#and i think what we have is good enough compared to the absolute nothing we would have if they didn't combine the series

[mins-fins]

self control — [ mark lee — 엔시티. ]

where no matter how stubborn he may be, it's only you that mark lee really wants.. | now playing ❅

people tend to do the worst of things to cope when they're unhappy.

for mark, it's many things. scribbling down equally depressive song lyrics, smoking, retreating himself from everyone, drinking, the occasional late night hookup..

and also standing in front of his ex boyfriends door at eleven pm.

listen, mark isn't an easy guy. you two have already been broken up for months, it isn't as if this is some planned decision, it's a spare of the moment arbitration that mark would've never made if he was in his right mind.

but the thing is, he is in his right mind. it's not like he's drunk or high, he could use the excuse that his feet dragged him all the way over here, yet you would never take that with any sort of reason. it was either this or sinking back into his work, which he doesn't exactly want to do.

he contemplates as he stares at your door, just fucking brown hard wood. nothing special. he clears his throat as he raises his fist to land a knock, his anxiety rising as silence again fills the hallway.

he hears shuffling behind other doors, jazz music faintly playing, a few neighbors arguing, but it's all tuned out in favor of the the footsteps rapidly approaching behind your door. he thinks he might have enough time to ru—

"..oh, hi".

your tone is inquiring, and mark understands why. seeing your ex in front of your door after three months of simply silence is strange, and there's nothing behind your eyes but pure confusion.

mark stares with his big eyes bugged out freakishly, he blinks as he collects the words he so desperately rehearsed before deciding to knock your door. "uh— hi, i'm sorry i don't know why.."

he can't speak, because you're looking at him with those eyes. it's really hard to focus when everything is happening.

"can we talk?"

seamless segway, your eyes drag over mark's entire figure, he tenses up in a way he knows you can clearly sense. "sure" you whisper, face scrunching at your tone.

mark enters and immediately wants to shrink. he likes your place, he always has loved your place, it's why he preferred going to you in comparison to you going to him. the expanse of a space holds solace, memories, and many moments of drunk sobbing that mark's lips take an upturn at.

"so why do you want to talk?"

oh, right, his excuse, mark's lips take a downturn. his hands shove into his pockets as he rocks back and forth on his heels, his tongue coming to lick at his lips. it's so strange to see you act so normal,

okay so maybe averting eyes and cheeks that are tinted red can't be described as 'normal' around your ex.

"i don't, i lied and i didn't know what to say when i saw you actually opened your door for me".

you pause, then, you chuckle, head topping downward as your gaze laser focuses on the floor. "that's funny.."

"yeah".

good god it's awkward.

you shrug your shoulders, spinning on your heel as you motion towards the kitchen. "do you want hot chocolate?"

mark shakes his head silently, settling onto your couch, quickly sinking into the comfortable cushions.

you blink, sighing as you settle beside him, the air again growing awkward as you place your hands into your lap, exhaustion clear in your eyes.

"is this weird?"

"after three months yeah" you snicker at your own words. "i probably would've understood if you came around like a few weeks after? but this was really random.."

"yeah".

"so what gives?"

"i.."

i missed you, no i miss you, i want you so bad, i'm sorry for overworking myself then dismissing your worries, random people at bars can't compare to you y/n, i want you back.

"i don't know".

you hum, kissing your teeth.

mark intently watches the movement of your lips and absolutely hates himself for doing so.

"it's not normal to randomly show up at your exes place, mark".

you didn't have to tell mark that, he opts to glance away on his shame. you relax your back against the cushion, biting the inside of your cheek. "so either you want me back.. or you're going to assassinante me".

oh well, you've always been good at reading mark's mind.

mark straightens his posture, scooting closer. "i miss you" he whispers, sucking his teeth at his own words. he sounds like some desperate loser who never got over his ex, oh wait.. that is what he is.

who cares? it's past ten o'clock, being ashamed of his actions is simply not needed. "a lot.. it's embarrassing".

"not really that embarrassing if you just told me right now".

mark is very desperate, his hands find purchase on your legs. you stare, and he stares back, eye contact much too difficult to avoid. "i don't know, it still kinda is.." he draws shapes into your pants, eyes flitting towards your lips.

how obvious can he be?

his eyes again widen exponentially as you catch him staring bright as day. well, he threw shame out of the window a long long time ago.

"did you miss me too?"

you contemplate on your words, a trial that only gets the anxiety back up on mark's tail. his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, a certain look in his eye that you seem to find amusing.

mark begins chewing on his lip as he impatiently awaits an answer, maybe he should shout, or scream, or.. something, it's embarrassing how spontaneous his responses are.

and he's about to scream, but you decide to answer his question by leaning forward, soft lips pressing against his.

they've always been soft, well chapped, a smooth force that seem to contrast with his own. he unfortunately can't keep his composure, letting his arms come up to wrap around your neck as you fall backward, mark messily staggering into your lap as he keeps you two pressed together.

it would be an understatement to say that he's addicted, your hands slide down towards his hips, and he sighs against your lips. he tugs you closer, as if the heat radiating from you isn't enough, as if he wants to be one with you.

his left hand comes down to cradle the side of your face, nothing else mattering. maybe your neighbors have begun fighting again, the women across the hall is baking chocolate chip cookies, your package might've arrived just now, but fuck it, who cares? mark knows he doesn't.

the only reason for separation is air, but mark could fathom kissing you until he ran out of breath, his fingers beginning to play with the hem of your shirt as he watches the rise and fall of your chest.

"yeah" your voice has a rasp to it that makes mark dizzy for a second. "missed you too".

mark parts his lips, staring down at yours. his eyes are blown wide, sparkling under the light of the lamp which barely illuminates the living room. "then maybe you should kiss me again".

you snort, but you oblige once more, allowing for mark to capture his soft lips once again. they taste like cherries, oh you never change, mark is positively going crazy. after a month of shady motel rooms including people he can barely remember, mark could never get you out of his mind.

mark tugs at your bottom lip, another small breath falling from his lips. he doesn't like cherries much, he just likes how they taste on your lips.

"you know exes don't do this right?"

mark pinches your collarbone, drawing a wince. "you know how to ruin the mood you.."

he can't exactly collect his words, your smile is taunting. "just don't talk about it".

"then we'll have to awkwardly talk in the morning".

mark shakes his head, cheeks a soft rose red. "who cares? were doing this now".

he isn't exactly sure why he's so.. determined, per say, but maybe kissing just draws something different from him. "so you want to sleep with me then not talk about tomorrow morning?"

"who cares about tomorrow? i'm focusing on right now".

you again decide to snicker, resting your forehead on mark's chest. you clearly find his words extremely amusing, but your fingers begin caressing under his shirt, the ministrations as comforting as they are calming.

"hey," mark softly calls out, eyes lidded heavily. "you know if we don't do this right now, i could die, and do you want me to die without getting in my pants one last time?"

how stupid, mark sees it in the way you laugh. "you're ridiculous".

"but i'm right".

you roll your eyes, still completely smitten. "okay, sure" you then pull him closer. "since you want me so bad".

mark attempts his best scowl. "you're so full of yourself".

your smile is beautiful, but mark still has to feign vexation at the sight. "and you talk too much".

"oh and what are you going to do? shut me u—"

mark yelps as you decide to turn the tables, now having him be the one under you. "yea, gladly".

and maybe mark isn't so against that idea.

[bartonbones]

About Kaz: I think the problem is not so much him "loosing" but the context of the whole thing? Like, getting beaten by a Tidemaker on parem who just *turns into mist* when you hit them and whom you did not expect because the possibility of such powers was previously unknown makes for a good scene. Kaz getting beaten by two ordinary bruisers who just stroll into his office, though? That is the kind of writing the books would not get away with because it contradicts Kaz' status - if Pekka Rollins can just go everywhere and kill everyone including Kaz, what is the point? This also doesn't get followed up properly - Pekka makes his threat, Kaz goes anyway and by episode 8 no consequences happen and the average viewer has probably forgotten. It also builds up Pekka's power too much, imo. Murder other wealthy barrel bosses whenever without consequence upsets the idea of a semi-stable system of power in Ketterdam. Like, he can get away with murdering common lowlife, but rich business owners? That would not work in the books. So the problem is not that Kaz looses, it is how he looses.

i think that the narrative reasons kaz loses that fight aren't just because he's overpowered by the jurda, although that contributes, it's because the manor in which the tidemaker is manifesting makes him think about jordie, which distracts him during the fight and makes him more vulnerable. it's not just touch that's a vulnerability, it's anything that relates back to jordie, and that includes pekka.

in the show pekka rollins showing up into this space that kaz has made sacred to himself is enough to disarm him and distract him becuase it reminds him of jordie, becuase here is this man that represents the entire reason he has any vulnerabilities to begin with, and so that's what the show is telling you by having pekka rollins show up and disarm kaz: it's not that pekka rollins is the most powerful scary antagonist, becuase he's not even the antagonist for the crows in the show, it's just to let you see a manifestation of what kaz's vulnerabilities are. in the book, we learn them through kaz's internal dialogue more than anything else--at the end of this scene he blames himself for being distracted, calls himself a fool. in the show, the absence of internal dialogue means we need external factors to let us know that kaz is vulnerable and he is frustrated by his own vulnerability.

i imagine this interact will pay off more in s2 when we as a show audience are told why pekka was so disarming to kaz specifically. it also allows them to set up this dynamic of pekka meaning a lot to kaz, but kaz meaning next to nothing to pekka.

also, i don't mean this to say i think the show is a perfect 1:1 for the books, bc obviously it isn't. and i don't want to give credit where none is due by saying that i think they're trying to show that the kaz in the show is a precursor to the more stable/powerful/intimidating book kaz, although i think that would be a more interesting take given that in the timeline kaz should technically be newer to all this, but what i am saying is that the "gotcha" ism of "kaz would never get beat in the books!" doesn't make sense to me and i don't think him being caught off guard by seeing pekka rollins personally for what i assume is the first time is character assassination as much as it is a nessicary evil of only being able to adapt a two-book series in to 10 minute slots of another show.

[creatingblackcharacters]

"Let's Have a Talk, First"- Stereotypes, pt 1

Come sit down. You and I, before we get into any of the things I'm sure you're impatient to know: we need to have a come to Jesus talk, first.

There are some things that I've been asked and seen that strengthens my belief that we need to have a reframing of the conversation on stereotypes in media away from something as simple as "how do I find the checklist of stereotypes to avoid". Because race- and therefore racial stereotypes- is a complex construct! Stands to reason then, that seeing, understanding, and avoiding it won't be that simple! I'm going to give you a couple pointers to (hopefully) help you rethink your approach to this topic, and therefore how to apply it when you're writing Black characters- and even when thinking about Black people!

Point #1: DEVELOP THE CHARACTER!! WRITE!!

Excuse my crude language, but let me be blunt: Black people- and therefore Black characters- will get angry at things, and occasionally make bad choices in the heat of the moment. Some of us like to fuck real nasty, some might be dominant in the bedroom, they may even be incredibly experienced! Others of us succumb to circumstance and make poor decisions that lead to crime.

None of those things inherently makes any of us angry Black women and threatening Black men, Jezebels and BBC Mandingos, and gangsters and thugs!

Black people are PEOPLE! Write us as such!

If all Black characters ever did was go outside, say "hi neighbor!" and walk back in the house, we'd be as boring as racist fans often accuse.

I say this because I feel I've seen advice that I feel makes people think writing a Black character that… Emotes negatively, or gets hurt by life and circumstance, or really enjoys hard sex, or really any scenario where they might "look bad" is the issue. I can tell many people think "well if I write that, then it's a stereotype" and to avoid the difficulty, they'll probably end up writing a flat Black character or not writing them at all. Or- and I've seen this too- they'll overcompensate in the other direction, which reveals that they 'wrote a different sort of Black person!' and it comes off just as awkwardly because it means you think that the Black people that do these things are 'bad'. And I hate that, because we're capable of depth, nuance, good, evil, adventure, world domination, all of it!

My point is, if you write your character like the human being they are, while taking care to recognize that you as the writer are not buying into stereotypes with your OWN messaging, you're fine. We have emotions, we have motivations and goals, we make decisions, and we make mistakes, just like anybody else. Write that! Develop your character!

POINT #2: YOU CAN'T CONTROL THE READERS!!

Okay. You can write the GREATEST Black character ever, full of depth, love, nuance, emotional range, all those things…. And people are still going to be racist about them. Sorry. There is absolutely nothing you can do to control a reader coming from that place of bias you sought to avoid. If it's not there, TRUST AND BELIEVE, it'll be projected onto them.

That passionate young Black woman who told the MC to get her head out of her ass? Yeah she's an angry Black bitch now, and bully to the sweet white MC. Maybe a lesbian mommy figure if they like her enough to "redeem" her. That Black gay male lead that treats his partner like he worships the ground he walks on? Yeah he's an abusive thug that needs to die now because he disagreed One Time with his white partner. That Black trans woman who happened to be competing against the white MC, in a story where the white MC makes comparable choices? Ohhhh they're gonna be VILE about that poor woman.

It really hurts- most especially as a Black fan and writer- knowing that you have something amazing to offer (as a person and creative) and people are gonna spit on that and call it "preference". That they can project themselves onto white characters no matter what, but if you project your experiences onto black characters, it's "pandering", "self insert", "woke", "annoying", "boring", and other foul things we've all gotten comments of.

But expect that it's gonna happen when you write a Black character, again, especially if you're a Black writer. If you're not Black, it won't hurt as personally, but it will probably come as a shock when you put so much effort in to create a lovely character and people are just ass about them. Unfortunately, that is the climate of fandom we currently exist in.

My favorite example is of Louis De Pointe Du Lac from AMC's Interview With The Vampire. Louis is actually one of the best depictions of the existential horror that is being Black in a racist White world I have ever seen written by mostly nonblack people. It was timeless; I related to every single source of racist pain he experienced.

People were HORRIFIC about Louis.

It didn't matter that he was well written and what he symbolized; many white viewers did NOT LIKE this man. There's a level of empathy and understanding that Black characters in particular don't receive in comparison to white counterparts, and that's due to many of those stereotypes and systemic biases I'm going to talk about.

My point is, recognize that while yes, you as the author have a duty to write a character thoughtfully as you can, it's not going to stop the response of the ignorant. Writing seeking to get everyone to understand what you were trying to do… Sisyphean effort. It's better to focus on knowing that YOU wrote something good, that YOU did not write the stereotype that those people are determined to see.

POINT #3: WHY is something a stereotype?

While there are lists of stereotypes against Black people in media and life that can be found, I would appreciate if people stopped approaching it as just a list of things you can check off to avoid. You can know what the stereotypes are, sure, but if you don't understand WHY they're a problem and how they play into perception of us, you'll either end up writing a flat character trying to avoid that list, or you're going to write other things related to that stereotype because "oh its not item #1"... and it'll still be racist.

For example: if you wrote a "sassy Black woman" that does a z formation neck rotation just because a store manager asked her something… that's probably stereotype. If you thought of a character that needed to be "loudmouthed", "sassy", and "strong" and a dark-skinned black woman was automatically what fit the profile in your mind, ding ding ding! THAT'S where you need to catch your racist biases.

But a dark-skinned Black woman character cursing out a store manager because she's had a really bad, stressful day and their attitude towards her pushed her over the edge may be in the wrong, but she's not an "angry Black woman". She's a Black woman that's angry! And if you wrote the day she had to be as bad as would drive anyone to overstimulation and anxiety, the blow up will make sense! The development and writing behind her led to this logical point (which connects to point #1!)

I'm not going to provide a truly exhaustive list of Black stereotypes in media because that would ACTUALLY be worth a college credited class and I do this for free lmao. But I am going to provide some classic examples that can get y'all started on your own research.

POINT #4: WATCH BLACK NARRATIVES!

As always, I'm gonna push supporting Black creators, because that's the best way to see the range of what you'd like. You want to see Black villains? We got those! Black heroes? Black antiheroes? Assholes, lovers, comedians, depressed, criminals, kings, and more? They exist! You can get inspired by watching those movies and reading those books, see how WE depict us!

I've seen mixed reviews on it, BUT- I personally really enjoyed Swarm, because it was one of the first times I'd ever seen that "unhinged obsessed murderous Black fan girl" concept. Tumblr usually loves that shit lmao. Even the "bites you bites you bites you [thing I love]" thing was there. And she liked girls, too. Just saying. I thought it was a fun idea that I'd love to see more of. Y'all gotta give us a chance to be in these roles, to tell these tales. We can do it too, and you'd enjoy it if you tried to understand it!

POINT#5: You are NOT Black!

This is obvious lmao, but if you're not Black, there's no need to pretend. There's no need to think "oh well I have to get a 100% perfect depiction of the Black person's mind". That's… That's gonna look cringe, at its best. You don't have to do that in order to avoid stereotypes. You're not going to be able to catch every nuance because it's not your lived experience, nor is it the societally enforced culture. Just… Do what you can, and if you feel like it's coming off hokey… Maybe consider if you want to continue this way lol. If you know of any Black beta readers or sensitivity reviewers, that'd be a good time to check in!

