#Risk Management Edition

[outeremissary]

🌺 Ok one for the new kid! Kasander likes animals but keeps their distance from them, on account of not trusting the Urges

6/10 on average, I think, spiking to a 10 depending on recency of the last Incident. Kasander really loves animals and is someone who talks to them a lot, and they struggle to balance that with the precautions that would keep other creatures safe. In the end it's the same way with their companions- they could easily hurt or kill one of them by mistake, but they still travel with others. They're learning themself better all the time, and they hope that will help them have a better sense of when it's about to take them and they need to get away. They withdraw much more completely when something has gone wrong recently though. It's hard to maintain that optimism when the strategy has just failed.

[headcanon prompt]

[sysig]

I sure do fill my cup of coffee like I don’t need to descend a flight of stairs without a lid on it

[spiritualviolation]

trying to 100% the arcade challenge, but does anyone know how to decrease the bpm meter for the 'comeback king' achievement?

i genuinely can't seem to figure out how to get the achievement

[pluvicor]

ooc: A good chunk of my struggles with my boss comes from me wanting to keep everything to "professional" matters, like not letting her be privy to more "immature" thoughts/basic needs, and then getting frustrated when it didn't change anything. But! Today I was feeling crazy enough to go full infant baby throwing tantrum on her and risk it all and... lo and behold, it actually worked? She apologized and brought her tone down, acknowledged me as essential to her team and said she tugs me along because she acshoally has plans to give me a promotion sooner than later? Among other things. Weird move but ok. Almost one and a half hour of me bawling my eyes out and covering myself in snot while tearing into everything that made me crazy in this department and about her treatment, 0 corporate behavior, very out of character of me as your friendly "composed" neighbor quality management team lead.

Do NOT recommend acting like this but also don't recommend letting it build up this far silently.

[motomamita]

streamer!bf!könig × female!reader

warnings: +18, smut, blowjob!

inspired on this edit of hasan piker

könig has been streaming for minutes talking and reacting to videos that his viewers send without knowing that you are under the desk sucking his cock.

he couldn't blame you, you were ovulating and he was busy enough with work that you just had a quickie in the shower that morning. However, you still wanted more from him. That's why you didn't reject when he offered to blow him while he was live on his platform. You both enjoyed the risk of being discovered.

"that... that was funny, I haven't seen that video in a while." König responded with his normal voice and a calm expression on his face.

under the desk you sucked his hard, thick cock, trying not to choke or make noises that could be heard. You savored every inch of his cock, caressing his heavy, sweaty balls with your hands and letting your saliva fall on them. König opened his legs wider, giving you more room as he moved closer to you, wanting more.

"okay, chat. Let's listen to a song. I'm going to play my favorite song for fuck." König joked, playing a song and then muting his microphone for his audience.

könig acted like he was enjoying the music, while one of his hands went down to your head and forced you to take his entire cock in your mouth. You choked loudly but managed to hold on for him, you knew he was close to cumming. König beat the rhythm with his hand, fucking your mouth brutally as the music continued to play.

"oh, fuck. That's feels so good.." he moaned without taking his eyes off the screen. "Keep it up, honey... I'm about to cum... fuck!"

your mouth was filled with his thick, warm semen. König's breathing was fast and you could see the agitation on his face even if he tried to hide it. You were about to leave when a notification surprised you both.

"dude, you forgot to mute yourself. What the fuck was that?"

you had just created the clip of the year. sorry chat!

[thealchemistbae]

How to Make F*ck You Money Using Your 8th House💸

Let's talk about F you money...the kind of money that buys freedom, power, peace, and the ability to say "no" without guilt. The kind of money that screams main character energy. And guess what? Your 8th house holds the key.

The 8H in astrology rules over shared resources, passive income, investments, inheritance, $ex work, shadow work, transformation, power dynamics, and yes...BIG MONEY. Think generational wealth, not just what's in your checking account.

Disclaimer: This post is for entertainment purposes only.

thealchemistbae © do not copy, redistribute, or edit my content.

If you enjoyed this post, you can leave me a tip via PayPal at goddessguapa@gmail.com or via Venmo @goddessguapa. Thank you.

Step 1: What Sign is on Your 8th House Cusp?

This shows the vibe of how you handle money from others, investments, and power. Here's the tea:

Aries -> You get big money by taking bold risks, being first, and having a boss b*tch attitude. Crypto? Only if you're first. Entrepreneurship? Yes ma'am.

Taurus -> You attract wealth through luxury, patience, and beauty. Real estate, slow investments, sugar baby vibes. Rich auntie/uncle energy.

Gemini -> You get paid to talk, think, or write. Digital assets, intellectual property, courses, or content that keeps paying you forever.

Cancer -> Wealth from family, real estate, and emotional labor. Generational wealth, healing work, or investing in homey assets.

Leo -> Fame, visibility, and charisma = money. Your presence alone is profitable. Passive income through fans, royalties, and performance.

Virgo -> You monetize your skills, routines, and healing abilities. Systems, services, editing, health and wellness work, and digital products.

Libra -> You attract wealth through beauty, relationships, and luxury. Partnerships, sugar daddies, aesthetic businesses, or passive fashion income.

Scorpio -> Powerhouse. You were born for F you money. Wealth through mystery, sex work, investments, and deep transformation. You can flip pain into profit.

Sagittarius -> Money through teaching, publishing, and going global. Travel content, spiritual coaching, or international biz? Goldmine.

Capricorn -> You build wealth over time. Passive income from systems, institutions, or your own empire. Think CEO bag.

Aquarius -> You make money through innovation and being ahead of your time. Tech, astrology, community platforms. Viral = income.

Pisces: Dreamy dollars. You remake money in mysterious or spiritual ways. Art, music, dreams, healing, even OnlyFans.

Step 2: What Planets Are in Your 8th House? (Your Superpowers)

Each planet here tells you how you make that boss-level, passive, transformative money.

Sun: Your power and identity are tied to your ability to accumulate and manage wealth. You're meant to live off royalties or investments. Your legacy pays your bills.

Moon: You intuitively attract wealth. Cyclical income. You can profit from nurturing, healing, or female dominated spaces. Wealth may come through family or emotional work.

Mercury: You write, speak, or strategize your way to money. Stock tips, intellectual property, or sharing taboo knowledge. You make $$$ from secrets.

Venus: You're literally made to attract luxury and resources. Sugar baby potential, creative investments, passive income from beauty or love-based businesses.

Mars: You hustle for that money. Sex work, bold business moves, and aggressive investing can be major wins. You thrive in high stakes financial spaces.

Jupiter: F*ck you money is your birthright. You naturally expand and attract wealth often through spiritual wisdom, teaching, or blessings from others.

Saturn: You build wealth slowly, but it's unshakeable. Passive income through discipline, real estate, legacy building, or authority in your field.

Uranus: Sudden windfalls, viral moments, and unconventional income streams. You were born to break the rules and still get paid. Internet wealth = chef's kiss.

Neptune: Spiritual, artistic, or mystery money. Think music royalties, dreams turned into passive profit or even hidden/inherited wealth. Trust your intuition.

Pluto: You're a financial powerhouse. You attract wealth through transformation, shadow work, or high stakes environments. Sex, death, taxes? You run it.

North Node: Your destiny is to become wealthy through other people's money, deep transformation, or taboo topics. Follow the path of power.

South Node: You've already mastered wealth in a past life; now you're learning to share it or evolve past it. Don't cling to scarcity.

Chiron: You've been wounded by money, sex, or power...but healing these wounds makes you RICH. You can guide others through their darkness and get paid for it.

Your 8th house is your wealth witch zone. It's not your salary...it's what keeps the money coming while you sleep. Use your placements to tap into wealth that's bigger than you, tied to transformation, and often a lil taboo.

You don't just make F you money; you embody it.

Want a custom money astro reading? Slide in my DMs for prices.

Subscribe to Patreon: ⬇️⬇️

[joinedtogetroundclearance]

I want a BEEG Danny Fenton. I don’t just want twink death, I want twink obliteration. I want twinkhood torn apart molecule by molecule. I want a Danny that doesn’t just match his father in size, I want one that makes him seem tiny. I want a Danny that’s 8 feet in human and at least 12 in ghost form. I don’t eant him to just be tall like a wendigo. I want him built not just like a brick wall. I want him built like a mansion. I want him so big that he puts his hand on the top of your head and he’s touching your shoulders.

In other words, I want a Danny that in Gotham, wouldn’t get any mugging attempts happening in a 5 mile radius around him. It would not be because of his ghost half or lady Gotham or whatever. It would be because the risk management of the robber who lives in a city with more vigilantes than 5 cities (minimum) and have it still not be enough, that small atrophied sense risk management that this man is taller than Bane and (somehow) more built than him. And realizes they better get out of dodge immediately.

Bonus points: Danny is a recent hire to an orphanage. So you’ve got a bunch of vaguely underfed teens to children who are backed by what seems to be Bane+

Edit: I just realized I had the moto moto song going through my head unbeknownst to me as it spawned this unit into existence. I would say against my will but it really really wasn’t.

[thistlecrimes]

Things I've learned from getting covid for the first time in 2023

I wear an N95 in public spaces and I've managed to dodge it for a long time, but I finally got covid for the first time (to my knowledge) in mid-late November 2023. It was a weird experience especially because I feel like it used to be something everyone was talking about and sharing info on, so getting it for the first time now (when people generally seem averse to talking about covid) I found I needed to seek out a lot of info because I wasn't sure what to do. I put so much effort into prevention, I knew less about what to do when you have it. I'm experiencing a rebound right now so I'm currently isolating. So, I'm making a post in the hopes that if you get covid (it's pretty goddamn hard to avoid right now) this info will be helpful for you. It's a couple things I already knew and several things I learned. One part of it is based on my experience in Minnesota but some other states may have similar programs.

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The World Health Organization states you should isolate for 10 days from first having symptoms plus 3 days after the end of symptoms.

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At the time of my writing this post, in Minnesota, we have a test to treat program where you can call, report the result of your rapid test (no photo necessary) and be prescribed paxlovid over the phone to pick up from your pharmacy or have delivered to you. It is free and you do not need to have insurance. I found it by googling "Minnesota Test to Treat Covid"

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Paxlovid decreases the risk of hospitalization and death, but it's also been shown to decrease the risk of Long Covid. Long Covid can occur even from mild or asymptomatic infections.

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Covid rebound commonly occurs 2-8 days after apparent recovery. While many people associate Paxlovid with covid rebound, researchers say there is no strong evidence that Paxlovid causes covid rebound, and rebounds occur in infections that were not treated with Paxlovid as well. I knew rebounds could happen but did not know it could take 8 days. I had mine on day 7 and was completely surprised by it.

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If you start experiencing new symptoms or test positive again, the CDC states that you should start your isolation period again at day zero. Covid rebound is still contagious. Personally I'd suggest wearing a high quality respirator around folks for an additional 8-9 days after you start to test negative in case of a rebound.

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Positive results on a rapid test can be very faint, but even a very faint line is positive result. Make sure to look at your rapid test result under strong lighting. Also, false negatives are not uncommon. If you have symptoms but test negative taking multiple tests and trying different brands if you have them are not bad ideas. My ihealth tests picked up my covid, my binax now tests did not.

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EDIT: I'd highly suggest spending time with friends online if you can, I previously had a link to the NAMI warmline directory in this post but I've since been informed that NAMI is very much funded by pharmaceutical companies and lobbies for policies that take autonomy away from disabled folks, so I've taken that off of here! Sorry, I had no idea, the People's CDC listed them as a resource so I just assumed they were legit! Feel free to reply/reblog this with other warmlines/support resources if you know of them! And please reblog this version!

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I know that there is so much we can't control as individuals right now, and that's frightening. All we can do is try our best to reduce harm and to care for each other. I hope this info will be able to help folks.

