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covetyou · 7 months

Text

no shortage of sordid

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader, Joel Miller x m!OC (unnamed) rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: very dubious consent (not from reader), oral sex (m receiving from m), voyeurism/exhibitionism, degradation, brief mention of food and allusion to hunger, unnamed m!OC, m/m, Joel is not exactly gay he's just a domineering asshole, drug reference word count: 3.1k summary: Your deal with Joel has changed into something else, something different to when you first came to his door asking for help months ago. But, when you try to take him up on your new arrangement, you're met with something you never expected.

A/N: this was originally a much shorter deleted scene from the start of the dark caress of someone else. I took it out because it was too much and after writing that chapter I told myself I would avoid writing threesomes for as long as possible, because god damn it there's too many body parts. well, me, fuck you, this is threesome adjacent and not technically a threesome at all.

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Six days. That's how long it takes for you to cave and admit you want him. It takes you another two to do anything about it.

The first time you make the trip to Joel's apartment, no pills necessary, you're faced with silence and a door that won't open.

With an hour break between your jobs the next day, you make another attempt. But, you barely make it through the market when you see him trailing behind Tess, hulking figure parting the crowd with ease. You don't stop to see where they're going, instead choosing to turn on your heel and head back the way you came. The less you know, the better. Using the cards he handed back to you nine days ago, you stop by a street food vendor on your way to your next job, eating your first hot meal not only of that day, but that week, the warm food soothing more than just the emptiness in your stomach.

It takes you much longer to convince yourself to try on the third day. Your thoughts hadn't immediately gone to Joel Miller that morning. You had toyed with going for a walk, with seeing if you could pick up more work. But soon your hands ache, bones creaking in their joints as you clench them once again, trying to stave off the want in your belly with the pinch of nails digging into your palms.

Fuck it. You're going. Whether he's there or not, the need to get out of this apartment far outweighs the desire to stay warm inside it.

So, one gray trudge across a gray Boston to a gray apartment block later, you're at his door. Again.

Only this time there's not silence on the other side.

You can hear a murmur - undoubtedly Joel by the heavy rasp of a wry laugh that follows it - and a garbled whimper.

And, of course, you could leave. You could turn your back and leave Joel up to whatever it is, whoever it is, he's doing in there, but you don't. You knock, wanting him to know that even if he's occupied, you showed up. You came to him, not for pills, but for sex. For want, for desire, for the ease of the ache between your legs and the itch in your palms that just won't quit no matter how much you make yourself come.

Even with company, he doesn't make you wait long.

So it's not that you're not expecting the shuffle of two sets of feet. Or the thud on the door, heavy and dull like something big had caught itself before falling down. You knew he wasn't alone and, after all, the only thing you could really expect when visiting Joel was that nothing would be as expected.

No, that's not what surprises you at all.

What surprises you is when the door drifts open a fraction, a disembodied hand reaching through and pulling you through the gap, dragging you inside. What surprises you is tripping over his shoes, only they're not his shoes, the feet turned the wrong way up to belong to the all too familiar man standing before you.

What surprises you is seeing a man on his knees in front of Joel Miller.

It surprises you so much, you don't even notice as the door clicks shut and the hand that dragged you inside pulls you once again to stand at his side.

From here you can get a full view. There's a man on his knees in front of Joel. Joel's pants are unbuckled and pulled low on his hips. And then, the entire scene becomes very, very clear.

There is a man on his knees in front of Joel with his cock in his mouth.

So, when Joel looks at you with a glint in his eye, you're suddenly rooted to the spot, staring between him and the man beneath him. A smirk from Joel tells you you've been looking a little too long so, embarrassed and not quite sure what to do with yourself, you spin around, turning to inspect the back of a chair as if it was the most interesting thing in the room, not the man currently bobbing his head up and down on Joel's length.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart," he drawls from behind you. "Ain't no fun for me if you ain't lookin'."

As you always do where Joel is concerned, you do as you're told, taking a deep breath as you turn back to watch the man swallow down Joel's cock. You'd seen this kind of thing before - turned down the wrong street at the wrong time more than once only to see someone on their knees for someone else, earning yourself a wink or an insult for the privilege. But you never stayed to watch. Yet, here you are, staying and watching either because it was Joel, or because he asked, you weren't too sure.

The why doesn't exactly matter, you figure, not when your cheeks were rapidly heating and the wet patch in your panties was doing nothing but grow.

"Think he likes the audience too," Joel is saying, nodding down to the guy on his knees. "Don't you?"

You can see that he does. There's a hard bulge in the front of his pants, a bulge that looks much harder than the cock currently in his mouth.

"Dick always so hard for a straight guy. Think you like being a cocksucker." Joel gives the man an awkward pat on the head and huffs out a laugh, looking away from him to look back at you.

"Likin' what you see, sweetheart?" he jokes, casting dark eyes up and down your body. He can't see much. It's still fucking freezing, which is no surprise for a February in Boston, and you're still wrapped up against the elements because of it. But you know his gaze is looking through all of it, seeing through the layers straight down to your flesh, to your hard nipples and the wetness between your legs. He raises that infuriating, knowing, eyebrow at you and you roll your eyes.

"'m serious, you gotta keep lookin' or I'm never gonna come," he says then, and you drag your eyes back in an instant. You briefly wonder why - how - he would never come from this until it hits you.

Having a man suck his dick isn't Joel Miller's idea of a good time. Whoever the man on his knees is, he owes Joel. Maybe just like you did, or maybe worse. It doesn't matter, because you're not witnessing a blow job, you're witnessing a fucking business transaction.

And so you laugh - not at Joel, or the man, not really, but at the entire fucked situation and the world that brought you to this place.

"Y'hear that?" Joel growls down at the man. "She's laughin' at you."

Pinching his eyes shut, the man groans, and you swear you can see a dark patch starting to form on the front of his pants. It almost feels wrong, looking at another mans bulge like this when Joel's cock is right there, disappearing in and out of the strangers mouth at a languid pace. You can't even ask his name - his mouth too full to get out more than a garbled moan. Maybe names don't matter either.

Joel's eyes haven't left you, and yours haven't left the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. He's harder now, softness completely gone now that you're here to witness it. Giving and watching a blow job are so much different to what you expected. There's a wet sound in the air, for one. That rhythmic, wet noise of a throat being fucked was usually masked by your own moans, made easy to ignore by the distraction filling your mouth. But here, several steps away, it is loud.

"That's it. Keep your eyes right there," Joel murmurs before pointing to your outer layer. "Unzip your coat, lemme see. Get those pretty tits out for me, sweetheart. Don't mind him. He ain't gonna look. Are you?"

The man groans again, keeping his eyes shut as his head bobs on Joel's cock, taking an impressive amount of him down his throat with each movement. There's a small shake of his head, and while you don't believe him, you find you don't care either. You don't know the man on the floor any more than he knows you, and you have a feeling he's likely to keep his mouth shut once he leaves Joel's apartment today anyway.

A fraction of a second later, you're pulling your jacket open and yanking your sweater up above your tits, baring them to Joel. He murmurs something to himself, fisting his shirt tightly as he holds it up, exposing his belly. It strikes you then how damn distracted you had been every time before now - Joel's fingers, or tongue, or cock working you in such a way that you were brainless and oblivious to the physical affects you had on him. Now, its obvious. Like a man possessed, he watches you with blown eyes, his cock in full hardness now as the man below him works him over with his mouth and tongue.

Dragging cool fingers down your exposed chest, you meet your already pebbled nipples, pinching them and holding back a soft gasp. It's as much for you as it is to get a reaction from Joel, and if he didn't know you were wet before, he does now.

"That's it, play with 'em. And keep watching, sweetheart. Want you to watch when I come down his throat."

It's a struggle to keep your eyes open, but certainly not a chore. The man has picked up his pace, sucking and moaning around Joel's length as he slurps it down. He holds back a splutter when Joel's hips buck forward just as you pinch your nipples harder again, squeezing the flesh of your tits in cold palms.

"Fuuck, that's it, keep watchin'. You like that? Bet you want a taste of this dick too, huh?"

You nod, words stuck in your throat as Joel presses the mans head further into his crotch, rocking his hips to fuck lightly into his mouth.

"You needy and dripping over there ain't you?" he growls. He doesn't wait for you to nod, he doesn't need to. "Yeah you fuckin' are. Dirty fuckin' girl, watching my dick gettin' sucked. You like watching, don't you? Say it. Wanna hear it."

"I like it. I like watching, Joel," you say, barely more than a whisper as you become more and more entranced by Joel's cock in the mans mouth.

"Shit. Keep watchin'. Gonna come. Need you to watch."

It's all you can do to hold back a moan, your panties now probably ruined by your dripping, neglected cunt. This was not what you came here for, but watching Joel mumble obscenities and growl filth to you and the man on his knees as he gets his cock sucked was something you never knew you wanted before now. Sure, you want to touch, to play with him yourself. But watching is getting you wetter and wetter without even a finger or the press of your thighs to help you along the way.

"That's it. You keep suckin'. Fuck. Gonna bet you want this load in you not in him, right?"

Nodding frantically, you move a hand to your waistband, a soft plea on your lips, ready to pull your pants down any second. "Please - "

"Fuck - shit - well too bad, sweetheart. You look at that dick gettin' sucked. Shit - gonna come. Look at me. I said look at me."

Your eyes meet his just as they flutter closed. Joel groans a curse, his balls starting to empty into the throat of the man in front of him until he's suddenly tugging the mans hair, pulling his mouth off of his cock. The man gasps, swallowing down what he can as Joel rapidly strokes his spit soaked length, jerking the remains of his spend over the mans face and mouth. His eyes immediately flick to yours, a soft moan having left your own lips the moment Joel started to come, and he groans again, a final spurt coating the mans chin, soaking his facial hair. It's filthy. Not the most filthy thing you know Joel's done, but the most filthy thing you've ever seen him do from the outside. You can't help but stare on in silence, too captivated by the spurts of milky white dripping over the mans face, his eyes still screwed tight. You're aching and desperate to stick a hand down your pants, to feel how wet you are, to touch your clit and make yourself come as you try to hold yourself upright on shaky legs.

Through syrupy blood pulsing in your ears you hear Joel growl down at the man, removing his hand from his hair like it's burned his palm. Then, he's looking to you again, deep brown eyes searching your own before falling down, down to where your hand cups your breast and your other fists the waistband of your pants in a tight grip. He knows - knows that even if you came here already wet and wanting, you were even more so now.

And it's with a smirk and a sharp snap of his fingers that he pulls you back into the room. The man's eyes are open now, avoiding yours as he wipes cum from his face with his sleeve, covertly licking his lips for any remnant taste of Joel. You can't blame him, fuck knows you'd done the same when Joel had swiped a taste of himself over your own lips, but you can't help the jealousy at wanting to taste again too.

It's then you remember your exposed chest, and you yank your sweater back down without another glance to the man on his knees. Joel shakes his head, a shit eating grin spreading across his face as he strides across the room. He goes to the cupboard where you know he keeps a small amount of his stock, rifling through for a second before coming back with a baggy and tossing it down on the floor at the mans knees. He scrambles for it immediately, climbing to his feet and grabbing the door. Joel doesn't look at him again.

"Say hello to your wife for me," Joel calls over his shoulder, and the man scurries away without a word.

Now it's just you and him, his unbuttoned pants the only remaining evidence of what just happened.

You hesitate, partly in stunned silence, partly your brain having turned to liquid between your ears, all coherent thought lost the moment Joel's cum spurted across the mans face. But there's still that unsatisfied ache between your legs, throbbing and making your hand twitch, willing you to reach for him now that he's so close.

Joel sees it, he knows, knows what you came here for and knows what you won't be getting.

"Not today, sweetheart. Couldn't even if I tried," he says gesturing to his spent already dick tucked back into his pants. "Gotta head out again too, so whatever you got goin' on in those panties, you gotta deal with it yourself." He finishes with a wink and a tap to your chin before grabbing a small gym bag from the couch. You hadn't even seen it there, brain too occupied by more interesting things happening in this room at the time.

So it's no surprise, really, when your mouth starts running before your mind can process what it's doing. There's only one thing you're thinking of. One thing, aside from the throb in your core, that you can't stop thinking about, that envy won't let you give up.

"Would you - " your mouth gapes, opening and closing like a fish while your mind stutters and stops. You shouldn't even ask. There's no answer that can satisfy that particular itch. Not as quickly as you'd want it, at least. If he said yes, he'd already said nothing could happen right now, and if he said no, well... there was something about the thought of him denying you that did something to you too. There was no winning.

"Would I what?"

Of course, Joel had already heard. Even as he potters about the apartment, dumping stuff into the bag from places you've not been paying attention to. He stops, prompting you to go on.

"Would you... Would you come in my mouth like that? One time?"

He stares at you with his mouth open in disbelief. "You want me to come in your mouth?"

You nod, your mouth suddenly so fucking dry you can't speak anymore. You'd been salivating, able to practically taste the phantom flavor of Joel's cum on your tongue just a moment ago. Now, it was like you'd been chewing on bricks, tongue sticky and dry and your teeth feeling like an awkward jumble in your mouth.

"Well, shit. Call the press. Respectable good girl wants to be my little cocksucker -"

"Fine, if you're going to make fun, I don't -"

"Woah, hold on, I'm fuckin' with you. I ain't gonna turn down shutting that pretty mouth up with my dick. Gotta do it more than one time though, sweetheart. You around tomorrow?"

Between jobs and your dad having a day off, it would be a few days before you could come back. Shaking your head, you offer up Thursday instead. It's only three days away. You can make it three more days. Right?

"Thursday works for me. Come by in the afternoon. I'll come in that mouth, and then I'll play with that pussy while I get worked up again," he says before adding, with a cock of his head, "Then I'll come in that too."

And you're dumbstruck - the fantasy you concocted in your own head far surpassed by Joel's own, seemingly thought up right on the spot as he maneuvers you out into the hallway.

"See you then, sweetheart."

He pushes you out of the door, fingers electrified where they touch your shoulder. You expect the door to snap shut behind you, like it has so many times before, but he follows you out into the hallway, locking the door behind him. With a wink, he stalks off down the corridor, legs carrying him out of the apartment block too quick for you to keep up.

Later that night, alone in bed and wondering how the hell you're going to last two more days like this, you rub yourself stupid to thoughts of Joel's cock in a mouth that isn't yours.

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #Joel Miller x m!OC #fic: SWAT #coveted fics

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miley1442111 · 3 months

Note

HEYY I WAS THE ONE WHO ASKED FOR THAT FIC WHERE RAFE HAD TO CHOOSE IT WAS PERFECTTTT SO MUCH MORE PERFECT THAN I WAS EXPECTING!!! THANK YOU SO MUUUUUUUCHHHH YOU SAVED MY LIKEEEE!!!!!