For example, if your Black character is talking about "what's good my homie" and there's absolutely no reason for him to be speaking that way other than to indicate that he's Black… 😬 I can't stop you but… Are you sure?

An egregious example of a TERRIBLE way to write a Black character is the "What If: Miles Morales/Thor" comic. I want to emphasize the lack of good Black character design involved in some of these PROFESSIONAL art spaces, because that MARVEL comic PASSED QA!! That comic went past NUMEROUS sets of eyes and was APPROVED!! IT GOT RELEASED!! NO ONE STOPPED IT!!

I'm sorry, it was just so racist-ly bad that it was hilarious. Like you couldn't make that shit up.

Anyway, unfortunately that's how some of y'all sound trying to write AAVE. I promise that we speak the Queen's English too lmao. If you're worried you won't get it right, just use the standard form of English. It's fine! Personally, I'd much rather you do that than try to 'decode AAVE' if you don't know how to use it.

My point is, if you're actively "forcing" yourself to "think Black"… maybe you need to stand down and reconsider your approach lmao. This is why understanding the stereotypes and social environment behind them will help you write better, because you can incorporate that Blackness- without having to verbally "emphasize how Black this is"- into their character, motivations, and actions.

Conclusion

We need to reconsider how we approach the concepts of stereotypes when writing our Black characters. The goal is not to cross off a checklist of things to avoid per se, but to understand WHY we have to develop our Black characters well enough to avoid incorporating them into our writing. Give your Black characters substance- we're human beings! We have motivations and fears and desires! We're not perfect, but we're not inherently flawed because of our race. That's what makes the difference!

And as always, and really in particular for this topic, it's the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[workingbynyx]

Hi! I was wondering if you'd be interested in writing headcanons of Jason Todd as the reader's boyfriend? Probably like the general dynamic of the relationship, love language, etc. Whatever you think goes best! :)

of course! i can finally use my hcs of boyfie jason to good use oml i have so much in store for you loves 😚

(this has been sitting in my drafts for so long and now that its almost v-day i think its pretty fitting to post this <3 also pls remember that these are my personal hcs so some may be entirely ooc but this is how i imagine him to be okay 😭)

Very affectionate behind closed doors

Jason wasn't a very clingy person to begin with. in fact the first time you held hands you swore you saw drops of sweat drip down the side of his face, it's hilarious. it took him a while to get around giving physical affection but once he did, hugs and kisses are non-stop. he'll either give you quick or aggressive but gentle kisses or would simply ask you to climb onto him on your shared bed and lay your head on his chest as he sleeps. he'd search for your hand and give it a squeeze when the both of you are in a big crowd (ex; galas, parties) or just rest his hand on the small of your back— as intimidating he might seem, he's just a big baby in your hands.

A pretty decent cook, to say the least

Could be an unpopular opinion but i'd say Jason isn't all too bad in the kitchen, he can pretty much fix up a simple meal if he wants to. The man could either fuck up the microwave or invent a whole new recipe just to fit your cravings, there's no in between. He doesn't want to admit it but he has a secret folder in his phone of all the recipes to your favourite dishes from lunch meals to deserts; so now on every occassion, you can expect waking up to the fresh scent of your favourite food set on the table <3

Midnight joyrides are the best

Do y'all know those tiktok accs that own a motorbike and just drive around with their partners sitting behind them? That's exactly how i imagine what it would be like to be Jason's partner 👊👊 literally like; "bubs put on your helmet" "are we going out? at this time?" "what, you don't want to?" "well, yeah i do..." "good, i'll have the bike out front then" then you guys just drive around on his bigass bike zooming through the city. He'd also have his hands run down your leg that's straddling him from behind at every stoplight possible wkehwjhejwhd

Getting out of bed is almost impossible

The first time you two moved in together was really exciting, waking up finding yourself beside the love of your life sleeping peacefully to eating breakfast and dinner with them too. But as time went by, it became almost your mission everyday to get out of bed without being held back by Jason pulling you back under the sheets. You'd have to be sneaky to move his arm that's wrapped around your waist before his reflexes react soon enough; "mmh, going somewhere?" "jay, i gotta get to work" "10 more minutes love, i promise. I'll just drive you there it's much faster" "you said that 5 minutes ago— i'll be late again!" "are you saying you'd rather leave me alone?" "jace i–" "mhm exactly, so stay a'ight? you could just tell them you caught that flu" "i already did...two days ago..."

Absolutely adores your eyes, hands and waist

I'm a firm believer that Jason is a certified waist-grabber !!! you can expect the rough tips of his gloves glide over from your back all the way to your waist once he comes home from work. He also looooves looking into your eyes and see his reflection in them, the same eyes that showed nothing but pure love and kindness to him. And he also likes your hands; the size difference when you compare them, how they wrapped around his own, and how they cling onto him every chance you get. He thinks it's such a cute mannerism (if you have them too)

He asks for fashion advice, sometimes

Jason'll probably throw on a shirt, jacket, pants and boots then call it day before he met you— but he's even conscious of how colors looked on him now. You were his stylist, often picking out clothes and giving him new looks that you think looks best on him just because he once saw a photo of him and thought the shirt and pants he had didn't match at all. Jason always thought clothes only consists of hoodies, sweatpants, shirts, but now even knows what 'preppy' clothing is after you explained it to him.

His love language is words of affirmation and physical touch

This may vary to some people but i do hc Jason's love language to be words of affirmation and physical touch. Words of affirmation; only because he absolutely loves it when he tells you what he genuinely thinks of you at the moment. "You look great in red", "i'm proud of what you did there", "i love you, y'know that right?", "you look so gorgeous, i'm lucky to have you" and physical touch; because he's totally convinced he can't live without you by his side. Jason would want to be next or near you at any given chance, he'll have you scooted beside him while he reads a book or gently rub his hand against your thigh when he's focused on a movie. Your presence alone gives him the comfort he's always longing for in nights that he's away from home, and you'd glady give it to him.

Very protective over you

It's probably a known fact that Jason is a protective person but when it comes to you he can be over the top in making sure you're okay (especially when you're also a vigilante/hero working with him.) You'll always have to assure him that you're fine and not bleeding to death with a papercut or when you accidentlly stub your toe against the bed. But when you're also a crime-fighter like him, best believe he'll always have you stay and guarded behind him. You had to explain so many times that you could also take care of yourself like he can, though it's understandable why he acts that way most of the time.

Acts all tough, but melts when you're around

Around the times when Jason still had a lil crush on you, he'd never let his guard down and likes to appear cold or tough. But once you were dating he's an absolute shy babe even with the smallest gestures or compliments you give him. He'd only crack a smile at the side comments you make but is mentally falling apart. Or when he can't keep up the act he simply dips his head in the corner of your neck and stay there til he stops blushing like a teen getting his first kiss.

Is a part of the sassy man apocalypse

Sometimes, you question if this man is simply your bestfriend or your boyfriend of how many years. The amount of bickering the two of you end up having is like watching two friends fight over peanut butter vs chocolate. You'd suggest a book you've been reading that he absolutely despises and have a debate right there and then. It's almost like that one Friends scene when Joey and Rachel were giving spoilers back to back at each other LMAO. The man also has an unhealthy habit of popping a hip whenever he stands, your gallery would probably be filled with pictures of him in that stance alone.

[eyeheartboobiez]

shower sex w/ jason

ask: I’ve been craving backshots with Jaybird(possibly in the shower)and reader being blackout cockdrunk, I don’t know if you’re comfortable with degradation, praise/degradation or slightly mean!Jason so I’ll leave that optional(if you’re not comfortable with that forget I ever said that). And ofc filthy dirty talk is always welcome 😉

a/n: @nyxx01 IM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG I HOPE U LIKE IT

wc: 800-ish

tw: subspace themes, spelling errors…

"Shut up and take it."

The steam radiating throughout the bathroom was nothing compared to what was actually happening in the shower. What was supposed to be a simple wash after a night out, abruptly turned into something much more pornographic.

For hours now, Jason had been plowing into your entrance, not thinking too let up in the slightest. You were surprised the water hadn’t gone cold considering the two of you had been at it for hours now.

Despite the hot water cascading down your skin, your nipples grazing the tile of the wall, or even the slight clutch of Jason’s hand around your throat, you felt completely stripped of all your senses. 

Absolutely weak in the knees by now, your body had gone completely limp from being handled so brutally. The sobs of pleasure slipping from your lips were the only signs of life from you. 

As the rhythm of Jason’s thrusts shook your entire body, you were sure you’d have fallen over by now had it not been for his iron grip around your torso. "Jace,” you huffed, “Jus’ gimme a sec-"

A piercing smack shrilled through the air, loud enough to be heard between the pouring water and your shameless moans. You didn’t even realize how much your rear stung until you noticed callused hands teasingly rub at the stricken area, “Nuh uh, you don't get to talk. Not right now."

The vigilante moved to grip you by your elbows, his hips still thrusting at an unforgiving pace. Tears stained your cheeks as you began to cry, the saltiness of your cries somehow finding a way to stand out against the tap water around you. 

"Aww, you crying sweetheart? I thought you wanted to be treated like a whore t’night, hm? Thought this was what you wanted, baby.” His teases did nothing but add to your arousal, only hurting you on a surface level.

“I should just spread you open and pound you till tomorrow, huh?" He cooed. “I’d finally fuck the brat outta you. Maybe then you’ll start being good ‘fa me.”

You practically shuddered at the thought, desperate to be filled with more of Jason’s cum. His feigned sympathy made your eyes water even more.

However, that dream was quickly shut down. His sudden talkativeness was a telltale sign that he was close to reaching his peak.

Not even a minute later, you felt his hips shudder vigorously against your backside, the grip on you tightening as he was pushed over the edge. Ropes of cum pulsed from the girth between his legs, penetrating deep within your sensitive hole

“Mmmf, there we go.” Groans sputtered from his mouth, languid praises rumbling from chest, “That’s it hon, give it to me.”

Following him in sequence, you reached your final orgasm of the night. Your knees buckled and convulsions took over your body as you felt the climax rush through you. 

Before you could hit the floor though, the Gothamite was quick to catch you in his arms. Gently, he sat you down on the floor of the tub, making sure to angle you away from the pouring water.

Feeling the ground beneath you, your senses were slowly coming back to you. While you weren’t necessarily dickmatized anymore, your thoughts were still a bit hazy.

The water rinsing you down, a fresh towel drying you off, butter massaging its way into your skin; everything happened in a blur. But, even while your mind was still trying to catch up with the world around you, you knew that you were in good hands.

“C'mon doll, help me out a little here.” Blinking into reality, you looked to see you were sat on the edge of your bed, dressed in one of your boyfriend’s tee shirts. Jason was standing between your legs, attempting to wrap your hair for the night, but your drowsy figure was no help whatsoever.

Straightening up, you moved to make the job easier for him. “There ya’ go,” he muttered, the low timbre of his voice only lulling you further to sleep, “Look at you bein’ so good for me now.”

Once your mane was taken care of, you hastily made your way under the sheets, the soft fabric covering you in a blanket of warmth. After making sure you were comfortable, the batboy made his way over to his side of the bed, settling himself in right beside you.

Although, just as you were about to clock out for the night, Jason squished your cheeks together, forcing your eyes to meet his, "Maybe next time think twice before flirting with the bartender, hm?"

You knew he was still irritated with you, but the goodnight kiss he left on your forehead told you he’d get over it. Sooner or later.

a/n: this reads like a wattpad fic (derogatory)

[moonstruckme]

poly!wolfstar x reader or whimsical!reader would be absolutely wholesome Maee!! Love and hugs 💖 have a lovely day 💫

(to clarify I'm not the anon who mentioned wolfstar previously. I'm just a lovesick of these two lol. hope the request is ok! Sending good vibes your way✨)

Awh I love them so much! Thanks for requesting sweetheart, hope you have a lovely day too <3

cw: squished snail :(

poly!wolfstar x whimsical!reader ♡ 900 words

Remus comes home, juggling his umbrella with three drinks from the coffee shop down the street, to find you and Sirius kneeling outside your front door. You seem to be placing dead leaves in a circle around a wet-looking smudge on the ground.

“Um.” He steps under the overhang of your roof, adjusting his hold on the drinks to set down his umbrella. “What’s going on?”

“We’re surrounding the snail with dead plants so it can be nourished in the next life,” Sirius says easily. Like this is something he does often. “Watch your step, handsome.” 

Remus heeds the warning, stepping carefully around the circle and behind the two of you. That’s when he notices your clothes. 

For Sirius, wearing black isn’t so unusual. He knows it sets off his tattoos and comparatively milky complexion, and he loves nothing more than a dramatic juxtaposition. But you, Remus didn’t even know you owned clothes this colorless. Your dress is loose and flowy, an inky black that’s more of a contrast against your generally lighthearted disposition than it’s ever been against Sirius’ coloring. You look lovely as always, but like a dulled version of your usual self. 

“Are we having a funeral?” Remus asks carefully.

Your posture is slumped, droopy as a weeping willow. “Yeah,” you reply glumly. “I went to take out the trash, and I couldn’t see in front of me. I crushed them.” Your voice seems to quiet further at the end, some mixture of shame and mourning clogging your throat. 

“Them?”

“The snail,” Sirius clarifies. He rubs between your shoulder blades. “It was an accident, sweetheart.” 

You nod, taking in a bolstering breath. “A funeral feels like the least I can do to try to honor them after cutting their life short.” 

“Oh, that’s very thoughtful of you.” Remus kneels on your other side, ignoring Sirius’ sharp look when he can’t help a little grunt at the ache in his joints. He sets your drinks where they won’t get knocked over. “Maybe this was a very old snail, and you found it at the end of its life.” 

“I just hope they didn’t leave a family behind,” you fret. 

“I’m sure even if they did,” he says, reaching for his most reassuring tone, “their family would appreciate what a nice resting place you’ve made for them.” He pets the back of your head. “And that you’ve dressed up so nicely to say goodbye.” 

You turn your face towards the ground, and Remus notices a soft pout to your bottom lip. Sirius seems to spot it at the same time. The other boy lifts your chin to kiss at it sweetly. 

“Do you want to say a few words, lovely?”

Remus smiles over the top of your head at his softhearted boyfriend. Were it anyone else, Sirius would be making endless fun of them for creating such a fuss over a snail’s death, but because it’s you he’s in all the way. (Evidently, he’s learned his lesson after the time he squashed a mosquito in cold blood. You would hardly look at him for days until he apologized.) 

You nod, clearing your throat. “I hope you’re going somewhere with tall grass,” you say, “and lots of soft, wet dirt. And I hope this food gives you sustenance for the journey.” 

You mean the dead leaves, Remus supposes. He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “I’m sure it appreciates that, darling.” 

“And if you want to reincarnate as an elephant to step on me, I completely understand.” 

“Oh.” Sirius coughs. “Don’t we think that’s a bit far?”

“Yeah,” Remus agrees. “You’ve put yourself through enough already, that’s probably not necessary.” 

You look between your boyfriends, bemused. “I’m only trying to make things fair. I killed them first.” 

“I just think we ought to have a bit more faith in this snail,” says Sirius. “I doubt they’re out for revenge; they strike me as the forgiving sort. No need to relinquish yourself to an untimely squishing.” 

You frown. “I suppose you’re right. Snails don’t have very long memories anyway, so as a group they might not be very inclined to hold grudges…” 

“Exactly.” He gives your shoulder a loving pat. “Now, it looks like Remus has brought us something. Haven't you, handsome?” 

Remus gives you both a small smile, reaching for your drinks. “Here’s a coffee, and a tea for you, dove. Let’s get out of the cold and drink them inside, yeah?” 

“Okay.” You give the snail one last, speaking look before starting to stand. 

Sirius hurries to Remus’ side, forcing him to use the other boy for support as he straightens up, knees protesting. 

“Your hair’s all wet,” he murmurs. 

“I know,” Sirius gripes under his breath, but Remus can hear the fondness hidden beneath his grousing. “I figured you’d be upset if I let her go out in the rain to find her ceremonial leaves alone.” 

Remus chuckles and kisses his part. “I’ll make some soup before you both catch cold.” 

“She’ll only think it’s karmic if we do.” 

“No, not really.” Sirius hasn’t kept his voice quiet enough to avoid your hearing, and now you’re looking at him with an earnest bemusement. “It would be karmic if I got sick, but you haven’t done anything wrong, Sirius.” 

Remus tsks. “I think you’ve repented enough already, dove,” he says. “Let’s get you both dried off.” 