[wileycap]

Hakoda the Grief Pirate it's time for Hakoda the Grief Pirateeee

Kya is killed, as in canon. Unlike canon, Bato is killed too. This means that rather than join the war, Hakoda goes mad with grief and gathers a few ships' worth of men - desperate, brutal men who want to repay the cruelty of the Fire Nation in kind. Not soldiers, not sailors, killers.

And he takes Katara.

The first place he goes is the Northern Water Tribe. He gets an audience. He goes to Chief Arnook and the elders and says: either I leave here today with a master for my daughter, or none of us leave this room alive.

Katara gets a master.

As in canon, Katara is a prodigy. With a year to focus on her waterbending and drilled by a man wearing her father's face who tells her "we're all going to die doing this" and "but we'll bleed them a thousand times over for every one of us" and most importantly he says "we're going to avenge your mother" - growing up under that man, Katara becomes terrifying.

Sokka is left alone. The last bit of love in his father's heart was spent on him, though he doesn't know it. It was spent on leaving him. It was spent on sparing him from seeing what his father would become.

Sokka goes out often, looking for traders and sailors and ships. He finds no news and too little fish. Until one day, an iceberg cracks open.

The boy is young and Sokka hasn't been a big brother for a while now, but it turns out that it's like riding a penguin - you never really forget. So when Aang gets kidnapped by some ponytailed jerk, of course he goes after him.

That he only manages to ruin Aang's escape and get them both captured is beside the point, okay? The Fire Jerk cheated.

(Appa follows them, if you're wondering. Aang doesn't seem to be in any real danger. Zuko isn't an especially merciless captor, no matter how he tries.)

Sokka finally gets some news. The Frost Wolf is believed to be a Northern raider (to protect his tribe from reprisals) and he is feared. He leaves only one survivor in each of his raids. He tasks them to deliver a simple message: the seas are no longer safe for the Fire Nation. He replenishes his crew with convicts and pirates. They say he has a crazy mechanist working for him. They say that an icy fog follows where he goes, blocking out the sun and chilling Firebenders to the core. They say he can't be killed.

-

"So, these guys of yours -" Sokka began and paused to let the answering "they're not my guys!" wash over him, "do they say anything about a girl?"

The Prince's ears reddened. "I don't listen to that kind of filth."

Which means you have listened, Sokka might have said if he felt like teasing. He didn't.

"Not like that! A girl, a little younger than me. Have you heard anything about that?"

Sokka held his breath. This was it. Of course, it didn't mean anything if Zuko hadn't heard...

"No." The Prince's voice was unusually quiet. Zuko's good eye glinted in the orange light of the torches.

Sokka couldn't help that his exhale caught in his throat on the way out, it wasn't - it was just a shock, he reasoned, it didn't mean anything that Zuko hadn't heard...

Zuko stood up and made to walk out. He stopped at the door.

"I'm sorry," the Prince said. "I have a sister, too."

The door closed and Sokka was left alone and with questions. Questions like:

How did he know?

-

The trip to the Fire Nation is long. Any experienced commander could have told Zuko to limit his interactions with the prisoners. To rotate out their guards and never have their meals brought by the same person if he could avoid it. Any experienced military commander would have seen the risk of two child prisoners, one of who is particularly genial and charming while the other is funny and sarcastic.

Iroh, one of the most experienced military commanders alive, encourages Zuko to learn all he can about his enemy. It's an advantage, you see.

(And if the watch lists are edited to put crewmembers with children into frequent and close contact with the prisoners - well, that's Iroh's prerogative. He is a General. And if there are a few minor navigational errors that lenghten their journey, well, that he knows nothing about. He's a General, not an Admiral.)

Meanwhile, Princess Azula is tasked with putting an end to the Frost Wolf's provocations. It would be terribly inconvenient if she were to have frequent encounters with another bending prodigy, about her age and wearing blue robes and a mask. They should make out about it.

Eventually, they'll all have to reckon with their monstrous fathers and murderous siblings.

[saintrosalyn]

BIRD DOG - JAILBIRD PART TWO

Part One

Description: Simon’s determined to retrieve his jailbird.

Word count: 4.5k

TW: Parolee! Reader (guys we’ve graduated to parole), stalking, reader is kept as vague as possible, sexual favors in exchange for money, groping, Ghost is a creep (graduated from perv lmao), p in v, oral (m! receiving), p in v, mention of breeding kink, creampie, possessiveness, dub-con, somewhat edited.

Notes: It’s finally done! This took longer than I anticipated since I deviated from the OG plan and was a bit of a stinker to write but it's done. I hope everyone enjoys it! I’ve absolutely loved reading all the comments, asks, and reblogs. Such positive feedback is what led me to posting part two honestly. I'm currently working on the last part of JB so expect that soon💖. Feedback is always appreciated but never expected. Let me know if I missed any tags. Enjoy :)

Also I've never done a tag list before so apologies if it didn't work or I missed anyone😭. Please let me know if the link to part one doesn't work either, this is the first time I'm using Tumblr on my laptop I usually use my phone.

You got used to the slight tremor in your hands, the parting kiss alcoholism left with you, but the violent shaking as you attempted to click the lock of the hotel door closed was difficult for even you to handle. You longed to feel that familiar burn of self-destruction but the only place that would have you end up is back in prison. Parole violation. It was too soon to resort to such dramatic measures, instead you quietly paced your small room, double checking that you clicked the deadbolt shut, closing the curtains as tight as they could go, anything to try and soothe your rising anxiety.

Talking yourself away from the edge again and again until you could finally sit down on the stiff mattress. Every time you managed to calm your heart you blinked and saw that room again. You saw those pictures again.

He-Simon.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to take deep, slow, breaths. 

After sleeping together, after discovering the skeleton in his closet, you swallowed the bile in your throat and kissed his jaw. He made dinner which you smiled over and forced into your mouth, every bite downed with a sip of water. The two of you went to bed, your eyes darting to that door, now left open enough you could see a glimpse of his homemade wallpaper. He kept an arm draped over you and fell asleep. 

Then you left.

Barefoot, not knowing where your shoes had been placed in your need to-

Jesus Christ you had slept with the man.

You barely made it to the bathroom, puking mostly water and yellowed acid up. It made your eyes water and nose run, blowing it in a piece of toilet paper, flushing it down. There was little comfort to be found in the distance you put between you and him. 

Going on foot wasn’t the brightest idea, but risking stealing Simon’s car and having him call the cops on you was foolish even for you. That and you didn’t want the man any angrier at you than you expected he was going to be. You only got so far before you found yourself on the wrong side of town. You had never been in the area before, but you knew the type. Women posted on every corner, bars on the windows, broken glass and sticky residue staining the sidewalks. It didn’t take you long to find the kind of man you needed. Trading a handjob for a bus fare, a blowjob for a new pair of shoes, and a pitiful two minutes of dry thrusting for a hotel room. 

Back to your ways. Different city, different time, same person. A bird incapable of changing its tune.

You needed a real job. A record stood in your way of that, but surely there had to be something, anything, that would pay enough for you to keep a roof over your head without having to sell more of yourself. 

You needed a job, but you needed space more. As much as you could get. Immigration was out, no one wanted to host a felon, and you were limited to a certain area before your parole officer got testy with you. Fuck. A big cage, that’s what you were trapped in. One you could never get free from.

Your family. Your past. Your cell. Your city. Your whole fucking life, one cage after another. Freedom a concept rather than a reality. Simon could use it against you. He knew of your limits, hell, you fucking told him yourself over a phone call before you got released. Outlined every fucking sentence of where you could and couldn’t go. He knew all of it.

Taking another deep breath you forced your body to lie on the bed, you needed to calm down. You needed to think clearly and come up with a plan. Simon was still asleep in bed, he didn’t know where you were, you were fine. 

You were fine.

A good night’s sleep. That’s what you needed. Not likely with how wound tight you were. But you had to try. Anything to escape the panic squeezing your lungs.

___

It took four hours of staring blankly at a dark ceiling, on the edge of a panic attack the entire time, before your body gave in and let you sleep. It was light, but it was enough of a break in your consciousness. The sun was what woke you, shining on your eyes and causing you to squint. Your anxiety a gentle heart palpitation rather than the full blown panic it was last night, exhaustion dulling its edge. 

The first thing you did was go business to business looking for a place that was hiring. Most required a resume, those you didn’t even give a second glance (as they no doubt did background checks). It took all of the day before you found a shitty pub that only asked if you were old enough to drink. With a nod of your head an apron was shoved into your hands, and you were bussing for your first shift. 

The owner, a balding man who smelled like cigarettes and wore a sweat-stained wife beater, paid you cash. Enough that you were able to buy another night to cover your hotel room and not much else. You walked back to your temporary home, eyes darting to every tall man who crossed the street. For once, you were grateful Simon was such a large man. It would make him easier to spot in a crowd, the orange of a tiger’s fur stark against a green jungle.

When you returned back to your room, it was easy to explain the movement of your things. Hotels had housekeepers. You wouldn’t have even noticed it if it weren’t for your paranoid state. It wasn’t until you went to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grease and grime of the pub, that you noticed a small picture sitting face-down on the bathroom counter. Flipping it over revealed you. You, asleep in your shitty hotel bed, close-up, taken from inside. 

You were barely able to flip the toilet lid up before you lost your stomach contents. Vile burning the back of your throat was nothing in comparison to the panic that burned through your veins.

He was inside your hotel room. He was inside your hotel room last night with you. 

You barely managed to stand, legs shaking, leaving the bathroom you noticed other signs of his arrival. Dirty tracks that were much too large. The blinds wide-open even though you were sure you closed them before you went to sleep. A single dog tag resting underneath your pillow. It’s owner’s name mocking you.

Riley.

___

He left you more presents. Vestiges of him ever present in your life. It didn’t matter where you went, how many hotels you hopped, how many jobs you changed, he always found you. Truthfully, the both of you knew this song and dance could only go on for so long. You were low on cash and stuck orbiting around the same small area. Days bled into weeks bled into months. Fear gave way to anger. Anger that he wouldn’t leave you alone. Anger that he wouldn’t let you delude yourself into thinking you had found a safe space that he could not intrude on.

On your nth hotel, you decided you were staying. Simon be damned. He obviously had no intentions of killing you just yet, content in tormentation. That and there were only so many jobs willing to pay under-the-table. You needed to save up enough cash to prove that you had a steady place to live, a recommendation from your parole officer. This flightiness made the law suspicious at best and nervous at worst. 

You found your way back to the pub, who upgraded you to server. On the wrong side of town its patrons weren’t the best. But they tipped decent enough and if they got too handsy the owner always stepped in. A few pinches on the ass were worth a steady income. You’ve given a lot more of yourself for less.

Perhaps, that was your mistake, you got too comfortable with a wild animal. So sure that your exotic pet would not bite.

The first time you saw him, you thought it was a mistake. Despite his size Simon was able to go about your life as he pleased without you catching even a glimpse of him. Hell, you knew he could stalk you without you being aware of him at all (your prison stint was proof enough of that), he just chose not to. You shouldn’t have been surprised that his behavior would escalate. 

You were standing, dead on your feet after your shift working on three hours of sleep, waiting for the bus. And there he was. Across the street, large frame leaning against a wall, arms crossed. When you did a double glance, you were able to make out the tell-tale scars across his face. Then the bus came. It was a coin toss, boarding the bus. A part of you wanted to flee, figuring he could easily cross the street and board the same bus as you, but the alternative was worse. Let it pass and walk home alone. In the dark. With a predator at your heels. 

No.

Better to have people around you. Safety in numbers and all that.

The next day, he did it again. And again. And again. Each time coming closer and closer. Until one day you saw his large frame coming up the steps of the bus. You practically vibrated from anxiety in your seat, unshed tears blurring your vision as you stared straight ahead. The black blur of his jacket, the soft squeak of his boots as he moved closer and closer, until he took the seat right behind you.

You didn’t move. Frozen. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Fright.

Fright.

Fright. 