So... Since you saved and now im already in dept with you can I ask for another one??? Pleaseee!! If you dont like Its ok just ignore and If you feel uncomfortable IM SORRYYY.

It would be something like, Rafe gets into a fight as always and then the reader, his friend tries to break the fight and then the other person fighting Rafe says something like "YEAH LISTEN TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND/BOYFRIEND/THEYFRIEND" and like every single person on the vicinity goes dead silent because everyone know you guys like each other but didnt realized yet and EVERYONE is scared of Rafe and also both of you have a partner, whos RIGHT there and will for now on live with the knowledge that: Since Rafe and Reader met, every other relationship they would have would be the runner-up.

Maybe Rafe and Reader trying to prove everyones wrong by sticking to the partners but its undeniable how the two are good for each other, how the always serious and scary Rafe looks like a normal funny happy guy when hanging out with the Reader who also goes from a quiet apathetic person ta burning sun.

Sorry this os too long 😭😭😭😭😭

Also i typed that listening to Entombed by Deftones

Byeee love youuuuuu

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waiting game- r.cameron

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a/n: welcome back light of my life anon. ur too cool i knew u listened to deftones bc only cool people can. thank you for requesting :)

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader, male oc x fem! reader, rafe cameron x female oc

summary: i suggest you look at the ask

warnings: kissing, toxic relationship, rafe is a bit of a fucking prick to Ava and reader, rafe is confused and a dick, cursing, underage drinking, drinking, suggestive mentions, reader is going through it, rafe is a crybaby, violence, creepy guy (I think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

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Rafe watched as you crossed the busy dance floor, two drinks in hand. Usually, one of those would be his, he was your best friend after all. But in recent weeks, you’d been becoming friendly with a pogue named ‘Elijah’. He hated him, seriously, he did. He was a piece of shit in Rafe's eyes, and somehow that made you like him more.

You and Rafe had been friends since you were little kids, and you’d always brought out the best in each other. When Rafe was around you, he wasn’t a lunatic with raging anger issues and a god complex, around him, you weren’t the shy, quiet girl everyone knew you to be. It worked well, and you promised each other that you’d never bullshit each other. That meant; he’d never lie to you, and that you’d always tell it to him straight. It worked, and it worked well.

So well in fact, that people usually assumed you were dating.

Years and years of being told by your respective friends and family that you two should ‘just date and put the entire island out of its misery made the idea even less appealing, at least to you. You always wanted to do the opposite of what you were told, and that meant never even thinking of Rafe in a romantic sense. Obviously, Rafe never thought of you like that either. He didn’t think about how sweet your lips would taste, how well you two fit together, how you brought out the best in him, or how much he loved you being around. He’d never think about how good calling you ‘his girlfriend’ was when he had to fend off assholes at the bar. He’d never even mention how good it felt to know he was your first kiss, and how you were his (courtesy of you two being very drunk 15 year olds).

He never thought about any of that. That would be weird, right?

So he stood, his new girlfriend, Ava, hanging off of his arm as he watched you sit in Elijah’s lap.

“Rafey,” she whined and he winced. He hated that name. “I’m so drunk!”

She’d had a beer and two vodka lemonade’s he’d made with about one shot of vodka between the two, she wasn’t drunk. Ava was the perfect kook princess, and she was driving him crazy, but Midsummers was in three months, and his dad told him he needed someone respectable. That’s what he’d told you when he asked for candidates, though he must’ve failed to mention the way his dad asked him to bring you.

“Ava, go sit down then,” Rafe shrugged her off of him. “I have to go talk to someone, ok?”

“You’re seriously leaving me here alone?” Her face formed a frown, but Rafe couldn’t find it in himself to give a fuck.

“Yes,” he answered before walking off to find you.

The last couple of months had been very freeing for you. You’d finally gotten over the crush you’d had on Rafe for years, and you were finally out having fun and really dating for the first time. You had your friends, and Rafe finally stopped scolding you like an old man every time you went out with the pogues, you made friends with more people from the mainland since you’d started to go to college there, and Rafe had a girlfriend, so he wasn’t constantly with you, making your crush come back. It felt good. Elijah was hot, and all you really wanted was to fuck someone, and he’d do just fine. Dark curly hair, big brown eyes, and if the semi he was sporting underneath you now was any indication, he was do just fine in the ‘fucking’ department.

“So what are you studying?” he asked, taking another sip. The mixture of drink and smoke in the air made your head spin in the best way.

“Journalism and English lit,” you answered, pressing your hand against his chest. “You?”

“Maths,” he answered and you laughed.

“That’s unexpected,” you chuckled. He looked like he was a surfer boy, not a maths major. His dirt tank top, worn-in swim shorts, and salty skin. He was hot. He laughed with you as his hands travelled lower, grabbing your ass, and you didn’t even mind.

“I know, right?” He smirked.

“So why did you pick maths?”

“I’m good at it,” he shrugged. “And I got a scholarship.”

You nodded. “So can you do like, any maths question?” You knew it was low-hanging fruit in terms of flirting, but you really weren’t in the mood for trying very hard. It was late and you were pretty drunk.

He nodded nipping at your lips with his own. Your conversation was long forgotten as your finger ran through his hair and he groaned into your mouth. He was a good kisser, despite his wandering hands, which were either on your ass or tits, but again, you didn’t mind.

He pulled away with glazed, lust-filled eyes. “You wanna get out of here?”

You nodded, then pulled him back in to kiss you.

“Y/n!” Jj’s voice rang out in your ear, and he started to tap you hard on the shoulder. “Eli!”

You pulled away, annoyed. “What?”

“Rafe is beating the shit out of one of Eli’s friends, can you talk him down please?”

“What?” Eli asked. “Who?”

“Josh,” Jj answered. “Let’s go Y/n, before Rafe kills someone ideally!” Jj said it in a sing-song voice to mask the truth in his words. Rafe had come very close to seriously hurting people before, and every year he was just getting stronger (thanks to his gym addiction and never-ending rage).

You reluctantly got off of Eli’s lap and ran behind Jj as he led you to the scene.

Rafe was beating the shit out of Eli’s best friend, Josh and he was not looking good. He was trying to fight back, but you could tell he was close to tapping out, though you also knew that Rafe didn’t do ‘tap-outs’.

“Rafe!” You shouted as the circle of people silenced. “Stop being a fucking idiot, get off of him!” you grabbed one of his arms, angry now. Your nights were always getting ruined by Rafe, especially recently. He had no right to pull shit like this, it wasn’t fair that you always had to clean up his messes.

“Yeah exactly, listen to your girlfriend!” Josh spat.

The circle of people watching went dead silent, and phones stopped recording. Both you and Rafe froze. Josh dropped to the floor, and Eli walked him off without sparing you a glance. The moment was frozen, and you were stuck in place, staring at Rafe's eyes.

Rafe could always tell how you were feeling but he couldn't now.

And it scared the shit out of him.

After another moment of confusion and being frozen, you looked after Eli, and tried to walk after him, but Rafe grabbed your arm.

“Can we talk ab-”

“No! You fucking asshole! Did you really need to ruin tonight for me? Seriously? Go fuck yourself Rafe!” You cursed, then turned to the crowd around you. “Rafe Cameron is not my boyfriend, nor will he ever be, the shows over folks, fuck off!”

And with that you ran off to find Eli and Josh.

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Rafe was searching the party for you. You weren’t where Eli had been before, and he wanted to talk to you, to drag you away from that piece of shit.

In all honesty, the past few months had been a very confusing time for Rafe. He’d started college (only because his dad asked him to), he’d gotten his first long-term (3 months so far) relationship, he’d gone off drugs for the most part, he’d started feeling things for you.

His best friend.

Not that he hadn’t realised it before, but you were just so… you. So gorgeous, so smart, so funny, all of you. It was proving to be an issue, so he’d stopped hanging out with you so much, at least until he could figure out what was going on. He was about 99% sure his feelings were platonic, because everyone felt this way for their best friend, right? Obviously. Totally. Maybe?

He crossed the dance floor, only to be met with the face of Josh, Eli’s friend. And he was talking about you.

“Yeah, Eli’s got the only fucking hot girl here,” He smirked. Rafe hated how he smirked. He hated how he looked. He hated everything about this man, the one he’d never even met. “I’ll ask him if he’ll share,” he laughed like a sleazy piece of shit, and so did his friends.

“Excuse me,” Rafe tried to move past them, but Josh grabbed his arm.

“Oh shit! You’re the boyfriend,” Josh chuckled and Rafe didn't correct him. “Sorry dude, she’s all mine tonight.”

And that’s when Rafe’s right hand made contact with his face.

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Rafe stood there staring dumbly at his bloodied and bruised hands. You’d never spoken to him like that, ever. Rafe knew he could fly off the handle, and he knew it annoyed you when you had to fix everything for him, but you’d never complain. Tonight. Tonight, it finally boiled over and you shouted at him. Like he was anyone. Like he wasn’t your best friend, your Rafe.

“You ok?”

Topper’s voice cut through the ringing in his ears. Rafe’s eyes were glossy with unshed tears and it was taking a lot of willpower to not scream and try to break something, or sob and run after you.

“Fine,” he said, letters over-punctuated as he rolled his eyes, looking up to stop the tears from falling.

“Rafey!” Fucking Ava. “Did you get into another fight over me again?” She sighed, faking anger. He knew she didn’t give a fuck if he fought, she only cared about what the fight was about.

“No,” he answered, getting closer to her face, dwarfing her with his tall height. “Go away.”

She pouted. “Rafey-”

“Stop fucking calling me that,” He cursed, grabbing the wrist of her hand, which was reaching to touch his face. “Ava, go home.”

“You brought me here,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, so find another way home,” he chuckled softly, delighting in making her feel small.

Ava looked down, angry now. “You’re a piece of shit, you know that?”

Rafe just smirked. “But you’re still with me, so I must not be that bad,” he laughed in her face. “Unless it’s just your daddy issues-”

He was hit so fast he didn’t even know what had happened.

“Don’t ever talk to her like that again,” Kiara scoffed, squaring up to Rafe. “Ava, you can get a ride with me, ok?” Ava nodded and walked off with Kiara as you appeared.

Kiara’d hit him. And he’d deserved it.

Kelce and Topper cleared off, they knew this was about you.

“How’s Elijah?” He rubbed his red cheek.

“Josh is fine, thanks for asking,” your voice was cutting and precise.

“I asked about Eli,” Rafe growled, grabbing your hand.

“And I answered about Josh.”

He chuckled. “Your friends suck.”

“Your girlfriend is a bimbo.”

Rafe smiled. “And she takes dick like a champ, what more could a man want?”

Your face went from mild annoyance directly to disgust. “I’ll see you later,” you scoffed, starting to walk off.

“Wait, wait, wait!” He called after you. “I-I’m sorry, ok? I was an asshole, and I’m sorry. That was a gross thing to say, I’m drunk and I just got beaten up, can you please forgive me?” he begged.

But you were still walking away from him, and he was losing you. He followed you through the hoards of people, pleading and begging for you to forgive him as he trailed behind.

Finally, on the most secluded area of the beach you turned to him with tears streaming down your cheeks, and he felt his heart break.

“Fucking hell Rafe! Can you not just notice anyone else around you for once!? You just ruined my fucking chances with Eli, you just beat the shit out of someone, and you just treated your girlfriend like she was some fangirl, you think I was to be associated with you right now? Let alone with you right now?! Can you stop being so tunnel-visioned? Fuck’s sake!” You wiped your eyes. “I’m so sick of being your fucking babysitter, you’re older than me Rafe! Please act like an adult! Treat your girlfriend better and treat the people around you better!” You sighed. “Treat me better.”

Rafe’s heart was breaking. He never wanted to hurt you, that was the one thing he’d sworn he’d never do. You were with him through everything, through thick and fucking thin. And he was treating you like this? This was unacceptable,and he felt so guilty he wanted to throw up.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, the tears finally falling. “I’m sorry.”

You nodded, crossing your arms over. “Where?! Where are you fucking sorry Rafe? Because all I keep seeing is empty fucking promises and bullshit excuses,” You groaned. “You think I want to be the one scolding you? You think I want to have to de-escalate situations for you? No! This was my one fucking night off from work too, and you ruined it.”

“I’m sorry,” he was breathing heavily, he’d never felt so shitty.

“Rafe,” you sighed. “Please don’t say things you don’t mean.”

And with that you walked away.

----------------------

You dialled Eli’s number and prayed that he would answer.

“Hey,” he sighed.

“I’m so sorry,” you immediately answered. “Can we still meet up?”

He sighed into the phone. “I’m not sure Y/n, you kind of seem… preoccupied with Rafe.”

Fuck. Yet another one of your relationships ruined by Rafe Cameron. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t see it?” he chuckled. “You two are perfect for each other. He’s like the most angry and uncontrollable guy I’ve ever seen, and you control him and calm him down by just breathing. And you were the most shy and quiet person I’d ever seen, but when I see you talking with Rafe, or just being around him, you’re so much more brave and extroverted. It’s seriously impressive. You two complement each other Y/n. You bring the real him out, and he brings the real you out. That’s beautiful, and i’m not going to be the person to fuck that up.”

You finally understood. Rafe loved you back. You loved Rafe. Simple. Why did you ever overcomplicate this?

“Ok, thanks Eli,” you sighed, then hung up. You were still angry with Rafe, but you needed to tell him, and you needed to go now.

When you turned around, you ran straight into someone, Rafe.

“I couldn’t just let you walk away, you were crying and-”

“I’m super pissed with you, obviously,” you interrupted. “But I love you, like, love you. And I have for a long time.”

Rafe’s jaw dropped. That’s all he had wanted to hear his whole life, and he only wanted to hear it form your perfect lips.

“I-I-I-” he took a deep breath. “I love you too.”

He went in for a kiss but you pushed him back. “I’m still pissed, and you still have a girlfriend.”

He nodded, agreeing. “Right.”

You pressed your lips to his cheek. He smiled. There was a moment of silence.

“Tanneyhill?” he offered. You agreed, and you walked there hand in hand.

While you weren’t together yet, you would be.

And that was enough for the both of you.

----------------------

obx masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

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princessmaybank · 6 months

Text

Good Girl

Pairings: Boyf!Rafe x Gf!Fem!Reader x JJ

Warnings: Cheating, nudes, spanking, degradation, spanking, 3some, p in v, oral (both), fingering, voyeurism, creampie, etc.

Summary: Reader accidentally sends a nude to the wrong guy.

Authors Note: This is my first time writing something like this! Please be kind! I hope you enjoy!

Moodboard

Fuck. Rafe had me so fucking horny all day. It's not even his fault..I have been thinking about him dicking me down since lunchtime. The ache between my legs was almost too much at this point. My core was begging to be touched, but unfortunately Rafe isn't home. He went on a business trip with Ward, leaving it to me to pleasure myself. He did tell me to message him any time I feel horny and he would try his best to help, so I might just have to do that.

