuffle closer and turn to lower yourself onto his leg with a slow, stiff motion of your body. The firm pressure and warmth of him underneath you is almost enough to send you running from the room in hysterics, but before you can even think to change your mind his arm comes forward to secure itself around your middle. A surprised little yelp bursts out of you when he hauls you back against him to settle more firmly on his lap, completely disregarding how you tense up and shudder on top of him. 

“There. Isn’t that much better?” He softly coos at you, tugging you back to lean against his front. Your face feels like it’s on fire but you don’t fight it, only whimpering quietly when he at last has you situated how he wants. 

“M - monsieur …” You mewl into the suddenly statically charged office, unable to stop it, but he just quietly tuts at you as he turns his head to press his mouth against your hair. 

“Now, now, you’re alright. I’ve got you. There isn’t any reason to be so nervous.” A violent tremor tears through you when you feel his lips purse against the side of your head in what you think must be a brief kiss — but you don’t get the chance to fully process the significance of that as he bends a little closer to put his mouth near your ear now. “Spread your legs for me, little one. Let me see you.” 

Dizzy with the surge of white hot arousal that abruptly crashes into you with all the force of a sack of bricks, you give a weak, twitchy roll of your body against him and reach down with trembling hands to grab at your skirt. Slowly inching it up, you tip your chin down to watch with him as more and more of your thighs are revealed. The soft pudge around the tops of your stockings embarrasses you somewhat but not nearly as much as your panties do. Even from this angle you can see a dark, wet spot staining the crotch when you ease your legs open and you whimper softly at the sight of it. 

“Goodness, you certainly soaked yourself earlier didn’t you? Poor thing,” With a quiet click of his tongue, monsieur Neuvillette reaches down past cotton and lace, and voluminous frills to slide his hand over your mound. Your breath hitches as you watch him do it, cupping your pussy with an almost apologetic squeeze, and you quickly turn your head away before you can say or do something else you’ll regret today. 

You had to admit, it was very naive and shortsighted of you to consider this an easy penance just because it was not a constant, pressing concern at the forefront of your mind. How very foolish you had been. 

“I was thinking about it earlier and I found myself quite curious,” He admits, still just holding your cunt in the palm of his hand. “Would it be too impolite of me to ask how often you usually pleasure yourself?” 

Your chest dramatically heaves with the ragged gasp you suck in. “Monsieur Neuvillette, that’s … why would you ask me something like that?” 

“Oh dear, I hope I haven’t offended you. That was not my intention, little one. Please forgive me.” A pause, while he turns his head to press his lips against your hair again. “It is just that you are so shy and your body is so sensitive. I wondered if perhaps you were too ashamed to take care of your own needs in this manner, that’s all. I’ve heard some women are.” 

Lungs painfully constricting inside your chest, you stiffly lift your hands up to cover your face. Having the Iudex pet you so intimately was one thing, but discussing such matters with him was something else entirely! 

“P - please forgive me, monsieur … you haven’t offended me it’s just — I have no experience with this sort of thing. I do it, sometimes. Pleasure myself like that. But I’ve never had anyone else t - touch me in that way before …” 

“I see.” 

Silence settles over the room for a long, drawn out stretch that soon starts to ride the line of being uncomfortable. You can just start to feel the sting of hot tears creeping through at the corners of your eyes when he gently pats your cunt with the flats of his fingers, startling a surprised noise out of you. Lowering your hands enough to see, you gape down at yourself as he somewhat possessively cups his hand around you again and gives the pudge of your labia a light squeeze. 

“Such a silly thing you are.” He says against your head, displacing some of the little flyways there to send them dancing at your peripheral. You barely even notice it though, trembling at the faintest hint of a growl in his voice when it sets your guts to vibrate and seems to reverberate inside your chest cavity. You’d never heard him sound like that before but don’t get the chance to linger on that thought or question it, because he nuzzles further into you until it feels like he’s speaking directly into your ear now. “In the future you should try not to be so forthcoming with your body when it comes to men. Had I been any less honorable I could have all too easily taken advantage of you earlier and I could still do it now had I wanted to. I understand your desire for wrongs to be appropriately righted as that is the very foundation Fontaine was built on but this is not the way to go about it, mademoiselle.” 

Your mouth warbles open but nothing comes out. All you can do is sit there, quaking on monsieur Neuvillette’s lap, while his fingers slip into one side of your panties and tugs them aside. The sight of your own cunt lips, puffy and flushed with arousal, surprises a faltering animal noise out of you that seems to echo endlessly inside the room. He pays it little mind though and simply curls his thumb to brush over your slit and the clitoris hiding within, smearing sticky slick with that fine leather glove and nudging your body into opening up to him. Legs twitching, you jerk your hands down to latch onto the arm locked around your middle, clutching at him even as you fitfully writhe against the sensation. 

All at once your earlier arousal comes crashing back with a vengeance, temporarily forgotten but not near as snuffed out as you would have liked it to be. Your clit thrums under his stilted caress as if the climax you’d been close enough to taste but not able to experience had lain dormant this entire time while you ensured the water pitchers were filled, the snack tables stocked and the fireplaces were appropriately stoked wherever they were needed. It shocks you a great deal to realize how powerful your arousal truly is, and you buck your hips with a whiny moan that would have embarrassed you under better circumstances. 

But better circumstances would not have found your cunt absolutely flooding with a deluge of fresh slick, nor would your clit have been swelling as eagerly as it does. You can feel the meaty, engorged drag of it under the soft petting of his thumb, almost idly drawing it back and forth with a total lack of urgency that makes your head spin perhaps even more so than the sharp stabs of pleasure do. You wanted to cum, and the knowledge that he would not permit you to just makes you want it even more. 

“Please, monsieur —!” 

Softly humming, he presses his thumb down a bit more firmly. “Are you already getting close, little one?” 

You tip your head back to rest on his broad shoulder, panting up at the ceiling while shuddering waves of yet unrealized ecstasy crash over you, each somehow more powerful than the last. Instinctively, you inch your legs further apart even as they tremble fiercely for him and you think, idly, you probably would have vibrated right off him had he not been keeping you pinned against his front. You’re helpless to do anything except sensitively quake like this, and you do so with great enthusiasm. 

“It is too much … I - I can’t take it!” 

“You will.” He assures you, his voice soft again but it still carries that subtle hint of an edge underneath the surface. You didn’t understand it, why he would sound like that. What had brought it on. Was he even more displeased with you than he’d suggested? 

The thought alone brings tears to your eyes almost as much as the cresting pleasure making you writhe on his lap, and you squeeze your eyes shut to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to make him feel bad for causing you to cry when you were the one who had asked for this … but oh, it was so very hard not to give voice to the sobs threatening to wrack your body when it was all so much. The firm, weighty pressure of his thumb petting over your cunt, his other fingers idly teasing along your slit where they were still holding your panties aside. The smell of him, the taste of him lingering on the back of your tongue, his sturdy weight underneath you. It was all too much, and it felt like you were drowning in him. 

“Let this be a lesson to you,” He continues, unconcerned with the way you twist against him and choke on stuttering gasps. “Even more pressing than the matter with mister Danon, I’m far more concerned about how easily you gave yourself up to a man to do with however he pleased for the sake of penance. Needless self sacrifice is not justice, sweet girl. I do hope you’ll remember that.” 

Bending his head close once more, monsieur Neuvillette presses his mouth to your hammering pulse, and you mewl at the contact. It is not so much a kiss, you abruptly realize, as it is a not very subtle threat. Like there was a beast lurking beneath that kindly gentleman facade … 

“Oh, monsieur, I — I’m going to —“ 

“No, you are not.” He cuts across you, practically hisses it against your jugular, and you nearly jolt right off him when the arm around your middle slides up to lock across your front at an angle. Suddenly he pinches your nipple through your shirt where it’s stiff and straining against cotton, giving it a mean little tweak to make your back bow. Trying to twist away proves futile and you yelp at the pleasure laced pain even as your cunt drools even more obscenely in response. 

You felt like you were going crazy. Truly wild with potent, cloying arousal so powerful, so overwhelming, you can’t even process what’s happening to you while you shake right to the edge of your release. 

And just like that, the hand on your pussy retreats, pulling away altogether to leave your panties shamelessly askew in favor of latching onto the swell of your inner thigh and keeping them spread when you frantically buck your hips in search of that fleeting touch. You heave and groan, reeling at the total loss of friction, but it is useless. Monsieur Neuvillette is an unyielding presence at your back no matter how earnestly you squirm against him, and his gloved fingers give your aching teat another cruel tug to further stave off your release. 

You’re more than a bit horrified, in a delirious, hazy sort of way, to find that the pain serves its purpose in chasing away your climax enough to leave your pussy absolutely throbbing in the wake of this denial. No longer teetering right on the precipice, it seems to force you back a pace or two and all you can do is look on longingly at the promise of oblivion beyond with yearning and desperation. Wanting, but not allowed to have. 

You truly had underestimated just how tortuous this punishment technique could really be … 

Through the murky fever you feel monsieur Neuvillette brush his mouth across your cheek to press at the corner of your eye, effectively drawing you out of your groaning stupor. Sucking in a ragged gasp, you clutch at his arm all the tighter and try in vain to lean away. 

“M - monsieur?” 

“You’re crying.” 

Noising a soft sound of confusion, you blearily blink your eyes open to realize that they were in fact clouded with a swimming sheen of tears making them burn. Sniffling sadly, you start to reach up to swipe them away in shame but the hand on your breast comes up quicker and locks under your jaw, physically turning your face towards him. 

Laying spread out on top of him with your head forced back against his shoulder, you look up at monsieur Neuvillette from just a scant few millimeters away. His expression is still somber and unreadable but … the glint in his pale lilac eyes makes your chest hitch. It wasn’t hunger the same way you’d on occasion caught other men looking at you — men like mister Danon, you realize in retrospect — but it is a hunger all the same. Something old and primal, from a long forgotten dark age that inspires a slow curling tendril of uncertainty low in your gut. You don’t think it’s lust per se, not in the usual sense, but a kind of lust,  perhaps. One you didn’t have a name for. 

One you weren’t sure if you wanted to learn the true nature of. 

After silently studying you for a long moment, he finally drags his gaze from your face to regard the tall, stately clock standing sentry in the office, the only witness to this lurid state of affairs. “I still have some time before my meeting. I think we should be able to squeeze in one more session before I have to go.” 

You very nearly give voice to a hysterical, broken sob, just barely managing to choke it back with a frazzled whine instead. “Monsieur —“ 

“Hush, little one.” He murmurs and leans close again, stunned surprise washing over you when his tongue flicks out to lick up a wet tear from under your eye. You gape at him in shocked disbelief when he pulls back enough to look at you again, leaving behind residual moisture on your skin, but he doesn’t even look the least bit put out or sorry for it. Like it was a perfectly normal thing for him to be doing. Perhaps it was. You had no idea – and if he recognizes your surprised reaction for what it is, he certainly doesn’t show it. “You have nothing to fear from me. I will ensure your punishment is properly administered and then we shall further discuss your other behaviors in greater detail. Rest assured, you will be appropriately corrected in time. I will personally see to that myself.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #self insert bullshit

[deripmaver]

Which is worse, rape or murder? - Or, should Casca have died during the Eclipse?

Unlike most of my meta posts, this is one I'm making as a direct critique of a specific take I've seen. It's similar to my meta about apostle Casca in that regard, where I want to look at a specific idea and why I dislike it, as opposed to wanting to explore my thoughts on an aspect of canon. To be clear, this is only something I do if I've seen a take a bunch of times, enough so I know it's not a one-off. It's also not something I do because I want to engage in discussion with the people who've said whatever the take is, it's something I do in case other people who agree with me might be interested in a meta post that's more in line with their viewpoint.

I provide this disclaimer because, as I've said a few times now, the idea that it's the better choice to have Casca die during the eclipse is one that I just really dislike, and I make that preeeeetty fuckin clear. I can't control who sees this or who comments, but I did think I should make my stance explicit.