Until the bus moved and the decision was made for you. Only you couldn’t convince your muscles to move, stuck staring dead ahead. Willing the bus driving to glance in the mirror back at you. Willing the other passengers to notice how close the man behind you was sitting (close enough to feel his breath against your ear, close enough to smell the tobacco on his breath). But this was the last bus and everyone was too tired to notice. A herd of diurnal prey vs a nocturnal predator. It was clear who had the advantage.

You missed your stop. And the one after that. It wasn’t until you felt a violent shake on your shoulder that you jolted out of your trance, eyes darting up… to the bus driver. 

“Las’ stop miss. Gotta’ get off.” His voice firm. How long had he been calling out to you?

Giving a jerky nod you looked behind you, but Simon was gone.

___

It didn't stop there. Not that you expected it would, but fucking forgive you for having a little hope in life. Simon took to following a few steps behind you wherever you went. Sitting behind you on the bus. Sitting in the back of the pub, nursing beer after beer. Sometimes he had another man with him. But mostly he was alone. His eyes never left you. For weeks it went on. For weeks you felt his constant presence. 

The presents never stopped either. Photos of you, gifts for you (lingerie and cigarettes, the same shade of nail polish he gave you while you were in prison), things of his. He never relented. You never shook that feeling of being watched. You never could get rid of that pit of anxiety in your stomach. Exhaustion was starting to settle heavy in your bones. Give up. Give in. Give yourself to him. 

The temptation was intense. You just wanted to be done with it all. Let him do what he wanted with you. At this point, even death would be better than another day of constant anxiety. (Pursuit predator exhausting his prey, closing in). 

And then he was gone.

His absence was glaringly obvious on the first day, enough so that you thought for sure that you were going to die soon. Simon had reached some kind of breaking point. But you didn’t. And you didn’t see Simon.

There were no presents left for you. No signs of his stalking. No evidence that he was ever in your life at all. It was such a sudden and stark change that if it weren’t for his dog tag you would have thought you dreamed the whole thing. But he was gone. 

A day passed.

Then another.

And another.

The knot in your stomach slowly unworked itself. The tension ever present in your shoulders finally loosened. Weeks passed by. Then months. A part of you still worried. In prison there were times where Simon would go silent for months, but he always came back. And he always made sure to make up for lost times. More gifts, more phone calls, longer visits. It seemed that your anxiety was slowly chipped away, yet it was also slowly building itself back up again. 

But Simon stayed gone. More importantly, a date had been set for you to become a truly free woman. No parole. No restrictions. A chance to leave the country. A chance to truly be free.

A chance to slip away from Simon.

___

When a police officer knocked on your door, you had to fight back the panic.

You haven’t done anything wrong. 

It wasn’t until you were sitting across from your lawyer did you truly began to realize the situation you were in. His words sounded so far away, so garbled. As if you were trapped underwater, in a fishbowl, letting the world happen around you as you tapped at the glass.

“...Do you understand the situation you’re in?...Enough drugs to get an intent to distribute…a passport…tickets to another country…”

How did you get here?

“Are you listening to me?”

You snapped back to reality, the familiar cold cuffs biting into your wrists.

“Do they have to keep these on me?”

Your lawyer let out a sigh. “Don’t worry about the damn cuffs right now.”

Easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one wearing the damn cuffs.

“They’re distracting.” 

He ignored you. “They have you on video buying a plane ticket out of the country.”

You nodded. He didn’t mention the fact that your parole would’ve been up by then. Nothing wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong.

“They found enough cocaine in your hotel room to get intent to sell. With the plane ticket, and your erratic behavior after you got out of prison, things don’t look good for you.”

“It’s not mine I-” Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat, talking so quietly, trying to hold back tears. “I swear.”

Your lawyer didn’t look convinced. “That defense won’t hold up in court.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Look, I was able to cut a deal for you. It’s better than prison. They’ll tag you-”

Dog tags flickered in your mind. “Huh?”

“House arrest.”

“Oh.”

“You won’t be able to use a hotel, you’ll have to go back to the original residence you reported when you got out of prison.”

"What?” Alarm bells rang through your sluggish thoughts.

Your lawyer sick of you interrupting him, bulldozed on. “Listen to me. I don’t know why they’re offering this to you, but you won’t get a second chance at this. Confess your crime. They’ll confine you to your house for three years and serve parole in tandem. You’ll only serve a year of parole once you’re out.”

Three years. Three years stuck at Simon’s house. Three years with Simon.

“What happens if I don’t take it.”

“You’ll go back to prison. Given you’ve already been, they'll try for maximum. You could be looking at twenty years, ten if you’re lucky. Life on parole.”

Walk into the tiger’s den or let him continue the chase.

How did you get here?

___

They put the ankle monitor on at Simon’s house, now your house you suppose. A part of you had wanted to tell them to take you back to prison instead. But you knew the reality of your situation. Simon would just do the same thing he did before. Get videos of you, pictures of you, he could still watch you in your cell. He would still visit you. And that’s just what he would do while you were in prison, what would happen when you were released again? You were never going to be able to escape him. At least this way you would be more comfortable.

A gilded cage.

Simon talked to the officers, but he seemed to make even them nervous, as they all but ran out of the house. You watched as they shut the door behind them, alone in a room with Simon for the first time in a long time.

How did you get here?

Simon put his hand on the back of your neck, before gliding it upwards jerking your head back. Your eyes met his, and he was smiling.

“Hello, bird.”

“Simon.”

He shuddered when you called his name.

“Missed you.”

“Don’t know how, you never left me.”

He grinned, boyish and proud of himself, “Never.”

Simon kissed you then, feeling far more familiar than he should’ve for a man you’ve only had sex with once. You turned, hoping to relieve some of the pressure in your neck, Simon’s hand stayed instead wrapping around your throat. He gave an experimental squeeze, making you whimper, before he released you.

“Gonna’ be good’ fer me?” He rasped.

You thought about it for a moment, and he let you, time frozen mid-air. But you had been running for so long. And you were so tired. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Surrender.

You had to stand on the tips of your toes to press your lips against his, white flag given. That’s all it took for the dam to break. Simon let out a growl and slammed you into the nearest wall, cradling your head so it didn’t bang against the wall with the force. His body caged you in as he deepened the kiss. You had forgotten just how intense it was to be so close to Simon.

He filled your senses. You breathed him in, you tasted him, you heard his soft grunts against your lips, felt the rough edge of his jeans as he ground himself against you, watched as his blonde eyelashes fluttered open until he was staring at you. Always watching. Even in these moments. 

Simon’s hand gripped your ass, grinding you harder against him, moaning from the friction.

“You owe’ me somethin’ birdie. Made your fiance wait so long. Such a fuckin’ tease.” He growled in your ear before fisting your shirt in two hands, ripping it with ease. Hands squeezing your bare tits so tight you expected to find bruises tomorrow.

Confusion knitted your brows together before he shoved you to your knees and you came face to face with his crotch.

How did you get here?

Your hands shook as you undid the button on his jeans, the zipper loud in between Simon and your panting. He helped you pull his jeans down his thighs, his cock dropping out, hard and angry.

Fuck.

You had forgotten just how big the man was down below. Time distorting the memory enough you had convinced yourself that he was average and you were just desperate that night. You were wrong of course. The man was hung as a fucking horse.

It had been awhile since you gave a blowjob. The steady pay the pub provided, the tips you made, pawning a few of Simon’s gifts and you had earned enough to not necessitate them. Not that it would help in this situation. Simon was big enough that all your previous tricks were rather useless. You weren’t even sure if you could open your mouth wide enough to take him, let alone take him down your throat. Your poor poor throat.

Tentatively, you leaned forward and gave the head a gentle kiss, glancing up and meeting Simon’s eyes. Your gaze left his, feeling suddenly shy despite the situation you were in. Pre dribbled and you used the chance to rub it along his sensitive head with your thumb. You gathered as much spit on your tongue licking the underside of his cock, pushing it all the way up until it pressed against his stomach. He groaned, hand resting on the back of your head. 

With his dick out of the way, you used your other hand to caress his balls before pressing soft kisses to them. You replaced your hand with your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue, using your hands to work his cock while you gave your attention elsewhere. His balls were much easier to fit in your mouth, but you could only delay the inevitable so long.

You pulled away fully, his cock falling under the weight of itself. The easy part done, now it was time for the hard part. Your gag reflex was not going to be happy. Bracing your hands against his thick thighs, feeling his muscles flex underneath your fingertips, you pressed your lips against the tip of his cock again, parting the seam of your mouth and letting him slowly slip in. Your tongue lying flat as he invaded your mouth.

Inch by overwhelming inch.

Before you had thought he was overwhelming, it was nowhere near as overwhelming as having his dick in your mouth. Gone were the lingering scents of tobacco and liquor. The outside world stripped away until just the man was left. Until only Simon’s musk filled your nose, wrinkling it as you took him a little deeper. Your jaw already ached from how wide you were stretching it.

Tired of your pace, Simon began to use your head as leverage as he pushed you further down, nails pressing crescents into his skin as you forced your body to relax. You quickly moved your hands back to the base of his length, stopping him from pushing you any further. Twisting your wrists to placate him enough to let you keep them there. Sucking to increase the pressure.

Simon moaned, hands going from gripping your head, to resting. Letting you work.

You took a deep breath through your nose as you began to work him in earnest. Swirling your tongue over the head of his cocked you began to bob faster and faster, unable to stop the lewd gurgling noises as the back of him hit your throat. His hands were at your head again, pushing himself further down your throat and back again. Setting his pace.

This wasn’t a blowjob he was fucking your throat. Using you. His dick twitched in his mouth before he pulled out, as you took in huge gulps of breath. Body hunching in on itself. You felt vulnerable like this. Kneeling in front of him, the top half of you completely nude.

You didn’t get much time to collect yourself before you were pulled to your feet, turned so that your back was pressed against his front, hands bracing against the wall. 

Simon kissed your neck, hooking his hands on your pants and jerking them down. They caught on your ankle monitor but he just tore them off, seams ripping. Your underwear was torn with a satisfying rip, before you felt the tip of his bare cock pressing against your hole. He thrusted against your slit, gathering your own slick before he reached a hand down, dragging his dick back before it caught on your hole.

You couldn’t help but whine at the stretch of him, un-prepped. He didn’t stop until his hips met yours, large hands bruising. He paused, leaning his weight onto you, sighing. As if being buried to the hilt in your cunt was the reprieve he had been looking for all his life.

“Missed her’ too. Did she mis’ me?” His voice was hoarse against your ear.

“Huh?”

He removed one hand from your hip bringing it to your clit, brushing one large knuckle against it, causing your knees to buckle. Simon chuckled, easily holding your weight against him.

“Don’ worry, won’ ever leave you for this long again Birdie.”

Simon licked your cheek causing you to try and jerk away from him, before the rough pad of his finger began to circle your clit, your pussy clenching around him almost painfully, grinding his hips into yours as if trying to fuck you deeper somehow. He pulled out before snapping into you. Again and again, hand never leaving your clit.

“Simon! Simon please! Don’t stop!” You couldn’t help but cry, bucking back against him as you felt an orgasm build quickly, faster than one had ever built before.

He growled into your ear. “Ain’t ever gonna run again Bird.”

You nodded your head, trying to do everything in your power to appease him to keep doing what he was doing. To keep thrusting. To keep his hand on your clit. To lick you again. Anything. Everything. You wanted him to consume you wholly.

“Ain’t gonna run no’ more. Ain’t gonna leave the house till everyon’ knows you’re mine.”

His hand left your clit, causing you to whine in protest, cradling your stomach. 

“Say it. Tell the whole fuckin’ world who you belong too.”

“You Simon! YoU! Simon! Simon please…plea-” You were babbling, until finally his hand went back to your clit.

“Don’t forget it.”

You came, cunt desperately clutching his cock, squealing as Simon didn’t even slow his thrusts. He pushed you through one orgasm onto the edge of overstimulation as he finally came with a grunt inside of you. He didn’t pull out, keeping his seed nuzzled safely near your womb.

You slumped against his arms, panting softly as the reality of your situation began to wash over you, naked except for the ankle monitor.