I was home alone because my parents were making some deals over dinner with some new clients.

But before I do anything, I really want to take a shower, I feel disgusting after work every time. I work at a little restaurant called The Wreck with my friend Kie. She got me the job when I told her I didn't want to work for my parents, at least not yet. Since I started working with her, I've met her friends and they seem to like me, well for the most part. JJ is still warming up to me, and he hates Rafe for some reason. All of them do. I understand he can be an asshole sometimes, but I wouldn't go as far as to say I hate him.

After I took my shower I didn't bother putting clothes on. I wanted to send Rafe a little surprise while he was gone.

Y/N: I took this for you baby

Y/N: Photo

I quickly hit send because I was nervous about his reaction but deep down I know he'll love it. I heard a ding from my phone, letting me know I got a message.

???: All for me? Damn Y/L/N...maybe I was wrong about you

My eyes nearly popped out of my head as my heart was beating against my chest. Then I heard another ding come from my phone.

???: Photo

Only a second later and another message came through.

???: That one's all for you.

I sent my fucking nude pic to JJ?? And he sent me one back? How the hell did that happen??? I started freaking out, knowing that Rafe would fucking kill him..and me, but mainly him.

JJ: What made ya come to your senses?

I had no idea how to respond to him. This has never happened before. Maybe I should just be honest.

Y/N: oh hey..can you just delete that and pretend you never saw it...? that wasn't meant for you JJ...

JJ: if it was sent to me, I was meant to see it, the universe just works that way ;)

He saw that I opened the text and that I wasn't responding. Those three dots popped up as he was typing.

JJ: okay, hey I'm sorry. where u at rn? I'll come meet ya n we can talk bout this

My heart nearly bursts out of my chest when I read that message. I'm nervous and I don't know what to do. Fuck. I should clear the air with him.

Y/N: my house..

JJ: drop your pin

I hesitate before sending this man my address. This could go horribly wrong, and I don't have Rafe here to protect me. Whatever, I'm already in this deep and it's just JJ what's the worst he could do?

Y/N: 📍

JJ: omw

I stood from my bed and started looking for an outfit to wear. I don't know why I cared what I looked like for JJ..I shouldn't, but I did. I ended up choosing a little white skirt with a cute blue crop top to go with it.

It took maybe 10 minutes before I heard a knock at my door. I still wasn't entirely sure if I should answer it, knowing who was on the other side, and knowing what he just saw...

I decided that I should just open the door and hopefully he'll understand the mistake.

My heart started pounding again as my hand reached for the knob. Suddenly I was greeted by a familiar face...but it wasn't JJ...

"Rafe?? " I question sounding more shocked than happy. "What are you doing here?" My anxiety was through the roof at this point, knowing JJ is probably just around the corner. Rafe let himself into my house by grabbing my face and pulling me into a heated kiss. He used his foot to kick the door closed, then pinned me against the wall next to it.

"Wanted to surprise my princess. The job got done early. I landed 30 mins ago, rushed over to see you." He says all while rubbing me up and down. "Look at this fuckin outfit, almost like you knew I was coming over princess.." He reached hand up my skirt and soon realized I wasn't wearing any panties. "Naughty girl.." Rafe smirked before attacking my neck.

About a minute later there was a knock on the door. He waved it off and said to just ignore them and they'll go away. Another knock pounded from the other side of the door. "Y/N?? Are you home?" You recognized his voice. Rafe pulled away looking slightly confused before looking through the peephole.

"What the fuck is JJ doing here?" He said gritting his teeth. I toyed with my fingers and bit my lip not knowing how to tell him the truth. Next thing I know he swings the door open.

"Hey ba- Rafe?? ...Was this a fuckin set up?" JJ questioned. I shook my head no as both men stared at me.

JJ came inside and closed the door behind him before joining Rafe and I in the living room. I was told to sit on the couch so I obeyed. The guys stood in front of me towering over me with their arms crossed, trying not to kill me or each other.

"What is he doing here?!" They both asked angrily at the same time. "Can you two sit down before I continue?" I ask shyly. The guys responded with a harsh 'No' timed almost as perfectly as before.

"Okay so here's what happened..." I trail off and explained the entire situation before Rafe turns to face JJ, looking like he is about to murder him.

At some point Rafe lunged at JJ and I had to get in the middle. Rafe grabbed my shoulders trying to move me out of the way. JJ had his hands on my hips trying to keep me in between them. It felt like they were going to split me in half.

It took a while but I eventually got them to go talk it out in my room. I can't speak guy, so maybe they would have an easier time hearing it from each other.

After a while I didn't hear them talking anymore, which was concerning, Rafe may have actually killed JJ..

I went to my room and knocked before entering. I was greeted with a naked Rafe picking me up before laying me on my bed. He placed his lips on mine, giving me one of the most intense kisses I've ever had. "Rafe- whe-wheres J-" I tried to question. "Don't worry about it. He's fine. Enjoy this." He kissed down my jaw and to my sweet spot, sucking on it for as long as he could, in order to mark me.

Rafe doesn't usually give me hickies unless he is angry-fucking me. He must have sent JJ home after their talk so we could have this moment. At least he's not mad at me anymore.

"So you wore this slutty outfit for Maybank huh?" He asked and flipped me onto my stomach, hiking my skirt up above my ass. "And no fuckin panties. You really are a fuckin slut." Rafe huffed before giving me a hard slap across my ass, causing me to yelp as a tear prickled in my eye.

"I'm gonna make you choke on my fuckin cock.." He smirks before flipping me back over. He comes over and hovers my face, his knees on either side of my head. Rafe dipped his cock into my mouth slowly before full on fucking my mouth. "Mmm yeah, suck that fucking cock you whore!" He somewhat gently slaps my face, still pushing in and out of my throat.

As I was gagging on Rafe's dick I felt something down between my legs. A cold, wet, tongue met the heat between my legs and I couldn't see it. "Wait till you see her face Maybank, she makes a pretty face when you fuck her." Rafe announced which resulted in a hum from the mouth attached to my clit.

JJ was eating me out...while Rafe was fucking my face...

Fuck.

I moaned onto Rafe's dick as he continued to fuck my throat. In turn, my moans made Rafe moan. "How'd you say she liked it Rafe..." JJ questioned before shoving his cock inside of me. A loud moan escaped the best it could when he filled me up. "...by surprise, right?" He chuckled as Rafe nodded.

JJ's thrusts caused Rafe's thrusts to go faster and harder. But they both stopped suddenly. Pulling out of both of my holes and they stood next to the bed, hovering me. "What was that??" I questioned, now blushing from seeing JJ's dick for the first time.

Of course he noticed and had to be an ass. JJ smirked at me while stroking himself. "Don't pretend you didn't like it princess.." He slows his motions down before he eventually stops. "Not saying I didn't like it- just confused. You two were literally just about to kill each other, and now you're fucking me." I say confused.

"We came to a conclusion baby. You lead JJ on..and you cheated on me. But we are ready to forgive you, if you let us have some fun with you babydoll.." Rafe simply stated, making me feel like shit because that was not my intention. I tried to counter what he said, but he just shushed me.

"Whaddya say princess?" JJ asked with a smirk. "Yea I mean...it's the least I could do.." I smile sheepishly to them. Rafe stepped between my legs and gave me a long kiss. "I love you, but I want you to understand that this is a one time thing so JJ doesn't have to keep pining after you. So whatever you want from him, make sure you get it from him now, you're still mine." Rafe explained. I'm surprised he's acting this way. He never lets anyone touch his things, especially me.

"What's first?" I asked the guys. "Just let us make you feel good baby, you won't have to do any work, unless you wanna." JJ said settling on the bed next to me. "You said anything I want?" I looked up to Rafe with glossy eyes. He nods with his arms crossed.

"JJ can I suck your dick while Rafe fucks me?" I started to blush because never in a million years did I think this would be happening. "I'd love that princess." He smiled at me.

I got off the bed and got to my knees in front of JJ. My hands sat on his thighs as my mouth lowered onto his cock. "Hmmm fuck.." He moaned out, placing his hand on my head. I felt Rafe come over and line himself up with me. "I love this fuckin skirt baby.." He says before slipping into my wet pussy, which caused me to moan on JJ's dick, which caused JJ to let out a moan of his own.

The guys were trying to set a steady pace between the both of them. JJ was bobbing my head up and down in time with Rafe's thrusts, and boy did it feel, so fucking good.

At one point they made me feel so good and I let out a long moan.

"Good Girl "

I heard them both say at the same time. A string of moans were escaping us all as they continued. Rafe was pounding into me as fast as he could. JJ was now standing with a fistful of my hair, fucking my face. I popped my mouth off of JJ and replaced it with my hand. "If you two don't stop going full force- I'm gonna cum right now.." I whine out.

They both groaned as they pulled away. I got back on the bed and sat in between them, one hand each, shooting to their hair, and massaging. They both started feeling me up, placing kisses wherever they could reach. The moment was over as fast as it came. JJ sat with his back against my headboard and pulled me to sit between his legs.

Rafe crawled onto the bed after JJ put his legs between mine to keep them spread open. I couldn't close them even if I wanted to. Rafe laid between my legs and started lightly sprinkling kisses on my lower lips.

JJ attached his lips to my neck, giving me a hickey, opposite to the one Rafe had made earlier.

Rafe moved to my clit with his mouth and inserted a few fingers into my hole. I gasped and JJ put his hands under my shirt in response.

"Why ya still wearin' this baby? Shoulda been gone a long time ago.." He says before taking my crop top off. Leaving me in my bra and my skirt. He groped my tits as Rafe sucked and fingered me. I was a moaning mess. Everything felt too good. "Guys- l-like I said before..." I say but it's too late and I cum all over Rafe's fingers.

Rafe sat up before placing his fingers in his mouth, sucking off every little drop that was left of me. "Good girl.." He smirked at me. "But, you gotta cum for JJ too princess.." Rafe stated.

I was still coming down from my high. "Cum again..?" He only nodded before sitting in the chair in front of my vanity. He turned it so he could see us sitting on the bed.

"Go ahead Maybank..." He smirked. Just as he was given the green light, JJ flipped us over so he was hovering me. "Hey there princess..." He smirked before planting a kiss on my lips. This felt so wrong to do so I looked to Rafe for some guidance.

He just sat there slowly rubbing his dick, watching us. He nodded for me to continue.

Suddenly this felt so right. I was supposed to have fun with JJ, for Rafe. JJ leaned down to my ear to whisper. "You looked so fucking good in that picture you sent me." He started kissing my neck. "I know you sent it on purpose, don't worry I won't tell him." He whispered.

His hands lifted me off the bed to take my bra off. JJ threw the garment to the side, landing in front of Rafe. He kissed me so hungrily and so passionately it almost hurt. "Jayj..." I whimpered into the kiss. He started grinding his hips against me, his dick touching my clit every time. "I know princess.." He whispered. "C'mere, I wanna make you cum in doggy." He says then plants another kiss to my lips.

I got up on my hands and knees before JJ could move me. "Wrong way baby...I wanna see your face when he fucks you..." I heard Rafe say from the chair. I turned around just like he asked. JJ got behind me when I was settled. I heard a spitting sound and a second later I felt his hand lathering my hole. "Mmmm" I moaned while I grinded back onto his fingers.

"Patience baby.." JJ said before slapping my hole which resulted in me letting out another moan. He grabbed his cock and started teasing my slut with his tip. I moved to lay on my forearms with my ass in the air. My eyes wandered over to Rafe, he was still stroking himself slowly while watching us. His lips curled up into a smirk when he saw the face I made when JJ pushed his length into pussy.

I let out a loud moan and looked Rafe in the eyes as JJ slowly rocked his hips. As JJ quickened his pace, Rafe did too. Almost like he wasn't to cum with us, but didn't want...involved..?

The room was filled with the sounds of moans and skin slapping against each other as JJ fucked me senseless. Rafe had rolled his head back but his eyes stayed on us.

I felt JJ reach for my hair and pull it back, making me arch. The slightly new angle was enough to push me over the edge. "You're such a a good fucking girl for me..." JJ says as I moan out. "JJ harder.." I couldn't say anything else. It was odd moaning another mans name but they both loved it, which made me feel dirty.

JJ gladly fucked me harder. I was going between watching Rafe fuck his hand and watching JJ in the mirror. "Fuck you're so tight princess..." He dragged out. "I'm so close Jayj..." I announce with a whine. Rafe caught my attention with a low groan. I looked over and saw his cum shooting up onto his stomach.

He was still yanking himself, riding out his high, when he said "JJ I want you to cum in her fucking pussy". I couldn't help but moan, feeling JJ's thick cock in my pussy, watching Rafe cum, and him saying THAT.

JJ let go of my hair and held my hips, bringing them backwards to meet his. We were both a moaning mess and Rafe was just watching, sitting there in his mess. He looked afraid to blink, like he was going to miss something. I pushed back onto JJ's dick, wanting more, he was making me feel so good and I didn't want it to end.

"Fuck Jayj- i-im gon-gonnaaa cum" I squeal out. "Me too princess. Are you ready?" I nod after he asked. He counted us down before with both released together, screaming each other's names. I fucked myself with his dick, riding out my high.

"Good girl.." He said biting his lip, helping guide my ass. He slipped out when we were done and gave me a long sloppy kiss, trying to savor the moment, knowing it would never happen again.

Rafe walked away at some point to clean himself up, JJ and I just continued to make out to fill the silence and need. When Rafe returned we all sat on the bed talking about what just happened. "How did it feel?" Rafe asked me. "He's really good.." I say panting, getting butterflies from the recent memory. He smiled at me and JJ before speaking.

"Y/N, I loved the way your face looked when JJ was taking you from behind..." He said while rubbing my back. "I suggest we make this a regular thing." I nearly choked when I heard him say that.

Rafe Cameron...never...shares.

"I 1000% agree" JJ said almost too enthusiastically which made me giggle. "That was both the craziest and sexiest shit I've ever been a part of. Of course I'd love to." I say smiling.

He smiled and I could tell he had a mischievous thought. "Next time I wanna try something new." He smirked to me and JJ.

"I will do whatever you two want if it feels that good.." I blush, looking between both of them.

"Good girl " They are so creepy with that shit...but it's so sexyyyy.

#outer banks #jj maybank #rudy pankow smut #rudy pankow x reader #obx fic #obx x reader #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagine #smut prompts #rafe x you #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader

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reigningqueenofwords · 4 months

Text

I Choose You

Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 1,008 Request: Anonymous. Can you write a fluffy!Dean/reader fic, where she is upset bc her friend is a dick (you can decide why), and Dean comforts her and it’s just like 90% fluff? Please? Thank you, even if you don’t do it, because your fics are great :)

Dean was lounging on his couch watching tv in his sweats when his phone went off. Glancing over, he saw your picture and smiled. He reached over and grabbed it, muting the tv, not caring what was happening.