Berserk fandom is an absolute treasure trove of bad takes about rape and sexual assault. Considering the seriousness with which the manga takes rape, despite it's sometimes quite dodgy framing and portrayal, the fact that the fandom is Like That is fully a testament to cishet men's inability to consume media without turning into a brainless amoeba of toxicity.

I have to say, though, what shocked me the most was that this particular take, that Casca should have just died during the eclipse, was not from the dudebro side of fandom ('cause if she had they couldn't make their silly little "casca enjoyed it" jokes).

I'm coming right out of the gate with my opinion, which is a firm no, Casca should not have died during the eclipse, and the story would be weaker if she had. I'm going to presume during this analysis that the people who say this assume that her death would be instead of her rape, as opposed to her being raped and then dying, which would be... Horrific. Even more horrific than canon, lol.

I do have sympathy for some of the people who wish she had died, and in a way I understand, though I vehemently disagree. Some of the posts with this POV sound almost traumatized as they proclaim I wish she would have died, it would have been better. As this is something I've only noticed in the tumblr fandom side of things, where most people are women, I think this comes from women readers feeling furious and sick about one of the most vile rape scenes out there. In some ways its intentionally vile, in others - ie how grotesquely sexualized it is - it's unintentional. Then, of course, she continues to suffer in her disabled, infantilized trauma state. I hear these readers wanting to shout at Miura that he should have just killed her off rather than force her, and us, through reading that. It would have been kinder.

I have... Far less sympathy for others. There's a side of fandom that simply does not care about Casca (in a different way than the dudebros who don't care about her despite gushing about how she's peak tomboy waifu). It's amazing the veneer of progressivism these people put on as they say that Casca should have died, because she did not contribute to the narrative before the eclipse, and she certainly hasn't after. Going to get even spicier for a second and point out fandom's long history of wanting female characters dead because they get in the way of mlm ships, and how I think this is SOMETIMES simply another manifestation of it.

To be fully fucking clear, I do NOT think that being a grffgts shipper (censored so this doesn't show up in the tag LOLLLLL) precludes being shitty about Casca. I think tumblr's demographics, and those demographics' typical shipping preferences, mean that grffgts is naturally going to dominate. By simple statistics, most of the people whose opinions I hate are going to be grffgts shippers. Same with most of the people's opinions I like on tumblr tbh. I do, however, think it's prudent to point out old school fandom misogyny, and how I personally feel it's showing up in the fandom, and also point out that it pisses me off that Casca dying during the eclipse is at all presented as the least misogynistic outcome.

I'm also going to say now that this is firmly being kept in the realm of fiction. In real life, there are horrific discussions about how being a victim of rape defiles you for life, and that it's better to die without the "shame" of being raped than live with it. While I have to be blunt it's difficult for me to separate some of the discussion of Casca dying during the eclipse from that anti-survivor bias I see in real life just because ~we live in a society~, I in general think this sentiment is coming from a place of simply analyzing, narratively, which outcome is less misogynistic given how the rape in canon is portrayed.

Would it narratively have been better for Casca to have died? What about the impact of her death versus her current storyline?

First, I think I need to outline my interpretation of the eclipse rape. I don't think that the decision to have Griffith rape Casca was Miura simply being a misogynistic cishet dude who threw in rape for the hell of it. I also don't think it's OOC. Again, there's much to critique in how it's drawn, but not in the fact that it happened. Griffith, in his moments of feeling out of control and powerless, uses sexual advances to reassert his control over the situation - see Charlotte, or the wagon scene with Casca. A distaste for sexual violence committed by his enemies doesn't mean Griffith is incapable of wielding sexual violence as a weapon himself. In real life, there's a paradox where rape committed by political or social enemies is seen as the worst crime one could ever commit, while the mundane rape committed as a consequence of patriarchy is excusable and the victims should be blamed and shamed. Did Miura have the gender studies acumen to think about that when writing? I dunno, but neither does anyone who thinks he didn't.

I also think it's supposed to establish his actions during the eclipse as fully over the moral event horizon. Without it, it's easy to ask if ultimately, Griffith's decision to sacrifice his followers to a cruel death is justified to create a perfect utopia. With it, it establishes Griffith as acting fully on cruel, malicious impulse in moments of emotional turmoil, which puts his future utopia in jeopardy. I can't be the only one who sees Falconia as a ticking time bomb. Of course, this doesn't mean he needed to rape Casca, but simply that I think it was necessary to his character to do something that crossed that moral line. He could have raped Guts I suppose. Killerbambi has entered the chat.

While I think this might sound strange, I actually think it's immensely validating to have a character who is a victim not just of rape, but of rape committed by someone she already knew. That's genuinely unique in media on the whole, which plays into that paradox I mentioned earlier - in real life, the vast majority of assaults are committed by someone the victim knew. Having the story surround the continual, horrific trauma of betrayal, of having to watch the person who hurt you move on while trauma keeps you in horrible stasis is almost so realistic it's... uncomfortable. Painful. Hard to read.

There's no greater purpose to what happened to Casca. She didn't grow from it, instead she regressed.

Her general lack of agency post-eclipse is much critiqued in the fandom and like. Fucking yeah fair LOLLLLLL BUT ALSO... But also. Fandom on the whole can be so cruel about traumatized female characters, like there's no way they can do trauma "right." In Casca's case, her lack of agency is turned into a reason she should simply have been killed off instead, as though there aren't so many survivors who, while not as literally as she does, retreat into a shell of themselves and are frozen with trauma as the world begins to pass them by. Of course, the critique would be that she's not a real person, she's a female character written in a misogynistic way by a man, but I personally think this overstates Miura's issues with his portrayal of rape. To me, it presents what they think are his biases as justification for their own biases.

Time and time again, I see survivors discuss feeling validated by Casca's trauma response after being assaulted. Even the parts of the rape scene that I vehemently dislike, such as the hyper-focus on Casca's body and the physical reactions she's having, I've seen more than one person say they felt validated because they too had an unwanted arousal response during an assault. I'll still critique the scene, but regardless of if this was Miura's intention, its impact is clear.

I'll again plug this article by Jackson P. Brown, How Berserk’s Casca challenges the myth of the “Strong Black Woman.” Just to show a quote from it:

All of the action of the story after Conviction Arc is in service of restoring Casca's mind. During Conviction Arc and after, Casca has groups of women who love and protect her, with women as her source of safety. Guts is single mindedly focused on bringing her back, putting his body on the line again and again to protect her and restore her. I wondered about including Guts here because I'm sure I'll get some anon about the Beast of Darkness, which again fair LOL. I have complicated feelings on that, but mostly I think the importance the narrative puts on her mind and her protection is touching, and I think this outweighs how the negative things apparently mean that she should have died.

Her story and trauma, despite its flaws, is shockingly realistic and validating to so many people. She's also a key narrative component post-eclipse, and not just ~for Guts' manpain~ or as a helpless plot device, her story is her own. I've written about Elaine as a character and what she represents, but in brief, Casca doesn't disappear after the eclipse. Miura wrote Elaine with these moments where Casca comes to the surface, and while I wish we had more of her POV I think you can look at how she's coping from how Elaine reacts to the world around her.

I also think it's necessary to have Casca at the Hill of Swords. There's Guts, who Griffith torments in the way only a bitter ex can, and Rickert, who doesn't know what happened the day of the eclipse, but I think Casca is the key component in that scene that cuts through all of Griffith's posturing and Guts' anger. She is there, making the real, human cost of what Griffith did during the eclipse unignorable in a way that no other character could. It's one thing for Guts to be furious with him and Rickert ignorant, it's another to have someone who loved him so innocently and dearly trembling just at the sight of him. Let's not pretend that the depth of betrayal in this scene would be the same if you swapped her for, say, Judeau.

It's funny, Miura is quoted as saying that his initial reason for keeping Casca alive was to provide Guts an ever-burning flame of vengeance, an eternal reminder of everything that he lost during the eclipse. What's wound up happening, on a meta level, is that Casca provides the reader a constant reminder of what happened during the eclipse. As more and more focus is given to her PTSD with her revival, the cruelty with which Griffith acted (and continues to act) becomes harder and harder to ignore. It becomes more difficult to push it aside as just bad, misogynistic writing.

And also, quite simply, I like narratives about trauma recovery, and therefore I'll always find Casca's story worth telling despite my frustration with a lot of it. It's absolutely wild to me that for how often I see the fandom complain about her being "fridged" they think it would have been better to see her ACTUALLY fridged, no chance of coming back at all, just dead to fuel Guts' revenge arc. Would it really be better to have her be just another dead girlfriend? Really?

That's really what it comes down to. I like Casca as a character, and I want her to have lived. The people who wish she had died, many of them simply don't like her as a character. Not all, particularly in that first group I mentioned at the start, but many. Everyone has their preferences of course, but I don't think I need to respect when someone thinks a character has so little influence on the narrative that they should have just died, especially if that character is Casca.

If Casca had died during the eclipse, it would not have been a good death. It would not have been brave, or triumphant, or worth anything for her as a character. Judeau died to protect Casca, but even his death was not brave, it was just sad. That's the whole point of the eclipse.

To have Casca die that way would be a disservice to her as a character, far moreso than to have her struggle on as a traumatized victim of sexual violence. That's genuinely what I believe.

#berserk #casca #casca berserk #berserk meta #casca the og victim of yaoi IN CANON

[nessinborderland]

V-E-N-U-S (03)

Pairing: Rafe x plus size!Reader

Genre: smut, dark-ish fic

Word Count: 6 ,2k

Warnings ⚠️ Mildly Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, more like Enemies to Enemies That Fuck tbh, Rafe Cameron Being an Asshole, mentions of bullying, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Rough Sex, Mentions of death of a parent, Drinking, Drug Use, Rafe needs therapy asap, fatphobia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: The nickname he had given you in 8th grade was supposed to be ironic. In Rafe’s defense, he used to be a pretty stupid and cruel fourteen-year-old, as most kids that age are. So yeah, nicknaming the fat and nerdy chick Venus – like the goddess of sex and beauty – had been pretty hilarious in young Rafe's opinion.

What he would've never guessed was how much that name would fit you now as a grown woman.

Notes: Here is part 3! Enjoy 💖

AO3 | Masterlist | Part 1

You felt like you could finally breathe when you set foot inside your house, the familiar scent of beef strogonoff making your stomach grumble as you realized you were starving. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but you rarely got hungry while working, doing a shift without much more than a granola bar and yogurt in your stomach.

But you were home now, and your body knew it, muscles relaxing and mouth salivating at the prospect of finally sitting down and having a nice meal. Maybe then you would forget about your shitty day – in particular your last conversation with Rafe. That had really soured your mood, a tension in your shoulders and neck that was starting to give you headaches.

Locking the door behind you, you dropped your backpack on a chair and sat on the floor with a tired exhale, taking off your shoes before fully laying down on the wooden surface, dust and dog fur in your hair be damned. Your whole body needed a break, your feet in particular; they always hurt like a bitch after a long shift of standing up and walking around.

The noise of loud indie rock came somewhere from the back of the house, and you could hear kid music and cartoons coming from the living room, just to your right. A tip-tapping sound from the hallway made you look up, and a smile stretched your lips as you were approached by the only family member to always greet you at the front door.

“Hey old man, how was your day?” you cooed as you sat up to pet K-Nine behind the ears, just how he liked it.

The old German Shepard mix wagged his tail from side to side as he excitedly tip-tapped his nails on the floor, trying to welcome you with a lick to the face that you promptly dodged with a chuckle. Your dad had let you pick K-Nine on your 10th birthday, and, in a way, this dog was like a part of your father that was still with you. It hurt watching him get older and start to prefer naps instead of long walks outside.

After a quick cuddle and a pet to his graying muzzle, you stood up and walked into the living room together, where your younger brother sat on the couch with his full attention on the TV.