How did you get here?

It didn’t matter, because all roads led to Simon.

Tag list: @Sweetlike-sugarplum, @thatpersonamedrook, @aphinthestars, @misscaller06, @shushyoudontknowme, @youknowits-derea, @succubusvalentine, @sundaescreamcheese

[soulprompts]

right place, right time prompts.

so i got watching a ton of new tv shows lately, and it occurred to me that actually i do love it when characters are unexpectedly saved by someone who just happened to be exactly in the right place at precisely the correct moment, yk? and i failed to think of the right name, so the title of this list is entirely thanks to a very dear friend of mine who informed me! so here's a list, i hope you guys love it, DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST OR EDIT IT!!! i like to edit them over time as new ideas come to me.

[ ALIBI ]: the sender provides a false alibi to protect the receiver from legal issues.

[ HAND ]: the sender suddenly arrives to grab the receiver's hand before they fall to their death

[ CAR ]: the sender arrives on scene as the impromptu getaway driver for the receiver (who hadn't been expecting it).

[ FATAL ]: the sender unwittingly arrives on scene when the receiver is being attacked, and to protect the receiver, they kill the assailant.

[ DISTRACT ]: the sender provides a diversion so the receiver can escape a dangerous situation.

[ OUT COLD ]: the sender knocks out an assailant before they can seriously wound the receiver.

[ DUNNO ]: the sender lies about the location of the receiver in order to protect them from pursuers.

[ FAKE ]: the sender, in a situation where they're forced to kill the receiver, only pretends to kill the receiver and takes their "dead" body away in the car.

[ SACRIFICE]: the sender sacrifices their life to ensure the receiver's survival.

[ BACK-UP ]: the sender arrives just in time to help the receiver in a fight.

[ EXCUSES ]: the sender provides an excuse for the receiver to stay at an event where they shouldn't be.

[ HIDDEN ]: the sender hides the receiver from pursuers.

[ SHELTER ]: the sender finds the unconscious receiver and brings them to a safe place.

[ HERO ]: the sender tackles the receiver out of the way of an attack.

[ RUN! ]: the sender tackles the attacker so the receiver can make a safe get-away.

[ FIGHT ]: the sender fights off the assailants so the receiver can flee to safety.

[ INTERCEPT ]: the sender unexpectedly emerges and stands between the receiver and a threat.

[ MISDIRECTION ]: the sender points a group of pursuers in the opposite direction to buy the receiver some time to hide.

[ SANCTUARY ]: the sender opens the door when the receiver knocks in search of help, and brings them into their home.

[ REPUTATION ]: the sender, being somewhat infamous in the area, arrives when the receiver is being hassled, causing the assailants to flee rather than risk the consequences of crossing them.

[ RECOGNIZE ]: the sender pretends to know the receiver in order to help them avoid unwanted attention.

[ AFAR ]: the sender incapacitates, distracts or kills an assailant from a distance to protect the receiver.

[ FRIENDS ]: the sender, unable to attend directly, sends friends over to protect the receiver when they encounter a threat.

[ NEGOTIATE ]: the sender intervenes in a tense situation and manages to smoothly persuade a potential threat to leave the receiver alone.

[ BRIBE ]: the sender gives a threat a significant amount of money to leave the receiver alone.

[ ANNOUNCE ]: the sender issues a declaration that the receiver is under their protection, assuring all potential attackers that any attempts will result in a brutal retaliation from them.

VERBAL PROMPTS:

" they're with me. "

" i was with them all night. "

" hey! these guys bothering you? "

" i wouldn't do that if i were you. "

" you must've really pissed those guys off, huh? "

" follow my lead... "

" don't worry. you're safe here. i won't let anyone hurt you. "

" you're lucky i found you when i did; those people were right down the street. "

" get in the car! now! "

" i'm gonna buy you as much time as i possibly can. make it count, okay? get out of here. now! "

" you can come out now. they're long gone. "

" nobody's going to hurt you like that again. "

[clockwayswrites]

A Hill to Die On, Ch 5, P 1

masterpost (this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3 my brain is very fatigued and migraine is looming)

It was only because there was no one else in the apartment that Caroline let herself pace. Well, no one than the other people who shared the body with her. Apparently Dick had managed to invite all the girls. Cassandra, Stephanie, and Barbara were all coming along on the shopping trip with her and Dick.

Dick had said that he’d spoken with them each about, well, her and Alvin existing, but she didn’t find that as reassuring as she hoped that it might be. She trusted Dick about the fact that he did talk to each of them, but she found, shamefully, that she didn’t exactly trust Dick not to be taking the reactions at their very best. There was a big gap between not minding her existence and really accepting it. She wasn’t sure where the girls fell in that spectrum.

Tim was trying to reassure her, which was weird. Because, she could tell that Tim was nervous and uncertain as well. There were a lot of reasons that Tim had never really accepted what she and Alvin were and several of those reasons were the Bats and Birds.

He couldn’t lose any of them.

She couldn’t either.

The ringing of the doorbell scattered her thoughts.

Caroline pulled on the strings of her (Tim’s? Too big. Jason’s?) hoodie and pushed her shoulders back. It was okay. She could do this. If they hated her, she’d just make sure not to be around them again. That should be easy enough with three people in the body.

She glanced at the screen by the door, safety first and all that, before opening it to the gaggle of girls.

Well, girls and Dick who honestly blended in very well.

“Who did your make up?” Caroline asked.

“Team effort,” Dick answered with a grin.

Caroline gave a little snort before she forced herself to actually look at the other. “Hi, I’m Caroline. I’d say nice to meet you, but.”

“Have we all actually met you?” Stephanie asked as she pushed through the group some to lean forward.

Barbara just rolled her eyes and her wheelchair both, causing Stephanie to lose her balance and almost toppled.

“Rude,” Stephanie huffed, but followed the others inside.

“You have, at least in some way,” Caroline answered as she brushed some of her hair behind an ear. She had put in the dangly star earrings that Danny had gotten her. They were a small comfort within all of the uncertainty of the day. “I’m pretty much who fronts at galas, but this is the most… me I’ve been around some of you.”

“And you never wanted to say hello?” Barbara asked.

Of course it had to be Barbara who had to ask. She was one of Caroline’s inspirations as both the original Batgirl but also as Oracle. Caroline sat lightly on the arm of the couch, since it seemed they were settling in to talk first. “Of course I did. But… we didn’t really acknowledge ourselves as different people exactly for the longest, even if the truth was in the back of our mind. I think Tim would have stopped me. And even if he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have risked that for him.”

“Risked… being you?” Cass asked as she took a seat and folded her legs under herself.

Caroline smiled sadly. “Risk point out how not normal we are.”

“Okay, but Tim—Fuck! Caroline,” Stephanie corrected herself with a grimace. Caroline tried not to mind the slip. “But Caroline, we have never thought Tim was normal. I knew that from the moment I thew a brick at his face.”

“You two have the weirdest relationship,” Caroline said.

“Yeah we do! Dude was my lamaze partner,” she said proudly. Then her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Or fuck, wait, was that actually Alvin?! Have I met Alvin?”

“Pretty much.”

“Yes!” Steph threw her arms up and collapsed onto the couch. “I’ve met all three. Suck it, losers!”

Caroline couldn’t help but laugh softly at that. “Well, so has Dick and maybe Babara.”

“Oh,” Cass said. “That laugh. Heard that laugh before. That is your laugh.”

The wounder with which Cass said it made Caroline want to hide away (or at least blush). (She was pretty sure that she was blushing.) “Oh, yes, I suppose it is.”

“Like it,” Cass said.

Caroline found herself relaxing a little at the certainty that Cass was approaching her with. “Thanks. Our psychiatrist thinks that the more I have… permission to be myself, that the more those differences will come. It’s a little hard though, because all of us are used to being chameleons.”

“Which is part of the reason for this shopping trip!” Dick said. He stepped forward and draped an arm over her shoulder. Caroline let herself lean back into the touch. “We’re going to make sure that Caroline gets new clothing that fits and is all her’s and some decor stuff that she likes.”

“Well, Tim might steal some of the clothing,” Caroline said. “I think I’m a good excuse for him to explore that side of himself. But I really do need clothing that fits.”

“Outfits are something that help you a lot? To feel more you, I mean,” Barbara asked.

Caroline nodded. “Make up and hair styling too. I really like that our hair is longer now so that I don’t have to wear a wig to feel like me.”

“I like how you style it,” Stephanie said. “It looks so different from Tim’s.”

“That’s because Tim is lazy and doesn’t put any product in it,” Caroline said. “But thank you, Stephanie.”

“Stephanie?” she asked, nose scrunched up in offense. “Dude, no, Steph. It’s not like we don’t already know each other! I know we still have to get to know each other better but, like, we can start off as friends, right?”

“And family,” Cass said.

“You had better call me Babs.”

Dick squeezed her shoulder. Maybe he had done a good job talking to them after all.

Caroline ducked her head, embarrassed by how fond she was feeling about all of them right then. “Friends and family then. I like that.”

[nathanbatemanfucker]

She Blooms At Night

summary: fanboy’s crush on you comes to a head when you let your hair down post success– yours does too.

pairing: mickey ‘fanboy’ garcia x f!reader (call sign is juniper)

contents: suggestive language, pining, yearning, alcohol mention & consumption, bar/club hopping, PDA/kissing (truly making out)

wc: 1,621

an: after seeing SEVERAL fan edits with danny’s characters to dandelion by ariana grande i couldn’t stop thinking about scandalizing sweet baby mickey on the dance floor!! (mickey being shy & respectful is just MY take on his characterization, if you don’t agree that’s okay friend 🫶🏾)

danny ramirez character masterlist

Every single one of them had warned him. Phoenix, Rooster, Bob, Coyote—even Hangman, who usually only cared about himself. They had all warned him from the moment you walked on the scene.

It makes Mickey wonder how poorly he was doing at hiding his crush on you.

At the end of the day, the only person’s opinion that mattered was yours. For the time being, it seemed you decidedly had no opinion—or maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as obvious as the others claimed he was.

“You’re in trouble now,” Phoenix whispered in his ear as they all celebrated on the flight deck.

“He’s gonna live up to his name tonight,” Coyote quipped, clapping Mickey on the shoulder.

“Guys, knock it off,” Bob said, giving Mickey an apologetic smile. He knew what it felt like to be the butt of the joke and wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone.

Hangman ignored the scolding, wagging both of his eyebrows. “Ultimate Fanboy—loading.”

“Shut up,” Mickey murmured, his eyes flickering around on the lookout for you just in case.

And pop up you do, weaving through the throng of celebrating pilots and support staff. Your presence cuts through all the noise like a sunbeam, bright and impossible to ignore.

“Holy shit, we did it,” you yell as you join the group, scooping Phoenix into a hug.

“Juniper, how are we celebrating tonight?” Hangman asks, eyes never leaving Mickey’s.

“You know exactly how we’re celebrating. Everybody’s letting their hair down tonight—even Fanboy here,” you say, reaching up to run your fingers over the short bristle of his buzz cut.

Mickey nearly stops breathing, his chest hitching. The touch is fleeting, but it strikes him, energy flowing through him like a live wire. It takes everything in him not to lean into it, not to chase the feeling of your fingers against his scalp.

He swallows roughly, gives you the best smile he can manage, and makes an excuse about congratulating Rooster before you can notice the heat rising in his face.

—

The celebration had started at the Hard Deck, uniforms still in place, the familiarity of the bar keeping everything at a reasonable simmer. Mickey did his best to mingle with everyone but you, his eyes drifting over to you every once and a while.

“It wouldn’t kill you to talk to her, would it?” Phoenix asks him over the music.”

“Kill no, but I don’t wanna make a fool of myself.”

“That would be hard— she likes you, Mick. You’re just too enamored with her to see that.”

“I’m not into taking risks, you know that. Here, I’ll go get us another round,” He grabs her nearly empty mug and starts towards the bar, effectively ending their conversation.