Clenching his jaw, he got up, jogging up the stairs to his room to grab his wallet. He’d order some pizza to be delivered for dinner, knowing that would help cheer you up a bit. As he grabbed it off his nightstand, he smiled at the picture of the two of you at senior prom the year before. You did school online, not wanting to leave Dean. He didn’t want to go to college, so he went right to work.

Hearing your car pull up, he got up and moved to the door to meet you. “Plan on staying over?” He grinned, motioning to your bag.

You blushed. “Unless you have plans, of course.” Kissing him softly, you made your way in the house that had become so familiar to you.

Dean took the bag from you before his fingers laced with yours. “Come on, let’s go relax, babe.” He gave your hand a small squeeze as he led you up the stairs to his room. He didn’t care that he still lived at home. He paid rent, his car insurance, and bought his own food. The rest went towards other things he may need, in a savings, or to go out with you. People who made comments about him living at home didn’t see his savings account, or see the logic of living at home for a year or two after high school.

Silently, you followed, looking forward to him holding you close. He’d always made you feel safe, and comforted. You watched as he put your back on the top of his dresser and flopped on his queen sized bed. Toeing off your shoes, you crawled up next to him and put laid down, your head on his chest.

The pair of you relaxed in silence for a bit before he said anything. “What did that asshole do?” He asked, his fingertips running up and down your arm.

You closed your eyes and side, leaving your arm over his stomach. “Making stupid comments about us again.” Dylan had been your friend since he’d moved there the end of eighth grade, and you began dating Dean the start of 10th. Your friend had not been happy, and would made comments now and then. You’d even stopped speaking to him a couple times you’d been so upset. Then, he would apologize, and the two of you would work back towards being friends.

Dean groaned. “What was it this time?”

“Bad enough that I don’t think he can make it up to me this time.” You said quietly, trying not to tear up.

He didn’t like that, making him shift to his side, so he could see your face. Cupping your cheek, he kissed your forehead. “Please, tell me.” He had hated Dylan when he’d first met him, but wasn’t a dick. He wouldn’t tell you who to hang out with.

Burying your face in his chest, you held him tight. Dean rubbed your back when his chest felt damp. He’d let you tell when you wanted to, but he really did want to know. Without speaking, you pulled out your phone and handed it to him. Dean kept you in his arms, pulling up your texts with Dylan.

Dean could tell in your messages how you were getting more and more upset. Hell, he wanted to beat the guy more than usual. Sighing, he glanced down at you. “Babe?”

“Yeah?” When you looked up at him, he tucked a strand of hair between your ear.

“Is it alright if I text him?” Dean would have just done it, but the two of you had always been open with each other, and him wanting to text Dylan was something that concerned you.

You nodded. “I never want to talk to him again. I’m tired of it, Dean.” You told him.

Hitting send, he leaned over, putting it on his nightstand. “Problem solved.” He chuckled.

“Oh, boy. I can only imagine what you said.” You teased him.

Dean licked his lips, debating. “Fuck, wait here.” He kissed you, smiling, before crawling over you, falling off the side. You laughed, rolling to your back, propping yourself up on your elbows. You had no idea what this was about, but were curious. He came back in not long after and straddled you, a light blush over his cheeks, which was rare. “So, not what I had planned, but dickwad kinda forced my hand. He’ll likely blurt shit out to someone, word will get around, I’ll get piss–”

You reached up, covering his lips with your finger. “Dean, you’re rambling.” You pointed out.

As you moved your finger, he nodded. “Sorry. Anyways.” He took a deep breath. “Marry me?” He asked, holding out the ring between two fingers.

That wasn’t something you had expected for Dean to ask for a long time- if ever. He’d never even mentioned wanting a family. “Yes!” You grinned, loving the way his face lit up as he put the ring on your finger. Pulling him down to you, you kissed him lovingly.

“There was one more thing.” He said between kisses. “My savings? Is for an apartment. For us.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you closed your eyes. “Oh, Dean.” He started that savings account in 11th grade. You assumed for parts for his car. Seems you were way off. “How long have you been planning this? You’ve had that savings account a while.”

He chuckled. “Uh, I told my dad I wanted mom’s ring the first night I kissed you.” He bit his lip. “He didn’t give it to me until we graduated, though.”

“I love you, Dean.” You pecked his lips. Hearing your phone, you ignored it. “He can go to hell. I choose you, and I always will.” You ran your fingers through his hair.

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester oneshot

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stardust-sprinkler · 1 year

Text

“Bad boy who’s always good to his girl—”

Is very much how I view Touya in like a College!AU.

* Like he either despises or is apathetic to almost everything. 99.9% of people aren’t worth his time, existing power structures are corrupt and can suck his d!ck, society as a whole is the fucking worst.

* But to you? Devoted. Unashamedly. Just fully ready to flip someone the bird and walk away mid-sentence just because you finally showed up to the party.

* And like who’s gonna be stupid enough to make fun of how head over heels he is for you? Of Todoroki Touya?? Do they have a death wish??

* And we all know Touya has definitely started fights over you—he’s stepping back into the dorm lobby after a smoke break and some dude’s making you uncomfortable while you’re trying to fucking study… Our man is throwing punches first and asking questions second. Must’ve been a freshman, because pretty much everyone on campus knows who you belong to. 🤷🏼

* Touya definitely has your name somewhere in his sprawling tattoos and never fucking dreamed of getting a second helmet for his motorcycle until he met you.

* When he did meet you at a party, he knew within the hour that you were gonna be his. Never before in his life has he had trouble making up his mind, wasn’t gonna start now. Before you left with your friends, he’d told you to be ready for him to pick you up tomorrow night.

* Now, you’ve been dating for a while and he has no qualms about doting on you in public. He’s still stoic and expressionless as hell, but he’ll run his hand through your hair while you’re sitting at the coffee bar or press a soft kiss to your temple when you’re posted up in a corner of the library.

* Someone who had a bone to pick with him was stupid enough to crack a joke about how whipped he must be to act like this just for some pūssy… Touya came back 10 minutes later, courteously using his white shirt to wipe his bloody knuckles clean so he could go back to tracing patterns on your skin with the hand slung over your shoulder.

* As for a stunt that mysteriously never got pinned on anyone— There was one time, you were freaking out about an exam with a huge class % that you somehow forgot to study for. Well, it seems odd that the sprinkler system went off for the whole building for no discernible reason… You never asked him about it, just wrapped your arms around his waist that evening and whispered a quiet “Thank you” into his chest. His response was a noncommittal grunt and a tight squeeze before he pulled you into his room and locked the door for the night.

* He’s always painted his nails blue or black, but now he lets you choose the color and do it for him, while he’s just leaning over the cafeteria table and flipping through a text book.

* At some point, you have a few more drinks than usual at a party and when he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, you try to push him away, saying, “I already have a boyfriend, asshole—” before realizing it’s him and it’s the first time you ever hear him laugh laugh. Fast forward to when you’re back at your dorm, he’s going down on you for a whole hour. You thought that, after one o, he was gonna be done—but when you pushed him back a little to change positions, he swatted your hand away and growled that he wasn’t done eating yet. You’d just been such a good girl for him, knowing who you belonged to. You deserved a reward, of course.

* This man’s always touching you in some capacity—holding your hand, slinging his arm around your waist or over your shoulders, pulling you into his lap every chance he gets.

* You have a surplus of little gifts he gets you just because—knows you like crystals so he’ll just procure one from his pocket once in a while on a day when you’re really stressed. Not that you’ve ever asked him for one, or for the snacks he brings over when you’re finally done with your midterms. Even specialty items. Say you’re into something like dragons or (ironically) certain anime characters. Well, occasionally you’ll find tiny figurines or charm bracelets with them on it, just mysteriously left in your room. Eventually you have little collections and the corner of his lip twitches upward watching you fawn over each new gift (and then over him next).

* Any gallery installation or stage performance or capstone project or thesis defense— This man is sitting silently in the rows, wearing the proudest (albeit very small) smile the whole time.

* In turn, being someone who didn’t get enough attention/affection at home—when you get him something for no reason, or pull him tight to your side during movie night, or card your fingers through his hair with his head on your lap, or embarrassingly whoop and holler just because he got some kind of good news… You can see this man just melt for you. No one else would catch it, but his eyes soften and he huffs out a small sigh that even you can barely hear.

* Even worse, when he’s sure you’re too busy furiously thumbing through a stack of books for a research paper or too wrapped up scouring your annotated essay for errors to notice… he just basks in you. Looks at you like you’ve hung the moon and the stars in the sky. So, you’re always caught off guard when he suddenly swings you over to straddle his lap and buries his face in your neck and stays there. You’re laughing and squirming, trying to get back to—something really important, babe—but he won’t let up and you inevitably have to just let him press languid kisses (and leave a hickey or two) along your collarbone until he’s satisfied. And THEN you can go back to what you were doing. (You make sure never to tell him it helps calm and refocus you. Lose your ability to fake complain about it? Not a chance.)

* He loves it when you play with his earrings or necklaces or rings when you’re curled up on the couch, just chatting. Makes his chest tight for some reason. Feels good. As for you, you love feeling his snakebites and tongue piercing when you kiss him—your brain short-circuits for a second everytime.

* Long story long, the resident bad boy on campus is smitten with you… And the rest of the world can go fuck itself.

(I have so many more College!Touya hcs—lemme know if y’all want some!)

#bnha #dabi #dabi hcs #touya todoroki #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader #college au #mha touya #bnha touya #bnha au #bnha dabi #touya x you #dabi thirst #femme character #Bad Boy Who’s Always Good to His Girl

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little-diable · 8 months

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A secret to hold, a secret to share –Professor Aaron Hotchner (Profiling 101 Series, Part 6/?)

Chapter six, here we go! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader enrolls in professor Hotchner's class "Profiling 101", a man she has always looked up to, a man who treats her like an asshole from day one. Will her need for academic validation manage to push the two closer together? Will her bright mind push her into the world of Aaron Hotchner and the BAU team? Will he manage to keep his distance before the world he tries to protect her from can get its grasp on her?

Warnings: 18+, full on smut (finally), oral, piv, some tension

Pairing: Professor!Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (2.7k words)

Profiling 101 Series Masterlist

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Seven

“Have you all read the email I sent you Friday evening?” Aaron Hotchner’s voice echoed through the room, eyes searching the crowd of students, actively avoiding (y/n)’s gaze. A sigh threatened to leave her, wondering if he’d ever go back to treating her like he had done the morning they had spent in his bed before the situation had escalated into whatever it was now.

Since most of them shook their heads, not daring to look at the frowning professor, he let go of a deep exhale, clearing his throat to start speaking once again, “Next week we will start with our presentations, you can choose any case, active or historic. The case will also be the topic of the paper you’ll have to hand in at the end of the semester, so choose something you’ll find enough literature and information on. I don’t think I need to tell you that you need to focus on profiling and how the cases should be worked with.”

(Y/n) couldn’t stop the wave of excitement from flushing through her, no matter how awkward things were between her and Aaron, she wouldn’t allow their back and forth to stop herself from being excited about researching and presenting something she loved to focus on. Giddiness shook through her system as she scribbled down notes, barely listening to him reminding his students that they needed to email him their topic and their preferred date for their presentation.

Aaron was once again cut short by the fleeting time, ending the class with a loud “I’ll see you next week” leaving him. The second the words left him though, his eyes snapped towards (y/n), finally, tilting his head towards the door to wordlessly ask her to meet him outside. It felt like a déjà-vu, reminding her of the awful conversation they had shared the last time she had been in his office.

Nervousness guided her every step as she met him outside the room, following him through the crowd of students to find their way to his office. Nothing had changed since the last time she had been in the room, plopping down on the black couch that felt all too comfortable.

“I need to apologise for the way I spoke to you at the BAU, (y/n). I have to admit it took me a while to see through this mess, but the team is quite fond of you, they know how to guide me whenever needed.” A surprised huff left (y/n), barely audible, yet loud enough to draw a low chuckle from Aaron. “It’s not my intention to play any games, as you called it. But being around you confuses me, I meant it when I told you that I can’t understand what you’re making me feel. It’s wrong of me to have these desires, you’re my student, and you’ll probably join the BAU fairly soon, adding another line I shouldn’t, can’t cross.”

“So, where does that leave us?” (Y/n) whispered her words, eyes snapping down to her hand as Aaron’s big one found hers, fingers slowly interlacing themselves with hers. Silence engulfed the two, slowing their racing heartbeats, and relaxing into the couch they were sitting on.

“The rational decision would be to leave whatever there may be between us in the past.” With a hum leaving her, (y/n) squeezed Aaron’s hand, hoping that the touch may encourage him to keep on speaking, to mention another way out of the mess they were tangled in. But he kept quiet, momentarily allowing her mind to wander, focusing on the thoughts she had pushed away for the past hours.

Ever since she had received the text, (y/n) had been wrecking her head, trying to figure out who could be the one that had messaged her. She hadn’t told anybody about it yet, not wanting to take away the team’s attention from more important tasks. But even though (y/n) tried to distract herself, she couldn’t shake the anxiety sticking to her. An anxiety only Aaron could eventually free her from, she was sure of it.

“I don’t want to leave this behind, Aaron.” His free hand found her cheek, watching her move closer with a soft smile growing on his lips. The sight had something almost unfamiliar to it, a sight she hoped she’d never forget. “But I guess we can opt to meet in the middle. I won’t be your student much longer, and then I’ll not be your student or your team member, at least for a few months. Enough time to figure out where we want this to go without any rules or laws holding us back.”

“This isn’t fair on you, (y/n).” The soft smile on Aaron’s lips fell as he spoke his words, tongue darting out to wet his lips, thumbs stroking her knuckles. Only the humourless laugh leaving (y/n) managed to force his eyes to snap back up to meet hers.

“I think it’s on me to decide what’s fair and what isn’t. Don’t take that choice from me, please Aaron.”

……

(Y/n) couldn’t stop her laugh from rumbling through her as she watched the chaos unfold in front of her, wide eyes focused on Spencer and Derek. The scent of freshly made pasta filled her with warmth, hand wrapped around her glass, feet placed in Penelope’s lap. She hadn’t been able to shake off her excitement as Dave had invited her for his pasta night, grateful for the somewhat fatherly love the man shared with her.

“When did you start working for the BAU?” (Y/n)’s question forced Penelope’s eyes away from Derek, watching him lift Spencer off the ground as if the man had no weight to him. It took her a few moments to reply, mind racing, unable to think through the tipsy fog she was trapped in.

“Years by now, but I’m so grateful about working there, it’s the family I always looked for.” The smile widening on Penelope’s lips had an addicting effect to it, making (y/n)’s smile grow even wider. Deep down they wouldn’t see through the walls she had pulled up, needing to ask questions they’d instantly get suspicious of when they were sober enough.