“Hello, Kev,” you greeted when you passed by the couch, being completely ignored even when you ruffled his hair as you walked towards the open kitchen. “Bluey is that good huh?...” you muttered under your breath before smiling at your mother. “Hey, Mom, smells good!”

“Hey, sweets, you got home just in time,” greeted your mother, sending you a tired smile as she set the table. You hurried to help her, knowing that – no matter how tired you were – your mother would be ten times worse. “How was work today?”

“Work was okay, got some good tips,” you said as you took out the orange juice from the fridge and set it on the table. “How was your day?”

“Exhausting,” She said as she sat at the table with a tired sigh, a smile still on her lips. “But cleaning rich people’s houses does have its perks – Mrs. Lockwood gave me some good clothes her son doesn’t use anymore, so that’s one less thing I have to worry about – I swear that your brothers are growing like weeds.”

“That’s nice of her,” you said with a forced smile; your mom was always thankful for the things her employers at Figure 8 gave her, didn’t matter if they were second-hand or not – but you still remembered how kids used to bully you over it. You just hoped your brothers didn’t go through the same. “Have you been taking your new medication? Doctor Marsh said you weren’t supposed to feel this tired after a few weeks of taking it, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s working,” she muttered with a shake of her head, eyes down on the napkin she was folding. “They help a bit with the pain, but I still feel so drained…”

“Maybe you should do some more exams?” you asked as you grabbed the plates and started serving the still piping hot food, the smell making your stomach grumble again. “We can go early tomorrow if you want, I only start work at five.”

“And mess even more with your college savings?” she asked in what you knew was a rhetorical tone. “I’m not doing that.” Then she turned to your younger brother, still watching his cartoons like they were the only thing in the room. “Kev, honey, go call your brother for dinner, please – Kevin, now.” Then she turned to you again. “Fibromyalgia won’t kill me, I can manage. Let’s just focus on getting you into college for now, I’m not having you stuck on this island waiting tables for the rest of your life.”

You gave her a resigned nod, setting the plates on the table before sitting down at your usual place in front of her, noticing the bags under her eyes and the silver in her hair – she had aged so much since being diagnosed two years ago. You didn’t like the fact that your mother refused to get all the help she needed; yes, there was no cure for her condition, but there were treatments to alleviate the symptoms, which she just refused to do if it involved touching your savings.

At times, it frustrated you more than just a little. You would rather your mother enjoyed her life comfortably with no pain than go to college; it was not like your major of choice was going anywhere, anyway.

The arrival of your brothers stopped you from pressing on the matter again, and dinner went by as it always went, with silly conversations that made you laugh and your worries disappear, allowing you to enjoy these little moments when everything was fine.

No work, no stress, no drama.

It was now almost ten-thirty in the evening, and your mother and Kevin were already long asleep while you relaxed on the couch with K-Nine sprawled belly up between you and David. Mom had only recently allowed him to watch scary movies, and the kid was obsessed, to say the least. So, it had become tradition, for the past few months, to watch a horror movie every Friday and Saturday night after dinner, which you were happy to oblige.

David was very noticeably going through puberty right now, and sometimes the only way to get him out of his room was to convince him to either go to the movies or watch something on the TV. Netflix was a luxury you were willing to pay for if it allowed you these special moments with him.

“Do you believe in demons?” David murmured as you watched the final shot of Annabelle in a glass enclosure fade to black before the credits rolled.

“Sure do,” you snorted as you stretched your stiff muscles with a yawn. “See them all the time at my job.”

The boy tilted his head to the side, brows furrowing.

“Uh, do you mean Kooks?”

“Kooks. Demons. They’re pretty much the same thing,” you replied with a specific person in mind. “Why? You scared?”

“I’m thirteen, of course I’m not scared,” he said with an eye roll that could match your own, helping you fold the blanket you had used before adding with a small shrug, “Just wondering…”

“Well, I don’t think we have to worry about demons, so you’re good.”

“Hmm…” He looked lost in thought as he hesitantly asked, “And what about ghosts? Do you think they’re real?”

“Not really.” Something sounded off, you could see it in his faraway gaze, the way he chewed on his bottom lip, shoulders sagged. “Why do you ask, Davie?”

He was quiet for a moment, and then he uttered, his bottom lip trembling, “I- I can’t remember Dad’s voice anymore… I think I’m forgetting Dad.”

“Aw, Davie.”

You pulled him against you, arms going around him as you held him in a tight embrace, kissing the top of his head when he hugged you back just as tight, his shoulders lightly shaking as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. He was growing up so fast; another year and he would be taller than you.

You said nothing as you let him cry, hugging him while rubbing his back, trying to ignore the lump in your throat. Even though you could cry, you wouldn’t do it now; he had seen you cry so much in the past, seen you sob and lose yourself as you grieved, not old enough to quite process everything that had happened, but old enough to hold you like you were holding him now.

It was your turn to support him through this.

He had been eight years old when your father died, just a little boy – which, in a way, made it so much worse for him. You had been fifteen and had almost died yourself, too deep in your own despair at the time to notice anyone else’s misery. But now you felt his pain as if it was your own. You were sure that if there were no pictures of your father around the house, his face would also start to blur from your memories.

“I think Mom might have some videos of Dad in a hard drive somewhere,” you said after some time in silence. “Why don’t we look for them tomorrow and watch them together?”

You heard him sniffle as he nodded, and you broke the embrace before gently guiding him out of the living room and saying goodnight to each other.

You watched as your brother opened the door of the room he shared with Kevin before getting inside, leaving it slightly ajar as he did every night, the shine of the night light (he still had nightmares sometimes) giving you some visual aid as you walked the dark hallway towards your own bedroom.

A sudden knock at the front door made you jump in place.

“Shh, boy, it’s okay,” you hushed your dog as he let out a bark from the living room, rushing after you as you hurried to check the peephole. Your brows furrowed, lips pursing as you noticed who was on the other side of the door.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door to face none other than your cousin.

“Hey,” he said in a hushed tone before you could utter a word, looking at you with his hands in his pockets and a nervous expression on his face. “I know it’s late, but can we talk?”

You hesitated before giving him a nod and stepping outside, leaving the door unlocked behind you as you walked towards the front steps. You had a good guess as to why he was at your doorstep at this hour, and your shoulders tensed at the prospect of having this specific discussion right now.

“Fine,” you muttered as you moved to sit on the front step. “What do you wanna talk about?”

John B followed your lead and sat beside you, absently petting K-Nine behind the ears as the old dog lay down on the porch with a huff.

“JJ told me about you and Rafe.”

He was going straight to the subject. Good. The sooner you finished this, the sooner you could go to bed and pretend it never happened.

“What about me and Rafe?”

John B stopped petting the dog, fingers fidgeting as he started picking the old scraps of paint from the wooden step beneath him.

“Please don’t lie to me, V. Not about this.” You didn’t think you had ever heard John B say anything in such a serious tone, jaw clenched and mouth set in a straight line as his gaze locked on yours, eyes shining in the moonlight with something akin to concern. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I know you would never have something with him even if he was the last man on earth, but I heard the rumors, so what the hell happened between you two?”

Your brows furrowed, his tone not lost to you as you tried to understand exactly the meaning behind his words.

“Wait, what- what are you talking about?” you asked after a moment of only staring at him, unsure of what to say. “What the hell did JJ tell you?”

“Last Saturday, at that Kook party, Rafe did something to you.” You looked at him in total confusion as he took your hands in his, his grip a little tighter than you would find comfortable. “He forced you, didn’t he? I saw the bruises, I saw the marks but I just thought…” he shook his head, tone turning frantic as you let out a nervous chuckle, at a complete loss for words as you realized what he was implying. He couldn’t be serious. “Did he drug you? Whatever he did, you have to tell me, tell the police. We can get him arrested. If- If you don’t want to do that maybe we can try to- to, I don’t know, but we can make him pay somehow.”

This was madness. This whole situation was ridiculous. Absolute insanity.

“John B, no, please stop–”

“No, no, no, you don’t have to be scared of him–”

“Johnathan, stop!” you snapped, tears stinging your eyes as you finally managed to pull your hands from his grip. “Whatever JJ told you, it’s not true. Rafe didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want to do, so stop whatever this is!”

He stared at you, eyes wide and mouth agape as understanding finally settled.

“What?”

“Rafe didn’t hurt me.”

His eyes flashed with anger, and an intrusive thought crossed your mind; it was almost like he preferred you had been assaulted.

“You actually willingly slept with him?”

The disgust was as clear in his voice as it was in his face, and you couldn’t stop yourself from recoiling in a sudden burst of shame. You were quick to push that emotion aside; you had nothing to be ashamed of.

“Even if I did, whatever my deal is with Rafe is between me and him. Not you and not JJ, so you can just stop getting in my business like I’m your responsibility. I’ve been dealing with Cameron for years now, he’s not your problem.”

“That’s the thing though, he is my problem!” he shouted, and you looked back at your house, afraid your family would be alerted by the ruckus. This was not a subject they needed to get involved in. “He’s always picking fights with us and treats Sarah like shit! Have you seen what he and Topper did to Pope the other day? He’s not a good guy and you know that so why the hell would you willingly spread your legs for him?”

“Hey, watch it!” your tone raised to match his own, index finger pointed at his chest as you pinned him down in a glare. K-Nine barked, sensing the rise in emotions. “You don’t get to talk to me like that!”

“What, am I lying?” his tone quieted, but the expression of anger on his face didn’t falter, hand raising to roughly push your own away. “Didn’t you go from hating him one minute to letting him fuck you the next? Like a–”

You felt the heat in your palm before you could even register what you had done. Tears stung in your eyes as you stared down at John B, who was cradling his cheek and looking at you with a mixture of shock, anger, and sadness in his hazel eyes.

“Get. Out. Of my house,” you commanded in between shaking breaths.

You stared down at each other for what felt like hours, neither of your saying a thing. You forced yourself to stop your lower lip from trembling, hiding your shaking hands behind your back as you finally broke eye contact, sure that you would erupt into tears if you stared at the disappointment in his eyes for one more second.

“Just leave,” you whispered as you made your way to the front door, not caring anymore if he left or not.

“He’ll hurt you.”

You halted, hand on the doorknob, glancing at him over his shoulder. Waiting.

“He’ll hurt you,” John B repeated, firmly this time, avoiding your eyes. Then he added, his tone so soft you barely understood the words “And when he does, you can count on me. Until then…”

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but he was already walking away before you could utter a single sound.

«»«»«»«»«»

You rolled in bed for the hundredth time that night, your cousin’s words repeating themselves in your mind over and over and over, like a broken record that never stopped.

Didn’t you go from hating him one minute to letting him fuck you the next?

You had… hadn’t you? Against your better judgment, against your own principles, you had let Rafe touch you and kiss you in ways you never even thought he would want to. Rafe Cameron was an awful person, and that wasn’t a matter of opinion. He was entitled, cruel, temperamental, and prone to violence. You knew that. He had terrorized you for years and made your life a living hell; laughed at you, hurt you, made you cry more times than you could count, and still…that hadn’t stopped you from riding him and moaning for him as if your life depended on it, had it?

And now here you were, unable to sleep, with a tightness in your chest and a churning stomach that was starting to make you nauseous. You were exhausted from all the muffled crying you had done as soon as you got to your bedroom, your pillow stained with tears.

John B’s words hurt, making you feel even worse than you already felt. Part of you hated him a little, insulted and beyond upset by everything he had said. He had no right to act like that. Still, the other side of you cried in shame, wondering if he was right and if you really were being the stupid and undeniably wrong person in all of this mess.

I slapped him, for God’s sake!

That alone was enough reason to at least text him an apology, but you quickly stopped yourself from doing it. You were still too furious, wounds too fresh.

Your thoughts started spiraling out of control, and that tightness in your chest grew worse.

What if your mom found out?

What if your boss found out?

What if you lost your job and your family because of it?

What if you and John B’s relationship never recovered?