The last thing he needs is to get his hopes up.

But, the second he stepped into the club later that night, every bit of self-restraint dissolved.

He doesn’t know when or where you had enough time to change into this number, but you’re going to be the death of him.

Your hair is down, framing your face in a way that makes his stomach drop. The dress—if it can even be called that—clings to you like shimmering silver raindrops, catching the club’s flashing lights with your every move. It’s a little see-through. Stops halfway down your thighs.

Mickey nearly chokes on his drink.

It’s Phoenix who nudges him, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “Don’t pass out, Fanboy.”

“I’m not gonna pass out,” he grumbles, staring down into his beer.

You make your way from the bar to join the two of them at the table. “Hey, where are the other boys?”

Phoenix nods towards the dance floor— Rooster, Hangman, and Coyote all have at least one girl on their arm, dancing under the colorful lights.

“Bob?”

“He said it wasn’t his scene,” Mickey shouts over the drum of the bass.

“Well do you wanna dance with me, Mickey?”

You’ve never called him that before. You’re always strictly professional and focused on the task at hand. He’s never seen you stray, never seen you distracted…or so relaxed. Your shoulders which are usually up to your ears are down, glowing with some sort of body oil.

It’s over for him; he feels turned to goo, unable to turn you down.

“I— uh, sure. Are you sure, because I—“

You cut him off with a laugh, grabbing his hand. “C’mon, Fanboy, it’s just a dance. Unless you’re scared?”

He swallows hard. “Not scared.”

“Good.”

Before whisking him away, you assure Phoenix that you’ll bring him back after a dance or two.

“Don’t mind me,” she calls after you two, a knowing grin on her face.

You guide him through the crowd effortlessly, moving to the rhythm of the bassline that thrums through the floor and straight into his chest. His hand is clammy, but he grips yours firmly, not wanting to mess up this moment.

Dancing with you is…it’s a problem.

You move like you were made for this—the music, the energy, the way your body fits so seamlessly against his. Every sway, every shift of your hips sends a fresh wave of heat through him. And then your hands are on his shoulders, skimming down his arms before slipping around his neck, pulling him in just a little closer.

His heart is pounding. You have to hear it, have to know how you’re affecting him this way. With how close you’ve guided him, he has no choice but to hold on to you tightly, his hands fitting like gloves around your hips.

As he grows more comfortable, you decide to test him.

Your hands skim up his arms, slow and deliberate, until they slip around his neck again. You press in just a little closer, tilting your head up to meet his eyes, your mouth curved into something dangerously close to a smirk.

“You know,” you murmur, “I think I like this side of you, Fanboy.”

He’s struggling to breathe. “What—what side?”

Your fingers toy with the short hairs at the nape of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. “The one that actually touches me instead of staring from across the room.”

Mickey swears under his breath, tightening his grip on your waist. You knew. You knew the whole time, and you’re having fun with it.

“I don’t—” His words cut off as you shift, your body rolling right against him. His jaw clenches. “Jesus, Juniper.”

Your laugh is warm and breathless. “Relax, Mickey. I don’t bite.”

But there’s a glint in your eye that says you could— that you would if he asked nicely enough.

The song shifts, the beat deepening, a low pulse of bass and heat. His fingers are caressing your waist with need. With urgency. His body finds the rhythm of yours like it’s second nature, a push and pull, a slow unraveling.

It’s intoxicating and dangerous, it’s got him thinking his dreams don’t have to just be dreams. They could be reality.

You can see his resolve crumbling— his breath grows quicker, eyes hazy with obsession.

Just when you think he’s about to combust, you lean in, lips brushing his ear. “Kiss me, Mickey.”

His heart drops into his stomach. Are you— could you be serious? Is he dreaming? Did he die on the mission and wake up in the afterlife to what he’s wanted since the first time he laid eyes on you?

No. You’re too real beneath his fingertips. Too warm and soft, the smell of your perfume somehow cutting through the alcohol and sweat of everyone else.

It’s the way you look at him that makes him sure this is truly happening. Eyes glittering with mischief, you have to know what you’re doing to him. The way you whisper it, like a secret, like you’re letting him have the control when really, you’re running this whole damn show.

He hesitates. Not because he doesn’t want it—he wants it, god, he needs it—but because this is you. And this feels like something bigger than just the heat of the moment. This isn't just a kiss with some girl in a club; its you.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers tightening ever so slightly at the nape of his neck. Your expression softens—not teasing or challenging. Just waiting, hope glowing in your eyes.

That glimmer of hope is all it takes.

Mickey leans in, closing the space between you with a kiss that’s hesitant at first—soft, searching. But when you respond, when you sigh with relief against his lips and press closer, he melts.

Any teasing energy you had left fades away now. All that’s left is you, your hands cupping his jaw, your body pressing flush against his as you kiss him slow and deep and unhurried like you’ve got all the time in the world.

Somewhere in the background, there’s a sharp whistle.

“Fanboy’s really living up to his name,” Hangman yells loud enough for probably the entire dancefloor to hear.

There's cheering, whooping but it can't hold his attention, not with you in his arms and the ghost of your taste in his lips.

Mickey should care. He should be embarrassed.

He can’t find it in himself to do either when you grin against his lips, sliding your hands down his chest before tugging him back in for another kiss—deeper, more insistent. It’s sensual, the way your tongue brushes against his.

And he realizes in that moment he would do anything you asked him.

He’s gone for you. Utterly, completely gone.

Judging by how you pull him even closer, how your fingers toy with the hem of his shirt and skim across the skin of his torso like you need to touch more of him—

You’re gone for him too.

lmk if you’d like to be on the danny ramirez characters taglist!

sfw danny taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @sidkneeeee, @galaxywannabe, @retrosabers, @marchingicenotes7, @marroonwitch, @jaebugzz, @that-girl-named-alex, @bxtchboy69, @moonymeloncholymoney, @mischiefmanaged71, @something-random-idk, @dualinstinct , @alevanswrites, @articel1967, @lanoviadestiles, @peacefangirl

[corvusphilia]

★ HOW THEY ACT WHEN THEY HAVE A CRUSH (KARASUNO EDITION)

୨ৎ featuring: daichi sawamura, koshi sugawara, asahi azumane, yuu nishinoya, ryunosuke tanaka, tobio kageyama, shoyo hinata, kei tsukishima, tadashi yamaguchi, keishin ukai

୨ৎ notes: first post!! rq are open guys send shit IN (omg haikyuu blog in 2024!!???). also yes i plan on writing crush headcanons for the other teams as well :>

also worth mentioning this is NOT timeskip and reader is implied to be around the same age as the characters (so highschool for most and adult for ukai)

i was gonna write for the girls as well but ive been writing this for the past 4 days and im tired 😭

★ DAICHI SAWAMURA ?!

He genuinely thinks acting like he's your dad or something is a good way of flirting. Sugawara teases him about it constantly. "Do you want to ask them out on a date or to sign adoption papers?"

And I don't mean it only in the cute way. He will scold you if you forget your jacket or something. But the words quickly catch in his throat when he gives you his and you put it on for the first time. Maybe you should keep forgetting yours, actually. For no reason. No reason at all.

Will bring extra food in case you're still hungry by the end of recess. Even makes mental notes about your favorites. This guy is a GENTLEMAN.

While he does reprimand you, it's nothing like he does to his team or his friends. In fact, he seems to calm down whenever you come into the picture. Nishinoya and Tanaka absolutely take advantage of it.

Suga might be the vice-captain, but the team treats you like the second in command. Doesn't matter if you're not part of the team or even a manager. You're now the second parent by correlation.

Speaking of which, Sugawara and Asahi absolutely play wingmen. Suga will come off a bit too strongly, talking about how Daichi is such a catch and you two would make such a cute couple, while Asahi sounds like he's doing a job interview in Daichi's name, listing all his positive qualities and whatnot. Their hearts are in the right place, at least.

He doesn't hesitate much before asking you out. He doesn't want to risk ruining your friendship, but he doesn't want to live with the regret of what could have been if he gave it a shot, either.

The sun was lazily setting in the horizon, painting the sky pleasant hues of orange and pink. It wasn't unusual for Daichi to walk you home — he insisted on it whenever he had the time, even he meant he would only get to his house past nightfall —, but he was weidly quiet. He smiled calmly when you questioned him on it, giving you a look and a sigh.

He came to a stop, standing in front of you. He took a deep breath before reaching into his bag, grabbing what looked like a note and holding it in both hands before stretching it towards you and bowing politely. His grasp was slightly shaky.

"I've been meaning to ask you this for a while..." He started, his voice soft, keeping his gaze on the ground. Maybe he was just being overly polite, or maybe he was a bit too scared to look you in the eyes. "You make me... incredibly happy, Y/N. I would like to do the same for you. If you'll let me, that is." He finally glanced up, looking at you through his eyelashes and his posture still low, his eyes filled equally with nervousness and hope. "I don't want to leave any doubts, so... I'll just go ahead and say it. Will you be mine?"

★ KOSHI SUGAWARA ?!

This guy is so whipped, it's not even funny. He doesn't even officially ask you out because he makes it so obvious he likes you. Like, c'mon, EVERYONE can tell he wants to marry you already.

The type to run up to you just to give you something he grabbed or bought because it made him think of you. Which happens very often, because he thinks of you all the time.

Very affectionate. Holds your hand whenever you two walk somewhere and hugs you as a greeting and as goodbye. Might even slip in a kiss on your cheek if he's feeling a little silly.

And god forbid some poor bastard mentions your name in a five mile radius of him. This motherfucker will take any chance he can get to yap about how amazing you are and how much he adores you and—

SO supportive. Genuinely, he thinks you're so talented in everything you do. If you have a specific thing you're passionate about, be ready for him to be bragging to everybody about it. More proud of your accomplishments than his own.

Straight up introduces you to people as his significant other after some time. What? He never asked to be your boyfriend? Well, it's not like you were gonna say no anyway, so...

"Y/N!" The cold winter air causes little wisps of smoke to form from his mouth as he runs over to you through the courtyard, an infectious smile on his face. He stops right in front of you, resting his hands on his knees for just a few seconds to catch his breath before holding out a bouquet in your direction. Roses, baby's breath, and cornflowers.

His smile grows even more when you grab it, a snicker escaping him at the slightly flushed look on your face. "So pretty, right? I saw it and thought of you, so obviously I had to get it." He explains, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Don't look at the price tag, I forgot to take it off." He adds.

He waves a hand dismissively at your 'thank you'. "Don't mention it. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't get you something nice every now and then?" He mentions casually, and lets out a thoughtful hum when you mention that you two are, in fact, not officially dating.

"I guess I did never outright say it, huh? That's my mistake." For some reason, he doesn't sound bothered or reluctant at all. Instead, he grabs your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Well, no reason to waste even more time. Come on, let me take you on our first official date."

★ ASAHI AZUMANE ?!

He doesn't flirt, let's get that out of the way. His idea of hitting on you is looking at you from a distance while praying you have more balls than him and will take initiative.

If you don't really know each other much, he's scared you'll be put off by his appearance and size. If you do, he's scared you think he's too much of a coward and have no interest.

His insecurities play a huge role in his reluctance. He thinks you're so pretty, and smart, and talented, and he's... well, himself. It's almost difficult to tell if he likes you or not, because while he is polite whenever you interact, he acts that way with everyone (who takes the time to actually speak with him, that is), and he actually seems to avoid you whenever possible, too.

Gets desperate enough he asks everyone in the team for advice. Daichi just says to "Be yourself", to which Suga gives him a side eye with a "Yeah, I don't think that'll work" comment, and the two start arguing rather than actually helping the poor guy out.

Nishinoya and Tanaka are... less than helpful, as you might imagine. Kageyama and Hinata don't know the first thing about dating, and he wasn't about to ask Tsukishima, either. Surprisingly (or not), the good advice came from Yagamuchi and Kiyoko.