[verysium]

some thought on us/reader/yn (i don’t know how to address it lol 😭) and seeing ex-boyfriend, who preferably myb cheated and now is dump struck how we got a new boyfriend/it’s been some time since last seeing ex)

um.....i'm assuming the bllk boys are the new boyfriend for this. hopefully, that's what you meant, but here you go anon:

kaiser absolutely thrives off this situation. this is the perfect chance to stroke his ego, so he's going to take full advantage of it. definitely notices your ex before you do and tugs you closer, arm wrapped around your waist, nose buried in your hair. obviously, you can't see his facial expression, but you can tell by the way he's smirking that he's definitely up to no good. when your ex finally realizes that your new boyfriend is THE michael kaiser, he's like... 😏 that's right bitch. keep ogling. y/n's doing so much better without you. even better if your ex is actually a fan of kaiser. his sadistic ass will not let that go. you want my autograph or something? oh wait...sorry i don't give out autographs to losers. deliberately sets out on a mission to make your ex's day an absolute hell, and he's smug about it too. once your ex is gone, he looks back and asks...so did i do good? no, you don't need to thank me. i'm already thanking myself. (he's so stupid....i love him.)

sae's reaction is encapsulated in one word. side-eye. he won't actually say anything, but the judgmental aura leeching off him is already enough to send your ex running in the opposite direction. i don't even think your interaction is going to last more than one minute because sae is just so intimidating. the entirety of japan already knows who he is, and compared to him, your ex is an absolute nobody. poor guy will probably never recover especially after seeing you and sae on the front of every tabloid, magazine, and news channel. his ego is broken, masculinity in ruins, reputation in tatters. and honestly.....serves him right.

rin holds an even stronger grudge than you do. he never lets any personal slight go without consequence. probably still holding every single mistake your ex has made in the past five years over his head. what did you even see in him? he's a lukewarm piece of shit. again....like sae, i don't think you would even need to say anything because rin's death glare already says enough.

shidou needs a restraining order because i don't think your ex is going to make it out alive. probably goes straight for the throat too. he genuinely enjoys seeing other people in pain whether physically or emotionally. will probably make out with you right in front of your ex just to fuck with his mind a little bit. hand placement is key. he places one hand behind your head and the other one grasps your ass. uses a lot of tongue. leaves you winded with starry eyes and swollen lips before he maniacally grins at your ex. he definitely enjoyed that a little too much.

barou has a quiet but menacing aura. he's very tall, so i think he would likely tower over your ex. and uh...have you seen his physique? he would probably cross his arms, and his biceps would bulge, and he would whisper in the lowest, most chilling tone: you got a fucking problem? and that's about all it takes because your ex may be a wimp but at least he has enough self-preservation to know you don't mess with someone like barou. probably kisses you on the forehead after that and his voice softens just tad...you okay, baby? (dfhkjsdhf i just blushed)

nagi wouldn't really care. nothing fazes him, especially not your ex because he's in the past now and that makes him irrelevant. but he definitely does not back down from subtly throwing some insults. oh...him? he's just y/n's ex. a weak guy not worth the hassle. don't bother. if your ex is stupid enough to actually confront him though....he's not going to hold back. shut up. you sure bark a lot for someone with no bite. pet store's two blocks away. maybe you should check out a new collar. lmao nagi can be painfully rude when he wants to be.

[shanastoryteller]

i'm going to move on from supernatural posting, i swear to god, but first i'm going to talk about ep 9x07 bad boys

the episode itself is fine and good (i mean it's another example of dean having a support network while sam can't have anyone and dean keeping secrets while when sam does it it's the worst betrayal ever but that's not what this is about and sometimes i think about what this show did two earnest, loving traumatized characters by turning them into the most tragic versions of themselves and - ok, this really isn't what this post is about)

but fandom interpretation of this episode actually drives me up a wall because it does a disservice to literally every character

one, john did not leave them without enough money for food. dean gambled it and lost it. there's nothing in canon to say that john was taking longer than expected, that they were running out of money, none of that. dean gambled food money and lost it and then tried to steal to make up for it. he was 16 when this happened and it was a bad decision but i don't think he should be at all vilified for this. he made a dumb mistake and then tried to fix it with another dumb mistake. john was right to be mad and sam was also right to tell him that he shouldn't beat himself up about it. just like with shtriga - yeah, dean was climbing the walls stuck in that hotel room. but you know who else was stuck in that hotel room? sam. and he didn't get a break to go play at the arcade. again, i'm not blaming dean here, he shouldn't have been stuck taking care of his brother that young and he was a kid and john leaving his his children behind while hunting a child eater, whether he was using them for bait or not, is crazy. but dean stealing food wasn't about john's neglect and all the sacrifices dean had to make for sam. it was about him trying to fix his fuck up

two, and this is the one that really gets me, dean didn't go back with john because he had to take care of sam

listen. listen to me. i am speaking from experience when i say this

parentified siblings are still, first and foremost, siblings. especially with only 4 years between them. the show shameless i think did an absolutely excellent job with this and is why i love the first few seasons of it so much. fiona is without a doubt parentified, she is raising those kids, but she's also clearly their sister not their mother

i know later seasons dean and fandom like to make it seem like dean literally raised sam and john was just a background figure but like. that's not realistic, and frankly doesn't even make sense

the reason dean leaves sonny and goes with john isn't because he feels like he has to keep him sam safe. it's isn't because he feels like he has to raise him. it's because he loves him

you are reducing dean to the most pathetic woe is me archetype with this interpretation and ridding him of all his rich loyalty and care and love to saddle him instead with comparatively flat duty. dean is more than sam's caretaker. he's his brother

there's also no reason for dean to feel this way. he just massively fucked up in taking care of sam - that's why he's with sonny in the first place. john has alternate people to take care of sam when he can't do it himself, as he has just proven, and while i don't think we should turn a couple teenage mistakes into making dean incapable, dean absolutely would - and did! he carries every fuck up regarding sam with him! so right now he's really, really low when it comes to his own estimation to take care of sam and leaving sonny because of that doesn't make any sense

but he looks at his brother and is reminded how much he missed him and loves him and realizes staying means he loses his brother. the good and the bad. so he goes, because he loves sam more than anything else

this is also why sam leaving for stanford cuts him so deep. that's why this moment is a parallel to that rather than being unrelated. stanford isn't about sam leaving dean even though he has a duty to care of him, because he doesn't. dean's 22 and at this point is always hunting with their father so there's no reason for sam to believe his presence is necessary for either john or dean's safety

no, dean's mad because he chose his love for his brother over a normal life and sam didn't

(sam didn't want to choose at all but this isn't about him)

anyway. dean fucks up sometimes and john sucks but not quite in the ways fandom thinks and dean loves his brother past reason or sense

[misslycoris]

PLATONIC

𐂂 Oh best believe he's not gonna take you seriously at the beginning of your so-called friendship, I don't even think he considers it as one.

𐂂 He just considers you as one of the many people he knows. He also definitely doesn't think of you as an equal or anyone significant.

𐂂 He'll probably acknowledge your existence if you were a part of the hotel, but if you were just a random demon off the streets then no, he has better things to do with his time. Not unless you do something that grabs his attention.

𐂂 Deliberately trying to be on his good side won't affect him in any way, he's used to that treatment, therefore what you're doing is nothing special.

𐂂 But what does grab his attention? Subtle things. Giving him his space, if you have a phone or any technology invented beyond the 1930s you generally try and avoid him, thanking him as he passes you your portion of the meal he cooks for hotel bonding nights that Charlie mandated. Stuff like that when added up makes Alastor generally more appreciative of your existence.

𐂂 Only then you're upgraded from an acquaintance to an acquaintance that isn't as annoying to be around as the rest.

𐂂 That's when he strikes up random conversations with you, he appreciates it if you take the time to listen and add to it, even more so if you actually set aside something you were doing just to talk with him. It gives him a mini ego boost every time.

𐂂 Writing something while he talks about the hotel's structural problems? His smile widens when you close your notebook and join him by recounting the time you almost fell down the balcony.

𐂂 Eating breakfast and he talks about how he hunts the perfect deer for venison? There you are, chewing your food and nodding, listening to how he graphically describes the process while the rest of the hotel stares at him in horror.

𐂂 Another thing he does during this phase is popping out of nowhere and keeping up with what you're doing, call it interest, call it curiosity, or maybe it's boredom. Now that Alastor knows that you are more tolerant of him he'll fully use that to his entertainment.

𐂂 I can see him trying to get a deal out of you but it doesn't go anywhere, since I'm going to assume we are all smart enough to not hand our souls to Alastor on a silver platter.

𐂂 Survive his onslaught of impromptu shenanigans and move on to the next tier of actually being friends.

𐂂 Alastor treats his friends as his equals so there's that, also be ready to accept his invites to drinking coffee around the hotel and talking about the latest mess the hotel went through.

𐂂 The way he treats you compared to how he treats Angel or Husk is way different that it physically gives everyone a whiplash. I'm talking about something like this:

"Can you not scare off people, smiles? We're tryna bring in people into the hotel." Angel explains, Alastor only simpers as he feigns ignorance.

"Why, I don't know what you're talking about!" He laughs as he skips off merrily. Charlie and Vaggie then nod to each other and drag you into the conversation, whispering you something before they push you towards Alastor.

"Hey Alastor, I just wanted to ask if you could help me with something?" You ask, you haven't made up a chore to ask for help from him but you needed a reason to try and stop him from scaring any potential guests. Does Alastor know? I guarantee you he does. But does he let you do it anyways? Yes, absolutely he does.

"Anything to help a dear out, if you'll excuse us then!" Alastor bids goodbye for the both of you as you walk away, despite being the one to ask him, he was the one leading the way.

𐂂 Alastor also invites you to meet Rosie! Rosie finds you very endearing and if you had a penchant for cannibalism expect luncheons together with them.

𐂂 By this point everyone in the hotel notices how Alastor gravitates towards you, they have mixed reactions to it but the general consensus is to not disrupt your "bonding sessions" as Charlie puts it.

𐂂 Alastor oftentimes shares jokes whether or not you appreciate his humor. Side note, Alastor full-on cackles if you or Rosie say something outta pocket about somebody, and hangouts with both of them are generally a good time. He'll try to say shit like:

"Let's be nicer now." All the while he holds in a laugh after you and Rosie called Susan the wicked bitch of the West.

𐂂 This is also a silly thought of mine, but picture this:

You decided to stay up late one night after you decided to do whatever it is you were putting off and after a while, you decided to grab some coffee from downstairs.

Arriving at the kitchen you see, this eldritch abomination in the shadows looming over the cabinet where the instant coffee packets were kept. It then takes you a few seconds to register that it was Alastor and you were just left standing by the kitchen doorway, wondering what to say.

"Can I grab the coffee packets from that cabinet over there?" You point towards the cabinet, Alastor then quickly shifts back to his usual form and ushers you to the kitchen counter.

"Nonsense my dear! Why don't I make us some nice and hot coffee instead of consuming such tasteless things." Alastor insists and before you could even refuse he was already doing a French press.

𐂂 Though as you can imagine Alastor has his off days, he makes it clear to you when he isn't in the best of moods and you steer clear of him per his request. Then the fight with Adam happened. As the rest of the hotel was busy with rebuilding the hotel, you were balancing both looking for Alastor and helping paint the walls of the new hotel.

𐂂 This is when the remaining walls he had crumbled down as you find him at his lowest, basically defeated and while he was royally pissed when someone saw him in such a vulnerable state, you were the best option out of the ensemble that was currently singing outside of the ruins of his old radio station.

𐂂 Hesitant as he was, he let you dress his wound with bandages, he wasn't comfortable with anything else you offered, not with cleaning up the wound itself, not with telling the rest that he was alive, and definitely not asking for help from anyone either. So you stayed there for a while after you finished dressing his wound up, his blood immediately soaking through the bandage. But you didn't say anything and let Alastor be, and after a few more minutes in silence, he got up and offered you a hand as if he wasn't the one who needed it. The only thing he says is:

"We mustn't dilly-dally now, the rest are waiting for you." Not us, just you. It sounded bitter but you didn't say anything.

ROMANTIC(? AS MUCH AS ALASTOR CAN BE AT LEAST)

𐂂 Romantic isn't the right word for Alastor, I imagine him to be somebody who doesn't outright say his feelings but there's a gradual change, and then one day, before you know it people around the hotel will start asking you if you two were a thing. He's not going to acknowledge the change verbally, but he does notice it and acknowledges it in his own way.

𐂂 Don't get me wrong he's capable of being romantic, acts of service is his go-to, and on days that he feels like it he can be very vocal with his affections. But it's not an everyday occurrence.

𐂂 This only starts right after something like seeing him at his lowest, that for me is when I feel like he's more willing to be more open to you. I mean, you've already seen him at rock bottom, so why not?

𐂂 Go to him during your more vulnerable moments, he's done it to you so he expects the same. Trust goes both ways after all.

𐂂 It starts out small, if you were used to setting things aside just to listen to him ramble, wait until you start to notice that he's doing the same thing for you. Usually when you're discussing something he multitasks, of course he still listens but efficiency is of the essence. Eventually though, he starts to physically put aside anything he is doing, showing that you have his full attention.

𐂂 There are also times when you (and the rest of the hotel) notice that your portion in meals that he cooked has significantly more than what the others have on their plates. Anyone who complains gets told that they were only imagining it by Alastor.

𐂂 Alastor also gradually becomes more lenient with you, letting you get away with a lot more than you should. Steal his monocle? He'll wear his glasses as he searches for you in the hotel. Break something by accident? He'll be by your side telling you to be more careful as he picks up every broken piece before you hurt yourself.

𐂂 Adjustment is key, I can see the other party doing more of it but he also makes an effort to meet you halfway. Are you particularly touchy? He doesn't get it but he knows it makes you happy so he makes an effort to accommodate you.

𐂂 Words of affirmation? Since he gets to see you get all flustered he's up for it! He finds you adorable whenever you do.

𐂂 Alastor tries for you, tries to navigate all of those unfamiliar territories that he's never had the chance to explore to ensure that you don't feel like the only one in your relationship. It does feel like it sometimes, I won't sugarcoat it, Alastor at heart is a man cold and sharp on the edges, but he isn't Alastor if he wasn't and he still cares for you all the same even if he doesn't show it.

𐂂 I'd say the most romantic part of the day for the both of you would be reading together in his room, fire crackling as you sit on the floor (much to Alastor's protest) while you lean against Alastor's chair. Sometimes he sneaks a peek into your book just to see what you were reading out of curiosity, and you'd rather not tell him that you could see him doing it from his reflection through the small mirror he had hanging by one of his shelves.

𐂂 Pet names for days! Yes he does call you chere, next question please. Pet names become more frequent the closer you two become, although, the more personal nicknames would be said behind closed doors. The most he'll call you in public would be darling, he didn't need to air out every part of his life and you both were content at that. Also, call me crazy, delusional even, but hear me out here sharks:

You were sitting by the fire, with Alastor still complaining that sitting on the floor was nowhere near as comfortable as you said it was, you only laughed lightly at how much of a fuss he's kicking up.

"I won't die a second time just because I decided to sit on the floor Al. Besides, you're a lot closer if I sit here. I like it like that. So let me have this one, please?" You don't know why, but he stops in the middle of his tangent. Something about what you just said struck something in him that got him laughing softly, even going so far as to ruffle your hair ever so gently.

"Oh, you dear old thing. I suppose I can't stop you." He eventually takes his hand back and goes back to reading as he hums together with the faint melody of jazz in the air.

𐂂 Alastor helps you dress up if you ask, need help with a zipper you can't quite reach? Hold his staff for a moment while he does. Can't pick between two things? Ask him and he'll give you his opinion, he'll often say you'll look just as lovely wearing either one but he does have his choice.

𐂂 You don't sleep in the same rooms unfortunately or fortunately depending on how you see it, if you're a part of the rehabilitation program you both would have a separate room of your own. Neither of you made any plans of asking Charlie to move you to his room or vice versa either since you were both unprepared for whatever questions she may have so you both agreed to put it off, there really was no urgency or need to stay in the same room anyways.

𐂂 Letters! Events like Valentine's Day never interested Alastor, there was no one to spend it with so he never needed to worry about it. But with you in the picture he starts to think otherwise, you both rarely ask for anything from the other so gifts would have to be purely given by initiative, and now was the perfect time. It takes Alastor an almost embarrassingly long amount of time to settle on writing you a letter, a heartfelt one dedicated to thanking you for being a part of his afterlife, for being someone he can trust, and for making the days less monotonous for him. Imagine his surprise when he hands you a letter only for you to give one of your own. You both share a laugh and settle down by the fire, reading your letters together as Alastor sits down on the floor together with you just this once to humor you he says.

𐂂 All in all, it takes a while, but with time, patience, and I mean a lot of it, you'll get there.

╭┉┉┅┄┄┈•◦_•◦❥•◦_

Interested in hearing me yap even more? Give Signed, Alastor a go if you have the time. It's about a bat and a deer faffing around until they sort their feelings out.

[girlgenius1111]

someone who loves you wouldn't do this

the fourth and final chapter of family line solstråle faces some more challenges and makes some important decisions. angst. like angst... but then fluff :) cw: more of the same... poor mental health on sol's part.

it must be said that this chapter would be absolutely NOTHING compared to what it is now without @wileys-russo. for every comment you leave on this, YOU BEST leave bailey something telling her thank you, too :)

------

“Solstråle… that is just… wood. Your bed would just be on some wooden slats on the ground.” 