What if this stupid fucking mistake stopped you from going to college and making a better life for yourself and your family so you would be forced to work as a waitress for the rest of your life until you died alone on this island with no family and friends, only the police to discover your cat-eaten corpse?

What if, what if, what if?

You buried your face in your pillow with a grunt of frustration, wishing you could go back in time and murder Rafe Cameron in his sleep, just for good measure. Then none of this would’ve happened, and you could continue living your life without this particular storm hanging over your head.

Groaning at how stuffy your room felt, you kicked your sheets off of you before getting out of bed and walking straight to the chair in the corner of your room. Grabbing the pair of shorts and the hoodie laying on it, you hurriedly got dressed before making your way out of the house, phone and keys safely stored in your hoodie’s pocket.

You hesitated as you walked down the stairs of your front porch, unsure of where to go.

It was at times like this that you wished you had more friends; Nina had been abroad for two years (It would be four in the morning in Portugal, so it was not like you could call her now) and you doubted that JJ, Kie, Pope, or Sarah would want to hear anything you had to say, after what happened. A couple of other people came to mind, but you never contacted them unless sex was involved, and that was not what you wanted right now.

Sex was what got me into this mess in the first place.

The sounds of waves in the distance crashing against the shoreline caught your attention. You listened for a moment, taking a deep breath of the salty breeze, mind going blank for a blessed moment. Living this close to the ocean could be a curse some days, unwanted memories rushing to your mind if you let them take over; right now, however, you would like to think of it as a blessing.

You were strolling towards the Boneyard before you could give it much thought, hands stuffed in your pockets and hoodie over your head as the chilly coastline wind made you shiver despite the warm island weather.

Your ears perked as the sound of loud music and voices alerted you to a party nearby, right on the other side of the dunes. You could smell burning wood the closer you got, and it didn’t take you long to catch the sight of a bonfire, people laughing and dancing and drinking without a care in the world.

Exactly what you needed.

You approached the gathering with your eyes on the crackling fire, enjoying the way the dancing flames cast a glow over the sand, making it look the color of melted caramel under the moonlit sky. The sand under your naked feet was cool to the touch, and the seawater was thankfully far enough away for you to be able to relax.

Most people around you were familiar in one way or another, a fair mix of Kooks, Pogues, and Tourons that just wanted to enjoy their Friday night as much as you did. You walked through the party crowd, being mostly ignored besides the occasional wave or nod of recognition that you made sure to retribute.

Fortunately, you saw no unwanted faces that would make you instantly turn around and leave.

That made you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding; no one seemed to be talking about you or looking at you weirdly, and there was no one to ruin your night more than John B already had. Perfect.

Coming here was a good decision, you thought as you approached the kegs of beer, smiling as you recognized one of the guys handing out drinks.

“Hey, V.” Eli, a tall young man with short curly hair smiled at you as he handed you a full cup of beer before you even had to ask. “Haven’t seen you in a while. What have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know,” you shrugged as you took the cup from his hand, sipping the bitter drink, “just working and binge-watching shows on my days off. All very thrilling. You?”

“Same,” he chuckled, warm brown eyes looking almost golden in the light of the fire. “Just helping out at the cafe and surfing when I can. By the way, when are you passing by? My Mama keeps telling me to bring you over again, says she has some new books you might like.”

“Aw, she misses me?”

“C’mon, V, you know we all do,” he said, sending you a wink that made the corners of your lips twitch and a familiar heat take over your cheeks, the suggestion in his tone not being lost on you.

You really liked Eli, with his pretty smile and easy-going nature.

He had graduated two years before you, and you had gotten closer when you started spending your free time at his family’s cafe, staying whole afternoons reading or writing in their quaint little book corner. It didn’t take you long to develop a friendship, and before you knew it you were having your first kiss and experiencing your first time in his bed, in the apartment right above his shop. He had been kind and patient, and you really couldn’t have imagined a better way to lose your virginity.

But – even though you were aware that he liked you – you had never let your relationship evolve into something more than friends with benefits. Why ruin something that worked just fine?

“Maybe I’ll pass by on my next day off,” you said, and his eyes glinted. “Are you working on Monday?”

“I’m not, but I’ll be waiting there for you. Wanna go out and have lunch too? This new place just opened and–”

Your smile faltered, and he was quick to notice.

“No, no, I mean, just as friends,” Eli quickly clarified with an awkward chuckle. “I know you don’t want to change what we have and that’s fine by me. But, you know… we can hang out if you want and have a good time. We’re chill, right?”

Sometimes you wondered what was stopping you from getting into a relationship with a guy that was handsome, kind, shared so many of your interests, and knew how to please you in the best way. The problem wasn’t him, you were well aware of that. The problem was you and your fear of commitment.

Fuck that. You deserved something good in your life. And, right now, you really needed it.

“We are,” you answered, and you noticed relief softening his brow. “You know what, yeah, let’s plan something fun for Monday. How about–”

A heavy hand on your shoulder made you jump, and you stopped mid-sentence to look behind you, heart almost jolting out of your chest as you faced the last person you wanted to see at that moment.

“Rafe,” you muttered, glaring at his blue eyes before looking down at his hand, still on your shoulder. “Take your hand off me.”

“You’re in the way,” he simply said while dropping his hand to his side, nodding past you at the kegs of beer.

You said nothing, moving to stand next to Eli as Rafe passed by you and refilled his own cup. With a strange look at you and a glare sent in your friend’s direction, the blond left, and you followed him with your eyes as he walked away to the other side of the crowd, where he stood with his little gang of friends.

Of course he would be here, you thought as your hand reflexively squeezed the plastic cup in your hand. Luck was rarely on your side.

Maybe coming to this party hadn’t been a good idea, after all.

“That was weird,” uttered Eli, also looking in Rafe’s direction. “He could’ve gotten more beer right there.” He nodded in the direction of the other kegs, where no one stood in the way.

“Yeah, he just wanted to piss me off.”

“You’re still at each other’s throats then?”

“Yup.”

He hummed in response, and a weird moment passed where neither of you said a thing. You, for once, were too preoccupied with weighing the pros and cons of staying at a party with Rafe Cameron in your vicinity. The smart move right now would be to leave; you had no idea what would happen if both of you stayed. Then Eli spoke again, words coming out deliberately and slowly like he was thinking them carefully.

“You know that he’s not a good guy, right?”

You scoffed.

“You’re telling me that, of all people?”

“Just making sure…”

You let out a sigh, hand raising to brush over your face with a tired grunt.

“So, you heard about it too, huh?” you asked, hoping the irritation in your voice scared Eli enough so he wouldn’t ask too many questions.

“Yup,” he said, popping the ‘p’, eyes down as he kicked a tiny hill of sand. “Don’t know if it’s true and I don’t understand you if it is, but it’s none of my business so… just be careful, okay? He hangs around the wrong crowd sometimes, and, well,” he shrugged, “you know how he is.”

You glanced at Eli, taking in the way he rubbed the back of his neck, thinking his words through. Whatever he was implying, was said out of concern for your well-being, nothing more.

“Okay…” you started, unsure of what else to say. “Thanks for letting me know, but there’s no reason to worry. I can take care of myself.”

“I know.” He nodded once, and a pretty smile graced his lips again as he looked at you. “Now, about Monday…”

«»«»«»«»«»

You were more than just a little tipsy.

You stumbled over your own feet as you walked past the dunes, giggling to yourself as you remembered a joke you had said early in the evening, already so plastered that you had struggled to get the words out without laughing. You hadn’t really meant to get as drunk as you were, but before you knew it you were six cups past sobriety, dancing and singing at the top of your lungs with Eli and his friend group.

You felt amazing in your intoxicated high, barely remembering what had soured your mood in the first place. Eli had helped you forget, with his easy conversation and sense of humor, and his friends had welcomed you into their group without unwanted questions or weird looks sent your way.

Was exactly what you had been needing; and a long time overdue if you were being honest with yourself.

Not even Rafe had been able to smother your euphoria, despite the very noticeable glares sent your way throughout the night. After some time, you had even forgotten he was there, completely focused on enjoying the party to its fullest.

And damn you if you hadn’t succeeded.

It was now somewhere past two in the morning, and the exhaustion of your workday had gotten to you despite the alcohol in your bloodstream and your high spirits. So, you had said goodbye to Eli – with the promise to meet on Monday – and were currently making your way out of the Boneyard. A tiny voice in your brain warned you about the massive hangover that you would without a doubt suffer in the morning, but you lazily brushed it off; now was not the time to think about tomorrow.

Now all you wanted to do was lay down.

Lay down…

You fell to the sand with the grace of a newborn foal, giggling as you laid face up, eyes wandering lazily on the clear sky. It was spotted with shiny stars, one constellation more beautiful than another, and your eyes watered; looking at the night sky had always made you feel emotional.

I’ll sleep here tonight, you thought as you curled in on yourself, face towards the stars, fingers tapping on the sand out of rhythm with the music still playing from the party just on the other side of the dunes.

“‘Cause everytime we touch, I get this feeling,” you drunkenly sang off-key as Cascada’s ‘Everytime We Touch’ played loudly. “And every time we kiss I swear I could fly.” You could still hear people sing and laugh from your spot in the middle of the sandbanks, and it almost made you want to go back there and stay until the sun rose.

But you really had to go to bed; or sleep right there, one of the two. Your head spun as you tried to sit up, so you let yourself lay down again with a huff.

That’s when you noticed someone approaching.

“You’re so fucking drunk.”

“Oh, pardon me, your Royal Highness,” you mocked with a snort, turning towards the voice to see Rafe Cameron standing just a few feet from you, hands in his pockets, “but this peasant doesn’t give a shit about what you think.” You couldn’t see his face well in the darkness – only the moon as a light source – but he was most likely looking down at you with a frown, as per usual. “Leave me alone, I’m trying to sleep.”

“Here?”

“I’m homeless, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Venus.”

“Rafe,” you laughed as you tried to imitate his baritone. “Oh, Venus, you’re so fucking drunk. Oh Venus, let me fuck you again.”

“You’re fucking annoying, that’s what you are.”

You didn’t even notice Rafe approaching you, letting out a yelp of surprise as you felt him pull you up before stumbling against his chest as dizziness took over you. You made a whiny noise as he started to half-push you, half-drag you away, a strong arm around your waist while the other grabbed you by the elbow.

“No, I don’t wanna leave!” you cried out as you tried to turn away from him and back to your spot on the sand.

“I’m not leaving you to sleep on the fucking beach, you moron.”

Now you were close enough to see the annoyed glare that he pinned you under, giggling at his pinched expression as you slapped his chest in a weak attempt to have him release you.

“Ugh, you’re so boring,” you whined, letting yourself fall in his arms when you realized he was not letting you go. “Okay okay, I know, let’s tell each other secrets!” You clapped your palms against his chest, pulling his shirt when he groaned. “C’mon I’ll go first: I hate you. Like really hate you. But-” you lowered your tone to a conspiratorial whisper, “having sex with you was really good – I still hate you, though.”

“Venus–”

“Shh, it’s a secret,” you giggled, putting a finger against his lips. “Now you.”

“I–”

“You have really pretty eyes, you know that?” you mumbled as you looked into his blue eyes, forgetting the game you had been one-sided playing. “It’s so unfair…”

Rafe let out a long sigh.

“Anything more you want to tell me?” he asked, hands steadying by your shoulders as you swayed in place.

“Hmm… nope.”

“Good, then let’s get you home.”

“Wait!” you exclaimed, pulling at his hand as you let yourself fall to the sand again, laughing as he fell on his knees beside you. “Let’s watch the stars.”

He sighed again.

“I’m so close to just leaving you here.”

“Good, then go, goodbye,” you said as you frowned at him, slapping his hand away when he tried to lift you again.

You heard him sigh a third time, followed by a sound of resignation before you watched him sit down beside you. With a grunt, you used his arm to pull yourself into a sitting position, leaning against his shoulder for support as you turned your neck to look up.