“And did you build all the software and stuff yourself, or does anybody share these with you?” Ever since she had received that text (y/n) had tried to figure out who had sent it to her. But even though she knew that it hadn’t been one of the team members, she couldn’t help but wonder if any other agent was behind all of this.

“Of course I did.” A tipsy laugh left Penelope, fully turning her body towards (y/n). The blonde woman studied her friend for a few moments, leaving (y/n) panicking, wondering if Penelope saw through the questions all too easily. “It’s my baby, of course, I don’t share it with anybody.” Another laugh left her, a laugh (y/n) tried to mimic, drowning yet another sip to let go of her uneasiness.

Whoever had sent her the text must have managed to hack into the system without Penelope realising it, and follow (y/n) around without her knowing about it. The thought of having a pair of unfamiliar eyes on her left her shuddering, needing to bite down the need to cry about this.

“I’m about to head home, do you want me to drive you back?” A big hand was placed on (y/n)’s shoulder, eyes drawn from Penelope’s glistening ones to Aaron’s coffee-coloured ones. She shot him a soft nod, rising to her feet before she pulled Penelope in for another hug to say goodbye. Aaron studied her every move, watching (y/n) hug the others before she followed him out of the mansion, cuddling into her jacket to shield her body from the cold evening.

Ever since their talk in his office, the two had tried to adjust to their new situationship, if one could call it that. While they had settled on the fact that they couldn’t put a label on their relationship till she’d graduated, neither of them was ready to let go of the other, forced to give in to the confusing pulls they felt.

With one hand placed on (y/n)’s knee, Aaron began to drive them back to her apartment, enjoying the comfortable silence wrapping itself around the two. Even though her thoughts were still racing, trying to figure out who was toying with her, she couldn’t help but feel giddy next to Aaron, grateful that they could finally be honest with their emotions, their longings, and perhaps even their desires.

“Do you want to come in for a few?” Her soft voice filled his car, watching Aaron ponder over the question before he murmured a soft “Of course”, following (y/n) into her apartment. The second they crossed the threshold, the door fell shut with a soft thud, his lips were on hers, pressing (y/n) against the door. With her hands in his dark hair, she kept him close, struggling to keep breathing as her adrenaline thumped through her veins.

No words were needed to be spoken as she parted from him, heavily breathing. She took his hand, and led him to her bedroom, squealing as Aaron pushed her down on the mattress. His laughs made her heart skip beats, silently thanking her lucky stars for allowing her to feel whatever she was currently guided by.

Their lips met once again as his hands tugged her dress down her frame, settling between her thighs with his knees pressing into the mattress. Both tried to drown out their thoughts, fully focusing on one another and the feeling of their bodies searching for their closeness. Within moments (y/n) found herself wearing nothing but her underwear, dilated pupils watching Aaron undress, exposing his scars to her, scars she reached for with trembling fingers, softly tracing them.

With a loving smile widening on his lips, Aaron tilted her chin up, eyes finding hers as he kissed her, pushing (y/n) back down with his hands working on her bra, lips instantly finding their way to her hardening buds. Her moans echoed through her bedroom, urging Aaron to use more pressure, hands fisting his dark roots to hold on before she’d slip away into the new dimension he was about to push her into.

“I have pictured this moment so many times, and yet it had never felt this good.” His confession drew another moan from her swollen lips, hands letting go of his hair to pull him even closer, legs finding their way around his waist. She could feel his hardening cock, begging to sink into her, to feel her walls flutter around him as Aaron fucked her hard, forcing her to forget her name with the intense waves of pleasure swapping through her.

“Me too, fuck, so many times.” Aaron shot her a smirk as he kissed his way down to her panties, eyes wordlessly asking for permission before he pulled them down her legs, groaning at the sight of her dripping heat. No further word left the tall man, head buried between her thighs to let his tongue explore her dripping heat.

(Y/n)’s moans reverberated through the room, growing louder, and stronger with every flick of Aaron’s tongue. His name rolled off her tongue as he buried two fingers in her cunt, forcing her walls to adjust to the unfamiliar touch, hoping that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d touch her like this. She tried to watch him, tried to keep her gaze focused on the excitement burning in his pupils, but the second his fingers found her swollen spot, her head rolled back, giving room to yet another moan.

“You taste so sweet, baby, my perfect girl.” His praises shot shudders down her spine, making her heart skip beats with her lungs aching to cling to some much-needed air. Within a few seconds, Aaron managed to push her closer to the edge, watching pleasure tug on (y/n)’s features with a satisfied grin glued to his lips. “Let go for me I’ve got you.”

She came on his tongue with his name leaving her again and again, riding out her orgasm. Her pants filled the room, slightly groaning as Aaron let go of her, rising to his feet to get rid of his clothes, eyes not breaking contact once. “Are you sure that you want this?”

“God, Aaron, if you don’t fuck me soon I’ll throw a tantrum, I’ll promise you that much.” His chuckles bubbled out of him as he watched (y/n) reach for a condom, stretching it out for him to take. For a few seconds, they were engulfed by silence, allowing the two to momentarily relax as he positioned himself, fingers interlacing themselves with hers before he pushed into her.

Both moaned in unison, eyes fluttering close to relish in the shared closeness, wanting to soak up every passing second. Aaron took his time with his thrusts, not wanting to rush anything, needing to feel her flutter around him, wordlessly telling him how much she enjoyed this.

“More, please.” Her whispers left Aaron smiling, adding more speed to his thrusts, staring down at her with adoration swimming in his pupils. Both were taken up by their emotions, the need to feel their highs flushing through them, the insatiable need for one another neither of them could shake.

She sneaked one hand between their connected bodies, circling her pulsing bundle to give her the last needed push, calling out his name as her orgasm flushed through her. He followed (y/n) down the edge a few moments later, groaning into the crook of her neck. Neither of them dared to move, staying connected, limbs and hearts, souls intertwined by the love thumping through their veins.

“How about a shower?” Aaron murmured the words against (y/n)’s lips, pressing a kiss to them before he let go of her, rising from the mattress to get rid of the condom. She could only nod, kissing him once again, allowing Aaron to pull her to her feet. Slowly she guided him towards her bathroom, freezing in their step as the sound of her doorbell ringing echoed through the apartment.

“I’ll take care of it, you can start the shower.” She watched him leave her side, momentarily disappearing to put on some clothes, but (y/n) didn’t move, body taken up by a weird sensation. Her heart stared racing, mind catching up with the secret she had tried to keep from him, eyes growing wide as Aaron opened the door, eyes wandering down the hallway before they focused on a small wooden box placed in front of her door. “Did you order something?”

“No.” (Y/n)’s whispers left him frowning, eyebrows furrowed as he reached the box out for her to take. Her fingers started shaking, teeth forced into her lower lip. Without needing to open it, she could tell that it was yet another warning, struggling to undo the tight bow that had been wrapped around it. Her heart started pounding as she slowly placed the box down, taking off the lid with a shaky exhale leaving her.

“I should have known you enjoy playing games, (y/n). Let this be my last warning, I always win.”

Aaron read the words out loud, eyes finding her glassy ones as he reached for the picture that had been attached to the text. Another picture of her and Aaron, drawing a sob from her trembling lips.

“(Y/n), what is that all about?”

#Aaron Hotchner imagine #profiling 101 #Aaron Hotchner x reader #Aaron Hotchner smut #criminal minds imagine

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crxss01 · 1 year

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— Heartache

pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ jason grace x reader

summary ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ jason and you were dating before he was taken by hera, when he comes back he chooses piper over you leaving you heartbroken.

warnings ✧˖ ° angst, hurt/no comfort, breaking up (is not even stated, he just dated someone else), curse words, jason is kind of an asshole, i love him but i hate him here, piper was clueless about your existence, no piper bashing.

m. list, main m.list.

a/n . . ◟੭ hey, sweet anon! i found this request so interesting and i really enjoyed (even though it hurt) writing this idea for you!

you stood stunned, looking at your boyfriend as he stood there having just climb out of the greek ship. you were too shocked to move towards him, almost a year ago you had started dating and then a couple of months ago he completely disappeared but that time he was missing only made your feelings for him grow.

you had grown desperate to find him and when you found out that he had been sent to camp half-blood you had felt relieved because that meant that there was a chance he was still alive and that you would be able to see him again.

you finally got over your surprised and when you took one step to run towards him like the blonde had done for percy, you didn’t know how you hadn’t notice the hand that jason was holding or the way he was looking at you with guilty eyes.

those same eyes that used to look exactly like that when he did something that you didn’t like, for example one time he made your entire cohort have cleaning duty for a week for something only one of you guys did. it pissed you off extremely that all of your cohort had to pay for somebody’s mistake, now that look was there and you didn’t like it one bit.

this couldn’t be happening.

during the feast you watched their interactions quietly and you weren’t dumb so you connected the dots quickly, hazel kept giving you glances full of pity and reyna glanced at you once in a while.

when others started going their separate ways, (ella with tyson, octavian leaving with leo and others just doing whatever.) you finally decided to speak up when jason had the audacity to ask reyna if he could show the girl, piper, around.

“jason, i think that we have something to discuss before you do that. don’t you think?” you raised an eyebrow, using all your strength to pray to the gods that you don’t start to cry right then and there.

“umm, sure..” he appeared uncomfortable, and piper looked confused.

“i’m his girlfriend,” you told her. “or ex? i don’t know, last time i saw him i was pretty sure we were even in love with each other.” you said the word like it physically hurt to say, and it did because he even told you that he loved you so what was this shit he was pulling now.

“hey,” jason said before you can continue saying more stuff. “we’ll talk, you don’t have to put this onto her. she didn’t know.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to stop yourself from crying and nodded, turning and walking away from the group expecting him to follow you which he did but not before telling her that he will explain everything later. the way he defended her hurt you so much, it was like you didn’t matter anymore.

you finally reached a place where you could have some privacy with him, it was actually the thinking tree. the spot where you and jason met, where he met up with you a couple of times before dating you, where he asked you out, where you had your first kiss with him, where you two said your first i love you and where you last saw each other until now.

you were the one to name the tree and you remember jason’s sweet laugh when you told him the name, he found it interesting that you liked to come under a tree so that you would be able to think with nothing else in mind and then go and give it a name.

“you remember this?” you asked him, nodding at the tree.

“yeah…” he looked at it and you hoped he was getting deja vu.

“why are you dating her?” you asked him, straight to the point. “you are dating me, jason. that’s called cheating, something i never expected you to do.”

“listen, i didn’t mean to. it just happened.” jason explained. “i really like her, and i want to stay with her.”

“did you have your memories back at the time this feelings continued to grow?” you asked, still trying to keep your cool.

“yes,” he nodded. “but there was nothing i could do to stop it.”

“jason, i—” your voice broke, the tears started to spill out. “i w—waited for you, all this time…”

“i’m sorry, but i didn’t ask you to do that.” jason said, looking at you with pity which you hated. “i want to stay with her because she makes me happier than i have ever been, i’m sorry that this hurts you.”

“you want to stay with her?” you asked shocked, those words had cut deep.

“yes, and—”

a shrill sound pierced the air. lights flashed in the direction you two had come from.

“piper!” jason rushed in that direction without even glancing back at you.

that single word alone was enough to completely shatter your heart.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!

#jason grace #jason grace x reader #pjo #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson fandom #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson greek gods #percy pjo #percy jackson #percy jackson angst #the mark of athena

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whiskey-tango-matcha · 4 months

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Show & Tell (M, cold)

Mark & Matt are back! In this, Matt has an awful cold and they have a busy night. That's pretty much it lol, there's a good amount of ~drama~ because who doesn't love drama? This takes place a couple months after 'Three', when Matt and Mark are dating but haven't told Greyson or Elijah and I'll be honest I've spent a lot of time on it and don't know if I even like it lmao. I hope you guys do, though!! It might suck, who knows!! Also, there's no sick character POV - it switches between Mark and Greyson's POV.

Ok, onward. Let me know how you guys feel about it lol.

CW: Male snz, cold, contagion mention, coughing, fever.

Show & Tell

“It’s not that I don’t want them to know. You know that.”

Mark gave his boyfriend a sidelong look; did he know that? He wasn’t so sure. “Matt,” he said, treading carefully, “it’s been three months. They’re going to figure it out sooner or later.”

Matt sighed, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. “I know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… I mean, Greyson can be… I don’t know… touchy, I guess, about like, relationship stuff. Especially since the whole… Collin thing. And also, he can just be an asshole about dating within the kitchen. You remember when he caught us kissing.”

“Yeah, but I mean that’s just what you guys do, right? Poke fun at each other? And the Collin thing… That was, like, a year ago, Matt. He’s a grown man.”

There was a pause, then, and Mark knew he’d gone too far. Greyson and Matt’s relationship was way more than boss and employee; Greyson had taken a chance on Matt when no one else would. He’d given him opportunities that Matt couldn’t have dreamed of as a kid, and Matt was always quick to point that out when Mark grumbled about Greyson’s anger, or when he called Matt in on his day off, or the way he made fun of Matt making doe-eyes at Mark. Greyson has been there for me since the moment I met him, he always said. You have to take the good with the bad.

More often than not, Mark found himself rolling his eyes at this statement, or muttering Whatever, babe, under his breath, but he also didn’t want to push his new beau away. If Greyson was a weird non-participatory third in their burgeoning relationship… so be it. He’d put up with it, for Matt.

“Hey, I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean that; I know, you’re right, he’s been through it.” Mark pulled Matt in for a hug, making the other man soften. “I’m just saying,” Mark said, pulling away, “that if he doesn’t already know, he’s going to have to find out eventually. Right?”

Matt shrugged, then begrudgingly nodded. “You’re right, you’re right, just… I don’t know, give me a week. Let me take him out and actually tell him so it’s not just, like, a big joke that he parades through the kitchen. Okay?”

Mark smiled. “Okay. Yes, that works. Thank you, baby.” He swept Matt’s bangs off his face, allowed a frown to settle over his own. “You feel really warm. By the way.”

Without missing a beat, Matt pulled away and ducked into the sleeve of his hoodie. “Hh-! Hh’ITSZH-ue!”

“Bless you.”

“I’m okay,” Matt said in response. “Like I said before, I think it’s just allergies.”

“...Fever-inducing allergies?”

“Honey,” Matt said, pulling a hand down his face, “please drop it. We have like two hundred on the books tonight, it’s not like I could call out or anything.”

“So you feel badly enough to call out?” Mark asked, crossing his arms. Matt sighed, loudly enough for Mark to hear the congestion in his chest rattle.

“No,” Matt said. “I don’t.”

“Mmm.”

“Can we go back to arguing about me telling Greyson and Elijah we’re dating? I’d prefer that over getting the third degree about what is, at most, a cold,” Matt said, rubbing his nose on his sleeve. Mark raised an eyebrow.