You beamed at your sister. “I KNOW. It’s so cool. It’s like camping. But with a comfy mattress, and it’s oversized, so I don't need a nightstand, it’s like a built-in shelf! It'll go so well with my new map because the wood is the same as the frame and…” 

Ingrid didn’t need to hear your reasoning; the excitement on your face was more than enough for her. She would have bought you anything, no matter how hideous, just to keep seeing this joy on your face. This alleged bed frame wasn’t even that bad; it was woodsy and earthy and the precise thing you loved. 

The bed frame was the final thing you’d needed. Ingrid had come in with a gameplan, because of course she had, and you had systematically made your way through the store. 

You’d seemed unsure at first, and very hesitant to really pick anything out. Mapi, meanwhile, was too excited to see that she was overwhelming you. After the 8th time you’d said the words, “I don’t know, do you like it?” your sister knew she had to step in. 

Mapi was busy talking your ear off. “OOO what about this dresser? With the matching mirror? Or we could get the other mirror with this dresser and paint the wood framing so it would match. Or we could get-”

Ingrid cut her off. “María, darling, I love you, but take a breath.” You watched amused as Mapi literally took a deep breath at Ingrid’s instruction. “Okay, now go pick out a couple new mugs over there and then come back.” 

Mapi nodded enthusiastically, bounding off towards the mugs. “Do not run, María Pilar!” Ingrid shouted after her, smiling to herself when Mapi slowed down to an awkward shuffle. 

Your sister turned to you then, a sympathetic look on her face as you regarded her cautiously. 

“Which dresser do you want?” 

“I don’t-” 

“No. Which dresser do you want?” Ingrid insisted. 

You shrugged, looking away from your sister, and inexplicably starting to tear up. You didn't want to pick the wrong thing, and you didn’t want to make anyone buy anything for you. 

The brunette put her hands on your shoulders, looking down at you insistently. “Listen, Solstråle. I want you to have a space that is yours, with things you pick, and things you like. Let me do this for you? Please?” 

You sighed, nodding slowly. “I like that one.” You said softly, pointing at one of the dressers Mapi hadn’t even glanced at. 

“Good.” Ingrid said. “MARÍA, come here.” 

Mapi returned like a puppy being called back to its owner, with a single mug in her hands. Ingrid had been about to scold her, and tell her to stop hijacking your shopping trip, when Mapi handed out the mug towards you. You took it into your hands, turning it around until the design was facing you. 

It was a ceramic mug, painted with a minimalist map of Spain. There was only one marking on the map, signifying Barcelona. It was a little sun, right on the coast, marking your new home. 

“Get it? It’s a map. Like the one I got you. And it has a sun. Mapi and Solstråle. Un mapa y el sol.” She joked, clearly thinking you’d laugh, and put the mug back, as it wasn’t normally the sort of thing you’d like. 

You grinned at her, though, looking between the Spaniard and your sister, who also had a big smile on her face. “Can I get it?” You asked. 

Mapi looked surprised, but Ingrid just kept smiling, knowing instantly that the silly mug meant something because Mapi had seen it, and thought of you. “Of course. María, she picked out a dresser.” 

“Which one?” Mapi asked, looking around excitedly. 

You’d laughed, shaking your head, and pointing at the one you wanted. Ingrid was a little worried Mapi would jokingly complain that you hadn’t picked one of the ones’ she’d pointed out, and inadvertently make you feel guilty, but Mapi just nodded enthusiastically. 

“Oh I didn’t see that one! Good call pequeña!” 

You’d looked relieved, Ingrid felt relieved, and Mapi was just happy to be there.

-------

You couldn’t sleep. It felt dumb, laying in your new bed, in your redecorated room, but your mind just wouldn’t turn off. You’d spent the day with Ingrid and Mapi, and they’d done everything right. Everything. Your room felt like your room, now, not just the guest room. Their home felt like your home. 

And yet. You were still empty. It wasn’t enough. You weren’t convinced. It didn’t make any fucking sense, because they’d gone out of their way, over and over, to show you that they loved you. That seemed like something that couldn’t be reality, though. You weren’t… loveable. How could you be? You were just you. And that had never been enough, no matter how badly you wanted it to be. 

You couldn’t stand laying in bed any longer. It was too soft, too comfortable. It felt too safe, like everything was about to be ripped away from you. The living room was safer. It was so viscerally Ingrid and Mapi’s space. You didn’t have anything to lose down here. 

You turned the TV on, appreciating the array of Norwegian options Ingrid was subscribed to, and put on a mindless one. You sat and watched, and tried not to think. You weren’t very successful if the way you jumped when the couch moved next to you was any indication. 

“Can’t sleep?” Mapi asked, tucking herself under the blanket you were using. 

“Nope.” 

“Thinking about how much better you’d sleep in that race car bed we saw? That’s why I'm up.” Mapi replied wistfully, causing you to crack a smile. 

“Something like that.” You replied softly. The defender studied you for a moment, before throwing an arm around your shoulder, contact you leaned into, almost on instinct. 

A scene came on in the drama that was playing, one which took place in a tattoo shop. Mapi perked up, and you saw an opening to change the subject before your mood could be questioned. 

“How old were you when you got your first tattoo?” You questioned. 

“18. It was this one.” Mapi said excitedly, holding out her arm to point at the partially covered up tattoo. “I covered it kind of a couple years later. Would you ever get a tattoo?” 

You weren’t a bad liar, but for some reason, you didn’t feel like lying to Mapi. She felt like a judgment free zone, in a way your sister didn’t. “I have one.” 

Mapi looked at you in surprise. “You do? Where? What is it? When did you get it? How did you get it?” The law in Barcelona was that you could get one at 16 without parental consent, but Mapi hadn’t known when you would have done it. 

You laughed at her rapid fire questions. “I got it in Norway. It was a stick and poke, I don’t even remember getting it, I was blacked out.” 

Mapi tried to school her features, but you could sense her disapproval anyway. It wasn’t for the reason you expected, though. “Someone gave you a stick and poke while you were blacked out?” She asked evenly. 

You just shrugged. “I asked for it, apparently.” 

It was quiet for a moment while the defender tried to act like that didn’t upset her. 

“What is it?” You blushed, then, and Mapi cracked a smile. “Tell me, tell me. I won’t tell your sister.” 

Instead of telling, you showed her, pulling your shirt up so your rib was exposed.

So the 23 clearly inked into your skin was visible. 

Mapi’s touch was delicate when she traced over it, a small smile on her lips. 

“23, huh?” 

You shrugged. “It was the only thing I asked for, apparently. I couldn’t remember the number, I was so drunk, but I made someone google what it was, and then… got it.” 

“That’s really sweet.” Mapi said quietly. 

“Hope she doesn’t change her number.” You said quickly, trying not to linger on the sentimentality of it all. 

“Eh. You can always turn it into something else. Tattoo cover ups aren’t that expensive.” Mapi said casually, knowing exactly who was just a few steps from the family room. Sue her if she wanted to see Ingrid’s reaction to your tattoo. 

“Tattoo? TATTOO? You have a tattoo, solstråle?” Ingrid asked, practically falling into the room. You tensed, suddenly terrified that this would be it. She’d make you leave after this. But while ingrid looked a little stern, she didn't seem angry. Still, you were a bit frozen still, and Mapi took her opportunity. 

“Stick and poke. Got it while blackout drunk.” She said, holding up a hand for you to high five, despite clearly disapproving minutes earlier. Apparently, Mapi only needed to be a protective adult in Ingrid’s absence. You high fived her, allowing yourself to smile a bit, though you shot your sister a nervous glance. 

Ingrid pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers, sighing heavily and sitting on the couch. 

“Alright. Let me see it.” You sat up to lift the side of your shirt again, stopping when she threw a hand over her eyes. “Wait, no. Is it bad? Is it a bad word? Is it a vagina?” You and Mapi collapsed into giggles, and Ingrid rolled her eyes, removing her hand from her face. “Oh grow up, both of you. Let me see, solstråle.” 

A bit smugly, now, you showed her the tattoo, watching carefully as her face morphed from apprehension, to surprise, to… emotion. Ingrid was tearing up. 

“Oh my god, don’t cry, please, Ingrid,” you begged, sitting up and looking at your sister anxiously. Mapi was shaking with silent laughter next to you, and Ingrid was waving her hands in front of her face frantically. 

“I’m not crying, I’m not. I’m just- tattoos are bad. Really bad. You shouldn’t have that. Tattoo. Of my number. On your body forever. My baby sister,” She trailed off, biting her lip when it began to tremble. 

“Ingrid,” you complained, looking away uncomfortably. 

“Ven aqui, princesa,” Mapi said quietly, pulling Ingrid into her side, though she was still smiling. Ingrid took a few calming breaths resting against her girlfriend, staying silent even though she had a million things to say. Her girlfriend took the opportunity to break the ice, seeing as though you looked to be on the verge of bolting out of the room. “ You know what would look good, solstråle? A 4, on the other side.” She suggested with a grin. 

Ingrid sat bolt upright. “NO! No more tattoos. María, I swear to god.” 

Mapi laughed, throwing her hands up in the air. “I’m just kidding, princesa, relax! God you sound like Alexia when I joked that I was going to tattoo Fresa when she was 12.  I thought Ale was going to hit me.” 

“I might hit you.” Ingrid mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at her girlfriend. 

“Nah. I’m too hot for that.” Mapi said confidently, leaning in to kiss her girlfriend’s cheek. Ingrid fought a smile and you turned away with a grimace on your face. 

“Well. I’m going to bed. Please, keep the volume down, I don’t wish to be scarred this evening.” You said, walking briskly out of the room, ignoring Mapi’s cackle, and Ingrid’s gasp. 

“We don’t have sex! We don’t! Abstinence is key!” Ingrid shouted after you, sighing heavily when she heard you laugh from the stairs. She turned to Mapi with a defeated look on her face. 

“Nicely done, princesa.” Mapi teased. 

Ingrid groaned, collapsing against her girlfriend. “She laughed a lot today. Like really laughed.” Ingrid commented after a minute. 

Mapi ran her fingers through Ingrid’s loose hair. “I know. It was nice. She’s making progress, mi amor. You’re doing really well.” 

Ingrid smiled shyly into the Spaniard, privately thinking that she’d do a lot worse without Mapi around to help. It takes a village, she supposed. 

-------

You hadn’t quite drifted off when you heard your bedroom door open quietly. You were half asleep, too sleepy to open your eyes, assuming that either Ingrid or Mapi were putting something in your room you’d forgotten downstairs. You cracked an eye open after a second when you heard a noise closer to your bed, and saw your sister picking up Snø, who had fallen off your bed. She turned towards you, and for some reason, you shut your eyes before she could see they were open. 

You pretended to be asleep. You weren’t sure why. 

You were glad you had, though, when you felt Snø placed just next to your face, felt the covers pulled up a little until they were just under your chin, and felt Ingrid press a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“God natt solstråle, jeg elsker deg,” she whispered, before quietly creeping back out of the room. 

You were wide awake now, opening your eyes as soon as you heard the door shut. You weren’t quite sure what you were so upset about. Ingrid tucking you in had felt safe and loving and warm. Those were all good feelings… so why did it feel like a part of your chest was caving in on itself?

It was just… where had Ingrid learned to do that? You couldn’t, for the life of you, remember your parents doing anything similar with you. Even when you were young, putting you to bed consisted of them standing in the doorway while you got under the covers, and them bidding you a goodnight. Had it not been like that for Ingrid? 

The more you thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. Of course it hadn’t been like that for Ingrid. She had been intentional, wanted. She was their favorite. They loved Ingrid in a way they never loved you. Of course they tucked her in, and kissed her forehead, and told her they loved her. Words you hadn’t heard from either of them in a long time. Ingrid got everything you always craved, and you couldn’t even really be that mad about it. Because if anyone deserved the absolute best the world had to offer, it was your sister. 

You cried yourself to sleep that night, quietly muffling your sobs in your pillow. It was a sadness that plagued you, mixed with hope. Your parents didn’t love you, you were pretty sure of that. But it seemed like, maybe, Ingrid did. 

-------

The following day was a match day. Well, not for Mapi, obviously, but it was an important league match for the team, and for Ingrid, and you were actually looking forward to going. 

You woke up well rested in your bedroom, warm sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the blinds. You looked around when you woke up, a bit confused at the transformation it had undergone. It was cozy, and you relished laying in bed for a bit, not in any rush to leave this newly comforting space. It felt like home, and thought that still scared you, it wasn’t as terrifying in the daylight. Everything was always better in the morning. 

And though the morning was good, the afternoon only went downhill. 

You’d disappeared up to your room to get some homework done before you were set to leave for the game, and Mapi and Ingrid were lounging downstairs, watching a WSL match. Ingrid was ignoring the repetitive texts from her mother. After another one buzzed her phone, quickly followed by a sharp ring as her mom resorted to calling her, Ingrid flipped her phone over with a heavy sigh, turning to hide her face in the crook of Mapi’s neck. The Spaniard frowned sadly, wrapping her arms tight around the Norwegian, softly rubbing her back. 

“I love you.” Mapi whispered, not really sure what to say, but figuring that those words couldn’t hurt. Ingrid whispered them back, feeling a bit braver now, before pulling away and reaching for her phone again. 

“I don’t know what to say to her. I don’t want to talk to her right now, but she can tell something is wrong. I never ignore her like this.” 

“You’re not ready to talk. Just say that.” Mapi suggested. Ingrid thought for a few moments, before slowly nodding and beginning to type a response. 

Please stop calling. I am focused on Solstråle right now. You’ve really hurt her, and neither of us are ready to talk to you yet. Please respect that.

Ingrid showed Mapi before hitting send, an apprehensive look on her face. 

“Perfect, amor.” Mapi assured her, watching as Ingrid hit send and snuggled back up against her girlfriend. She felt the words more than she heard them when Mapi spoke into her ear. “I am proud of you. You’re doing the right thing for your sister, and I know it’s hard, but you’re doing so well, mi princesa. I’m so proud of you.” 

Ingrid blushed heavily, but smiled to herself. She wasn't sure why, but it suddenly felt like things might be okay from here on out. She would be wrong. 

-------

You shouldn’t have answered the phone. You should have known better. You couldn't help the hope that bloomed inside of you when you saw your mom’s name on the caller ID as your phone rang, though. You answered the phone. 

“You’re ruining our family.” She ruined it first. 

“You’ve made my daughter hate me.” You’re her daughter too. 

“Ingrid doesn’t want you there. She’s not your parent, I am.” Ingrid says she wants you here. And Ingrid acts more like a parent than she ever has. 

“If I'd known how much trouble you’d be, I wouldn’t have bothered with having you.” Sometimes you wish she hadn’t bothered with it. 

“You cause more trouble than you’re worth, and one day Ingrid will see that. And I won’t be here to take you back.” You were a lot of trouble, weren’t you? Your mom was right. One day, Ingrid and Mapi would reach the point she had. And you’d have nowhere else to go. 

Your thoughts only spiraled from there. You hung up the phone without saying a word, letting it fall to the ground. You curled into yourself and thought. Thought hard. Until your mind felt like a prison you were locked in, and you weren’t sure how to get out. Until the room disappeared around you, and all you felt was hatred. Not towards your mother. But towards yourself. 

-------

You wouldn’t look at Mapi. You wouldn’t move. You didn’t even really seem to know she was there. You sat with your knees pulled to your chest on the floor by your bed, a vacant look in your eyes. 

“Come on, pequeña, come back. I’m right here, you’re safe.” Mapi said softly, careful not to touch you. She’d come to ask you if you’d be ready to go in an hour, wanting to leave at the same time as Ingrid and spend time with the team as they got ready in the locker room. She’d found you like this, making yourself as small as possible against your bed. You looked tiny, and Mapi spoke quietly, delicately, trying to coax you back to her. 

Still, even her soothing words didn’t bring you out. And she knew she needed to get Ingrid, even as she knew that Ingrid would freak out.

She stepped away from you, leaning into the hall and calling quietly towards her room, where your sister was. 

“Ingrid, come here please.” She said, as calmly as she could. Ingrid appeared in the hall, walking towards your room as she fiddled with the braid in her hair. 

“What’s up?” She asked, following Mapi into your room. “Solstråle?” She looked between you and her girlfriend in confusion. 

“I think she’s a little out of it right now. I’m not sure what happened, I found her like this.” Mapi explained, trying her best to not make Ingrid panic. 

Ingrid sat down next to you, grabbing your hand. When you didn’t even flinch, she looked at Mapi in horror. 

“María, what do we do?” 

“She’s all right, amor. She just needs a bit.” Mapi reassured, sitting down on your other side. 

“I… I don’t understand, what happened?” 

“I don’t know, mi amor. Something probably upset her. She’s very vulnerable right now.” Mapi replied, before pausing briefly. “Do you remember when I withdrew from camp for the first time? I got like this. I was okay, I just needed some time, and my brain was trying to protect itself. Solstråle is okay, she just needs the same.” 