“Aren’t the stars so pretty?” you whispered, shaking his arm when a moment passed without an answer.

“Yeah, guess they are.”

You kept staring up, feeling your lids drop the more you looked at the mess of gold, red, and silver dots that painted the dark blue sky. It was all so beautiful. You felt… content, even with Rafe beside you. He was still an asshole and you still couldn’t stand him, but he wasn’t being himself right now, for some weird reason your intoxicated brain couldn’t even wonder about.

Rafe cleared his throat beside you, snapping you out of your stupor.

“Can we go now?”

“Wait…” you murmured, closing your eyes for a moment as you took a deep breath of the clean ocean breeze. “Okay, we can go now.”

“Finally.”

He pulled you up and you yelped as you tripped over your own feet, allowing him to hold you straight against his chest. You looked up at his face, and a sudden thought made you bite your bottom lip.

No, don’t do it, warned a voice in the back of your mind that you promptly ignored.

Kissing Rafe felt… nice. Better than nice. You had thought so too when you had been naked under him just a week prior, moaning against his soft lips as he fucked you in a way you had never been fucked before.

Now felt no different.

You moaned into the kiss, intertwining your arms behind his neck as you pulled him closer, fingers tangling in his soft blond locks. One of his arms went around your waist, pulling you flat against his body as a hand cupped your cheek, forcing you to deepen the kiss. You did so gladly, enjoying the feel of his tongue against yours, shivering as his teeth swiftly pulled at your bottom lip.

You let yourself enjoy it, the possible outcome of it all pushed to the back of your mind. All you wanted right now was to kiss him, consequences be damned. You would deal with those when you were sober.

Rafe was the one breaking the kiss, and you almost cried as he lightly pushed you away. You wanted more than just one kiss, at this point, an insisting heat making you squeeze your thighs together.

“C’mon, you little tease,” he said, chuckling as you whined and tried to chase after his mouth. “Let’s get you home.”

«»«»«»«»«»

Part 4 ->

#outer banks #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #obx #obx fanfiction #rafe x you

[sleepy-wyvern]

Can I request some smut with Eddie, where he’s not quite a virgin but he’s very inexperienced and him and reader have been together a good chunk of time. They are finally getting down to business and Eddie is so unsure of himself, but he’s hitting the most wonderful spots, but he keeps slowing and questioning reader if he’s good and if she’s okay and she’s just like “shut up, don’t stop, fuck me” not in a mean way just that she needs Eddie sooooo bad

Thanks so much for the request darling! What a fun idea <3 and tbh this prompt is definitely a head canon, he would completely act that way! I've literally been writing fan fics for hourrrrs and I proofread it but I hope it sounds legible lol. Hope you enjoy thanks so much for sending a request! <3

Dinner and a Movie | Eddie Munson x female!Reader Smut <3

Synopsis: Tag along on a drive in movie (horror!) date while you’re a bundle of nerves about planning yours and Eddie’s first time.

SMUT! 18+ Only, please DNI if you are a minor!

Tags: inexperienced sex, couch sex, vanilla, fingering, p in v, condom, pet names: darling, sweetheart

Words: ~4.8k, AO3 link here

Tonight’s the night you were finally going to have sex with the one and only Eddie Munson. 

Your stomach was an empty pit of nerves and butterflies fluttering against your rib cage. It seemed a good idea at the time, to mutually decide to take your relationship slow and steady. You hadn’t wanted a relationship centred around just sex, yet today that’s all you could think about. 

You and Eddie have been dating a while now and it wasn’t hard to tell he was the best boyfriend you’ve ever had. He hates to see you sad, whenever you were even a little discontent he worked so hard to make you happy. Stupid, goofy jokes and gags even in public just to make you laugh. Snacks and your favourite food and movies whenever you were too depressed to get out of bed. 

Well now you couldn’t sit still, bouncing your leg as you sat on the edge of the bed staring blankly into your closet. 

What the hell do I wear? Is there a designated first-time-having sex-with-my-boyfriend outfit?

Staring at yourself in the mirror you can’t help but be critical of yourself as he’ll see you naked in merely hours. 

Eddie assured you that he would follow your lead in the relationship, taking things as slow or fast as you wanted to. He really was fine with anything either way, you treasured that knowing it wasn’t always the easiest thing to find in a guy. 

Regardless, you hadn’t told him yet but you planned on initiating more than your usual steamy make outs tonight. Your body couldn’t take it anymore, after last night when you kissed in his van your thighs were soaking. The way he tasted lingered on your tongue, planting himself deep inside you. Your dreams were filled with desire for him. You couldn’t wait any longer, calling him as soon as you woke up to plan a date tonight. 

“Hey,” his sleepy voice answered the phone, slightly raspy which made things worse in a beautiful, wonderful way “everything alright?” you could almost feel his large brown eyes looking at you through the phone.

“Yeah, everythings perfect,” you press your lips into a tight line nervously, receding into the soft security of your bed sheets. “I was uh, just wondering if you wanted to do something tonight.”

You heard a slight ruffling noise, presumably from him shifting his position, “of course I would. Did you want to do anything in particular?”

Your mind blanked and you answered honestly, “I have no idea. I just wanted to be with you.”

He chuckled into the phone making you shiver “well, dinner and a movie?”

“Cheesy,” you smile into the phone.

“I mean, both at once,” he continues.

“Oh?”

More ruffling from his end of the line before he replies “The drive in movie theatre, they’re playing a scary movie, your favvvooourrrite” he teases trying to make it sound more appealing. Truth be told, he didn’t need to play it up for you, you loved the idea.

He answers for you “I’ll pick you up at 7, good spots are taken early” the confidence in his voice makes you giddy like your crushes you had as a teenager.

“Sounds like you have that all figured out then,” you twirl your hair around your finger making a small curl.

The entire Saturday you couldn’t sit still. You puzzled for nearly an hour on what to wear, your spotify playlist beaming in your ears.

“Fuck it,” you sigh grabbing ripped jeans, a Metallica t-shirt, and your favourite underwear set, hidden beneath your outfit.

You fussed with your hair, trying to make it look as effortless as possible, yet with a shit ton of effort. You knew Eddie didn’t care- you could show in pyjamas or hell, even naked and he’d be happy. Maybe too happy. 

The time seemed to go both fast and slow until 7 rolled around. You had been waiting all day for this yet your body jumped as the door knocked. You open the door to see him standing there, hair pulled back into a sweet, casual messy bun with wild strands framing his face. In his hands he held some flowers, looking down at them you blush. 

“What’s the occasion?” You ask after thanking him, taking them from him after letting him in. 

He folded his arms, leaning back against the wall watching you look for a vase “Do I need one to give my girlfriend flowers?”

You glance back at him seeing his cocky smile “if you were a normal guy” you reply hauling out an old vase. 

You fill it high with water, placing the flowers in carefully as he speaks “Well I’m everything but normal.”

The purple, pink and white flowers rest lazily in the vase, creating an ornate centrepiece for your kitchen table. 

You walk up to him wrapping your arms around his torso in a tight hug. You could feel his heartbeat as you pressed your chest into his, the thumping rising the longer you stayed there. 

“Thank you,” You murmur, “they’re beautiful. I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

You looked up at him and you knew he didn't need reassurance to act himself, but it felt nice for him to hear that you liked him just the way he was and accepted his differences. He kissed the top of your head, running his hand along your upper back. 

“Let’s go, there’s some popcorn calling my name,” you smile against his chest before you pull back to put your shoes on. 

“Don’t forget the mysterious cant-legally-call-it-butter popcorn topping” he laughs at his own joke quietly and you roll your eyes. 

“It must be made with drugs,” you say, fixing your shoes. 

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” he agreed, “are you ready?” He whispered. 

You nod “I think so.”

Music blasted through the radio as he drove you in his esteemed van, windows down and wind cooling your nerves. Although his driving was reckless, you loved riding in the passenger side, sitting back listening to music with him next to you. The epitome of summer, and of near meditation, stripping any stress off of your body. Before you knew it, the van slowed to a stop as he paid for your tickets. 

“Thanks Eddie,” you spoke as soon as you drove away from the ticketer. 

“For what?” He asked and you knew he wouldn’t accept thanks for paying for the ticket. 

You turned your head to watch him concentrate on the road, and to find a parking spot. His brows are furrowed as he squints looking around.

“For everything,” you reply and he looks at you, confused for a moment.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, sweetheart” he leans towards you to plant a kiss on your forehead.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re watching?” you ask just now realising you have no idea what movie you’re going to see.

He pulls into a parking spot where you both have a nice view of the screen, white against the setting sky, “Nope. You’ll have to find out the hard way” he grins.

You and Eddie make your way to the concession stand as you were sure he wouldn’t add enough mysterious topping to your popcorn, despite insisting he knows how much you like. While waiting for your turn for the gooey goodness, he practises throwing popcorn up in the air, one piece at a time trying to catch it in his mouth. 

“Eddie,” you scold as he finally catches one, unable to keep a wide goofy grin off of his face while he chews. 

You smack him lightly on the chest while he laughs at you “Eddie,” you repeat “they’re going to kick us out!”

He rolls back on the balls of his feet, careful not to spill the popcorn. Clearly he wasn’t made for standing still. It made things like waiting in line more interesting though, as he found new ways to make you laugh, hopefully without getting you both kicked out on date night. It didn’t take too long to get your turn, and you returned back to his van with your haul in your arms. Darkness spread further in the horizon, only a faint line of sun remained and you knew the movie would start soon.

“Okay so I lied,” he said in between chips “nachos and popcorn isn’t exactly the best meal…” he trailed off. 

“Actually I love it. Everyone’s childhood dream honestly” you smile warmly at him, taking a chip and dipping it in the cheese sauce. 

The screen lit up as the projector flickered to life. Eddie moved his hand quickly to the portable radio, switching the dials until tuned into the correct station, flipping through some music and news broadcasts as he did. 

You watch the screen as crickets chirp and campfire music starts playing through the speaker and you almost whip your head over to smile at him “Friday the 13th!” You cheer. 

“Shhh,” he said with a smirk “no talking at the movies,” 

You throw a piece of popcorn at him before looking back at the screen; Camp Crystal Lake 1958.

Eddie turns to you mimicking the ch ch ch ha ha ha of the music. 

“No talking!” You scold. 

After swallowing some popcorn he answers “hey, that was humming and that’s much better than their singing.”

You laugh, batting at him, “that’s talking!”

“Shhh, you’re going to miss the sex scene,” he teases, making you roll your eyes. 

All it made you think of was what you had planned for later tonight, making you readjust your position suddenly nervous. Well, it won’t go this bad right?

You’re lost in your thoughts as the movie zooms into the girls’ face in a still shot of her screaming, fading into the roll of intro credits as most older movies tended to have early in the movie. 

“Coke?” Eddie offers his drink to you and you raise your eyebrow. 

“Really? You’re offering me coke when I ordered Diet Coke?” You let out a small snort of a laugh. 

He shrugs innocently “it tastes different!”

You laugh “please don’t get me hooked on the hard stuff again.” You wave off his offer, taking a sip of your own drink out of the red and white striped straw. 

As the movie plays and you finish the nachos, you lean against his shoulder snuggling in as you work on the popcorn. Your hands brush together as you laugh at the first girl for ignoring every red flag. You share giggles in the darkness of the van over the comical kills of old movies. You made fun of them, sure, but that was part of the charm with old school slashers. 

Normally with movies you’d be yawning by the end of it, trying to stay awake. But you were nervous, and determined to make tonight as perfect- or at least as good as you possibly could. 

Looking over at him watching the movie intently filled you with a hot desire. His black leather jacket fit the atmosphere entirely and framed his body underneath. The feeling of his firm chest against your head was comforting but you wanted- no, needed- more of him. You wanted to feel his body on top of you, engulfed in everything that is him. Perfect dark brown wavy hair, tired droopy eyes filled with laughter, slim torso and a delicious waist. 