It basically summed up to the fact that he needs to make his move before someone else does. Nothing too dramatic, but enough to let you know he's serious about it. At the end of the day, they had a 5 steps plan written out.

He had everything set to go, even went as far as to memorize a script he practiced in front of the mirror a few times this morning. However, when he finally stood in front of you, the sun of the afternoon hitting your features just right, his mind went blank.

"Huh..." He was slightly hunched over, absentmindedly fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He quickly cleared his throat, seemingly remembering he couldn't just stand there looking at you like a creep, and reached inside his bag to pull out a small, heart-shaped chocolate box. He took a deep, shaky breath.

"I-I, huh... I need to tell you something..." He starts nervously, his brown eyes finally meeting yours, filled with fear and sincerity. "I... I've liked you for a while now, and..." That is not the script he planned out. "You're always on my mind. W-when I'm with you, everything just feels right. I don't really know how to say this, I'm probably making a fool out of myself, but... I like you. A lot."

★ YUU NISHINOYA ?!

This fucking guy has no shame whatsoever. Quite literally asked you to go out with him before he even told you his name. I firmly believe he's a love-at-first-sight kind of dude.

Now, how things progress depends highly on your reaction. If you're a bit shy, he thinks it's the cutest thing ever, but he will take it down a notch to not make you uncomfortable. Will still flirt, don't get me wrong, but a bit more lowkey. If you just accept or — god forbid — flirt back, he shortcuts. A hot person?? Likes HIM??? WHAT.

Like, all of his previous bravado is out the window if you accept. He flirts with a few people, sure, but he never actually expects to go anywhere. It's just kind of a fact that he's going to get turned down. So when things actually go right he doesn't know what to do anymore.

It doesn't last too long, though. After he takes a few minutes for his mind to process what just happened, he's bouncing off the walls.

SO protective. We've seen it with Kiyoko. Anytime a guy looks at you for just a little too long he's growling and foaming at the mouth. Better keep him from biting anyone's ankles.

"Wow, you're SUPER pretty!" The boy stated enthusiastically, stars in his eyes as he stares at you intently, seemingly trying to commit every detail to memory. You've seen him around, usually near the gym, but it looks like this is the first time he has seen you.

He takes a step closer, determination written all over his face. "Will you go out with me?" He asks a bit loudly and suddenly. When your face flushes, he takes a small step back, chuckling. "Ah— I'm Yuu Nishinoya, by the way! Probably should've said that first."

He nods happily when you introduce yourself as well, his eagerness returning to the surface. "Well, you didn't really answer me, so I'll ask again — wanna go out with me?" He repeats, half cocky half sheepish. However, his entire face falls when you give a positive response.

His eyes are wide and he just stares at you, mouth slightly agape. When you question if he's feeling well, his ears flush red as he seems to have find his voice again. "A-ARE YOU SERIOUS!? You said yes!? Wha— am I dreaming? I'm dreaming, aren't I!?" Despite the disbelief in his voice, he's smiling — a huge, excited, thankful smile. He's not leaving your side anytime soon.

★ RYUNOSUKE TANAKA ?!

Since I already covered love at first sight with Noya and we've already seen how he's like with Kiyoko, I'm going down a different route: friends to lovers. Also because this specific trope with him makes me SICK /pos.

He's a friendly guy when you get to know him and past his badboy persona, so he has many friends I feel like. He initially treats you like he does the others, being his usual weird ass self we all know and love.

But one time he sees you laugh at one of his shenanigans and he just pauses. Oh. Oh. This is not good.

Have you always been so pretty? I mean, he already knew you were, but this is another level. Now you're like, angelic. Ethereal, even. What just happened.

Immediately runs to Noya because he doesn't know what to do or even think. He just sees you as a friend, right? A close friend. A hot, funny, amazing, kissable friend. Yeah, that doesn't sound right even to him when he says it outloud.

Doesn't take long for him to come to terms with it honestly and the entire team has to hold him back from proposing to you the next time he sees you.

He waits by the classroom's door, an uncharacteristically nervous look in his eyes. He sucks in a sharp breath when the bell rings and you stand from your desk, slinging your bag over your shoulder while making your way to the exit. "Y/N." He calls out to gain your attention, and his face immediately flushes when you look at him.

Your eyes are so beautiful it's unfair. He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in. "Will you ma—" He pauses, looking at something right behind you. You look back to see Nishinoya half-hiding behind a wall, shaking his head 'No' quickly. Tanaka clears his throat and you look back at him. "... I-I mean, will you... Go out with me? Maybe? Please?"

He sounds almost pleading and a little unsure. He stutters an explanation when he notices your taken aback expression. "I know this came outta nowhere and I know we're like, best buds or whatever, but... God, I really wanna kiss you." His face goes bright red when he realizes what he just said and he starts rambling another flustered excuse. How cute.

★ TOBIO KAGEYAMA ?!

A little like Asahi, he just kind of stares at you from a distance and hope you get the hint. Totally unware of the fact he has a major resting bitch face and is looking at you so aggressively it looks like he's thinking about beating your ass after school or something.

Completely oblivious to the fact he likes you. He's never liked anyone before. His entire life has always been volleyball this and volleyball that — he doesn't know the first thing about crushes.

Surprisingly thoughtful, though. The type to get you your favorite drink from the vending machine when he goes to grab his milk box. He doesn't even think much about it, it's just so natural to him.

Also very perceptive. He comes off as an airhead most of the time, but when it comes to volleyball, he's incredibly observant. Now he's the same way with you as well. Always knows what you're feeling before you have to say anything or if you need something.

And that's how everyone else realizes he likes you and tell him about it (because again, he genuinely could not tell that his feelings are romantic on his own. How can someone be so smart and so dumb at the same time).

He's in denial for a good while, but the more he thinks about it, the more sense it makes. Some teammates try to give him advice (because they don't trust him at all to do this by himself), but in the end he ignores all of it and just says what feels right at the time.

"I swear, you'd be helpless without me." He grumbles, dragging you away from the confrontation, his hand firmly but not tightly wrapped around your wrist. Karasuno had a game against another school, and one of the guys from said school apparently thought you were really cute. So much so he was trying everything to get your contact information before Tobio stepped in.

Just thinking about the situation pisses him off. He scoffs, squeezing your wrist slightly, but there's something more than just frustration on his face. Doubt, perhaps? He looks back at you, eyebrows furrowed. "You weren't really thinking about giving him your number, were you?" He asks, his voice almost too soft before it rises in tone again.

"I mean, he's average looking at best, and a shit player, and... And I'm better!" He blurted, cheeks flushing slightly. He averts his gaze, his thumb grazing over your knuckles. "So... Just give me your number, dumbass."

★ SHOYO HINATA ?!

I need to mention, he looks like he's so easy to fall in love with. Like he's so kind and considerate and with a high emotional intelligence. Very much boyfriend material I wish more people would see him like that instead of an uwu baby yk.

Anyway, back on track. I feel like he'd fluctuate between shy and bold a lot. Like, if you flirt or give hints that you might like him back, he's blushing and kicking his feet and shit, but it is very much not uncommon for him to take initiative.

Especially after matches. The adrenaline is still pumping in his veins and he barely even registers that maybe he's being a bit forward.

If you don't know him really well it's a bit difficult to tell that he has feelings because he's just. so nice. to everyone. But if you do, it's hard to miss the tenderness in his eyes everytime he looks at you.

Insists you come to his games. It's simple math in his head: the two things he loves the most (aside from, yknow, his mom and sister and all that) are volleyball and you, so if he can just mix them together, he'll be the happiest guy in the planet.

It was a tough game — Karasuno barely managed to win right during the last set. The winning point was, of course, scored by Shoyo. The crowd was cheering, his teammates screaming loudly and gathering around him, but in the middle of the ruckus, his eyes are fixated on a single someone.

He dodged Nishinoya and Tanaka and, to the team's confusion, ran towards the stands. It wasn't until everyone say you simultaneously running in his direction that they understood what was going on. Shoyo practically pounced on you, wrapping his arms around your torso tightly and doing his best to lift you and give you a little spin, almost knocking both of you to the ground in his attempt.

His smile was bright enough to outshine the sun. He pulled away just a little so he could look you in the eyes, the two of you still intertwined. "Thank you so much for being here!" He exclaimed, like his success was solely due to you — to your presence. The look in his eyes was a little different as he leaned in slightly before hesitating. Daichi called him over so they could formally bid farewell to the other team, and he gave you a final squeeze before reluctantly pulling away. "Wait for me, okay? I'll walk you home today!"

★ KEI TSUKISHIMA ?!

This fucking guy is so in denial. No, I'm serious, he'd rather eat glass than admit that he likes somebody. He's always seen relationships and especially crushes as a waste of time and energy, things he couldn't be bothered to spare.

So he's extra mean when he realizes he likes you. Is it an attempt to push you away? Kind of. Is it because he genuinely kind of hates you for the way you make him feel? A little. Is it because he's secretly an awkward motherfucker that doesn't know a thing about how to be romantic? Mostly.

News flash: it doesn't work, independently of your reaction. If you just ignore him and don't give him a reaction, he's frustrated but grows to respect you even more for dealing with his sassy ass with that much grace. If you get sad, he feels genuinely bad for the first time in his life. If you get angry, turns out you look really damn cute when pissed off and that's not helping his case either. If you sass him back, he might just get on one knee.

So he just... gives up. He still teases and pokes fun at you, obviously, but now it doesn't sound as mean. If anything, it's friendly banter. He can't deny that he enjoys having you around.

It raised some eyebrows when Tsukishima told everyone he was leaving practice early because he was helping you study. Hinata and Kageyama had to practically get on their knees and beg him to tutor them, and even then, he always looked so annoyed doing it. With you, he almost had a little smile on his face. Almost.

He snapped his fingers in front of your face a few times. "Hey, idiot, pay attention." He scolded, pointing back to the open book in front of you. "I'm not explaining it a second time." He added, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

He can't help the small grin that forms on his face when you whine about his 'mean' treatment. "You haven't seen me being mean yet, pipsqueak." He teased, looking down at you through his glasses. He exhales through his nose in an almost-laugh, his voice dropping just barely over a whisper, a tenderness in his tone you're not really familiar with. "You're lucky I kinda like you."

★ TADASHI YAMAGUCHI ?!

Dude is SO flustered around you, like, constantly. Like can-barely-get-a-sentence-out typa shit. Kei has to verbally smack him and tell him to fucking get it together — he's not gonna win you over by being a wuss (or maybe he will, who knows what you're into).

But that's mostly during the honeymoon stage. After the butterflies in his stomach start to go away, they're replaced by a deep sense of comfort whenever he's around you.

Takeda said that Tadashi would have the least trouble out of everyone when it came to dating and he was RIGHT. This guy is such a sweetie. Always saving you a seat and sharing his lunch with you and just watching out for you in general. He's so considerate :(

You make him not so insecure anymore and that's all he could have asked for. Whenever he messes up or just acts like a dork, he feels his heart drop thinking that he messes up any chance he might have had with you, but when you just smile and reassure him he falls in love all over again.

Tadashi has been profusely apologizing to you for the past fifteen minutes now, no matter how many times you tried to insist that it's fine. He was practicing his serves and you were unfortunate enough to get a ball right to the back of the head, and he rushed you to the nurse's office immediately despite you saying it didn't hurt that much.

"I'm so sorry, I promise it was an accident!" He said for what must have been the third time. There wasn't much that the nurse could do aside from giving you headache medicine and telling you to lie down for a while, and he decided to miss practice so he could stay with you while you rested.

"Does it hurt?" He questioned, his eyes soft and full of worry, and his shoulders tensed a little at your answer of 'kinda'. He grabbed your hand, idly playing with your fingers, either to calm you or himself down. "... I want to make it up to you somehow." He stated gently, not daring to look at you. "... I'll walk you home and buy you a snack from the convenience store, okay? You can ask for whatever you want, no matter the price." He paused, then added with a sheepish smile, "Well... Maybe the price matters a little bit."

★ KEISHIN UKAI ?!