Ingrid nodded slowly, because she did remember. That was different, though, that was… a traumatic experience for her girlfriend. And whatever was happening with you right now, this couldn’t be a reaction to a traumatic experience. Yes, you were struggling, and yes, the last couple years had been hard, but you weren’t… traumatized? 

As Ingrid sat and waited for you to come back to her, though, she realized that you were. If she put herself in your position, she couldn’t see how you could have come out of everything not traumatized. The marks your parents had left on you ran deeper than Ingrid had realized. And there wasn’t anything she could do to fix them unless you let her. 

“María,” Ingrid said quietly, a desperate plea for some reassurance as minutes passed and nothing changed, as she stared into your eyes and you didn't react. 

“I know, cariño, but she’s okay. She’s okay, I promise. Just try to stay calm.” 

Ingrid wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay calm. Especially when she glanced at her phone and saw it was several minutes past the time she was supposed to leave for the match. “Can you call Ale? And tell her I can’t come?” 

Mapi was nodding before Ingrid finished her sentence, standing and stepping out of the room. The phone only rang once before Alexia picked up, her reassuring voice calming Mapi, who was pretending to be a lot less panicked than she felt. 

“Hola.” 

“Ingrid and I can’t come.” Mapi said simply. 

“What’s going on? Are you both okay?” Alexia asked with concern. Ingrid wouldn’t just miss a match she was supposed to be starting. Not unless something was wrong. 

“It’s her sister, she’s not… well right now. We have to stay here with her. Ale, I’m really sorry,” Mapi said, cutting herself off before she got choked up. She wasn’t an emotional person but seeing you like this, seeing Ingrid so upset, and hearing her best friend’s voice over the phone… she couldn’t help it. 

“No, don’t be sorry. Family first, always. I’ll talk to Jona. Do you need anything? Can I help?” Alexia asked. Hearing Mapi cry was always unsettling, because it happened so rarely. 

“No, we’ve got it. Thank you, Ale, really.” Mapi said back, clearing her throat. 

They said goodbye, and Mapi walked back into the room, raising her eyebrows when she saw Ingrid on your phone. 

“She talked to Mom. Like 20 minutes ago, she answered a call from Mom.” Ingrid stated. “Could that…” 

Mapi took her spot back next to you, absentmindedly taking your hand in hers. You gave it the faintest of squeezes, but the Spaniard didn’t want to put any pressure on you, so she said nothing. “It could be that. It makes sense. A lot of this seems to have to do with your mom. I don’t know what she said on the phone, but… it probably wasn’t good.” 

Ingrid sat with that information for a bit, startling slightly when you slumped into her. Carefully, she lowered you so your head was in her lap. You seemed a little more aware, now, but still nowhere near normal. Softly, she began to pull your hair out of the braid it was in, combing it back away from your face. 

“Our Mom did this to her.” She said evenly. Mapi rested her chin on Ingrid’s shoulder, nodding slightly. “I am never letting that woman near Solstråle again. I don’t care what I have to do. She’s been hurt enough. I won’t let her be hurt anymore.” 

It didn’t matter that Mapi had come to this conclusion a couple days ago. It mattered that Ingrid was there now, and Ingrid was going to keep you safe. 

You heard what Ingrid said. Your ears still worked, you were just a bit… out of it. You heard what she had told her girlfriend. And as she sat above you, relaxing you with every touch of her fingers to your scalp, you knew that you were failing at the rules you’d set yourself years ago. 

Don’t get attached. Don’t expect anything from anyone. Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t listen when people tell you they love you; they almost never mean it. 

You were trusting, again. Just a little bit, piece by piece, and you knew that it would take time before you healed fully, before you trusted fully. Very quickly, though, you were losing the will to be independent, losing the will to be strong. You didn’t want to have to be strong anymore. And you were beginning to think you didn’t need to be. 

Of course, healing isn’t linear. Nothing is that easy. So even as you slowly sat up off your sister, and inquired as to why she wasn’t at her game, some part of you knew something else would go wrong. It had happened too many times for you not to know any better. There was still a hesitation when you leaned into the hug your sister offered, as she explained that you were more important than football. There was still hesitation when she asked what had happened. You told her the fewest details possible, which she clearly wasn’t happy with. You were still holding yourself back, somewhere in the middle of healed and broken. It was almost a race to see who could get to you first. It would either be Mapi and Ingrid to reach you, to put you back together. Or it would be the trauma and pain that pulled you backwards, back to the version of yourself you hated. Breaking you for good. 

------

The answer would come in the form of a knock on the front door, later that day. After you’d gotten up off the floor of your bedroom, and returned to pretending to be okay. You were in the garage with Mapi, working on the bike, while Ingrid cooked dinner. You were loosening up a bit, and Mapi could tell you were getting closer to telling her what your mom had said on the phone. 

Your sister answered the door, thinking maybe it would be one of their teammates, coming to check on them after her rather abrupt withdrawal from the match. 

When Ingrid opened the door, though, it wasn’t her teammate on the front porch. It was your father. 

-------

Your father, who was significantly less at fault than your mom, but still complicit in how you’d been treated. Your father, who always worked too much to really have a say in anything regarding your life. Your father, who you’d always felt closer to, always trusted more. 

Your father, who loved you more than he’d ever admit. 

Ingrid knew what he was there for the minute she saw his face. She was proven right when she got you and Mapi from the garage and brought you into the family room. When he began to talk and explain what he wanted, began to try to convince you to come home. 

“I know Mom messed up. We both have, really. Our home isn’t the same without you though, Solstråle. I officially retired yesterday, which is why I wasn’t here sooner. I want to make things right. We weren’t good parents, but I’m here now, my darling. I want you to come back home. We can fix things with your mom. We can fix things at your school, get you back with your friends. We can be a family again.” 

We can be a family again. A few months ago, maybe that would have gotten you home. Maybe the temptation of your friends and Norway and the promise of being loved would have worked. Things were different now, though. You felt like you had a family here, or that you could. 

You’d always had a better relationship with your Dad. He loved all the outdoorsy activities you did, and though he’d been busy with work practically your whole life, the little time you spent together was always nice. Him retiring would ensure one sane person was home with you, that it wouldn’t just be you and your mom. And maybe you would have said yes, if you hadn’t seen the fear in Ingrid’s eyes, and decided it was because she wanted you to stay. She wanted you here, you told yourself. You wanted to be where you were wanted. And that wasn’t Norway, not with your mom. 

“No.” you said simply. 

“Solstråle,” your father began, with an exasperated sigh. 

“No. I appreciate you coming here, and I appreciate you caring but it’s too late. It’s not enough, and it’s too late. Mom doesn’t want me home. She made that clear on the phone today. I don’t want to be where I’m not wanted. I don’t want to go back to Norway.” 

Next to you, Mapi, who had been silent this whole time, squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. 

Your Dad shifted uncomfortably in his seat. You got the idea he thought this would be easier, which made sense. You hadn’t put up any fight when they’d sent you to Spain, and your Dad hadn’t expected any fight now. 

“Take a day or two. Think about it. For me?” 

Ingrid and Mapi wanted to snap that you didn’t owe him anything and he was in no place to ask you for anything, but they didn’t want to cause any more conflict than was necessary. Besides, you could handle yourself. 

“I’ve made my decision but if you want to hear me repeat myself in two days, that’s fine.” You said calmly. Ingrid bit back a laugh, but Mapi smiled openly. 

Your Dad didn’t seem phased, to his credit. “I’d like to talk to you both. Alone.” He directed that at the older girls, and you took the opportunity to flee upstairs, far away from the man that was… doing nothing but confusing you about your feelings towards your parents. 

Your Dad didn’t stay for much longer, giving your sister a little speech about encouraging you to “make the right decision,” and why the right thing would be sending you home with him. 

It left your sister with a bit to think about, her parents often making her rethink her decisions. Mapi could sense this turmoil, but she didn’t say anything, knowing Ingrid would come to her. Ingrid was completely silent as her and Mapi went to clean up the kitchen from dinner, allowing you space and time upstairs to process.  

After a few minutes, though, Ingrid spoke up. 

“Are you sure we’re making the right decision?” Ingrid asked, turning to Mapi as she finished putting away the dishes. 

“We aren’t making a decision. Your sister is.” Mapi reasoned. “Besides, Ingrid, you said it yourself. Solstråle shouldn’t be around your mom. There are no real, tangible reasons why she shouldn’t stay here.” 

“My dad had a couple.” Ingrid said skeptically. 

“Okay. Why should Solstråle go back to Norway?” Mapi asked, taking a seat at the counter across from her girlfriend. Ingrid sighed, and began to list off the reasons her father had given her. 

It was, of course, at this moment that you came down the stairs to fill up your water. This moment, the worst possible moment, as Ingrid tried to convince herself that you should stay, while inadvertently convincing you that she didn’t want you to stay. You froze in the hall, just out of sight, after hearing your name when Mapi asked her question. It was a miracle you stayed silent and on your feet, as every fear you still harbored about being a burden to Ingrid and Mapi was, apparently, proved to be true. 

“She doesn’t have friends here. She doesn’t speak Spanish very well. We’re both busy athletes, and she is… not easy. We’d have our hands full. We are young, and we aren’t her parents. I’m her sister, not her mom. She needs help, and I’m not sure how to convince her to get it. My mom and dad can get her back on track better than I can.” 

Ingrid was simply restating what her father had said. None of it she agreed with, none of it felt true. You didn’t hear her tell Mapi that, though. No, you quietly crept back upstairs, and sat on your bed numbly. Your stupid bed that she’d bought for you. In the stupid room she’d redecorated. With the absurd presents she’d gotten you. All of it wasn’t true. All of it was a lie. She didn’t want you here, how could you have ever let yourself be convinced that she did? Just like that, with only a few sentences overheard, every ounce of trust you’d begun to place in your sister had evaporated. They were downstairs, talking about how they didn’t want you, after spending so long lying and saying they did. 

It should have been confusing, this contradiction. But it wasn’t, because you’d spent your whole life feeling unwanted. And what is a few days of being told something against 18 years of being told something the complete opposite? Your mom had been right. Ingrid had come to her senses. You weren’t wanted here. Your Dad said he wanted to fix things, and though that was hardly believable to you, you’d go back. Maybe you weren’t wanted anywhere, but you’d go back to Norway, where no one cared what you did as long as you didn’t get in trouble. You supposed they didn’t really care here, either, they’d just been pretending to. It had all been an act, probably to spare your feelings, but an act nonetheless. You ignored that it didn’t make sense. You pretended that the complete contradictions in what they’d been telling you and how they’d been acting didn’t exist. Because you’d rather convince yourself then be convinced by them. You’d rather hurt yourself than let them hurt you first. You’d take the first step. You’d make it easy, and you’d go. 

Very suddenly, you couldn’t stand to be in this house, this room for a second longer. You pulled out your phone, and told your dad you’d reconsidered. You took a few calming breaths, preparing yourself to rid your sister of the burden that was taking care of you, apparently. You shouldn’t be surprised by this. You'd been right, the whole time, to not trust her when she said she wanted you here. She didn’t. Of course she didn’t.

Doubt swirlied around in your head. Nothing made sense, nothing made any sense. There had always been one constant in your life, though. And that was being unwanted. Ingrid didn’t want you. Ingrid couldn’t want you. It was too good to be true. 

You stomped down the stairs, hearing Ingrid and Mapi’s voices grow quiet upon your approach. You assumed they’d been talking about you, and they had. About finding you a therapist. Not about wanting you to go. 

You entered the kitchen, startling both girls with the hard look on your face. “I’m going back to Norway.” You asked, voice monotone, but shaking dangerously as you regarded your sister and her girlfriend. 

“What?” Ingrid asked, thinking she must have misheard you. 

“I am going back to Norway. I texted Dad.” You turned to leave, but Mapi grabbed your wrist, spinning you back around. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” She asked. You could only glare at her.  

“You said you wanted to stay, solstråle, I don’t understand…” Ingrid said, trailing off. 

“You don’t want me here, Ingrid, and I don’t want to be here.” 

“Of course we want you here,” Ingrid began, growing more and more confused with each venomous word that you spewed at her. 

You wrenched your arm out of Mapi’s grasp and stepped towards your sister, your outstretched hand connected with her chest as you shoved her backwards. 

“Oye!” Mapi shouted, getting in between the two of you. You were beside yourself with rage, suddenly. Why had she lied? Why had she gotten your hopes up? 

“No. You. Don’t. Stop lying, both of you.” You pushed Mapi away from you then, ignoring the angry tears that had begun to well in your eyes. “You don’t want me here, you think I’d do better in Norway. I don’t speak Spanish, I don’t have any friends,  I’m too much work, you are young and you don’t need a teenager to take care of. I’m mean and quiet and stubborn and my own fucking mother doesn’t love me. I heard you earlier Ingrid, you don’t need to lie. I’m used to it. You don’t want me. Stop pretending you do.”

At some point during your speech, Mapi and Ingrid understood what had happened. You’d overheard something out of context, clearly. And it was evident that you’d reverted back to your original belief that they didn’t want you. It hurt them, how easily you’d been convinced. And suddenly, they weren’t confused and they weren’t angry that you’d pushed them. Their faces softened, and they inched closer to you and you hated it. Because everything inside of you was screaming to believe what you knew what they were about to say, to let yourself fall into their arms, for good this time. To trust them. 

You couldn’t. You couldn’t be hurt again. It would kill you. 

You stepped backwards, and both girls stopped moving. It was Ingrid that spoke first, her voice low and soothing. 

“Solstråle, I don’t believe any of that. Dad said all that, to try to convince us to let you go back to Norway. We want you here. I know it’s hard for you to believe us, honey, but we do. More than anything, we want you to stay.” 

You shook your head frantically, teardrops hitting the floor under you. “No. No.” 

Mapi nodded, stepping a bit closer. “Yes, mi sol. We want you here. We love you, and we want you to stay.”

“No, stop!” You shouted. Ingrid was crying now, and you tried not to care. “You don’t mean that, you can’t mean that. Please, stop lying, this is too confusing, and it hurts too much, please. Just let me go.” 

You didn’t mean you wanted them to let you go back to Norway. You wanted them to let you go. The tension in the air thickened at this, as both of them realized what you meant. 

“No. I won’t do that. You’re staying here, with me. Here, where you are loved, and wanted. You’re not going anywhere, you aren’t allowed to.” Ingrid said, carelessly wiping a tear off her cheek as she stepped closer to you. 

Mapi stepped closer, too. “Nena, I promise you. On everything I love. On my parents, on football, on Ingrid. I want you to stay. Please.” The emotion in the defender’s voice startled you, and very suddenly, all of the fight had gone out of you, all of the anger. 

You wiped your eyes like a child. Because really, that was the part of you crying. “Why?” You cried. “Why do you want me? No one wants me.” 

Mapi shook her head, for once at a loss for what to say, as Ingrid let out a rough sob at your words. “How could we not? You’re my baby sister, Solstråle. You are kind, funny, and caring. You’re a good person, honey. You are good, and we love you.” 

It was quiet as you heaved in a few breaths, looking between both girls as you tried to decide what was true and what was false. And, ultimately, when you made your decision, it was because you were too tired to do anything else. Too exhausted of hating yourself to continue punishing yourself. Too exhausted of not letting yourself believe that you were worthy of love. Because you craved it, so deeply inside of you. And as much as you didn’t want to, and as much as you wished you didn’t care, you did. 

You are good, Ingrid had said. And if you were good, you could let yourself be loved. 

“Do you promise?” You asked, your voice cracking at the same time Ingrid and Mapi felt their hearts break for the 10th time today, at how completely disbelieving you sounded. 

“I promise.” Ingrid said. You looked between her and Mapi silently, and Ingrid took a hesitant step towards you, before Mapi pulled her back, shaking her head slightly. You needed to go to them. You needed to decide, all by yourself. 

It was the desperation in your sister’s voice that really got you, the tears in her eyes. And maybe it was also the desperation inside yourself, too,  and the ache in your heart that you knew you didn’t need to carry anymore. You wrapped your arms tight around your abdomen, and prepared yourself to say the most vulnerable, most terrifying words you had ever said, and might ever say. 

“I want to stay with you guys.” 

The words were barely out of your mouth before you were being squished into Ingrid’s arms, Mapi’s quickly following. Both of them hugged you tight, giving you the comfort you had been trying to give yourself. You didn’t need to do that, anymore. They would do it for you. 

You wouldn’t have to do any of the things you’d spent a long time doing alone, alone anymore. 

It had been years and years of wishing you had a family that loved you, thinking you’d give anything for a family that cared about you again. It turned out you didn’t need to give anything. You could just… have it. You just deserved it. 