Perhaps he knew you wanted more, you wondered as he raised an arm putting it over your shoulder rendering you even closer to him. 

By the end of the movie, when they zoom the camera into the lake, your heart was pounding in your chest. Eddie had turned the van on to start it, putting the warm air on you hadn’t noticed how cool the air was. 

“Always love that” he smiles tapping his fingers against the van door. 

“Me too. Wanna come back to my place?” It took all of your courage to say it tonight, although every other night it came easily. Tonight was different, everything was different. 

“Yeah, are you okay?” He says noticing something off about you “we can call it a night if you want.”

“No” you said a little too quickly, redness rising to your cheeks “Yeah everything’s okay. Perfect actually,” and it was. Then why were you so nervous?

“Okay” he smiled, squeezing your knee gently.

You move your fingers to the car radio, switching to Bluetooth to play some music through Spotify on your phone. You put on the playlist Eddie had tailored for you, of his favourite music he’d thought you’d like. And it did help, before long you were fumbling with the keys to your apartment. 

Switching on the lights, your small apartment felt somehow different than you left it, even though no nook or cranny had been touched. The soft arrangement of flowers still held strong in their vase, slurping up the water you provided. You lazily lay your purse on the kitchen table next to them, leaving your shoes at the door. Eddie does the same, making himself at home as he always does, with a carefree attitude.

“Thirsty?” you ask, you grab the remote flipping on some sitcom on the tv. 

“Naw,” he shakes his head, taking off his leather jacket revealing a dark long sleeved shirt beneath.

Flopping yourself on the couch you sigh as he sits next to you. He was much more relaxed than you, leaning back into the couch as if it were his own, tapping his fingers against his knee. The tv hums in your ears as you connect your phone to Bluetooth, switching the playlist on through your speakers, quiet enough to not disturb any neighbours. You curl up into him, pressing your thighs against his legs and leaning your head against his chest. 

After a moment of music playing, his foot tapping against the floorboards, the words leave your lips cautiously “I had fun tonight Ed’s…”

“Me too,” he whispered into you, brushing his lips along your hair. “I always have fun when I’m with you” his whisper was louder as his lips touched your ear, making you shudder.

Suddenly you’re looking up at him as the butterflies inside your chest take over, brown eyes staring down, hypnotising you. Your lips meet in a deep kiss for the first time this evening, a sweet relief. 

He pulls back for a moment to say “You know, you don’t have to feel pressured to do anything. I’m happy with the way things are, with whatever you want.” 

You blush realising he knew exactly what you were thinking. 

“I-I know…” you trail off “yeah I’m just really nervous” your eyes meet his “but it’s because I really want this, and I want it to be perfect.”

He smiles at you, and you’re worried you said something wrong “I’ve been so nervous about this since the day we started dating.” He runs his hand through his hair, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this nervous “I don’t exactly have much in terms of experience.” He admits, red rising to his cheeks, a rare sight. 

“Anything with you would be perfect,” you say to him with a smile. 

“Actually, that’s my line here sweetheart” brown eyes glistened with joy. 

“You know,” You admit “I called you this morning because I had this dream and…” you trail off cheeks even redder. 

“A dream?” He smirked down at you, running his thumb along your waist. Clearly, he understood what he needed to do, “tell me about it,” he whispered. 

You recount the dream you had, suddenly feeling flustered but you wanted him to know exactly how badly you wanted him “we-we we’re at the beach,” you start and he hums. 

“Sex on the beach?” He smirks at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear “lovely drink too.”

“No, silly. Well yes but… we went swimming” you think back to the dream, the sky was dark and the moon illuminated both of you, dancing off the water. “You dragged me into the water, asshole move by the way,” you glare at him. 

He sighs “dream me getting me in trouble.”

“You say that like you wouldn't do it in reality.”

“Okay fair” he laughs as you smack his shoulder “continue.”

“You dunked me under water, so I pulled you in. Then we started kissing…” his hand trailed up under the fabric of your shirt ever so slightly. “You started grabbing my thighs…”

“Like this?” He asks, bringing his hand to your thigh. 

Strong fingers grasp it, his thumb traces random patterns on your jeans “mmhmm,” you whisper as he slowly moves up. Your legs heat up as you feel yourself starting to wetten. 

“And then, you untied my swimsuit top, throwing it into the ocean so I couldn’t grab it” he twisted his body to face you as you spoke, bringing his free hand to the small of your back. 

“Go me,” he whispered with a smile. 

You laugh before continuing “and you kissed me. Everywhere. I mean, everywhere.”

“You know,” he snuck his hand underneath your shirt, running over the bare skin of your waist. “I could do that for you, if you like.”

You find yourself climbing on top of his lap, straddling his hips. He was taken aback but pleasantly so, eyes staring up at you in wonder. He grabbed both of your love thighs, trailing his hands back to your ass. You lean down kissing him deeply, feeling his tongue against yours tasting his sweetness. He grabs your ass lovingly as you kiss, hard and deep while you release his wild hair from the confines of his messy bun.

You run your fingers through his hair lovingly, kissing him passionately, gasping into each others’ mouths. His hands are up and cupping your breasts through the light fabric of your bra. You imagine riding him then and there, letting out an ever so slight moan. His breath was shaky, first you were a little embarrassed by the noise but clearly it fed something in him. 

He moves his hands to the clasp of your bra, fiddling with it for a few moments before you feel the band slacken. You shimmy the straps off of your shoulders, letting the bra fall out of your t-shirt onto your thighs. You look up at him innocently as he looks at your bra in wonder “go me” he whispered with a playful grin. 

You feel your nipples stiffen against your shirt as you pull it up and over your head, his jaw nearly dropped, “you are so damn gorgeous…” he mumbles, bringing his mouth to your breast. 

Your head falls back as he kisses your nipple, licking his tongue hungrily along your breast. He brushes his tongue quickly against your nipple, back and forth making you let out a moan. He moves to the other one to show it some love, alternating between sucking and licking as his strong hands hold you steady. His wavy hair tickles against your skin, a pleasant sensation. 

You bring your hands down to the rim of his long sleeve shirt, lifting it up. He pulls his head back, taking over to lift his shirt over his head. You put your hand against his chest, tracing your finger over his tattoos “you’re beautiful…”

“Hey, that’s my line again,” he kissed your neck playfully, you let out a laugh as it tickled. 

The feeling of his body pressed into yours was heavenly mixed with his lips against the delicate skin of your neck. He pecked gentle kisses into you, making his way to your mouth. Bringing his hands to your waist he gently guided you to lay down on the couch, your back pressed into the cushion. 

He lowers himself on top of you, holding himself steady against the couch. He seemed nervous as he did, breaths unsteady. You pull his head down to you, locking your lips together. You were addicted to the taste of him, you wanted to stay there forever inhaling him. Smoke and sweet soda intertwined, taking over you. Suddenly though, there were too much clothes keeping you apart.

Your hands instinctively move down his chest, over his stomach and grabbing at his belt buckle. His bulge didn’t even try to hide from you as his cock pressed tightly against his jeans. 

His lips brushed yours, breath catching in his throat as you wiggle your fingers underneath the fabric. You fumble with his belt buckle as he moves to nibble at your neck, breath hot against your ear. You slide the belt out, dropping it to the floor with the sound of metal clinking. 

You move your fingers back, undoing the button of his jeans, unzipping them gracefully. You can hear the gulp heavy in his throat, adams’ apple bobbing. He moves a hand to your jeans to reciprocate, undoing the button much easier than you had. You feel your thighs start moving instinctively as his hands are now dangerously close to your cunt. Your body shivers, feeling weak beneath his touch, wanting to succumb to all of him. 

You shimmy out of your jeans, discarding them along with your socks to the floor rendering you naked below him save for your soaking panties. 

“Wow,” he says, shaking his head, flashing his perfect teeth at you in shock, running his tongue over them thirstily, “you’re absolutely soaked for me darling.”

You manage a nod “I want you, so bad,” you look up at him with begging eyes “all of you, tonight.”

He couldn’t say no, not that he ever would refuse you, “anything you want,” he whispers, standing and removing the last of his fabric keeping him apart from you. 

He pressed his naked body against yours, heat mingling together. You kiss him, love drunk on his taste and scent, wanting to consume it all. 

“Please,” you murmur, your cunt throbbing with every heartbeat. 

He moves a hand to your panties, sliding them down over your goosebump covered thighs until they reach the floor and it’s just you and him. His hot, firm body against your cool, shivering, soft one. Bodies now connected by the chapped lips on his pale marble body.

You wrap your arms around his neck as he brings his hand to your wet cunt. He looks to you for confirmation and you nod eagerly. He had fingered you before but you savoured it every damn time. 

He wasted no time plunging his fingers inside tonight. The sight of your back arching as you moan makes his cock throb, letting out precum for you as you squirm under his grip. His fingers rub against the walls of your cunt methodologically, his rings adding a new form of pleasure to the experience. He takes his sweet time preparing you for him, making sure you're soaked and stretched. 

“Eds,” You say, bringing your hand down to catch his wrist, shivering at the sigh of his fingers inside you “I’m ready.”

“A-are you sure…?” His voice is low. 

You nod eagerly “yes, yes please.”

He reaches down into his jean pockets, long forgotten, pulling out his wallet. He reaches into the old worn leather grabbing a small packet, which you eagerly grab from him.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to” he reminds you, dropping his wallet to the floor but you’ve already got the condom opened. 

“I want to” You look him deep into his eyes, bringing your gentle fingers to touch his shaft. 

He groans and throbs against your touch as you roll the condom down over his cock, fitting perfectly. He takes over, lining up his tip with your cunt. He looks at your face, studying your expression and you nod. 

Slowly, he slides in until about halfway when you let out a groan of wonderful, tight pressure, your walls clenching against him. He squeezes your shoulder comfortingly with one hand.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head, letting yourself relax against the couch. 

“Okay, okay” you breathe deep “you can keep going.”

He slowly starts pushing himself into you again, your toes curl as all of him is finally inside. You both let out a gasp of air, smiling at each other. 

“Finally,” you whisper, not intending that to be out loud. 

You longed for this since the day you met him, feeling him deep inside you right where he belongs, fitting perfectly inside.  

He pushes your hair back away from your face, “you look so beautiful with my cock in you, sweetheart” he wears a proud grin looking down at your naked body. 

“Keep going” you urge him along. 

He pulls out, not entirely but enough for him to thrust back inside, smoother this time. He sits there for a moment, checking in again. 

“Is that okay?” He asks. 

“Uh-huh,” You nod more confidently this time. 

He repeats the process, thrusting in a little faster this time and he’s rewarded with a sweet, high pitched moan. He continues at a steady pace for more thrusts, getting used to the feeling of sliding in and out of you. 

He reaches down to a couch pillow discarded to the floor, picking it up. He pulls out for just a moment, lifting your ass into the air, he shoves the small pillow underneath you. 

He brings his cock to your entrance for the second time, sliding it in much more easily this time. Thrusting in the second time he brushes against the wonderful spot deep inside you, making you grasp the couch and moan louder this time. 

He smiles knowing he found your spot, pulling out and thrusting back over it again “how’s that darling?” 

“‘S good, so good” your toes curl against the couch. 

He continues ramming his cock against that wonderful spot, and just as you feel your pleasure climb he slows a little. 

“How are you doing?” Eddie asks, a little nervous. 

“Please Eds” you whimper “shut up and fuck me, and don’t you dare fucking stop.”

He chuckles at your reaction and obliges, having his confidence return “whatever pleases my lady.”

You grasp at his back for dear life then as he no longer holds back. Your body is pressed hard into the couch as he rams into you over and over, “yes Eddie! Right there right there baby,” you encourage, chasing that sweet ecstasy. 

He grunts in response, sweating as his cock pushes you along the trail of pleasure, higher and higher.

“Yes Eddie, yes, I need you so bad” Your voice is almost a shout. 