“So now it’s a cold. Moments ago, you said it was allergies. What’s it going to be by the time you get to work? Bubonic plague?”

“I was thinking something a little more modern. Maybe scarlet fever. Hh- hh’ISHHH-uhh!” Matt crumpled to the side once again, and Mark sighed.

“Hilarious,” he said, deadpan. “You should take some dayquil, or something.”

“I’m okay, honey, really,” Matt said, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you this evening, okay?”

Mark hesitated; what would a good boyfriend do here? He assumed a good boyfriend would scoop Matt into his arms and place him in bed. A good boyfriend would call in for Matt – hell, call in for both of them so he could take care of his boyfriend – and tell Greyson and Elijah to figure it out, restaurant-be-damned. He’d spoon-feed Matt soup and they’d watch Criminal Minds and talk about who on the show was the most objectively fuckable and they’d fall asleep early and in the morning, Matt would be good as new.

But a good boyfriend would also tell their bosses they were dating; a good boyfriend wouldn’t put the onus on Matt to tell Greyson before Mark told Elijah because Greyson was an objectively harder person to tell. A good boyfriend wouldn’t give Matt shit for being nervous because him telling Greyson was akin to Mark telling his own father he was gay and fuck, Matt didn’t even have a father to tell, you asshole, you inconsiderate piece of shit.

He wasn’t a good boyfriend, that much he knew. So instead of manning up in any way whatsoever, Mark nodded and kissed Matt on his hot forehead. “See you tonight,” he said, and continued to kick himself as Matt trudged out the front door.

***

“They’ll tell us when they’re ready.”

Greyson rolled his eyes so hard that they felt like they might pop out of his head. “Oh c’mon, Lij, that’s such a cop-out,” he said, snapping inventory papers onto a clipboard and clicking a pen open and shut many more times than was necessary. “It’s been, what? Like almost four months since the whole making-out-in-my-bathroom incident? And it’s not like they’re good at hiding it, I think Matt slaps Mark’s ass fifty times a day.”

“Is that really new, though? You slap Matt’s ass fifty times a day,” Elijah said, glancing up from his own, much-better-organized inventory clipboard. “I thought ass-slapping was just par for the course in this kitchen. You’ve created a culture of ass-slapping.”

“That’s within the kitchen boundary, Lij,” Greyson said, his index finger and thumb pressed together and punctuating each word of this statement. “Mark is outside the kitchen boundary. The rules are different.”

Elijah snorted out a laugh. “My mistake,” he said, flipping the first page on his clipboard and examining the second. “I figured that culture extended to the whole restaurant.”

“Damn right your mistake,” Greyson muttered. He glanced back down at his papers, then tossed the clipboard on the desk and snatched Elijah’s out of his hand to toss as well.

“Dude,” Elijah said, “I was using that.”

“Do you think Matt’s scared to tell me?” Greyson asked, ignoring Elijah’s annoyance. “It’s not like I’d care. I mean, the whole thing makes sense, they spend seventy hours a week here together. It’s not like it’s easy to find someone to date outside this place, and trust me, it’s not like he’s missing out on anything in the regular world. Shit, if you were down, I’d start dating you.”

“I’d rather eat a jean jacket than date you,” Elijah said, leaning on an elbow on the desk. “And that’s not even because you don’t have my preferred equipment, it’s because of who you are. Fundamentally. As a person.”

“I just don’t understand why he wouldn’t just tell me,” Greyson said, ignoring Elijah’s statement outright. “Matt’s my dude. He’s my muse. He’s like if I had a kid, but didn’t have to do the gross horrible raising him part. He knows he can tell me anything.”

Elijah sighed, a heavy and resigned sound, and took the bait. “Grey,” he said, “yes, he knows he can tell you anything, but he also knows he’s going to get so much shit from you when he does tell you. I’m sure he’s just trying to spare himself the three weeks of jokes about the two of them dating. Maybe, if you could be serious for five fuckin’ minutes, you could approach him and ask him, hey, are you and Mark dating?” Elijah shrugged, both hands held in front of him as though to say just an idea.

Greyson scoffed, annoyed. “You’re one to talk. It’s not like Mark has told you.”

“Yeah, but Mark and I are coworkers. We don’t have some weird father/son codependent relationship like you two. Plus, Mark is only a talker when he drinks and he hasn’t had more than a glass of wine in front of me since they got together, so he knows I know he’s avoiding the conversation.” Elijah gave Greyson a pointed look then. “I’m sure he’s waiting for Matt to tell you. Dad.”

The chef rolled his eyes again and pushed himself to a standing position. “Fine,” he said. “I’m going to talk to him about it today. And I’ll be serious.”

“Great,” Elijah said, picking his clipboard back up. “I’m happy for both of you.”

Greyson placed a hand on Elijah’s shoulder as he walked out of the office and towards the prep kitchen, a gesture to thank him for the pep talk, and Elijah nodded in understanding. It wasn’t the fact that Matt had a not-so-well-kept secret that Greyson found troubling; it was the fact that he felt like he wasn’t able to tell his boss that hurt Greyson’s feelings. The chef got set up in the prep kitchen, pulled out his chef’s knife, and began sharpening it on his steel. He really thought he’d put it in Matt’s head that he could tell him anything. Apparently he’d been wrong.

As if summoned, Matt picked that exact moment to blow through the back kitchen doors – he was wearing a sweatshirt, despite the fact that it was unseasonably warm, and his hood was up. Greyson drew his eyebrows together, confused.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Greyson called from his prep station. Matt swung around, obviously not expecting to see his boss the moment he walked in, and his face immediately crumpled.

“Hh- hhNGTSHZ-ue!” Matt attempted to stifle a sneeze into his elbow, which backfired immediately. “ITSZZHH-ue! Hh’ITZCHH-ue! HRRSHH-ue!”

Greyson blinked, surprised, as his sous gave into the paroxysm. “Wow,” he said when Matt finally stood upright, clearing his throat. “Bless.”

Matt nodded, swallowed, winced. “Yeah. Thangks,” he said, his voice low and congested. He walked towards the prep station – slunk may have been the more appropriate word – and hoisted his knife bag onto the counter. The next few moves seemed robotic, as though the sous chef were on autopilot; push hoodie off head. Roll up sleeves. Unzip bag. Make eye contact with boss. “What ndeeds to get prepped first?”

Up close, Matt looked like an even bigger pile of hot garbage than he sounded; he was pale – sallow, Greyson thought to himself, then vocab word of the day -, his eyes red-rimmed and laden with bags. His breathing seemed painful, labored, and uneven, and before Greyson could say anything, Matt turned back to his rolled-up sleeve to cough. “Dude,” Greyson said, taking a step back.

“Sorry, sorry,” Matt muttered, getting himself together. He walked to the sink and washed his hands, then turned back to Greyson. “Better?”

“That wasn’t what I meant by ‘dude’,” Greyson said, taking a step towards his sous and slapping a hand on his forehead. “That was ‘dude’ as in ‘dude, you look like fucking shit’.”

Matt wiggled out from under Greyson’s hand, annoyed. “I’mb fine, Chef,” he said. “Tell mbe what needs to get done.”

Greyson rubbed his face and gathered his hair on top of his head, buying time. Obviously, the conversation about him and Mark was off the table for the moment, but were they not allowed to talk about Matt’s very obvious illness, either? “Did you take anything?” Greyson asked, ignoring his sous’ question with one of his own.

“I was running late. Also, I don’t ndeed anythi- ITTTSZZHH-ue! HRSHHH-uh!” Matt folded himself in half to avoid sneezing in Greyson’s face, and collapsed into a coughing fit from the force of them. Greyson pressed his lips together.

“Where’d you pick this shit up?” Greyson asked, patting Matt’s back as the younger man tried to compose himself. “You haven’t been out on the prowl with me in months, so I take no blame.”

It was an attempt – a very obvious one – to get Matt to admit he was at least seeing someone, but either Matt wasn’t taking the bait or he didn’t hear him over his own misery. He cleared his throat and stood to his full height. “Can we please just start cooking? I ndeed a distraction.”

Greyson pressed his lips together; somehow, they’d had a whole conversation without really saying anything, a whole back-and-forth with not one question answered. “Okay,” Greyson said, stepping to the side to let Matt get situated at the prep table. “I’m going to grab some shit from the walk-in. You get set up.”

Matt nodded, obviously grateful, and started setting up his things while Greyson turned towards the walk-in.

Well, he thought to himself, sarcastically. That was productive.

***

“Alright, everyone, so we have 245 on the books toni -”

“HhuhhhITSZHHH-ue! Huh-! HhhRRSHH-oo!”

The servers’ heads popped up from their notes in unison and turned towards the closed kitchen doors, ten yards away. Mark cringed; Elijah raised his eyebrows towards Greyson, and the Executive Chef sighed and stood. “I’m gonna go check and make sure he didn’t burst a blood vessel,” he joked, prompting a collective giggle from the servers. Mark felt his heart sink deep into the pit of his stomach.

At his apartment this morning, Matt had clearly been coming down with something. Since he’d arrived at work, it was clear that whatever it was had settled in nicely; Mark had only been at work for two hours, but in those he’d heard Matt sneeze more than he had the entirety of their relationship.

“Jesus,” Mark had said when he first saw Matt, doubled over behind the prep table. “That really went from zero to a hundred. I just saw you, like, four hours ago.”

Matt had attempted to clear his throat before addressing his boyfriend: “Yeah, I guess,” he said, pushing the sleeves of his hoodie down to his wrists and shivering. Mark wanted desperately to tell him to go lay down in a booth or something – better yet, to tell him to go home and go to bed – but he knew he couldn’t do either.

“Can I get you some tea?” he asked instead, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from feeling Matt’s face for fever. Matt shook his head.

“’M fine,” he managed, picking his knife back up and wiping his hands on the front of his apron. “’S just a stupid cold.”

That had been about as far as their conversation had gone; Mark had been whisked away by Elijah to help set the floor up, and Matt had been forced to put his head back down and continue prepping. Normally, Matt would’ve been in pre-shift with the rest of the team, but Greyson had explained when everyone sat down that he was attempting to gain his second wind in the office and wouldn’t be joining.

“Anyway,” Mark continued, addressing the servers while Greyson stood to check on Matt, “like I said: 245 on the books. We do have a few VIPs…”

The servers jotted down what they needed to, and Mark finished his speech on autopilot. Elijah said something about uniforms being cleaned and pressed, and Greyson came back to join them all after a minute or two spent in the kitchen. When pre-shift ended, Greyson stopped Mark from walking away with the rest of the front of house.

“Mark,” Greyson said as the servers went to eat family meal, “hold back a second.”

Mark could feel himself immediately break into a cold sweat; Greyson never wanted to talk to him after pre-shift. Had he fucked up somehow? He knew they were too busy – overbooked, really – but Elijah had approved it. Said they needed the extra covers, since they’d be closed for a week next month. Maybe Elijah hadn’t told Greyson he’d approved the overbooking? Maybe -

“Hey, I just – I wanted to talk to you about Matt,” Greyson said when the servers had all exited to the kitchen. Mark swallowed, his throat dry. Oh.

“What about him?” Mark asked, his heart beating in his temples. Greyson huffed out a little laugh.

“You guys are dating,” he said – not a question. A statement. Mark’s face flamed.

“Did he – have you guys talked?” he asked, feeling his throat close. Greyson shook his head, a smile blooming on his face.

“Nope,” he said, palming Mark’s shoulder. “But now we don’t need to. Elijah!” he called into the kitchen, and Mark felt himself fly into action. He stumbled in front of Greyson before the chef could walk through the kitchen doors.

“Chef,” he said, holding his arms out so Greyson couldn’t get by, “you can’t tell Matt that you know. Seriously, he’ll kill me, he – I mean, he wanted to tell you himself, he said he was going to, like, sit you down and tell you and -”

“Sit me down? He’s not breaking up with me to be with you, I’m so fuckin’ confused why you guys haven’t just told us, it’s not like it’s a big deal -”

“It’s a big deal to him,” Mark said, cutting Greyson off. “It’s a big deal to Matt. I think – fuck, I don’t know, Chef, I think it’s like… you’re his person he gets to tell. You know? And he’s not feeling well and we kind of argued about it this morning and… please,” Mark said, biting his cheek to keep from crying. “Please, Chef. Just… he’ll tell you. Just wait for him to tell you.”

Greyson closed his eyes and sighed. “Fine. Okay. I’ll wait till the end of the week,” he said, moving Mark’s arm to get into the kitchen. “But if he hasn’t said anything by then, I’m saying something.”

Mark just nodded, and let Greyson by. You fucking moron, he chided himself. You absolute asshole. You gave it away, Matt is going to be so fucking disappointed, you’re such a dick, you can’t even let him have this one fucking thing. You just have to fuck everything up somehow. What the fuck is wrong with you?

What the FUCK is wrong with you?

***

Greyson would have been hard-pressed to think of a more difficult service than this one was turning out to be.

It had started fine; the flow of the evening was laid out well, the first turn went off basically without a hitch. Matt was on middle, and had loaded up on every medicine the office pharmacy had to offer, so while he was a little… high, honestly, he was at least in good spirits and able to do his job.

“We doing okay back there, everyone?” Greyson asked, peeking past the board filled with tickets to acknowledge his cooks, and Matt.

“Yes, Chef,” they answered – all except Matt, who hooted as though Greyson was a singer asking his audience how everyone was feeling out there. Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing.

“Only two hundred covers to go!” Greyson shouted as the printer spat out yet another ticket. “Order in, two salmon, three pork.”

About sixty covers in, things began to turn; the servers began to slow down, sending their food in as fire-alls instead of coursed out. The bar became backed up, so Mark was taking bartop guest’s orders and ringing them all in at once, sending a huge wave of tickets in at once – annoying, sure, but something they could handle. But then, tickets stopped coming in altogether – first, for five minutes. Then seven. Then ten.

“Elijah!” Greyson called into the dining room, not caring if the guests heard. The GM ran in at the sound of his name. “The fuck is going on, dude? We have ZERO tickets on the board.”

Elijah winced. “Yeah,” he said, “everyone is camping. We have like thirty people waiting to sit.” Greyson blinked.

“You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not.”

“So you’re telling me, at least thirty people are going to sit down all at once. And order all at once.”

Elijah nodded, solemn. “I wish I wasn’t, but yes, Chef, that’s what I’m telling you.”

Of course, by the time the first set of guests got up and the second set sat down, they had a new problem: Matt.

It was seven o’clock; Matt had taken his last dose of medicine at four, and sitting around waiting on tickets to come rolling in again had stopped the flow of adrenaline. His misery seemed to have caught up with him completely just as the tickets started printing again.

“Order in,” Greyson called for the tenth time in three minutes, “a scallop, three filets, and a venison no dairy.”