-------

def not the end of my girl sol ☀️ we'll see more of her... soon ish :)

hope everyone enjoyed this little series <3 I love and appreciate you all very much

also... i was 🤏 this close to leaving part 4 on a cliffhanger where mr. engen shows up but the second part wouldn't have been long enough and i am much too nice

[ask-geralt]

You guys want to know one of my favorite things about Edwin? He loves how smart his friends are. He gets so excited and outright a w e d whenever they think of something clever, make a keen observation, or offer a solution to their problems. All I ever want to write is Edwin who eloquently gushes and praises his friends' intelligence and skills. Edwin who, when the occasion arises, gases them up when they get self deprecating, because to him it's not an opinion, it's a FACT that they're smart, and good, and kind, and brave. That they're all equals. I would even go so far as to say he, himself, feels he has to continuously work and study so hard to keep up with them, to continue contributing.

Genuinely I feel like it's a pretty big factor in his hostility towards Crystal in the beginning. When Charles and Edwin first talk with her post-exorcism, she's unimpressed with the work they did to save her, and she insults the name of their agency, which Edwin and Charles are both clearly fond of. Charles, who's used to laughing at digs far more hurtful than that considering his life before death, let's it roll off him easily, but Edwin takes it more personally. From there, he grows jealous because of the attention Charles is giving her, made worse when Crystal proves her powers ARE faster than the methods the boys used before meeting her. Edwin feels like he needs to prove he's better, or at least still useful where Crystal isn't ("We all have talents.") to Charles, because if Crystal can do everything Edwin does, and does it better, then why would Charles keep sticking around? And of course, Crystal returns his hostility beat for beat, as she should. I feel like her subtle attempts to smooth things over and get along with Edwin aren't talked about enough, like she lets him get away with so many snide and openly rude comments before she starts biting back again in episode one. But Edwin holds a grudge and she shouldn't have to take his attitude towards her lying down, not forever, and neither of them are willing to, say, try and ask the other why they're so snippy towards each other, or apologize lol. Honestly their dynamic is so layered and fun to pick apart!!

What really seals it for me is the contrast in his reaction to Crystal compared to Niko. He warms to Niko pretty much immediately, calling her charming and quickly getting down to business on saving her, without even a token protest about helping yet another living girl. And I think that comes down to her attitude towards their assistance, what she brings to the table for the group's dynamic, and her willingness to let them do their thing without rocking the boat on methodology. She doesn't come across as a threat to Edwin's friendship (repressed and unacknowledged crush absolutely not helping either) with Charles, since she and Charles don't interact much, especially not one on one the way he and Crystal do, so she doesn't ruffle Edwin's feathers at all compared to how instantly and repeatedly Crystal gets under his skin.

All this to say I love all four of them, I love that they've all got their strengths and skills, I love that there's also that overlap, that they all get to do detective-ing and that Edwin doesn't get that petty protectiveness over that role. Yes he feels threatened by Crystal, but that has everything to do with Charles and nothing to do with her being competent, in and if itself. He doesn't see himself as a Sherlock Holmes with three Watsons following him around. He likes it when the others are clever, when he's not being a petty bitch (affectionate) who hates change/new things lmao

[subbmissivesuccubus]

R-V (Renngoku X Fem!ReaderX Uzui)

Part 4 of my A-Z Series <3 <3 <3

Part 1; Part 2; Part 3;

┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　°┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　°┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　°

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As long as it makes you happy, the two men are willing to try whatever you want atleast once. If they try it and didn't like it, they'll let you know but they can atleast say they gave it a fair shot. Of course, they won't compromise on their hard limits so you won't get them to be submissive for you but, they do enjoy it when you take the lead, being more assertive in your affection towards them. If there are any kinks, role-plays, toys or any general change in your sex life that you want to attempt, they're always ready to try it out for you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

You thought you had good stamina thanks to your life as a demon slayer. With your breathing techniques and rigorous training, your durability in bed also improved and you can even delay your orgasm using your breathing skills if you so choose. But you quickly realized your endurance was nothing compared to your two lovers. To be fair, you had to please both of them, but even so, their stamina was no joke. Perhaps it came with being hashira's as the control they had over their bodies and breathing was much better than yours. They could fuck you for hours and not show signs of slowing down, their cocks still erect despite dumping numerous loads inside you. And just like you, they can also delay their climax, edging themselves as they indulge in your body, loving your whines of frustration as they make you cum over and over again (you even challenged them once- telling them that you will use your breathing techniques to not orgasm no matter what they do to you. How wrong you were. Not even your breathing techniques could defeat their skills in the bedroom) without giving you the satisfaction of filling you up with their seed. They absolutely loved breaking you down into a sobbing, slobbering mess, eyes rolled to the back of your head and body convulsing from all the pleasure so having the stamina to get you to that point was pretty handy. Of course, things would have been a lot more difficult for everybody if you were a regular, non demon slaying person who'd have to clock out after a few rounds. But you're strong enough to take it <3 another reason why they adore you so much.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

At the time that they live in, sex toys are limited to just things one can insert inside themselves or objects used to clamp onto things. While Rangoku isn't one to use toys- the man thinking that two cocks to stuff into your pretty holes is enough- Uzui loves them. There's something about plunging a wooden cock inside you over and over again, giving him a perfect view of your red face, sweat dripping down your brow as you whined at the feeling, without being distracted by his own pleasure. His favorite though, and Rengoku agrees this is nice as well, is to use clamps on your nipples. Your little squeal of pain as your nipples are harshly pinched by a clamp, your sensitive bud squeezed tightly instantly makes his cock hard. Attach those clamps with a couple of chains and Uzui will pull on them as he fucks you, the threat of the clamps getting tugged off your nipples making your pussy tighten around his cock.

If you're really bratty and naughty, he might just use a clamp on your poor little clit...yikes.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Both of the men love to tease you and it's simultaneously amazing yet exhausting. Rengoku enjoys teasing you with words, whispering naughty things to you at inappropriate times to get you hot and bothered. Out shopping? Hanging out with friends? Before an important meeting? "I can't wait until we get home, my love. Oh, the things I want to do to your body~" "You're such a pretty little girl, you know that? And you'll look even prettier on your knees, sucking my cock~" "Mind your attitude or I might just have to throw you over my knee and punish your ass. You think I won't do it in front of your friends?"

Uzui is much more handsy with his teasing but, of course, he's a man of a filthy tongue and is capable of reducing you brain to mush with a few words. His favorite is to tease you with some gropes and touches, especially in public. Your beet red face after he lightly tapped your ass while you walked is something he enjoys immensely. Unlike Rengoku who'll take you as soon as you get privacy, Uzui will continue to tease, riling you up even more. "Such a desperate princess, aren't you? What's with that look on your face? Is you pussy already wet and desperate for me? All I did was lightly touch you, sweetheart. If you want my cock, you're going to have to earn it."

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Uzui let's out these growls from deep within his chest, the sound making your pussy clench around his cock. He also has a habit of letting out breathy laughs, especially when he's gotten you fucked out and cock drunk. He looks down at you, hair matted to his sweaty forehead with a cocky smirk on his face as he laughs at your expression, the sound making your body shudder. Uzui is one to indulge in dirty talk however so his moans are mixed with his filthy, filthy words: "Look at you- fuck- poor baby~ Crying all over my mmm- my cock. Does it feel good honey? Hmm? My fat cock- fuck yes- splitting your tiny pussy open? Hahaha- fuck- Ooo~ You're such a fucking slut for us- I love it~"

Rengoku is more vocal when he feels pleasure, his moans sounding heavenly. There was something about seeing his face red and eyebrows furrowed, mouth open as he moans in pleasure, your pussy squeezing his cock so deliciously. He'll hug you close as he fucks you, moaning directly into your ear which makes you feel so lightheaded you're surprised you haven't passed out. "So good- so good. Darling- your pussy- ah- ah- fuck- feels so good~""Good girl. good girl. Ah yes- fuck that's tight- just relax baby. Let me- oh god- let me fuck this ass~"

Your head always feels loopy and overstimulated thanks to the sex, but couple their noises while they fuck you? You need a two day break to recover. While individually they might not be the most vocal- when they fuck you together, perhaps fueled with the desire to have your attention be focused on them, they don't bite down their moans and groans and growls. The worst (or best?) is when they're double stuffing you, one cock in your pussy with the other in your ass as they both take an ear to moan into, making your brain short-wire as your assaulted by pleasure and their heavenly voices and moans.

[thetriumphantpanda]

i work from nine to five; hey hell, i pay the price | Marcus Pike

Summary | You use the office halloween party as a way to prove you can push yourself out of your comfort zone. You didn't expect that to mean that the apple of your eye, Marcus Pike, would take an interest in you.

Pairing | Marcus Pike x Plus Size F!Reader

Word Count | 4.4K

Warnings | Explicit smut, workplace 'romance', negative talk about bodies, body issues, plus size reader, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PiV sex, dirty talk, mention of food and alcohol, halloween vibes, costumes, pet names, but nothing else.

Authors Note | I told myself I wasn't going to do halloween writing, and then I had a very vivid image of Marcus Pike bending me over his desk at a work party.... So I did some halloween writing. As a woman who lives life in a bigger body, this one goes out to everyone else who has felt the way reader has felt. These are MY OWN experiences, attitudes I've had given to me, and given to myself, they aren't universal, we all feel differently about ourselves, but if you've ever been made to feel less than because of the way you look, just know I see you and that Marcus Pike would absolutely take you apart regardless of how thick your thighs are. If you liked this, please consider supporting me through my Ko-Fi.

Divider by @saradika

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

You tug at your skirt a little, trying to pull it down over your thighs. It seemed like a good idea at the time, to choose something skimpy for the office Halloween party. A way to challenge yourself, finally start to work through the years of bullying at school, and the off-hand comments from your almond-mom who had always told you things like, ‘you could stand to lose a few pounds’, or ‘surely a salad would be a better idea?’. 

It had been such a relief when you’d gotten this job two years ago, finally earning enough on an FBI salary to move out of your family home and into your own space. A space where you weren’t judged for how many fries you had on your plate, or how the pair of trousers you’d chosen to wear made your belly look. It had been good for you, and ever since, you’d been trying your best to challenge yourself to do things you never thought you’d ever have the confidence to do. 

Things like standing in the office, in a pair of fishnet tights, with a skirt so short that if you bent over, Dave from Finance would get a complete eyeful. Looking around though, you couldn’t help feel like it had been a terrible idea. Amy from HR looked absolutely phenomenal in her devil outfit – a red bodycon dress that looked like it had been painted on, showing not a single imperfection on her body – and Jessica, who worked reception, in a Catwoman jumpsuit that hugged her figure perfectly. You don’t think it would ever go away, the comparing yourself to everyone else, even though you knew that Amy and Jessica would totally have their own insecurities about things. 

You were trying to make yourself at small as possible, crowding yourself into the corner of the room, hand clutched around a plastic cup full of ‘spooky punch’, that Hannah, the office manager had put together, which comprised of mostly vodka, some orange juice and what looked like a whole bottle of green food coloring, with some eyeball candy floating around in it. She’d put together a Halloween playlist, which was currently blasting The Monster Mash at a decibel you think should be illegal, and everyone had contributed to her spooky buffet, which was just normal food cut into shapes – like your addition of frozen pizza that you’d cut out with a ghost-shaped cookie cutter. You know you should go and mingle. Adam, on your team has already tried twice to get you to join their little group, so you relent, and walk over, giving everyone a warm smile. It’s all going well, until Alison, nods her head in your direction and stats speaking. 

“Did you work late?” She asks, to which you shake your head. 

“No, why?” 

“Oh,” She grimaces, “I just didn’t think you’d dressed up, is all.” 

And you know it’s mainly because she’s oblivious to mostly everything, but it smarts. Sure, the orange turtleneck is something you’d worn to work before, as are the black platform heels, but the skirt that ghosts the bottom of your ass and the fishnet tights that are still probably one size too small are not something you usually wear, nor are the fake glasses, with thick black frames, or the fucking magnifying glass you’re clutching. You sigh, make your excuses and walk over to the buffet table, picking up one of the slices of pizza you’d brought. Once you’ve eaten that, you reach for one of the cupcakes at the back of the table. It’s iced like a pumpkin and the cake looks to be chocolate, which is your favourite. You’re peeling off the wrapper and about to take a bite when someone interrupts you. 

“They’re delicious.” 

You’d recognize that voice anywhere. Marcus Pike. Head of Department. Not your boss, but your boss’ boss, and the most beautiful man you think you’d ever laid eyes on. You’d sat in on meetings that he chaired, supposed to be taking notes but instead focused entirely on him and how he commanded the room. The way he talked with his hands, and how much you wish you could have him run those over your thighs. Or the way he would chew on his bottom lip when he was concentrating, wondering whether he’d like it if you did that if he were to ever kiss you. 

“Oh.” You exhale softly, suddenly uber aware of the fact he’s probably just watched you eat the ghost-shaped pizza, and now, not a minute later, getting ready to bite into the cupcake, you go to set it down on the table, but he stops you, hand gently holding onto your wrist. 

“Please,” He says softly, “I made them, so I need the ego boost.” 

You smile a little, finally meeting his eyes, “You just said they were delicious, what do you need my opinion for?” 

“I remember the raspberry muffins you made last week,” He smirks a little, “And the apple turnovers the week before those, and everything else you bring in, I need to know what the office star baker thinks about my effort.” 

You’re going to refuse, say you’re already full, despite the pizza being the first thing you’d eaten that evening, that you’ll take it home with you and report back on Monday, but his beautiful brown eyes are soft, almost pleading, so you sigh, peel the rest of the wrapper off and take a bite. It’s actually delicious. He’s put some kind of orange flavouring in the icing, and the cake itself is really good. 

“You were right,” You smile, “It is delicious.”

He smiles, like he’s won a prize and it makes you feel a bit fuzzy inside, that this man next to you has been affected by your praise. 

“Great costume, by the way.” He compliments, and you don’t miss the way his eyes trail over your body. 

“You mean you don’t think I ran out of time and came in my office clothes?” You tease. 

“You’d wear that skirt to the office?” He’s smirking at you, and also offers you a wink, which has your hand dropping to the table, holding yourself up, why on earth was Marcus Pike flirting with you? “It’s good, Velma, right?” He motions to the magnifying glass abandoned on the table. 

You chuckle a little, “First prize, got it first time,” You then take a moment to take in his costume, he’s wearing a brown jacket over one of his usual shirts, a brown satchel is draped across his body and he’s got a hat on, but it’s the whip that really gives him away, “Indiana Jones?” You say quietly. 

“The one and only.” He smiles, opening his arms a little. 

You think it must be the amount of vodka that Hannah put in the punch, but even so, your next question shocks you, “Do I ask where you got the whip from?” 

He looks around dramatically, “Just checking Amy from HR is out of earshot,” Then he leans in a little closer, “It’s from my own personal collection.” 

You reach your hand out, letting your fingers run over the material where the handle is holstered in his pocket. It feels expensive, although it’s not like you have much experience with them to pass judgement on what’s expensive and what isn’t.

“Feels expensive,” You hum, “Guess that head of department salary has to get spent on something.” 

He reaches down and takes your hand in his gently, running soft circles over the skin on the back of your hand, “You really do look lovely tonight,” He speaks softly, “Enjoy the rest of the evening.” 

And then as quickly as he was stood in front of you, he’s gone. You let out a breath that you didn’t realise you’d been holding in, focusing on the way your chest is heaving and you can feel your pulse in your head. You pick up your plastic cup and down the liquid that’s left in the bottom, wincing at the strength of the vodka, then deciding you need a top up. 

You mill about for a little bit longer, but still feel like a bit of a spare part. You’ve shown your face, spoken to everyone you should have, and now there’s a glass of wine and a bubble bath with your name on it back home. You pick up your coat from the back of a random office chair, grab your bag from your own desk, and sneak out as quietly as you can. You’re halfway down the hall, almost to the elevator, when you hear a voice from behind you. 

“Running away?” 

You turn around, Marcus Pike is leaning against the doorframe to his office. He’s taken the satchel off, and the whip is no longer in his pocket. He’s crossed one ankle over the other, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Feeling a little like a spare part,” You shrug, “And there’s a glass of wine calling my name at home.” 

He nods in understanding, “You drink whiskey?” He asks. 

“If I have to.” You answer back. 

“Well, how about you stay and have one with me,” He offers, “Leave that wine for another day.” 

You shift awkwardly from foot to foot, because why on earth would Marcus Pike want to have a drink with you? It feels like someone somewhere is having a good old laugh at your expense, but you feel your feet leading you towards him, brushing past him and into his office. 

You’ve been in here a handful of times before, mainly to drop of reports and papers, and only once whilst he’s been there. It’s been a very professional relationship up until now, no flirting, nothing inappropriate. You drape your coat over the arm of the small couch he’s got there – you imagine he sleeps on it when he hasn’t got time to go home during crunch time of investigations.  Your bag sits on the floor next to it. 

He leaves the door open, giving you an out if you want it. He points to the couch, tells you to sit down, which you do, pulling once again at the tiny skirt, trying to cover the way the skin of your thighs bulge through the holes of the fishnet tights, ultimately failing, as Marcus reaches into one of the drawers of his desk, pulling out two crystal tumblers and a bottle of whiskey. He fills them both equally, handing one to you, but he doesn’t sit next to you, he just leans against the edge of his desk. 