Your hands grasp desperately at his firm back, muscles tensing as he fucks you. He pushes you over the edge of orgasm as you let out a breathless moan, mouth draped open as your eyes practically roll back. 

Seeing you writhing in pleasure below him was too much, he releases his orgasm inside of the condom with a deep, husky moan that makes your spine shiver. 

He lays on top of you, still inside, breathing heavy as his sweat drips onto you. You bring your numb hands up to his head, running your fingers through his sweaty hair, brushing it back and out of his face. 

“Wow” you whisper after a moment, enjoying the comforting pressure of his weight against you. 

“Wow,” he confirms with a quick nod and you can feel his heart pumping in his chest. 

You lay there for maybe minutes that only feel like seconds before he pulls himself out of you. You realise how cold the air is as his body leaves yours, standing up and tossing the used condom in the trash. 

“Come here” you reach your hands out beckoning him to come forward.

He obliged almost curiously, as you pulled him by the waist closer to you. Mouth watering, you take his soaking cock into the embrace of your tongue, licking up every last drop of his orgasm. With any other guy before Eddie you honestly hated it, the taste and the feel. But with Eddie, you felt like you couldn’t live without it as your tongue begged for him.

“Okay, okay,” He pulled out when the sensations became too much, lifting himself behind you to snuggle into your back, nuzzling sweetly into your neck.

He pressed his warm body up against you, holding you securely in his grasp. 

“Better than the dream?” He asked playfully, kissing your ear. 

“Better than my dream” you confirm, sharing a sweet giggle. As he held you tightly then and there, you knew this would be the first time of many.

----

💙💙💙💙

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My requests are currently OPEN! Turnaround time is usually 1-2 days depending on length <3

Have a great day my lovely reader!

-Wyv

#stranger things eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #wyv fan fics #fan fic #fan fics #fan fiction #anon request #dinner and a movie first time with EM

[dreamingofbucky]

Inescapable

chapter three

summary: you finally encounter a suited man.

tags/warnings: hints of violence, choking (not reader), allusions to possible assault and robbery, spanish nicknames because spider-man has no chill compared to miguel hehe, tbh some whiplash bc spiderman is so sweet and miguel is not.

wordcount: 2.4k

author’s note: not betea read.  uhhh thank you for 700 followers and being patient with me for this update! I've been planning and plotting this series so it can flow well. And I even started plotting another multi chapter fic for miguel. it'll be a dark one...can't wait!

tag list: @yehet-moi-ohorat @127aliciia @keepingitlokiii @soseoulol @netey6m @miggyoharaswife @thesecretwriter @natthernandez @twitchydownfall

series masterlist

The crime in the city was only seemingly getting worse.  

You were on your third week at work and you’ve just finished sending in last minute emails before leaving the office. It was Thursday, so that meant you could stop by the grocery store for some discounted sushi. It was the simple things, really. 

Miguel O’Hara has been out of your mind for as long as you could muster, even if you saw him around Alchemax. You’d easily turn your heel and walk back to where you came from or even side step him and walk down a random hallway. 

Ever since that night you found yourself drunk-mumbling and moaning his name you had to make your distance. And he didn’t seem to make it any more difficult for you. It’s like he knew you were avoiding him and he let you. 

How sweet. 

He was off doing whatever bullshit he’d do during the workday and you were positive there were times he wasn’t even in the building or on campus for that matter. But you didn’t mind one bit when you turned in the first of many reports to your boss and you got praise for it. 

You didn’t dare to find Miguel to share the good news because this was all you and you wanted to cherish it. Even if his credentials were on it. 

You didn’t care. 

***

Walking toward the grocery store is not as noisy as you’d expect for a Thursday afternoon. You even had a little pep in your step once you reached the destination and began looking at the sushi options. You opted for a Philly roll and a crunchy crab. You even got another bottle of wine to dive into. 

Once you paid for your groceries you were on your way home when you got this funny feeling in your body. Like someone was following you. 

You picked up your pace, sushi bag in one hand and wine bottle in the other. Your hand tightened around the wine bottle and you’d sacrifice the sweet and savory goodness to use it as your weapon if you had to. 

Turning your head slightly, you could hear the shuffle of footsteps behind you—catching up. Your heart rate quickened at the realization that the faster you began to walk, the faster the steps behind you slapped against the concrete. 

You didn’t bother to turn to look at who it might be, you couldn’t spare that second as you picked up your pace into a light jog. The pretty blue dress you decided to wear to work today flows around your thighs with the movement. 

The streets weren’t busy so there wouldn’t be anyone you could scream to if you needed. You were ultimately fucked if you let them get to you, regardless of what they wanted. 

There were often times you almost got robbed before you found ways out of those situations. If tonight was going to be the first, you’d be sure to put up a fight. Even if it costs your wine bottle. 

The blood pumping in your veins rushed to your ears and that’s all you could hear. It wasn’t until you ran across a street, thinking you made enough space between you and whoever was behind you that you knew you were wrong. 

Oh, so wrong. 

“You can’t keep running, pretty,” a gruff voice sounded right by your ear. It was so sudden that you jumped at the sound, turning your gaze at the man with a black ski mask on. Did they seriously follow you with that on in broad daylight… and no one stopped them? 

Another reason added to your list of why you were starting to dislike this city. The bystander effect was very very real here. 

Before you can think to run, fight, or even think, they grab you by your elbow harshly and push you toward an alleyway. Your breathing fills the silence around you and you know you should scream. 

Yell.

Fight.

Do something. 

But nothing came out of your mouth when you parted your lips. Your hand wouldn’t lift when the neurons in your brain attempted to connect with the nerves in your hand to lift the damn wine bottle and smash it over this person’s head. 

You’re pushed against a hard brick wall and your breath gets knocked out of you. The sushi bag falls in the process. 

“You won’t be needing this,” the person laughs before leaning down and pulling the wine bottle out of your hardened grasp. Your fingers are stiff around it and they have to practically yank it out of your grip. 

Their eyes are almost bloodshot and they’re not too much taller than you. You could make a run for it, if your damn body listened to you. But you seemed to be stuck in Freeze Mode. 

“You’re not going to say anything?” They ask, leaning in closer. You could hear their muffled breathing under the mask. “This will make it easier for me then.” 

It takes everything in you to finally speak and it comes out as a pitiful whisper. “P-please, just leave me alone. Take my purse!” 

Their eyes run down the length of you until they stop at the purse strap over your shoulder. 

“That wouldn’t make this fun, though. I’m already enjoying this. Why not make it last?” 

You suck in a deep breath, still attempting to will your feet to move. To move your knee at least and jab it into their crotch and then make a run for it. But of course your body would not respond to your commands. 

They lean in even more, their covered nose brushing against your cheek and then your neck. Your whole body is on alert and the hairs on the back of your neck stand firm. You close your eyes, hoping they can do whatever they need to and make it quick. Blocking it out would be far better than trying to continually stop them, you think. 

But that wouldn’t happen, thankfully. 

It all happens so quickly. They’re lifting a hand to brush your head when they grunt and then take a step back, falling a few feet away. You hear it all and you finally whip your eyes open. 

The gasp that leaves your lips is loud as you register the scene before you. You plant yourself even more against the brick wall as you take in the tall figure. The tall figure that’s donned in a blue spandex like suit with red markings over it. They make a design, but you can’t quite make it out from this angle. 

Eyes widening, your fingertips clutch the brick and you attempt to calm your breathing. 

“What the hell? Who are you?!” The masked man screams, holding their head and attempting to stand up to fight against this person. 

Once the masked man stands at full height, that’s when you realize the difference between the two. The suited man is more than a foot, maybe two, taller than this masked guy and he’s leaning so far into the guy that you can practically see the sweat beads drip down his temples from where you’re standing. 

“If you think you can save the day, you can’t!” The masked man screams just then, attempting to scare the tall suited man. You attempt to inch a little to the right, away from the men. 

“Get lost before I force you to,” the tall figure finally speaks. The voice is low, borderline teasing. As if he’s a predator playing with its prey; giving it a chance to think about running but knowing there really is no way out of their predicament. 

But something else about the voice rings in your ear and it keeps your feet planted. As if the intonation is a spell, keeping you grounded. 

“Fuck off, let me have her. Trying to be a hero? Go find real villains like those petty cops that ruin our city. She’s none of your concern—”

Before he can finish his sentence the suited man reaches his hand out and grabs the masked man’s throat. It almost looks effortless with the way he then raises his arm, lifting the guy by the throat as if he weighs nothing. You widen your eyes at the sight and watch as the masked man starts to fumble his words, clawing his fingers at the suited guy’s wrist. 

The suited guy is silent as he grips the masked man’s throat even tighter and his eyes bulge out of the mask as if they’re going to pop out. 

“You know one thing about me?” The suited man asks, finally turning his head to look at you. Red shapes outline where his eyes would be and they move with the expression he has. Right now they’re narrowed slits on the suit and you wonder how the guy really looks underneath it. 

The masked man can only groan, unable to speak or probably breathe. 

“I might try to be a hero here, but that doesn’t mean I’m like the ones you silly humans watch on your TV,” he starts. He continues to look at you and there’s a sudden chill in the air that comes from the intensity of it. You gulp, waiting for him to finish. 

“I don’t have a ‘no-kill’ rule.” And as if he’s just teasing the man, he laughs and it does something to you. The string of laughs vibrate throughout your body and you’re not sure if you should be afraid of this suited man or not. He is saving you from this encounter, but your mind is in a frenzy trying to decide if you’re next. 

The masked man’s fingers continue to claw at the suited man’s wrist before he loses consciousness. Your breathing is erratic and you’re positive you’ll be next to pass out. 

Within minutes, the suited man lifts his other hand and you can’t believe your eyes as you see something retract out of his finger. A claw. He pulls off the ski mask and you gasp, seeing the face of the man who attempted to rob you and probably do much more. He doesn’t look much younger than you.  

Another life wasted to the corruption and cruelty of this city. 

The suited man doesn’t give you enough time to process it all before he’s slowly dragging his claw up to the man’s chin before pressing into the skin and drawing blood. He continues to run his claw up toward the man’s temple. The gash isn’t big, but it’s deep enough to cause a thin line of red and some blood drops to begin to pour down his face. 

The suited man releases the hold on the masked man’s throat before tossing his body on the ground, like he’s disgusted to be even touching him. He restracts the claw before turning toward you. You hitch your breath, eyes widened, and hands slowly reaching up toward your chest in a pathetic attempt to look defensive. 

But he doesn’t stop walking toward you, he even cocks his head to the side and the red lines for his eyes narrow even more before he’s a couple inches from you. His broad shoulders take up your vision. His bulging muscles underneath the suit doesn’t help with how you’re feeling with the heightened emotions. 

With the height difference you have to crane your head up. It reminds you of someone else that is just as tall. 

Miguel O’Hara. He’s always got you craning your head to look up at him. You blink a few times before this suited man reaches his hand up to grab your chin. It’s not harsh, but quite delicate. Like he’s worried he’d hurt or break you with the simplest touch. 

“W-Who are you?” You finally stumble out in a breathless tone. 

The red lines on his mask contort before he takes a deep breath. “Not important, nena. You’re safe now.”

You glance quickly at the unconscious body a few feet away and swallow the lump in your throat. Eyes averting to the suited man, you can’t help but part your lips. His thumb moves from your chin to your bottom lip. You can’t see his face, but you want to desperately. 

“Thank you,” you breathe. 

“Stay out of trouble, muñeca, or you’ll just have to see more of me,” he whispers so lowly you almost miss it. 

Your heart thumps wildly against your chest and before you can even ask him who he is, why he’s in a suit, and why he’s attempting to be the city’s hero when those kinds of things don’t exist, he’s taking a step back and heading out of the alleyway. You want to chase after him and make him reveal himself, but your feet continue to stay planted on the concrete. 

After a few deep breaths you look at the unconscious body on the ground and you finally take a step forward. Finally, you have the strength to move your feet and you find yourself standing in front of the masked guy. His eyes are shut and the blood is starting to dry on his face from the claw that pierced the skin. 