Listen. He definitely looks like he has rizz. Does he actually? No. Absolutely not. Like, he has so much negative rizz it does a full spin and actually works out. Absolute man failure.

Deadass the kind to do that yawn and arm around your shoulder thing and think he's nailing it. Like, dude you're not THAT old, c'mon now.

Fluctuates between being a gentleman and just being a scrub a lot. Will open the car door and pull a chair for you only to light up a cigarette and not notice the smoke is going straight in your direction until you start coughing.

He does try, though. Definitely makes an effort to take you on a nice date whenever his money allows it (and sometimes when it doesn't). He's had flings before, sure, but you're special and he doesn't want to mess it up like he always does.

You barely heard the doorbell ringing with the sound of the rain hitting your roof. When you opened it, Keishin stood there, absolutely drenched in a dress shirt and an undone tie around his neck, water dripping down from his hair to his face as he holds out a bouquet in your direction. He sighs deeply.

"I wanted to surprise you, but my car broke down halfway here and then this fuckin' rain hit." He explained, rubbing the back of his neck. You told him to come inside and grabbed him a towel, and he started to dry his hair before sitting on the couch when he was sure he wasn't dripping water all over the place anymore.

He glanced at you, a somewhat guilty look on his face. "... Sorry I messed it up. I wanted to do something nice for once, but..." He trailed off. You sat next to him, a hand on his shoulder as you reassured him it was okay. When you suggested watching a movie since he was already here anyway, he perked up, almost like an invisible tail started wagging behind him. "Really?" He questioned, a bit baffled before trying to hold back a smile as he relaxed next to you, reaching an arm around your shoulders. "... That doesn't sound half bad, doll face."

© ─ corvusphilia ; do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload

thanks for reading!

[harryspet]

bambi eyes (1) r. cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: My first Rafe fic :)

word count: 4.4k

In which Rafe finds a "healthy" outlet for dealing with his daddy issues.

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bambi eyes masterlist

Rafe finally felt he deserved to be back at Tannyhill. The house had remained empty over the last five years, Sarah wanted little to do with her real family anymore, Rafe made the tough decision to send Wheezie to a boarding school in Georgia and now she was starting college there. Rafe had cleaned up his act and gotten clean, mostly clean, and managed to save Cameron Development from complete ruin. 

As soon as the police were off his tail, and he’d brought back some legitimacy to the Cameron name, he could develop the true relationships he needed to become unstoppable. It started with Barry, then gangsters from the mainland, and then Rafe's gained connections with the cartels. He then rebuilt the empire the Camerons once had in the Bahamas and now he owned ten times the amount of properties they used to own there. 

He could achieve everything Ward never could have. He could be better a man than his father ever could. 

After half a year in Nassau, Rafe was finally back in Kildare, and he had plans to make Tannyhill the ultimate fortress. He had finally acquired the last missing piece of his American dream – you. He eyed you in his rearview mirror, passed out in the backseat of his truck, before parking in front of the huge, white house. 

There were already white moving trucks parked nearby, men in black clothing unloading new furniture he’d purchased and “merchandise” he’d acquired from the Caribbean Don he’d been working with. That Don is who he purchased you from, picking you out in a lineup of twenty girls. 

The Don clapped his hands together before he said, “Just tell me which ones you would like to have a closer look at. I’ll have them stand and turn for you. If you have something in mind — perhaps a certain skin tone, curviness, hair color, I can make a suggestion.”

Rafe responded that he didn’t have a preference and that he would know you were the one when he saw you. 

Looking through one-way glass, Rafe noticed aspects of each girl, including the tiredness behind their eyes and the elegance at which each of them moved their bodies. The Don had each girl stand and spin for him. There was not a single falter or misplaced step until Rafe saw you. When it was time for you to spin, you almost tripped over your own foot. You fixed yourself quickly and fixed your gaze forward however, Rafe noticed your eyes began to wander. It felt like you were looking right at him. Like you could see him. 

“One of my favorites,” He said in thick Creole, “She’s quite an angel if you’re looking for someone who’s a little tamer. Good hips, natural hair, the breasts and ass are real too. I’m sure you’ll notice. For you, since you’re a friend, fifteen thousand for the whole night.” 

The Don wanted Rafe to become a new investor in his trade and possibly bring girls to Kildare in order to expand his clientele. He wanted to impress Rafe, and let him have a night with one of his well-trained girls, although Rafe was looking to make a final purchase. 

He hadn’t had a real conversation with you yet, he was in such a hurry to get back to the States that he had to keep you drugged for the time being. It would be better this way, he convinced himself, since he would be able to have the house ready before you came to. He got out the truck before opening the back door. Although you stirred slightly in your sleep, Rafe knew he wouldn’t wake you as he pulled you across the seat and wrapped you in his arms. Bridal style, he carried you up the patio and through the front doors. 

An elaborate security system now kept track of everyone coming and going from the house. He had so much more than his father ever would have, but that also meant he had so much more to lose. He was a different man than the last time he was here. Much more mature. He used to throw meaningless parties so he could appear well-known, favorited by all, and hook up with girls who only cared about getting free drugs from him. This time things would be different. 

“Hey, hey, careful with that!” Rafe barked at one of the men carrying a white tea table that he’d spent thousands on.  He was attempting and failing to carry it and the two matching chairs that it came with. Rafe should’ve known what quality movers he was getting when he let Barry put his men on the job, “You think I’m paying you to break my shit?”

Rafe carried you up the winding stairs of his childhood home, imagining you feeling like this place was yours, just as much as he did. He thought he’d feel slightly more melancholy, looking at the familiar yellow walls, the elegant chandeliers, and period furnishings. Instead, he felt a weight lifted off of him. Your bedroom was one of the old guest rooms, only a few doors down from the master, and unlocked with his fingerprint. 

The large room was freshly painted white, a twin-sized canopy bed was placed on the farthest wall, and Rafe placed you on top of the cloud-like comforter. You were still wearing one of his button-ups and a pair of his briefs that fit you more like shorts, Rafe not having had the time to dress you in the way he actually wanted to.

“Put it over in that corner, carefully,” He spoke to the mover carrying the table, although his eyes were focused on you. 

“Mr. Cameron-”

“You’re dismissed. Tell Barry I’m expecting him tonight at nine.” 

As the man turned to leave, Rafe quickly followed to shut the door behind him. He took another glance around the room, deciding that the table set was the perfect edition. He could bring you your breakfast there in the morning and, who knows, maybe you’d come to like the expensive tea set he also bought you. 

Rafe spent a good amount of time just watching you sleep and obsessively thinking about what might he say to you when you awoke. His anxious thoughts didn’t go away when he stopped doing drugs, they worsened in fact, but you were his new medium to focus on. You were healthy for him. 

He spent all the time he had between his meeting with Barry, caring for you, “Daddy’s going to take care of you,” He brought you to the bathtub and gently scrubbed you clean, shaving all the areas he preferred to be hairless, even taking the time to braid your hair so that it was out of your face. He quite liked you like this, like his very own doll, someone he could mold into a perfect Kook princess. Women in the real world often perplexed him, especially women like Sarah, who took the luxuries they were provided for granted. 

You’d appreciate everything that Rafe could offer you, he knew that, and you’d be obedient as well. He brought you back to the main room once you were dried, and clean and your skin was moisturized and scented with vanilla. He laid you on the soft carpet in front of your bed and dressed you in a white nightgown and then took his time rolling white knee socks up your leg. 

He could take his time, pacing himself, as he ran his fingers over every inch of you. He’d been rock hard ever since he undressed you originally, and he debated whether to take a quick sample of you. 

You have plenty of time, Rafe, he reminded himself. 

His phone vibrated a short while later after he tucked you back into bed, and he clicked the notification. Video of the driveway appeared on the screen, and Rafe saw Barry climbing from his car, “Daddy will be back very soon,” He spoke although you couldn’t hear, placed a kiss on your forehead although you couldn’t feel it, and shut the door quietly although you wouldn’t wake. 

As soon as Rafe opened the front door, Barry was already shouting, “Country Club! How you been, man?” Rafe’s hand was already out to shake his. Truthfully, and sadly, Rafe would consider Barry his oldest friend. “You happy about all the money I’ve been making you?”

“Thrilled,” Rafe spoke sarcastically, leading Barry to his father’s old office. He thought back to the days when he had to creep through this room and steal because Ward didn’t trust him. Now, it was all his, “Speaking of …”

Swiftly, Barry pulled a roll of hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and dropped it in Rafe’s hand. Leaning against the oak desk, Rafe began to count, “That’s what I got for the boats. Those cars are going to take a little bit longer to sell.”

“And why’s that?”  

“Those cars are classics, man, so I have a little bit of a bidding war going on,” Barry explained.

“I said I wanted them moved quickly,” Rafe sighed. He needed to get rid of as many of his father’s old things as possible if he wanted this place to be really his. 

“I’ll get you everything by the end of the week,” Rafe nodded, continuing to flip through the bills,  although normally this would be about the time he’d throw a tantrum, “So … heard you got yourself a beautiful girl-”

“Your guys run their mouths.”

“But it’s true?” Barry flashed his gold tooth, “You whipped, Country Club?”

Rafe opened the safe behind the tall bookcases, punched in the code, and safely tucked away the twenty-thousand dollars. 

“Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t let you anywhere near her anyways.”

Barry scoffs, “That breaks my heart, Rafe. I’m tired of these Pogue girls and the mainland chicks are even worse. In the old days, we used to share. You won’t help a brother out?”

Rafe smirked, “Like you said, that was the old days.” 

You felt weighed down by whatever you were lying underneath, your eyelids were so heavy it took you a full minute to blink them open. You moved each limb slowly, trying to get blood flowing through them again. You saw sunlight reflecting off porcelain walls and felt creamy soft blankets enveloping you. You should feel comforted. 

Pushing away the blankets holding you down, you pulled yourself up, strong enough to get onto your hands and knees. You stepped off the platform, off the bed, touching your toes against soft carpet but quickly your legs gave out. You whined as your knees hit the ground, surely bruising your skin, and let yourself fall back on your bottom. 

Something fell down with you and turning your head slightly you found a teddy bear. You grabbed it by its arm, examining its chestnut fur and the pink bow tied around its neck. What? That was the question forming in your mind. You looked back at the bed you’d fallen out of and your eyes darted around the room. Three doors, a wall with big windows and long curtains, a table with chairs, a toy chest, a tall armoire, and a bookcase. This room did not belong to you, even in your wildest dreams, you’d never been somewhere so nice. 

You noticed details in the wallpaper; small pink flowers decorated each wall, and white trim lined all the edges. All the furniture was white as well with elegant designs, and your original thought was that you must be in a castle. 

You attempted to stand again and managed to get straight up on your wobbling legs until there was a small click, and the door began to open. You quickly stumbled back before you were sitting back on top of the mattress. 

“You’ll go with Mr. Cameron now. To America,” Master said, “And you’ll remember your manners, won’t ya? Don’t want to end up like your friend.”

Mr. Cameron stood in front of you now. You remembered him being tall, but you didn’t remember feeling so small in front of him. With hands holding a tray in front of him, his mouth parted as his blue eyes raked over your figure. 

You gripped the comforter tightly as he stepped closer, “You’ll have to take it easy,” He said first, walking over to that small table and placing the tray down, “Let me help you.”

When he came towards you, he held out both of his hands. You felt like you usually did, terrified, but there was always a voice in the back of your head telling you to obey. There would be worse pain than a bruised knee if you didn’t do as Mr. Cameron said. You grabbed ahold of his hands, allowing him to help you up before his hands moved to your hips as he steadied you. 

“How do you feel?” He asked, a genuineness in his tone that you weren’t expecting. 

Your lips parted and you realized you hadn’t spoken in so long. You also hadn’t had anyone ask you that question in a long, long time, “I’m … okay,” You spoke quietly as he searched your face. He was staring so intently that you grew insecure, turning your eyes away. 