“I always thought it was a myth,” You muse, “Agents with whiskey in their desks.” 

He smiles at you, “It’s in there for big wins,” He explains, “Cracking cases and that kind of stuff.” 

You nod your head, taking a small sip of your drink, wincing as it drags down your throat, “What’s tonight’s big win?” You ask, fluttering your eyelashes and then cringing a little at yourself. 

“You looking that sinful.” 

You’re taking a sip when he says it, so you end up spluttering quite unattractively at his words. Is he serious? You dab at the corners on your mouth, setting your glass down on the floor, “Sorry,” You mutter, “But are you for real?” 

He smirks, “As real as you and I.” 

He pushes himself off the desk, puts his drink down on it as he moves. He takes three wide strides until he’s stood in front of you. You look up from where you’re sat, hands folded in your lap. He reaches out, drags the fake glasses from your face, throws them absentmindedly onto the couch next to you. You’re breathing heavily as reaches out with one of his hands. The flat of his palm cupping your jaw, whilst his thumb traces along your bottom lip. 

“Do you want me to close the door?” He asks, voice lower than you’ve ever known it. 

You have no words, your tongue refusing to work, so you nod instead, because as much as you’re still thinking someone is going to come in and tell you you’re being pranked, you also want to know what he’s going to do next. He’s back to you in moments once he’s closed the door and turned the lock. The light above is harsh, but it’s needed, because the blinds are closed. 

He's standing in front of you again, this time both his palms are cupping your cheeks, and he’s leaning down, ever so slowly, until his lips are a hairs breath from yours. God, you want him to push the last few millimeters and kiss you, but he’s stopped. Waiting. And you don’t want to break first. You’ve done it before, gone to kiss someone, and then felt them laugh just before you can, because why would they want to? 

“You gonna kiss me, pretty lady?” 

“I want you to kiss me first.” You admit on a shaky breath. 

You’ve got your eyes closed, so you can’t read his eyes, look for the sense of regret in them, so it’s a shock when you feel his lips on yours. It’s so soft, barely there, before he’s pulling away, still close enough to feel his hot breath over your skin though. 

“There,” His thumbs are moving across the skin of your cheeks, “Now you.” 

So, you do. You reach your hand around to the back of his neck, pull him into you and really press your lips to his. His bottom lip slots between yours and you suck it gently into your mouth. You smile a little at the sound that comes from his throat, then he’s opening his mouth against yours and you’re following, doing exactly the same, letting his tongue behind your teeth as it melds with your own. His hands are dropping from your face, trailing down your shoulders. He leans forward into you a little, his hands under your arms to tug you up. 

You drag your mouth from him to stand up, his hands dropping to your hips to guide you behind his desk. There are nerves bubbling under your skin because you know what he wants as he pressed your ass into the wood. He wants you to sit on it. To be fair to the department, it’s a sturdy looking desk, but the thought of the way it’s going to creak under your weight makes you want to crawl into a hole. Marcus doesn’t push though, just brings his mouth back to yours, letting his hands wander a little, dragging them back up your body to palm your tits through the layers you’re wearing. 

“I think you did this on purpose,” He speaks against your mouth, “Like you knew this woman had always driven me wild.” 

You don’t mean to, but it makes you laugh, “Don’t tell me Velma from Scooby-Doo was your sexual awakening?” 

He laughs back, doesn’t confirm it, but doesn’t deny it either. He’s looking down your body, having pulled back a bit, “Fuck,” He mutters, “Every time I look at you, it gets better.” 

“The magic of a slutty Halloween costume.” You shrug. 

He nods his head, but speaks again, “It’s not just that though,” He’s speaking softly now, “I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, wandering around the office all the time, driving me mad.” 

This would normally be the time that you’d try and fight against the compliments being thrown your way. Tell them they must be lying, or joke that they need to get their eyes tested. But somehow, it doesn’t feel like you should do that here. There’s something about Marcus that makes you think he wouldn’t lie, wouldn’t string you along this far just to have a laugh at your expense, so you don’t do it, for the first time in your life. 

You reach up to his shirt, undo two of the buttons, “You know,” You hum, “I think exactly the same as you, with your whip or not.” 

He breathes out, taking hold of your wrists to stop your movements, “Let me make you feel good?” He asks. 

You meet his eyes, feeling heat rise across your face, but you nod anyway, because you’ve come this far, and you can already feel wetness pooling in your panties. He drags his hands down your body, grips your hips and forces you to sit on the edge of the desk, dropping to his knees in front of you. He’s looking you straight in the eyes, as he pushes the material of your skirt to gather at your waist. Your legs open further, and Marcus groans when your movement reveals the see-through black lace of your panties. It hadn’t felt right to dress as a sexy Velma and wear your normal underwear, is how you justify it. 

You’re expecting him to tell you to lift up so he can drag your tights off you, but instead, he hooks a finger through the material at your groin and fucking rips them apart. It makes you gasp. You’d chide him for ruining them, but at this point you don’t care. They were cheap, and if it means you’re going to have his mouth on you quicker, then you’re not going to complain. 

Marcus leans forwards, you can feel the heat of his breath splaying across the lace material, and then he drags his tongue across the length of your folds over the lace of your panties. Even with the material barrier between your skin and his mouth, you’re tipping your head back in pleasure, letting out a breath as he repeats his movements, dragging his fingers just behind his tongue on his last pass of movements. It’s not enough. 

“Please, Marcus.” You beg quietly. 

“What do you want, pretty lady?” He asks, looking up at you with angelic eyes, as if he couldn’t possibly think what it is you want from him. 

“Your mouth.” 

“You already have it.” He points out, proving his point by licking another stripe up your panties. 

“Marcus,” You sigh, “Move the… fuck… move the damn material out of the way.” 

He lets out a huff of amusement, “See,” He says, doing exactly as you ask, hooking his fingers under the material and moving it to the side, “All you had to do was ask.” 

He doesn’t waste any more time now. Letting his tongue dip between your slick folds, dragging the wetness that’s pooled at your entrance up to your clit, where he flicks softly with the tip of his tongue. You feel his thumbs spreading the lips of your cunt, baring you to him so he can really start to work you up. He presses the flat of his tongue to your clit, working it gently as your hand settles into the curls on his head, anchoring him there. He’s doing all the things you love, moving between wide stripes of the flat of his tongue, and quick flicks with the tip, until your hips are grinding against his face and you’re biting down onto your bottom lip to keep quiet. 

“You taste so fucking sweet, pretty lady,” He speaks against your skin, surprising you a little as he pushes not one, but two of his fingers into your soaked cunt, “Feel good?” 

“Oh God,” You breathe out as he hooks his fingers inside you, pressing against a spot you had no idea even existed inside of you, “Don’t stop… don’t fucking stop.” 

He doesn’t, the obedient man that he is. He starts dragging his fingers in and out of you, whilst his lips wrap around your clit, pulling it into his mouth, laving it with attention from his tongue, which sends you over the edge. 

Your thighs are clenching around his head as your body convulses. All you want is to cry out, call his name into the room, but even though you can hear the music from the party down here, anyone could be walking past, and it would be just your luck that it would be Amy from HR. His mouth is working you through those aftershocks as your thighs ease the pressure around his head. 

He's breathing as heavy as you are when he stands, slotting himself between your open legs. You can feel the hard length of him pressing against your silken center, as he dips his head to kiss you again, your taste intoxicating on his tongue. 

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, almost desperately, “You gonna let me?” 

“Please.” Is all you can get out, as he drags you off the desk, flipping you around so your front is pressed against the wood of the desk. 

He’s got his hand on the nape of your neck, pressing you down. You can hear him undoing his belt, dragging the zipper of his jeans down. You shuffle a little, widening your stance as he takes his place behind you. You can feel him dragging his cock through your folds, gathering the slick he’s pulled from you, before he’s plunging into you in one go. It takes everything you have not to scream. He’s big. Stretching you like no-one has before and it feels so fucking good. 

Marcus is still gripping the back of your neck as he starts moving, his other hand gripping the plush cheek of your ass, spreading you open even more as he slowly drags himself in and out of you. He’s going slowly, and you think that the way his breath is hitching in his throat means he’s struggling to keep his composure, so you decide to have a little fun. 

When he’s pulled almost all the way out of you, you turn your head as much as you can with his hand resting there, looking over your shoulder at him as you wiggle your ass, slowly backing into him, letting your cunt suck him right back into you again. 

“Baby, you can’t do that,” He pleads, his fingers digging into the skin of your ass, “Carry on like that and this will be over before it’s begun.” 

“Don’t care,” You mutter, “Harder, please.” 

He starts pounding into you now, the sound of his skin slapping against yours is obscene. You’re both trying as hard as possible to keep the moans and groans as quiet as possible, and you can’t help but wish he wants more, that he’ll take you home sometime, unwrap you and let you scream for him, but you decide to focus on the here and now. 

“Touch yourself.” You hear demanded from behind you, “I want to feel you come on my cock.” 

You snake your hand underneath you, pushing the discomfort of how your arm is trapped between your body and the desk, and start tracing quick circles over your clit. You’re already sensitive, hanging on the edge from his mouth, so you press harder, move your wrist faster. 

“Feel so fucking good, baby,” Marcus groans behind you, “Close, ain’tcha?” He asks, “Go on baby, let go for me, let me feel you.” 

And it’s his voice that does it, that finally tips you over the edge, has your cunt clenching around him, walls fluttering and teeth biting into your bottom lip as your knees give way. Thankfully, Marcus is gripping at your hips, which helps to keep you upright. 

“Where, baby?” He asks, voice strained, and you don’t catch what he means, “Quick baby, where do you want me?” 

“Anywhere.” You groan out, “I don’t care Marcus, just come for me.” 

You think for a moment he might stay inside you, which would be fine, you thank the implant under the skin of your arm, but at the last minute he’s pulling out of you, feeling the hot slick of his cum on the skin of your ass as he lets out a low groan out of his mouth. He’s breathing heavily behind you, pulling his jeans back up. You try and move, to push yourself up, but you’re worried if you move further you might collapse. 

“Stay there.” He says gently, leaning over you to pluck a few tissues from the box on his desk, gently wiping away the mess he’s caused, pulling your panties back into place and letting your skirt cover as much of your ass as it can in your position. 

“You okay?” He asks softly, helping you to stand, tucking a bit of your hair behind your ear. 

You nod, because you are, you’ve never been fucked so thoroughly, never been made to come so hard in your life, but there’s an anxiety settling in your stomach. What always happens now is they’ll tell you they had a great time, but don’t think they want to see you again, which is going to be even more embarrassing because you have to work with this man. 

It's almost as if he can sense your anxiety, because he’s cupping your cheek again, leaning to give you a soft kiss on the lips, “Would you maybe want to go out sometime?” He asks, “I know we’ve done things out of order, but I’ve wanted to ask for a while.” 

You smile, because it does make you happy, that the man you’ve fancied for the best part of a year actually wants to take you out, “As long as you promise to take me back to yours after and let me see you naked?” 

He blows out air from his mouth, but his eyes are twinkling, “You drive a hard bargain,” He muses, “But you’ve got yourself a deal.” 

He’s moving from you now, over to the couch, picking up your coat and your back, motioning you over so he can help you into your jacket, hooking your bag onto your elbow, then moving to gather his own things, “Wait, right now?” You ask, sounding surprised, as he shrugs his jacket on. 

“I know a great diner just down the road.” He shrugs, picking up his satchel. 

He’s walking back to you, but you put a hand on his chest, “Aren’t you forgetting something?” You ask, watching a confused look fall over his face, you dart your eyes to his desk, where the whip from earlier is lying abandoned, “I’m only coming back to yours if you bring that.” 

You watch as a smirk splays across his lips. He snatches the whip from his desk, shoving it into the satchel, “Well, pretty lady, lead the way.” 

[moonlightwonie]

Can I please request something with bang chan?

You've been trapped by his presence and he won't let you go and you're losing the spark in your eyes and chan doesn't know what to do.

So he tries to fuck his love unto you.

'Tell me how to make you happy?', 'tell me what I need to do for you to love me'

TW: ANGST & SMUT, NSFW 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT‼️

bf!bangchan x gn reader || word count: 1.3k

angst, crying, dirty talk, spit, choking, kind of toxic tbh (oops) i wrote a lot, so prepare yourself 🫣

꧁ MAKE YOU FEEL MY LOVE꧂

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★ 🔮 ☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

you and chan had been dating for a little over a year now, from the moment you two started dating, you had always spent so much time together. whenever you weren’t together it was only because of work or day to day activities, where you absolutely couldn’t be together. he’d always showed you and told you how much he loved you from the beginning, which was a little overwhelming to you at first, but you were still attracted to him and loved being around him. you could tell that he was a special guy, you just needed some time to get comfortable and let yourself fall for him.

as time went on, you just felt the spark kind of dying out, atleast on your end. you loved chan, but whenever it came down to anything intimate, you just weren’t feeling any… electricity; and that really bugged you, because how could you not be sexually attracted to him?? he’s handsome, has a big heart, a wicked sense of humor, and he treated you like a queen. he was a total sweetheart, you were his whole world. his top most priority was making you feel happy and loved. you couldn’t keep going on like this, how could you lead him on any further? you didn’t want to hurt him, you did love him after all, you just weren’t feeling that spark anymore.

once he got home from practice, you were immediately greeted with a big, bright smile and open arms, “heyy, baby!! c’mere, i missed you” he said as you walked over to him and gave him a small hug, which was nothing compared to the giant bear hug he gave you. “chris, we have to talk… it’s important” you muttered as you nervous bit on your lip, averting your gaze to the floor as you tried to calm your nerves.

the cheeriness and joy in his eyes quickly turned to worry and concern, taking your hands in his as he looked at you with a small frown. “w-what is it, y/n? is something wrong?” he’d ask you, making you shake your head and walk him over to the couch. “i don’t know how to say this… but… uh, well…” you’d start saying before looking up into his eyes, seeing the anxiety plastered on his face.

“it’s okay, it’s okay… just.. just say it, love” he muttered softly as he fought some tears in his eyes. because deep down he had a feeling of where this conversation was going. he could feel the difference in how you looked at him, the hesitation whenever he’d go to hold your hand, whenever he kissed you or when you two had sex, everything just felt off.

you sighed softly at his words and shook your head, “i.. chris, you’re such a good guy.. and you have always treated me so so well” you started to say, “but i just… i don’t think i have feelings for you anymore… i love you, just… just not like-“ you were cut off by your boyfriend, “just not what? like a boyfriend?? is that it?” he covered his mouth, tears boiling in his eyes as he tried to form proper sentences through the hurt, “how long have you felt this way? is it something i said or did? is something i didn’t do???”.

“no no no, baby, it’s nothing that you did.. it’s just-“ you went to wipe his tears, but he shook his head and gently pushed your hands away. “is it because of my schedule? i’ll drop everything if it means making you stay.. i’ll do anything for you to stay, absolutely anything for you to love me!! just tell me, y/n, what do i have to do for you to love me??” he asked as he fell to his knees infront of you. “do i not please you good enough? b-because i can do better, yeah.. i can be better for you and make you feel good, is that what you want, baby??” he asked eagerly as he bit his lip whilst looking into your eyes, tears filled in his own as he gently caressed your knees, “please?”.

fuck. you had no words. god, you hated yourself for this. you had this precious man literally crying on his knees, begging for you to love him. why couldn’t you just be normal and fall for him? fuck. you hated it whenever chan would cry, especially knowing it was because of you. “chris, it’s not that easy.. it’s not like that” you’d tell him as you wiped away his tears, “well can’t i atleast try? do you know how much this kills me? i just want you to love me” he sniffled whilst tilting his head, “please, please let me show you how much i love you? maybe i can make you love me, one way or another, i don’t care”.

you sighed heavily before nodding and caving into his words, sniffling at your own tears as you looked down into his eyes. “o-okay, channie… just please don’t cry” you said before you were interrupted by a sudden kiss to your lips. he cupped your face and pulled you in closer, kissing you deeply as he began untying his sweatpants. you had to admit, you didn’t mind having sex with him, you just didn’t feel the emotional elements of it with him… or maybe just not as deeply as him.

one thing lead to another, the two of you had been lying on the same couch you’d both been crying on, feeling him split you open with his cock and hold your hips in place. you couldn’t help but moan and mutter his name, he’d been making you feel so good, after all. “y-ya like that, baby? does.. hmm, does that feel good?” he’d asked you as he leaned down to kiss and suck on your neck, “do you see how much i love you? how much i’m willing to prove my love for you?” he muttered against your salty skin. you didn’t know what to say, you had already been feeling all fucked out AND he was making you feel good, but you still felt so guilty, because you knew this wouldn’t change anything, and yet here you were letting him use your body like this.