You look around the alleyway before looking back at the man and lift your foot, taking a deep breath and kicking his side. He’s still slumped and passed out, so you kick him again. And again, and again. 

The anger in you starts to dissipate and it turns into tears as you continue to kick the guy’s midsection. Until your ankle hurts and your toes feel stubbed. Your breathing is harsh and you back up, feeling exhausted at this simple act of defense. 

You pondered the way the suited man said he isn’t like the heroes you watch on TV. Most of the time they only help the damsels and then take the villains to authorities or beat them up. Never kill. Seemed like a notion all heroes abided by.

But not this suited man. He had no rule that stopped him from killing someone. That terrified you, but that also brought an odd sensation of relief to you as well. A protectiveness sensation, if you will. 

Maybe this city could benefit from that kind of hero with how horrible it’s become. 

You hitch your purse higher on your shoulder as you turn on your heel and head out of the alleyway. Your appetite is gone and all you want to do is curl up on your couch and sleep. 

And that’s what you do. But that night you don’t dream of just anything. 

You dream of that suited man. 

And oddly enough, you dream of Miguel O’Hara as well.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman #miguel o'hara atsv #atsv fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction

[xx-slug-xx]

//rant where I just go off about the recent antis who have been going around. There’s been so many that I’ve seen, so it’s not about any particular users tbh. Like, my dash is filled with different antis and I wanted to say something about it lol

The recent rise of certain antis not knowing how to spell, using abbreviations for almost every word they type, and talking like they can’t be any older than 15 is really concerning tbh.

And when I say “taking like they can’t be any older than 15”, I mean they lack any sort of argument or desire to have one while using patterns in their text that is shocking similar to middle schoolers to early high schoolers using (all the way down to the slang, abbreviations, and punctuations). Everything boils down to “lol kys pedo 💀”. Like, do they not realize how dumb they sound? Do they not realize that every anon ask I get that sounds at all like this, I just delete it and move on with my day? Nobody takes them seriously besides the antis who are on the same wavelength as them, and that’s not something they should be proud of (they are proud btw). And they really think they are getting somewhere with it. Really it’s just annoying :/ I used to be an internet troll back in my day (13 to be exact lol), and what made it fun wasn’t the “hahaha I hate you” aspect of it, it was the debate. Well, for me at least. So I really don’t understand this whole thing that these new antis who have been showing up on my dash lately who have absolutely no point to be made, contradict themselves, and don’t even bother to look at anything other than a label someone uses. What do they gain from this? Like seriously. There’s no gain from my perspective when nobody is taking what you say with any seriousness and your just a minor annoyance.

I really am concerned though, and this is regardless of this new wave’s actual ages, because I’m not assuming that they are minors without proof of such (I have reason to have high suspicion that they are minors, but that’s not relevant) (and if they are minors, who fucking told them it was at all ok to interact with people who they think are pedophiles?). But like, do folks not realize that harassment with no real logic behind it just makes them look stupid when it’s done in this fashion? Like, harassment in general is dumb, but this is worse for some reason imo. I’m in awe tbh, like, /srs on this one. I’m concerned about people’s basic literacy skills and their ability to think about things rationally. If this wave consisted of people who had valid criticism and wanted to hold a debate about the topics at hand (which, personally, I love the antis who are like this because I love holding serious discussion on complicated topics), then it would be a completely different story. But there’s been nothing but stupidity clogging up my dash lately, and I’m kinda annoyed :/

I’m also waiting for the antis who have been perusing the proship tags lately to see this and say something lmao

#tw antiship #tw discourse #tw rant #proship #profic #anti anti #profiction #comship #anti censorship #anti harassment

[tiny-sassy-aggressive]

DAN AND PHIL REACT TO PHAN TWITTER REACTIONS w/ timestamps

.03 sir please don’t crack your hands in my ears.

.11 way to early in the video for a phude Jumpscare

.16 DIP AND PIP ?!!!??

.26 tbh shoutout to Phil for acknowledging that even tho we have fan accounts, not everything we say, create, post is something we would want them to see. Love the self awareness. Appreciate the space he provides

.35 rip Dan memes and tumblr tags

.56 I actually needed to be told I am gorgeous and intelligent, I knows it’s fake but it’s nice to hear even if fake

1.37 WHY IS HE **** ********* THE MIC N O NO NO NO NO WHAT??????

2.08 chill Phil we weren’t gonna fight about it. You’re Edward… OKAY

2.25 how many times are they going to watch pinof 1 ! Babes you can do that anytime you want not just on camera

2.37 Phil is in FULL CRISIS realizing how messy he is as if they haven’t already talked about this before

3.09 TUMBLR NEVER LEFT. YOU LEFT.

3.29 the synced lean in as they discovered the dan has something in his teeth bit was a video

3.40 SO SO SO GLAD THE SOCK VIDEO MADE IT. AND HES ACKNOWLEDGING

3.46 SHOES SOCK VIDEO JUMPS ARE😭😭😭

4.24 “keep reading” oh goodness that. Sir. Okay.

4.44 hi just realized is Dan wearing a muscle tank under the see through shirt????? Side note. Want the see through shirt

5.03 FANTASTIC FOURSOME JUMPDVARE

6.14 NO DAN NOT KATE THEY ARE LISTENINF. DONT BECOME INVOLVED IN ANOTHER ROYAL CONSPIRACY

7.41 absolutely fire meme. I laughed so loud I actually had to pause the video. Worst part? I had already reposted on twt yet still reacted to it

8.05 he is staring into my soul. Hell how is he staring THROUGH my soul

9.17 no words. “It’s not a bad look” alakakakak???

9.22 So suddenly it’s not “we” anymore, huh?

9.53 rip Phil’s slit😫

10.08 I just through Dan making a joke then immediately hitting Phil to let him know he was joking was really funny. Stuff I do with my friends I am tactile

11.46 I ALWAYS thought that image was edited to have all of them. I didn’t realize it was a real photos

12.38 OH MY FOS????? JUMPSVARE WHAT THE HELL

12:45 those pounds weee so aggressive. It sounded like they really hurt. I’m hurt listening

12:46 Phil is watching that monitor like a HAWK he is NOT losing monetization bc Dan wants to wap

13.00 Phil saw and saved this and nobody knew. He lurks. Nobody is safe.

13:36 about nine “what can I say”s in. Dan has a genuine look of terror and confusion. He looks like he’s playing up his reaction a bit in the beginning, laughing and stuff and acting annoyed but this point is genuine horror and realization. This is so gold. Will be giffing later. Also precious Phil

14.50 okay the editing kinda memes his monologue a bit but i was high key inspired. He’s so wrote. Everything is a story that must be concluded. I love that thought process. Clearly bc I am also a grade a yapper but still

15:50 oh the immediate IMMEDIATE regret in Phil’s face

16:35 we love a self aware king. The poster was a tad rough

16:56 THUS CIDEO AND COMMENTARY JS SO SO SO GOOD

17:38 YES THANK YOU THE WADVERT WAS RVEFHONE. We couldn’t eat sleep or think without seeing it

18:11 please wash your blanket? Guys? Like? You can clean, wash, or dry clean anything. Please?

19:00 tbh saw under the robbing blanks and it wasn’t even that bad? Compared to every horrific demon phannie thing that has been seen? Not bad! Could have been worse

19:45 2021 period???? Hello??? You were gone since 2018? At least from dapg??

20:44 yet???? Capitolestor strikes again

20:50 did they not have a keep calm and something on poster in their apt at one point??? Some people?? You mean you???

21:16 I SAW THIS WHEN IT DROPPED. love dami sm. This video was so good

22:24 JUMPSCARE

22:55 “1992” “Daniel” calm down

23:25 “you also let me” guys??? How is this forced situation? Who decided??

24:20 he needs to back away from the mic I can feel him breathing in my ears my goood ess??

24:34 I’m screaming bc they used a clip from the section before we all thought they got high. This section they posted was just a cute section

24:54 literally speechless. Also jumpscare?

26:30 the entire dan induced conclusion is beautiful I love them and their banter

26:54 nvm can you lean into the mic closer and tell us you’re proud again??? Needed that???

#dan and phil #amazingphil #dnp #phil lester #daniel howell #philip lester #dan howell #danisnotonfire #dan and phil renaissance #dnpgames

[class1akids]

Can I please know your thoughts on ch 406?

Spoilers under the cut:

Update on battlefields:

what is shown and what isn't shown is equally interesting. Takoba Arena is confirmed to be Gashly, and it looks like his quirk is to make a flood of scary babies or Chucky dolls? Only Ojirou is shown + Ryukyu who I was sure would be here. I hope we'll get a close-up, as it looks super-creepy. Sero is still nowhere to be seen though, even though we know he'll have a moment

Hagakure still seems to be visible. I wonder if Aoyama glitched her quirk for good or if she'll figure it out how to turn it on / off.

Gunga is not shown at all - I'm guessing because maybe some things are happening as we speak (notably Toga being saved).

Aizawa and Kurogiri reminder confirms that they will be back in play and if Warp Gate is back, others could be coming through.

Fight:

I didn't think Bakugou's revival would be 80% comic relief tbh, so I'm still recalibrating my brain. But I appreciate how goofy he looks trying to gain control over his quirk upgrade. 🤣 I generally appreciate if someone doesn't get something 100% on first try.

It's also confirmed that pre-upgrade Bakugou doesn't have the power of Endeavor or Dark Shadow - something for the power-scalers to play with. I expect he's gonna get past it though once he figures out how to get his sweat into one focus point?

AFO going again with the "I'm not gonna fight back" and "I'm gonna be a moron because he pisses me off" - ngl is getting really tiring and makes for a worse fight (especially knowing how Bakugou doesn't appreciate opponents not giving their all). I mean, at the moment it's more like a goofy weird game of tag rather than a fight. It feels like the AFO's regressing due to Rewind and Bakugou kind of returning to his child self - so it does have a schoolyard fight energy. I hope once Bakugou does his big boom, we can finally move on from AFO.

Deku activating his last gear shift for the third time is exactly like the PLF war, where he was constantly on his last 100% smash. These just don't do anything for me anymore as there is hardly any follow through. It's also a weird choice to have him activate it but not show what happens (considering how speedy it is) unless he activated it on Bakugou again? Not sure...

I think Deku will eventually go down due to abusing Gear Shift, but the question is how much of the fight with Shigaraki before will be shown. Once Deku is down from the blow-back, things will get desperate - Shigaraki is stronger than prime AFO, so it will take some effort to hold him back unless it's some self-destruct again - so I expect Aizawa and some reinforcements show up to hold back Shigaraki or counter Decay (sounds like a cool way to show off Ochako's awakening) while Deku is catching his breath

Shigaraki I guess is just chilling and not gonna do anything until it's his "scene". It's a bit lame that they have a 1000 quirks between them yet just make faces at each other. I feel like it would work better to see them in dynamic poses, etc.

The purpose of Bakugou being the 2nd's lookalike seems to be an excuse to make AFO even more moronic and have some flashbacks. I'm really curious how Yoichi died so I hope we get more on that.

I guess with Bakugou's parents shown, maybe the "ancestor"-theory is on the table too. Possibly Mitsuki will reveal she's from the Kudou clan? (This theory imho is not very impactful. It's about as important as the reveal that Rei and Geten are both Himuras. It's like a "cool - ok, then" kind of revelation).

Bakugou announcing himself as Kacchan looks like an obvious set-up for another joke about his hero name - where the whole world will know him as Kacchan rather than GEMGD, and Deku will also think it's his hero name.

That's it. It's a set-up chapter. It sets up some gigantic explosion from Bakugou. It sets up once again why AFO is not gonna do anything remotely intelligent. It sets up Deku going down. It sets up another hero name joke. Maybe it sets up more vestige history (I hope the punchline is at least something emotional in the end).

#c1a asks #bnha manga leaks #bnha manga spoilers #bnha 406