“Heard, Che – HTSHH-uh!” Matt wrenched to the side to sneeze into the sleeve of his chef’s coat, an angry, grating sound that made the cooks wince. He coughed painfully into his shoulder, obviously trying to hold back. Greyson bit his cheek.

“Bless, Chef,” he called over the line, pulling yet another stream of tickets. “Christ… ok, guys, I’m going to read all these but let’s just focus on what I just called for now, these people… I mean, they’re going to have to wait.”

“Yes, Chef,” the cooks called – all except Matt. Instead of the goofy whoops from earlier in the evening, Matt responded by ducking beneath the line.

“HRRSHH! Huh-! Hh’ITZZHH-uh! NGTSHZZH-ue! Hh… hhhuh-ITZSHH-ue!” Matt covered his head with his arms, careful not to spray them, and sneezed into his lap until he sounded hoarse. Greyson could hear him attempt to sniffle, to no avail. He stood, shakily, and cleared his throat. “Heard, Chef,” he whispered, his voice hanging on by a thread.

Greyson pressed his lips together, feeling the temperature of his blood raising. God, this fucking kid – he should’ve stayed home, what good was it doing anyone having him here, sneezing himself hoarse, coughing til he was dizzy, probably infecting all the cooks and most likely over or under cooking all the fish. Greyson wanted to snap, Pull it together, but held back.

“Bless, Chef,” he called again, pointedly. Matt just nodded, dazed.

“Go ahead and call the ndext tickets, Chef,” Matt croaked. Greyson sighed, looked up, and yanked the tickets off the printer.

“Order in,” he said again, and again, and again.

***

The dining room was a fucking disaster.

Mark’s head felt like it was screwed on backwards; he could feel himself failing, and with every misstep he hated himself more. Can’t you put the tickets in right? Tracy asked you to help take the order for 32, have you gotten over there? This bar is filled with drinks, the hell are you doing?

If the dining room wasn’t bad enough, in the kitchen Greyson was clearly about to be sent straight over the edge.

“I need runners!” he called from expo, loud enough for everyone in the dining room to hear. Mark cringed, dropped what he was doing, and ran into the kitchen. The printer wouldn’t stop; the window was filled with plates, and the servers were tripping over themselves to get the food onto trays and out into the dining room.

“Mark! Take these, table 24,” Greyson said, pressing three scorching-hot plates into the floor manager’s hands. “And come right back, this fucking food is going to go bad in about three seconds. Order in!”

Mark took the food, dropped it, assessed the red marks on his hands and wrists and headed back to the kitchen. All of this would’ve been par for the course for a Saturday night, really, if not for -

“HTTSHH! HRRRSHH-uh! Hh’NGTTSZHH-ue!”

Matt.

The whole staff could tell he was fading fast. It was eight-thirty, and since about seven he hadn’t managed to go more than a couple minutes without collapsing into a fit of sneezes or coughs. His voice was completely gone at this point, and Mark could tell – even from ten feet away – that he had a pretty significant fever. All of this seemed to just further enrage Greyson.

“Chef,” Greyson called behind the line. “Get your third wind, I’m fucking dying up here I need this food out now! Order in, three salmon, two filets!”

“Yes, Chef,” Matt called, his voice so mangled Mark wasn’t sure how he’d even managed to get the words out. God, this was bad. This was so fucking bad.

***

There was no way they were going to get through all these tickets. There was just no fucking way.

It all felt like a nightmare at this point; Greyson was up to his elbows in tickets that just kept flowing. The food was dying in the windows, servers were grabbing shit that wasn’t theirs and fucking up what little flow they had going. Elijah was pouring free wine because ticket times were over forty minutes. And Matt was completely and totally stick-a-fork-in-him done.

At nine-fifteen, with twenty tickets on the board, Greyson looked up to ask his sous if table 55 was going to be up anytime soon; only to see Matt, caught in pre-sneeze torture with a knife in his right hand, moments away from splitting his left hand open.

“Matt!” Greyson screamed, and the sous chef snapped out of his daze and dropped the knife onto the cutting board. He gasped at the realization that he’d been millimeters away from maiming himself.

Enough is enough, Greyson thought to himself. “Mark!” he called into the dining room, not caring who could hear him. “Come and get your biohazard boyfriend and take him fucking home!”

The kitchen went completely silent. Matt blinked, clearly trying to unpack what he’d just heard, before wrenching to the side. “HHHITSZZHH-ue!”

Mark and Elijah burst into the kitchen then; tickets lined the board. Food lined the window. Matt was crouched down behind the line, and Greyson’s eyes were wild.

“Take him home,” Greyson said, making eye contact with Mark. “Or to urgent care. Or maybe straight to the cemetery. I don’t care where he goes, but he needs to get off my line.”

Mark nodded, and stepped behind the line to gather Matt, who slumped into his boyfriend’s arms. Greyson watched Mark hold Matt close, felt his chest contract when he heard his sous chef whisper, “Baby, I don’t feel good,” into his boyfriend’s chest.

“Go,” Greyson insisted. Mark helped Matt off the line, lead him into the office and pulled his hoodie over his chef’s coat, and walked him towards the back exit. Thank you, Mark mouthed to Greyson, who just nodded in response.

Once they were through the back doors, Elijah stepped forward. “Get back there and help them,” he said. “I’ll do expo. We’ll get through it.”

“We always do,” Greyson muttered, and pushed past his cooks to get to the middle of the line. “Alright: let’s land this fuckin’ bitch of a night in the harbor.”

***

The quiet calm of Matt’s apartment was in such direct opposition to the prior evening at work that Mark felt he might actually have whiplash.

The floor manager checked his phone for the tenth time since he’d woken up twenty minutes before. Elijah, via text, had filled him in about what happened after he and Matt left; it had been a shit show, but they’d gotten it done. There had been worse nights, Elijah said, though Mark couldn’t remember one. His boss let him know that he’d closed the restaurant for the day, to give everyone a well-deserved break. Thank God.

Greyson had texted both Mark and Matt apologizing for outing their relationship, and told Matt he could take as much time off as he needed – not that Matt had seen it yet. The sous chef had passed out the second his head hit the pillow the night previous, and he hadn’t stirred in over twelve hours.

Mark had responded to Greyson; it’s all good, Chef, though he wasn’t sure he really believed himself. He was glad that Greyson had told Mark to step up, to get Matt out and take care of him. But Matt… fuck, he was going to be upset when he woke up.

Speaking of which.

“Has anyone ever told you you text really loud?” Matt croaked quietly over Mark’s shoulder. Mark slammed his phone onto the bed and rolled over to face his boyfriend.

“No, I don’t think I’ve gotten that one before,” Mark said, caressing Matt’s face. Matt smiled, a little sadly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Mmm. Like hot fuckigg garbage,” Matt whispered, closing his eyes. “Tired. Shitty. Fuckigg embarrassed.”

Mark pressed his lips together; he wasn’t sure what to say. He settled on: “Can I make you some tea?”

Matt huffed out a little laugh that turned into a nasty-sounding cough. “In a mbinute,” he said, “I just wandt to lay with you for now.”

So they did. A silence fell over the two of them – Mark stroking Matt’s hot face, Matt with his eyes closed. After a few minutes, Matt opened his red, rheumy eyes. “So, he kndows.”

Mark felt his heart sink. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess he does.”

Silence surrounded them again. “I guess I should’ve kndown,” Matt said.

“I’m sorry,” Mark said. Matt smiled a little.

“You were right,” he teased. “You’re always right.”

“I’m rarely right,” Mark corrected. “But I think we made it pretty obvious.”

“Mmm,” Matt hummed again. A beat went by where neither of them said anything, until Matt’s body took over. “HHRSSHH-uhhh!” he sneezed, exhausted, into his hand and wiped it on the comforter. Mark couldn’t help but laugh.

“Bless you,” he said. Matt smiled, eyes closed.

“You’re gonna get so sigck,” he muttered, on the edge of sleep again already.

“Yeah,” Mark said, pressing a soft kiss onto his boyfriend’s lips. “That sounds accurate.”

Matt opened his eyes, slowly. “You kndow I love you. Right?”

A firework lodged itself into Mark’s aorta, blew his heart right to bits. “Really?” he asked, the wrong answer, but his first reaction all the same. Matt laughed in earnest.

“Really,” he said, closing his eyes again.

“I love you, Matt. God, I love you,” Mark said, kissing Matt’s lips again. “I’m sorry about last night. I love you. Thank you. I love you.”

Matt opened one eye this time, touched Mark’s face, and closed it again. “Thangk you,” he murmured. “’M gonna go back to sleep ndow. If that’s cool with you.”

“Go to sleep, baby,” Mark said, his heart so full he was sure it would burst. “I love you.”

And even though Matt was already snoring by the time he had said it again, he couldn’t seem to stop muttering it in time with his boyfriend’s snores. I love you. I love you. I love you.

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #snzblr #coldfic #male cold #male snz #contagion #coughing #fever #ugghhhhh do i like this??? idk. i think it might suck honestly LMAOOOO #whatever!!!! it's out there now sooooo there's that

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almacambiondaughterofsaleos · 11 days

Note

lmao she ate you up

Again Stolas is an insult to real abuse victims. The show tries to make Stella into this evil harpy while excusing people who have done abuse like Loona because she gets the trauma excuse. Heck, Stolas for all claims of being a victim is actually more of a victimizer than a victim because of how he used his power to trap a guy into a coercive deal to keep his book. People say Blitzo started it when reality he was going to have him in his room and expected him to ravage him even though this was the first time they met in years. The guy has been predatory from the start and I don't care what excuses to try to make him fake sympathetic. Coercing someone into sex for a long time is not a simple mistake it's a crime but since it's hell it wouldn't be punished. Also stfu about him giving his daughter love he will regularly choose Blitzo over his daughter while having the nerve to claim he still loves her.

People claim he wants to give her a normal life while not having two minds of cheating on her mother and obnoxiously still carrying on an affair that broke the family. That is the embodiment of not caring about your daughter. Also coming out of the closet shouldn't be an excuse to hurt people. Again everyone says he's improving but those so-called improvements is still coercing people into a relationship and whining when they rebuff his advances because in the past they treated them like shit and still denies they look do on them. This is the same twit who had the nerve to say Blitzo and Striker sound the same when they told him off for being a privileged asshole he really isn't learning.

There is a difference between being a normal,flawed dad and being a neglectful, selfish asshole who puts his wants before his child. And let me tell you a child shouldn't be forced to sacrifice their stability to make their manchild of a father happy. And even worse he's doing this for a guy he forced into his fantasy and treated like trash. His so-called abuse by Stella is forced and fake. He says he did it to give her a normal life but in reality he just ended up potentially putting her in danger of a unstable mother. Also it's less of an attempt to show males can be abused but the fact that it's a way to make Stolas look artificially better so his abuses on Blitzo are excused. Also Stolas has more power over Stella than he does over him. One thing abusers tend to do is trap their victims. And let's face the fact there is nothing Stella could do to trap him. Stolas was the one who could do that to her with his privilege but he doesn't exercise it because the narrative needs to make him look like a saint compared to her for putting up with everything.

Also not being able to read the room and his microaggressions have been detrimental because it feeds into his flaws and even worse his lack of accountability for his actions. He freaking put a cigarette out on Blitzo and we just expect him to see him as not looking down on him. And again this is the guy who used his own butler as a squeeze toy and Blitzo rightfully points out how he treats his own servants. The way he treats other imps have influenced why Blitzo callled bs because his microagressions aren't actually micro when he has acted like a typical royal who has abused the lower class. And again his obliviousness to read the room has hurt his relationships because people are telling him straight to his face but he ignores them because he'd rather live in his own world where he does nothing wrong. In summary, he's a selfish asshole people are babying and pretending that he's just a traumatized, flawed man when in reality he's worse than that and acting he ain't is just whitewashing.

Also stfu about saying we hate it for no reason. We hate it because it left the og premise for a shitty love drama with an insufferable creator's pet who ends up taking away anything interesting plot and refuses to own up to his mistakes. He always is a hindrance on the story and resent him for it.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year

Note

AITA FOR KISSING MY ROOMMATE GOODNIGHT?

(everyone is in their 20s. names are fake)

I’d like to start off by giving background, I(M) live with my roommate Salt. We’ve been living together for a couple of years now and met through mutual friends.

I’m straight. Salt is gay in a very open, stereotypical sense(yk flamboyant, effeminate etc) and I’m not saying this to judge him/say I resent him or something he’s a dear friend of mine and I couldn’t care less abt his sexuality or how he chooses to express himself. However it’s important to mention this for the sake of AITA

The actual ‘issue’ started a year ago, where we were both drunk coming home from a party, I was struggling to get my keys out so he called me a idiot and then just.. kissed me??

That caused me to question my sexuality for a while because being a straight man you’d think I’d be repulsed or bothered by it but no I didn’t really enjoy it(not like there was smth to enjoy it was like a couple of seconds) but didn’t really mind it either in fact it didn’t made me feel any different than how I’d feel kissing a random girl I suppose?

So yeah I experimented with my sexuality for a week or so and even almost hooked up with some guy but nope. Still straight. Just didn’t mind him(probably because of how close we are)

Anyways back to the point after that Salt avoided me for a while but in the end we did have a talk which was basically him saying he was not attracted to me, how it was a spur of the moment thing and also apologizing if he made me uncomfortable.

To that I told him he did not and joked about how he could do it again.

Fast forward a month(?) later the “kissing the homies goodnight” meme came out, so one time I asked him where was my goodnight kiss was at and he actually did it, after that we just continued doing that ig I don’t think none of us thought much of it other than some night time ritual.

Here comes the actual AITA part, I recently got a girlfriend(we’ll call her Pepper). I’ts not like I’m super in love with her but she’s a nice girl and I genuinely like her so I wish to keep her happy.

The issue with Pepper is that she talks a tad bit too much, I normally wouldn’t mind it as I’m on the quiet part, but she expects me to memorize everything she has told me(not in the “do you remember my friend” type of way in the she tells me about 10 different people and gets upset when I don’t remember their exes names or what did friend7 did on lunch a month ago type of way) she also has a tendency to hyperfixate on shows and talk about the plot & characters as if they’re actual real people which makes it hard for me to understand if something she says is about a show or real. She gets really upset if I forget even the smallest things about those stories and rants about how I never listen to her. I tried talking to her about this but it only ends with her crying so I just keep shut to keep her satisfied

A week ago I was having a really bad day of migraines and nothing seemed to help but me and Pepper had made plans to hang in my place and I didn’t want to cancel. She comes over and starts talking about her sister in life’s brunch. I ask her if she could slow down a bit cause my head hurts and I can’t really keep up.

Well she takes it the wrong way and starts yelling at me about how I always am like this and how I never listen to her. I admit I’m the asshole for saying this, but I ask her if she’s unable to sit down and have a conversation like an adult. This makes her calm down a bit and she sits down so we can discuss.