“tell me you love me, baby.. p-please? please just tell me once?” he begged as he looked deep into your eyes, making you sigh and throw your head back, “i… i.. i can’t” you said through your moans, feeling a pit in your stomach as you cursed yourself. “w-what?” he asked with wide eyes, slowing down his movements as he looked into your eyes. “just tell me what i have to do to make you happy… tell me what the fuck i need to do in order to make you love me, y/n?” he said as he unintentionally tightened his grip on your hips, feeling frustrated.

as strange as it may sound, you rarely ever heard him swear, so it you found it a little hot when you heard him say ‘fuck’ and hold your hips so mean. you felt a little tickle in your stomach as you bit your lip. you were so used to your boyfriend being so gentle with you and being afraid to hurt you, but right now all you wanted was him to take out his hurt and stress onto you and manhandle you. “can you.. b-be a little rougher? i can take it.. just don’t be gentle” you said softly as you felt your cheeks heat up, “i’ll use the safeword if i want you to stop”.

chan was taken a little aback by what you had asked of him. he was certainly surprised, but lord knows he’d do absolutely anything to make you happy and to love him, so he did just as you asked. he picked up the pace of his movements and began pounding in and out of you at an almost animalistic rate whilst you wore his hand around your neck like the prettiest choker you’d ever worn. “do you like being treated like a filthy whore, baby? is that all it takes for you?” he snarled at you as he forced your mouth open and spit into it. he grinned widely when he seen your eyes light up.

you couldn’t contain yourself, you were tugging at his wavy locks and screaming so loud for him, he’d never made you feel this good before- no one had. “d-don’t stop… please, daddy” you begged him desperately, the nickname you referred to him as only encouraged him to go harder, “feels so good”. not too long after, you both finally finished and rode out your highs. shit, you were seeing stars and could barely think straight. but one thing was for sure, not being treated like you were something fragile for once made you feel something, for sure. who knew all it took was for your boyfriend to treat you like a whore every now and then? <3333

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★ 🔮 ☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

i hope you enjoyed that, i apologize if that wasn’t you had in mind! i hope you guys liked it hehe<333

if you don’t like my content you can either keep scrolling or just block me, no need to send negativity ♡

[rodolfoparras]

What about the first time with Eddie? 👉👈

I imagine he’s a bit hesitant at first, but once you get into it he’s a lot more vocal and enthusiastic, even tries riding you

Nothing Compares

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Top Male reader

Content tags: 18+, MINORS DNI, anal fingering, riding, rimming, porn with feelings

A/n: pls excuse any mistake and ooc moments, I redid a huge part of it earlier today and I have been kind of working on this for days so I’ve become blind to the smaller details rip anyway than u sm for your request and I hope you enjoy it! (Also look at that banner I’m so proud)

“You know,” you begin, voice ever so gentle as you caress his bare skin “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, I’m perfectly fine with just kissing or watching movies or whatever you’d want to do instead”

“I want to,” he says, tone firm and eyes full of confidence. “You’ve done so much for me, for my son, for us, I trust you,” he says before gently cupping your face and kissing your lips.

He only pulls back far enough to rest his forehead onto yours, noses brushing together as he once again repeats his words “I trust you,”

You look at him, eyes filled with tears before you blink them back and kiss him firmly on the lips

“I love you so much” you say in between kisses, feeling a flood of emotion bubbling up in your gut when you hear him giggle.

“I love you too” There’s a soft smile on his face as he meets your gaze, eyes swirling with emotion that you’re sure can be found in your own irises.

He says one last thing before he allows you to strip the clothes off the two of you.

“Just….you know.. go easy on me” he says, teeth nervously nibbling on his bottom lip.

“Always”

Eddie’s sprawled out on your bed, legs spread apart and knees tucked into his chest.

From where you lay you can see his dark locks splayed out onto his pillow case.

As you drag your gaze along his throat, you see the way his St. Christopher necklace spills onto his collarbones and the way it glimmers from where the light hits it.

You continue to trail your gaze down the valley of his peck and onto his abdomen where his hard cock lays.

Eventually your eyes land upon puckered hole, and you can’t help the thought that occurs.

Beautiful, so beautiful, you think to yourself before you swipe your tongue along the cleft of Eddie’s ass, eyes peering up at him to see the way his head lolls back, and he lets out a gasp. “Oh- oh God”

“You alright?” You say, voice sounding breathy and strained.

“Yes,yes I’m good, just- just keep going” he says voice sounding just as breathy and strained.

You deliver another broad stroke with your wet tongue before slowly circling his puckered hole, feeling his heels dig into your back as he claws at the mattress.

“Ah fuck!” He cries out, and lifts his head to meet your gaze. “Don’t- don’t tease please “

You only hum in response, before slowly working your tongue into the tight ring of muscles.

“God oh god! ” Eddie cries out, head trashing side to side, as his heels dig further down into your back.

Drool’s dribbling down the cleft of his ass, eager finger leaving marks on his skin and his musky scent engulfs your senses as you continue to lick into him.

Slowly but surely the tight channel becomes ever so unresisting under your tongue , and with each swipe, Eddie seems closer to losing his mind

“More, more more please i need more,” he sobs out, hands frantically clawing at the mattress.

But instead of doing as he says, you stop and pull away, leaving him looking absolutely bewildered. “No, no, no, why did you stop?!“

“Shh, sweetheart, I won’t leave you hanging, you know I won’t” you say, as you kiss his thighs in reassurance “Would you mind getting the lube for me? It’s on the drawer to the left”

You can’t help but smile at the way he almost jumps up to get the bottle, hair in complete disarray and sheets clinging onto his limbs, even almost falling face first onto the floor when he rolls back onto the bed.

You take the bottle from him, a small thanks slipping past your lips as you pour a generous amount into the palm of your hand “You still okay? We can stop at any moment” you say while warming the lube up between your fingers.

“No please don’t stop” he says almost too quickly and you can’t help but chuckle at his eagerness.

Your hands find his legs again, propping them up and tucking his knees into his chest before your finger finds his rim, and gently circle it.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut, body relaxing into the sheets as a breathy sigh escapes his lips.

“Mm that’s - that’s really nice” he says, voice slightly cracking as he speaks and you can’t help the endeared smile on your face as you look down at him.

Cute

You continue circling his puckered hole, relaxing the muscle as much as possible before sliding the tip of your finger inside him.

Immediately you feel goosebumps raise on his skin where you’re resting your hand on him , body slightly tensing as a shaky breath escapes his lips

“You okay?” You ask, stopping your movements complety to look up at him.

“Mm just- just- go slow yeah?,” he says body still tense as he runs a shaky hand through his hair.

“Of course“you say as before you gently work the tight ring of muscles, eyes glued to his and gauging his reaction.

He continues to take deep breathes, eyes squeezed shut and hands clinging onto the mattress but as soon as you’re down to the second knuckle of your index finger you hear soft moan rolling off of his lips “Mm ah- just just - just like that ”

“Feels good?” You ask as you you continuously massage the wall of nerves under your fingertips.

He looks down at you, eyes half lidded, and mouth agape while nodding his head “So so good, keep going please”

Slowly but surely you work a second finger into him, altering between grazing the wall of nerves and scissoring your fingers.

“Oh, oh god, please, please please” he whines out, almost grinding down onto your hand.

“Just wait a bit, yeah? I promised I’d take care of you didn’t I? Just let me do so yeah? I’ll take such good care of you I promise” You say while continuously moving your fingers inside him.

He almost wants to protest but agrees anyway, body relaxing into the sheets as he allows you to whatever you want with him

“Good boy” you coo before working a third finger inside of him, drawing more moans out of him and watching the way precum pools on his abdomen.

Eventually the last bit of patience trickles out of Eddie, body thrashing under your grip as pleas continuously tumble past his lips “Come on come on come on im ready please just please fuck me” he whines out, arm thrown over his eyes as his heels dig into your back.

You chuckle at his eagerness but gently slide your fingers out of him, watching the way he winces before a look of anticipation makes its way on his face.

You make quick work of getting the condom and the bottle of lube from earlier, pulse roaring in your ears as you shuffle closer to him, and hands shaking as you roll the condom onto your dick. But you stop completely in your step, hearing yourself take a shaky breath as you take in the sight of the man sprawled out your bed.

“Maybe I need a moment “ you say more to yourself, letting out a laugh before resting your head onto one of his thighs.

He chuckles at that, before you feel his hand trace soothing patterns onto your back. “Take your time” he says, sounding playful but endeared as well.

There’s a moment where the only sound that can be heard is the fluttering from the fan, along with the random assortment of noises coming from outside the window.

His hand is a welcome weight on your body, skin ever so warm as it presses against your cheek and slowly but surely you feel the tension bleeding out your body.

You slowly raise your head to meet his gaze, and as you do you see the way he’s nibbling on his lip while his eyes shift around the room as if preparing himself to ask you something.

“Hey hey hey, is something the matter?” You say with a confused look on your face while giving a gently squeeze to his leg.

Eddie shifts on the bed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he nervously swallows before he finally says something.

“Can I ,, I mean I’d like to you know…ride you,” he says, before he turns his gaze away, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and nervously nibbling on it again.

You blink at him in surprise, before you let out a groan, loud enough to slightly startle the other man.

“Good god Eddie you’re going to be the death of me” you say head burying back into his leg. You immediately feel the tension bleed out his body as a laugh tumbles past his lips.

“So is that a yes?” He says, still sounding a bit bashful while tracing random patterns onto your skin.

“Fuck, yeah, yeah that’s okay with me how do you want me?” you say as you scurry to get off of him.

“Eager” he teases, seemingly much more relaxed now. “Lay down on your back,” he says while gesturing for you to lay down where the headboard is.

“You don’t even know,” you say in response to his comment, not even wasting a second before you lay sprawled out on the bed with a pillow under your head.

He easily straddles your waist, hands resting on your chest to brace himself.

The unsure look bleeds back onto his face, hands fiddling on your chest as he chews on his bottom lip again.

“Eddie,” you say tone as firm as your grip on his hips. “I’m not expecting anything show stopping here. It’s just me and you spending some time together like we always do, just with a little less clothes on” you say with a chuckle but squeezing his hips to bring home your point. “And like I said if you’re not sure about this yet we can just do something else,” you say with a gentle smile on your face, hand reaching out to brush away the hair from his eyes.

He’s quiet for a moment, eyes following your hand before he grabs ahold of your wrist, voice as firms as his hold when he speaks “I want to but,” he pauses, and harshly swallows before he speaks again “I’m -you know uh new to this so please bear with me,” he says before he lines your tip up with his hole, and slowly pushes it past his puckered rim.

“Jesus christ!,” you grunt out, feeling as if your breath’s been punched out of your lungs.

Eddie takes a shaky breath, hands adjusting on your chest as he continues to lower himself.

“You alright?” You say through a strained breath, thumb gently caressing his hip.

“Yeah” he manges to say, brows pinched together and mouth agape as he continues to lower himself.

“Just like that baby, keep going, you can do it, I know you can” you say through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering shut and doing your best not to buck up into him.

Finally he bottoms out, your balls now firmly pressed against his ass, and he lets out a mewls at the feeling of being so stretched out around your cock.

“You alright?” Eddie asks you, throwing his words back to you, with a shaky smiles on his face while adjusting his hands on your chest.

“Jesus Christ, i'm more than alright, feels - ah feels so so good baby, you don’t even know how good you’re making me feel '' you say between labored breaths, thumb gently caressing his hip again “What about you, pretty ? How do you feel?”

“Feels, feels ah so full” he mewls out while experimentally rocking his hips.

“Ah fuck!” You cry out, head lolling back as you slightly buck up “dont- don’t think I’ll be able to last long- already- already feels so fucking good”

Eddie slowly starts picking his hips up, working himself up your cock only to slam himself back down again”Ah- ah God!” Eddie gasps out, back arching when he gets the angle just right.

“Fuck just like that Eddie, fuck yourself on my cock,” you grunt out, eyes fluttering shut as you buck up to meet his thrusts.

Slowly but surely he becomes more confident, his movements becoming much more pronounced as he loses himself in pleasure.

“Feels so so good” he moans out, head lolling back, moving so fast he’s basically bouncing on your lap.

Once again you can’t help but admire him, from the way his dark locks stick to his forehead, to the way his St. Christopher's necklaces dangles over your face, even in the way his defined abdomen glistens from the precum that’s smeared all over it.

“Close so close please” he moans out, and those words manage to snap you out of your daze as your hands tighten on his hips while bucking up into him again.

“Come on pretty you can do it, I know you can. Make yourself cum on my cock just like I know you can” you say before wrapping one hand around his dick and stroking him, that’s all it takes for him to starts unraveling, coming with a cry and spurting ropes of cum on both your abdomens, with you tightly following close by.

Once the two of you clean up and get back into bed, a comfortable silence falls over you as you bask in each other’s presence.

Suddenly Eddie bursts out laughing and as you meet his gaze, you burst out laughing as well.

“Fuck I love you,” you say through a breathy laugh before you pull the sheets over the two of you.

“Love you too,” he says as he places a kiss to your chest, before his eyes flutter shut and his breathing slows down.

Nothing compares to this, you think to yourself before you drift of to dreamland.

[showtoonzfan]

Now I want to talk about Charlie cause good GOD. I never cared much for her in the pilot, I’ll admit that. I always called her boring compared to the other characters because of how developed they were compared to her. However the show takes everything that the pilot build up for her and just made her 10x worse to the point where she’s INSUFFERABLE to watch.

When I got to the very end of the season, I realized that she barley did anything progressive or had an impact on any character, at least what we’ve seen on screen. I understand this was the first season, but what exactly was her arc and what exactly did she do? Nothing. Throughout the season she wasn’t a leader, the most she did was help Sir pen with lessons and have that fight at the heaven trial. In the end they try to act like she overcame some arc about learning to lead and take charge but…she didn’t really. She was helped constantly by people around her, mainly Vaggie/Alastor/Rosie and she never really did anything on her own that was enough to signify her independence as the MAIN character or even the princess of hell. I love how she needed to be TOLD that her girlfriend cared for her…like wow. Vaggie also states that she’s “done so much and touched so many souls”- and all I could think about is how I actually wish we saw that on screen. Husk said she “wants to fix everyone’s problems but her own” and I never got that vibe out of her??? If she was more like Luz from the Owl house where we constantly saw her avoid her own emotions and problems and focus more on helping other people, then it would make sense but guess what, we don’t see any of that because the show is so disinterested in ACTUALLY focusing on Charlie shining at the front and helping people. They scrapped the main premise of her wanting to help sinners and instead used up all the time they had to introduce new characters. It’s all tell and no show as expected.

She’s painted as someone who’s desperate to save her people but when she’s not the focus and actually helping someone, she’s a whiny frustrating crybaby who needs to be coddled or steered in the right direction, and it’s SO hard to watch how her character is treated like a child who can’t do anything. This character has existed for 200+ years canonically but she isn’t written like that. She’s dumb. The fact that she’s such a doormat that she can’t even realize Angel is being abused by Val or even DO ANYTHING about it is fucking baffling, she’s THAT useless. There were so many moments in the show where she could have used her authority or powers to save trouble, but she just doesn’t do it because she’s useless, and I’m tired of people trying to say she’s a pacifist to excuse the shitty writing. She’s also basically Viv’s self insert in a way, an unfunny woman child who’s a hypocrite. Like Charlie is the equivalent of dry white chicken. There’s no seasoning or flavor to her character, she’s SO bland and boring that Lucifer and Alastor end up being more important than her and having more screen time, she’s ATTACHED to them and it really shows, rather than her being at the front. And I know we’re on season 1, but you’d think that Charlie’s childishness would actually be a character flaw and something she needs to overcome and grow up about. But this isn’t really seen as an issue and more of a quirky thing cause Viv thinks being a woman child is funny, the “fuck you you old bitch” scene made me cringe so god damn hard. Everyone has already said it, but Charlie cursing so so forced and unnatural for her character. I don’t like how she’s supposed to be a cinnamon roll but then at the same time swears and acts feral at times. It doesn’t fit.

During the fight scene in the end, she also does absolutely nothing. She made a whole deal about how she wants to defend her people and get back at the angel’s, but aside from throwing Adam and hitting him once, she needed to be protected or saved, Lucifer ended up actually doing the work and it was so hilarious. Speaking of that, Charlie’s daddy issues arc was also rushed, her and Lucifer reuniting and then making up within the same episode was a mistake. Then you realize that her daddy issues was mainly all Charlie had to her in terms of depth and what was explored in the show. I’m so tired of Viv giving her characters daddy issues, it’s getting old lol. But regardless of what Charlie has to her, in general the show just doesn’t focus on her. She’s not the main focal point of the show when she should be. SHE’S the one who wants to redeem sinners, the hotel was her idea. Even tho the pilot was a mess I still felt like she was determined to take the lead due to her beliefs. And yet she still feels like a side/background character who only occasionally gets focus here and there but certainly not compared to the others. The potential is there but due to the favoritism of the writing she’s such an empty and boring character and stayed like that till the very end.