“I brought breakfast,” He began to guide you over to the table. You took slow steps, one in front of the other, holding onto him tightly when you felt you might fall. He set you gently down in the chair before taking the seat opposite you. You could see out the windows from this seat, your eyes finding a long dock and the ocean. When he cleared his throat, your eyes snapped back to his, “I’m not much of a cook but there’s a lady who works for me …she makes great pancakes, french toast, anything you could want really.”

You stared down at scrambled eggs, sausage, toast, and a pancake with a chocolate chip smiley face and a whipped cream nose. He started to pour you a glass of water, pushing it towards you, “Drink something,” He said, “You’ve been sleeping for a long time.”

You were really thirsty, you realized, and you took the glass he poured for you. When he didn’t pour himself one, a question rose in your mind, “Will this … make me sleep again?”

He immediately shook his head, “No, no. Drink, please.”

You were thankful, welcoming the nourishment. As you devoured the glass of water, he began to cut up the pancake into small pieces. You watched his concentrated face as he meticulously poured the syrup. Your mind didn’t stay on his interesting behavior because you were focused on eating next. 

“My name is Rafe,” He said, “But you’ll call me Daddy.”

You paused, your mouth full of pancakes, “Okay? Nod yes if you understand,” He added. 

You nodded your head, starting to chew again, and a smile seemed to pull at his lips. That’s what he must like all his girls to call him. “Good, that’s rule number one …This is your room, from now on. I’ll show you around the house after you settle in more. For now, you need permission to leave this room. Yeah?”

Again, you nodded, before swallowing your food. Rafe reached across the table with a napkin, wiping syrup from your chin, “I’m sorry,” You said, feeling embarrassed. 

“No need to apologize,” He assured you, “From now on, I’m going to take care of you.”

Take care of you. You weren’t positive about what he meant. 

Your hands moved to your lap, “Can I ask … how many girls you take care of?” 

His head tilted, and he seemed amused, “Just you, sweet girl.”

“This whole room is just for me?”

“Yes, and this whole house will be just for us,” He answers, “Here, that reminds me. I was going to wait until dinner but . . . I can’t wait.”

You watched as he reached into the pocket of his khaki pants, pulling out a silver necklace with a beautiful, pearl pendant. Still, you found yourself struggling to wrap your head around what was going on. Rafe stood, coming closer in order to put the necklace around your neck. You heard a small click before Rafe pulled his fingers away. Your fingers reach up to feel the pearl, “You’ll always keep this on. Okay?”

You nodded. 

“Tell me.”

“I’ll always keep it on … Daddy,” You remembered to add. Something lit up in his eyes, and he took your chin in his hand and tilted it up further. 

“Smart girl, Bambi,” He stated, “That’s what I’ll call you.”

You nodded, although you weren’t sure why he picked it for you. It was better than “whore” or “slut” which seemed to be Master’s favorites. Bambi sounded … cute, which certainly wasn’t a way you would describe yourself, “Daddy … why …all of this, uhm, for me?”

“You’ll have everything I want you to have. And Daddy wants the best for you, understand?”

“Y-Yes, uhm … thank you.”

“C’mere, let me give you a tour of the room” He gripped underneath your arms, helping you stand. The human closeness, his warmness, wasn’t something you were expecting. You couldn’t fully let your guard down though, you were still waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“It’s good to have, uh, a routine,” Rafe explained, before showing you every item in the room. He clearly had been involved in picking everything out which you didn’t expect,  “You’ll wake up by eight, make your bed every morning. . . your dirty laundry will go here and all your clothes are in here, if I have something specific picked out for you to wear, I’ll hang it here, you won’t wear any panties when you’re dressing for bed …and here’s the bathroom,” When you saw yourself in the mirror for the first time, your eyes widened in disbelief. Your hair was neatly braided, white bows wrapped at the end of each braid, and the nightgown made you look like . . . a doll. In the mirror, you could see Rafe lean his mouth down to your ear, “Do you like what you see?”

“I look …I think I look pretty, Daddy.”

“You do, sweet girl; that’s why I chose you.”

This was right. Rafe couldn’t have made a better decision choosing you. He had more rules to introduce you to but didn’t want to overwhelm you. He left you to brush your teeth while he took your tray of food back to the kitchen. When he returned, he found you peeking inside the toy chest, letting the top shut a little too loudly after he seemed to frighten you, ‘It’s okay, all these things are for you. I wasn’t exactly sure what you might like.”

He kneeled down with you as you took a look inside. There were quite a lot of stuffed animals, some puzzles, coloring sets, and some dolls. “My, uh, my sister Sarah, she used to love American Girl dolls. Have you ever heard of those?” You shook your head, picking up one that was dressed like an 80’s aerobic instructor, “They have all types of dolls. I should order you one that looks more like you.”

Rafe noticed you perk up at that. “One that looks like me?” 

Your reaction made him chuckle, “Yeah, why not? If you want anything at all, you can just ask me,” Rafe could tell you didn’t believe him, although you still nodded in agreement, “I know you can’t be entertained forever by these things, but it’s better for your brain than watching TV all day. And we can watch movies together.”

“That would be nice-” Rafe leaned in to kiss you, his intrusive thought winning after staring at your lips. Rafe was surprised by how gentle it was and how gentle he still wanted to be with you. You were reacting so well to everything, he didn’t want to take the chance of ruining this. When he pulled away, you immediately started to lift your nightgown, attempting to expose yourself to him.

“You don’t have to do that,” Rafe gently grabbed your hand, pulling it away from your dress. 

“I thought you wanted me …”

“ I do, I definitely do,” Rafe laughed awkwardly, “Let’s wait a little while longer. I want to undress you myself.”

You nodded eagerly, “But I … I could use my mouth?”

Rafe couldn’t believe someone could sound so innocent even while they were offering to give a blowjob, “Not before I taste you first, sweet girl.” Sexually, Rafe liked to be in complete control. He’d decide when they were ready, what positions, and who tasted who. His mind was starting to wander a little too far. He needed to remain composed for the time being, “For now, I want you to play. I need to work for a few hours, but I will bring you lunch, and we’ll eat together, okay?”

“Okay…thank you, Daddy,” You agreed, and Rafe happily placed a kiss on your forehead. 

“You’re welcome, Bambi.”

Rafe tried to concentrate on work, he had a million things to arrange now that he was back in Figure 8, but his eyes would wander to the live footage on his computer screen from Bambi’s bedroom. She spent a while going through the toys he bought for her, and then she neatly made up the bed, before deciding on the American Girl dolls. Next thing Rafe knew, he was in virtual meeting with his Cameron Development team but was actively scrolling through the American Girl doll website in another tab. 

Like he promised, Rafe took a break in the middle of the day to each lunch with you. Lana, Tannyhill’s newest household manager, prepared grilled sandwiches. Rafe joined you by the window seat where you had made yourself comfortable with two of the dolls and your teddy bear. You asked about Figure 8, of course, and Rafe gladly gave you the basics. 

That night, after dinner was enjoyed, Rafe laid beside you in bed. You chose a book to read together, a chapter book called Bridge to Terebithia, “I have to admit, I’m not much of a reader. But this should be easy enough, right?”

“When you were little, did you always have …this?” You asked, a few pages of reading later, “Books and clothes and seats by the window.”

“I guess I did, yeah,” Rafe answered, “It was not all rainbows and sunshine, though.”

“Your father, was he like Master?”

“Yeah, basically. He was not a good man,” Rafe closed the book, turning his eyes to you “And he’s not your Master anymore, okay? It’s me and you now. Just me and you.”

You tilted your head, nuzzling more into the pillow, “If I’m bad, you won’t send me back?”

“No, not ever,” Rafe said steadfastly. 

“You’ll punish me?”

Your words made him pause, and he could sense your worry, “I’m not going to hurt you, not in any real way,” Rafe’s hands found your waist, he gripped the bare skin beneath your nightgown, before his fingers roamed over your bottom, “You know how to be a good girl, right?”

You nodded, staring back, “Then you have nothing to worry about,” Rafe kissed you again, this time deeply and with the purpose of fully tasting you. He squeezed your bottom tight, pulling your front further against him so he could buck his hips against you. The book fell unread and to the wayside as Rafe roamed his hands over you. 

He should wait, he told himself. It was only your first day here, but you were all that he had been waiting for. The idea that he could have you anytime, anywhere, and anyway he wanted you excited him more. A moan escaped you, and Rafe knew you were overwhelmed with the sensations, but he liked the idea of you feeling too much. He wanted fear in your eyes, fear that you wouldn’t be able to take him, and then he wanted you to fully surrender to him. 

Rafe buried his face in your neck, kissing and sucking until you cried out. Rafe knew you were a good girl because you had obediently gotten into bed for the night without your panties. He wrapped a strong arm around your back, easily flipping you onto your back. Rafe pulled away, breathing heavily, as he looked down at you. 

“You okay, sweet girl?” Rafe asked, noticing your eyes were still closed. As you nodded, Rafe said, “Open your eyes for me.”

Rafe parted your legs further, reaching down to feel between your lips. Gently, he stroked up and down, feeling wetness at your entrance, “Tell Daddy how you like it.”

“I . . .” As he dipped a finger inside, your eyes shut again, squeezing tightly. This was a look of pleasure, Rafe noted, “Daddy-ah!”

“I think you want it gentle, hmm,” His index finger moved in and out slowly as his thumb caressed your clit, “I can be gentle, don’t worry.”

Rafe moved painfully slow, watching how every movement of his would change your facial expression. Once you were squeezing around his fingers and soaking the sheets, Rafe pulled down his sweatpants. He pressed his length against your entrance, watching your face as he pushed inside. You took a breath of air, your mouth forming an “o” shape as he slowly eased his way in and out. 

He pressed his body closer to you, your arms instinctively wrapping around his back, and he tucked his head beside yours, his breath caressing your ear. He was gentle like he said, but he had to test your limits and see how deep he could go. Your whimpers told him what he needed to know and he felt your nails begin to dig into his back.

“Daddy, d-daddy, daddy,” You moaned his name, sounding a bit delirious as you repeated it over and over. 

Rafe rocked harder against you, “Tell me. Say thank you for saving me Daddy.” 

“Thank you–” Your voice came out barely above a whisper but Rafe could hear your small voice in his ear, “Thank you for saving me, Daddy.” Your hips writhing beneath him, needing more of him, was the final thing that sent Rafe flying towards the edge of the cliff. 

He wanted to focus, to make himself last longer, but he needed you in that moment. His thrusts became shorter, and he sank deeper inside of you as he reached his peak, “Jesus,” Rafe gasped as you squeezed him tightly, your warmness pulsed around him, “Fuck.” 

He resisted his desire to stay inside of you forever, pulling out and slumping beside you. Rafe’s eyes were wide, and he found himself staring at the ceiling for a moment to process what happened. 

“Was that . . . good?” Your voice brought him back down to reality.

“Perfect, sweet girl,” Rafe took you in his arms, and you cuddled into his chest. Again, he whispered, “Jesus.”

Please let me know what your thoughts and predictions are! Reblog with a comment to be added to my taglist!

Part 2

[galaxygolfergirl]

Please fucking vote

Please fucking vote

Please fucking vote

Please fucking vote

Please fucking vote

Please fucking vote

Do not be distracted. Do not be discouraged. Vote.

Edit: I do not endorse Biden. I don’t want to have to vote for him, let me make that clear. I have been angry for months and vocally critical of the genocide that Biden is funding in Palestine. But unless someone better comes along with enough widespread support I feel like I unfortunately have to. I feel I have no other choice. At least I can still protest the Biden administration and challenge their policies if he manages to stay in power in an imperfect system of democracy. Under Trump, our democracy will die.

Edit 2: the same stands for Harris. While I feel she is a better candidate than Biden, I still hold the same criticisms of her positions on Israel and Palestine in spite of her acknowledgment of the carnage. If she’s in charge, we can challenge her. If Trump is in charge, we have a slimmer hood of doing so and more of a risk of violence and retaliation. Don’t throw your vote away.