I try explaining to her how it’s unfair how she expects me to remember everything and I’d be more than happy to listen to her, maybe just slow down a bit?

In mid of it she has this weird smile on her face and tells me I look hot mad, she then leans over to kiss me which I pull away from because it feels like she’s just trying to change a topic and I think this is an important convo for our relationship.

This is the moment Salt decides to arrive at home(I should also mention he’s TERRIBLE at reading the room) he comes over gives me my goodnight kiss and leaves.

(I would like to add its not like we make out or something. He just gives me a peck on the lips, says goodnight and leaves)

This drives Pepper crazy. She starts shouting at me on how I’d not kiss her but him? And that I could go ride his dick if I’m that gay for him. She storms out of the apartment

I’d like to add that Pepper has never said anything about me and Salt. I never told her about the goodnight kiss(Because I mean who goes to their girlfriend like “hey btw I kiss my roommate at nights. but no homo”?) but we never hide it either in fact I’m pretty sure we did that while she was in room once or twice too. Pepper has made jokes about us being gay and how she feels bad about getting inbetween us but never anything on being uncomfortable or not liking it.

Now it’s been a week and we haven’t talked since. She is not answering my messages and I stopped trying to contact her from there but I’m starting to doubt myself, am I the asshole here? Should I go apologize?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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msfeaths · 1 year

Text

TUTOR

warnings : none

pairing : peter parker (mcu) x reader

summary : when peter parker simply fell in love with you...

a/n : make any requests you want ! i'll be glad to do them if i can :)

The first time Peter Parker ever saw you, it was mid-february, when you juste came in and sat in the same classroom as he was. Professor Harrington introduced you as a new student, giving his speech saying people had to be nice.

Oh Peter wanted to be nice with you. But he immediately thought he would never had a chance. Of course, your hair looked so smooth, you seemed brilliant, and after a while he noticed the way this cute dimple would show up any time you smiled.. You were so pretty to his eyes, even too good to be true.

But you sat next to this other guy. Obviously you just sat at the first seat you saw, not knowing anybody. But he started talking. He was much more a talkative person as Peter ever would be, much more popular but also much more an asshole. And you noticed that quickly. Peter knew you did, because he kept observing you any time he had the chance, and he saw the way you'd back up a little when this other guy would talk to your face. The way you avoided catching his sight. You did stay in his friends group though, and that's what Peter didn't understand.

He was just thinking about it, at lunch, while Ned was telling him about this new game he cracked yesterday. "Hey, are you even listening to me right now ?" he asked, turning his head in the same direction Peter had. "Ah, I see" , Ned kept going.

Peter would sometimes - pretty often - daydream about how would it be to date you. Would you agree to spend lunch time with him and Ned ? Go to his place ? To hold his hand in public ? Or even kiss him ?

"Why don't you go and talk to her ?" asked a girl who was sitting at the same table. MJ constantly watched as Peter was almost drooling on himself just by seeing you.

"W-What ? Why would I go-" he started before getting cut off. "Come on, not to me" she answered. "You've been addicted to {Y/N} since day one". Peter frowned, denying, but he knew this could never change her mind. "MJ's got a point, dude. And maybe you have a chance with {Y/N}, who knows !?" Ned said and his friend immediately looked around to see if anyone might have heard. "Shh Ned are you crazy ?? And don't say stupid things like that.. Both of you". "Whatever", MJ replied, "But it seems like she wouldn't say no if you asked her to try a new friends group. Her's pretty lame".

Peter slowly raised an eyebrow and looked back at you, to see you walking in his direction. He was wondering, what was happening ? Were you actually going towards him ? You met his eyes and gently smiled, not really knowing how to act with him.

"Hi" you started when you reached his table. Peter looked at Ned who was way more excited to see you talking to him. He elbowed him so he could answer you. "Hum, h-hi ?" "Can we do anything for you ? Can Peter do anything for you ?" Ned immediately asked to help his friend. MJ rolled her eyes just by hearing the conversation.

"Yeah, actually" you smiled. "Mr Harrington told me to talk to you... It seems like you've been chosen to be my tutor. Im Y/N, by the way". You didn't really like asking for this - even though you did not really choose it - but Peter immediately nodded, shyly but still. "Yeah -yes of course no problem !" he replied. "Great ! Thank you. We can meet later at the library ?" you proposed. "The library is closed this week, what a shame !! Though, you should go to Peter's. The.. Temperature is great there. You know, to work..." Ned tried to keep going, making you smirk a little bit. You noticed how Peter's eyes suddenly became wide and the red colouring his cheeks. "Oh, well if you don't mind... You know what ? Just text me later today" you gave him your number under his flabbergasted eyes. He nodded and you went to class after smiling at him one last time. It is probably that exact smile that made him realise how screwed he was.

Peter did text you later that day, sending you his address and how to get there from school. You suggested to join him there at 6:00pm to what he agreed.

You arrived in front if his flat in Queens and called him so he could open, and there you were, on his dining room table, tons of books spread out next to you both. He spent a whole hour explaining all the little details that were important in every chapter that you've missed. Good for him, you were a fast learner, something that made him like you even more. He would ask you some questions to check if you were following, and you always were. That kept going until his aunt came back home. "Hey Pete, I've been trying to reach you out for an hour now and you- oh", she smiled widely, "Hello. Excuse me I didn't know you had company", she said, looking at both of you in turn. "May this is Y/N", he said, hoping she wouldn't say anything embarrassing. "Hi, I'm sorry I hope I'm not bothering. Peter is helping me with all the things I've missed at school. I'm a new student".

"No of course it's no problem ! I am always glad to meet Pete's friends. You can even stay for dinner ! Just make sure to tell your parents" she added and didn't wait for your answer before going to another room.

"You don't have to" Peter said, "Stay for dinner, I mean. N-not that I don't want you to stay, I mean you- I don't mind if you stay. At all ! It's just- ugh - if you have anything else to do, don't feel forced to stay here". You smiled at him as an answer before adding "I'd be glad to stay, I don't have any important plans".

So there you were, sitting at the small kitchen table with Peter and his aunt who had just ordered food, since the dish she started had burnt. It was simply pizzas from this place you didn't know, but Peter assured you they were the best.

"There. Start with this one, Joe's an expert at it". And indeed, you were surprised by the amazing taste of this basic pizza. Dinner kept going, and May wanted to know more about you, much to Peter's despair, even though he was interested by anything you were saying.

"From what Peter told me, you quickly made a name for yourself at school. Do you move a lot ?" she asked. "Yeah, actually. I've moved like, 12 times because of my father's job. I repeated a grade because of it" you answered with a sad smile. "Wait you're a year older ?" Peter suddenly said. "Oh no, I skipped a grade in primary school, so it's like it never changed". Peter nodded "Must be hard, I mean, moving all the time".

You looked at him quite surprised. People usually thought you were lucky because you were able to travel and meet a lot of people. Thing is, when you move that much, you don't really have time to get used to the place and make real friends. And it seemed like Peter guessed that. You liked the fact that he wasn't superficial, like a lot of people. So you smiled slightly, letting the cute dimple that he liked make its appearance "Kind of. But it feels like im gonna stick around for a while, this time". And you might didn't know, but at this exact moment, Peter never had been more thrilled.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #marvel #tom holland #tom peter parker #spiderman #love #falling in love #high school peter #peter x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you

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typellblog · 4 months

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Suruga Devil - An Analysis

Something I’ve been thinking about is how even though Oshino disappeared six books ago, some way or another a specialist manages to crawl their way into every arc. Almost irregardless of the circumstances, these kids need someone to explain the problem to them. To bring them face to face with the truth they haven’t quite realised yet.

In Hanamonogatari, though, advice might be the last thing that Kanbaru Suruga needs - despite, or perhaps because so many different people want to offer it to her.

I’ll be riding my arc formula all the way from Bakemonogatari until the wheels fall off, so I think here I want to talk about the title again.

Suruga Devil. Isn’t that odd? It almost sounds like we’re dealing with the exact same oddity as her first arc. Except there’s a different Devil-sama in this one, someone who has more devil parts than Suruga herself. Numachi Rouka is also an oddity, by virtue of being already dead, and by that logic Suruga must be the ‘victim’ of her haunting.

The theory is floated here that all ghosts work similarly to Hachikuji. They hang around because of a certain regret, and people with a similar regret or issue are the only ones that can see them. What, then, is Rouka’s?

I think there’s something to be said for how obviously she wants to play basketball with Suruga again.

Even in a series full of unreliable narrators Rouka is unique in that we don’t get to see her internal narration, just how she chooses to present her life story to Suruga. There are hints that she was spinning it a bit - Higasa mentions that ‘family issues’ Rouka hardly talked about also contributed to her suicide, not just the broken leg.

Frankly I see in Rouka someone trying to put up a strong front to hide how severely something actually affected her. She refers to herself derisively as misfortunate, acknowledges the suffering that it caused her, but still tries to make herself seem distant from it, like it’s something she’s already dealt with. Like her misfortune-collecting has made her happy again.

Her initial attitude is hostile, confrontational. She seems like she’s trying to upset Suruga, describing her own activities in a tone that makes it obvious how unapologetic she is about the scumminess of it all. She wants to feel powerful, in control of the situation, even if it means she has to come off as an asshole.

In their final match Suruga leans into it, matching Rouka’s hostility and desire to compete with her rather than running away from it. I want to say it’s a way of paying her final respects.

Rouka says she didn’t feel like she ever suffered a clear loss in life. Her injury didn’t come from a dramatic final showdown. Losing her scholarship didn’t make it impossible to continue schooling. And her leg’s rehabilitation didn’t make it impossible for her to live on. But at the same time, all of these things ground her down until she didn’t know what to do. Rouka says you can run away from almost every problem, and she did. She ran away from school. She ran away from getting a job. And in the end, she ran away from life.

Kaiki remarks to Suruga that she can’t run away from all her problems. In his case he makes it brutally literal, but in an emotional sense he’s not somebody Suruga can ignore either, this weird older dude that has a history with her mother. Koyomi and Hitagi apparently told her to run away as soon as she met him, but they must not have considered he might have no ill will towards Suruga, not do anything that justifies running away from him.

When Rouka gets on top of Suruga and draws close enough to kiss, she could run. She knows she could run. She doesn’t. Did you want her to kiss you? Some things you can’t run away from, because deep down you don’t want to. Like the dark reverse side of a wish.

For Rouka, the Rainy Devil is a competitor. It actually does something to solve people’s problems, where her method allows these anxieties to work themselves out by having the people in question do nothing at all. Some things are only made worse by worrying about them - in the hands of the Rainy Devil these problems that may have worked themselves out over time instead get escalated into potentially life-destroying issues. Rouka isn’t one to make use of the devil’s arm, Suruga thinks. She would simply run away from the problem, not rely on external means to solve it. She’s strong like that. Strong enough to pretend her problems don’t matter to her.

Only to pretend, though. The phrase “It’s better to regret doing something than regret not doing it” comes up. Rouka is of course on the side of regretting not doing something. A third path between victory and defeat. It has its advantages, Suruga does acknowledge it. But it can’t resolve anything. Rouka’s problems still exist, she just isn’t facing them. What Suruga does is make Rouka confront her and in doing so symbolically confront everything. It gives her a clear reason for her loss. It lets her let go.

I think the reason that Rouka is so confrontational with Suruga, so eager to play basketball again, is because she knew this on some level. She prefers to regret not doing something, but of course that means she still regrets not doing something. She still wants to do it, still wants to play a proper match and finish off their middle-school rivalry.

I wondered what Rouka’s specific regret was, as a ghost, and while that game is about as close as anything, it still feels like I’m missing the big picture. Rouka doesn’t just collect misfortune, she collects devil parts. The things that show up physically on your body to prove you made a wish. The things that remain so long as that wish isn’t granted. The physical manifestation of regret for a choice that still has Suruga checking the news every morning to make sure she didn’t do anything during the night without remembering.

Hachikuji gets people lost because she is lost. Rouka frees people from the regret of doing something because she herself never did anything about the situation she found herself in. It’s why she’s so interested in hearing the stories, along with the devil parts. People who did something she could never do. People who failed and became even more unfortunate than her, thus proving her right.

She takes the devil parts from people who don’t want them anymore. You can’t run away from something if you really do still want it, but Suruga is well over it at this point. Consider how Suruga deals with the devil’s continued presence in her life. Refusing to run out of fear that someone might be faster than her. She used the arm to pursue Hitagi to the point of destruction, but in equal measure refused to do so, and in doing so was unable to replicate Koyomi’s success. In that sense, when Kaiki says you can’t outrun everything, he’s telling her that it’s okay to lose. It’s okay to try, and then fail. It’s okay to just hand the arm over to Rouka and move on.

Higasa remarks that Suruga seems too positive of a person to have heard the Devil-sama rumor - because that’s the type of person Suruga is seen as. Polite, enthusiastic, direct, a star athlete, a hard worker, a rich kid, a goody two-shoes. The type of person who would take issue with Rouka’s methods. Rouka expects a fight, because in a lot of ways Suruga is Rouka’s opposite, someone who would slap her in the face upon hearing about what she’s doing.

At the same time, Suruga is the type of person to immediately second-guess that reaction. She lets Rouka’s hand sit on her chest for an uncomfortable length of time (the symbolic gesture associated with taking her devil arm!) because she feels bad about hitting her. Of course she would. She straps her arm to the wall at night because she’s scared of hitting someone again.

In other words, contrary to expectation, she’s the exact type of person that would encounter Rouka. The correct type of person to hear the Devil-sama rumor. The type of person that’s still burdened by the regret of a wish that turned into an obsession. Exactly the type of problem that can be solved, will be solved, simply by doing nothing.

I said I still wanted to talk about the arc formula, and here it raises an interesting question of where exactly the specialist comes in. Kaiki, of course, is prominent in this novel - but even though he helps, he hardly explains anything. He has a policy, Rouka tells us, of only sharing half his information. It’s a little like Oshino’s rule of balance, but even less helpful. He shies away from the spotlight out of what I imagine is self-preservation - running away from Koyomi and Hitagi in Karen Bee, blatantly subverting their expectations that he explain Karen’s oddity. He does it anyway, but it’s pointless. The fever disappears on its own.

Where Meme’s balance is to make sure he doesn’t interfere too much in others’ problems, ensure his surprisingly impressive spiritual abilities don’t create further disturbances in the course of solving them, Kaiki’s balance is to make sure he always has another opportunity to mess with people in the future, to ensure his practical-minded refusal to believe in spirits entirely doesn’t end up biting him in the ass.

Even so, we’ve come to expect someone to come and clear things up, explain that which our protagonist was too slow to grasp on their own, put a neat little tie on the end of things. Like Tooe Gaen, perhaps? Deceased but apparently no less of an authority on the supernatural. “The motivation for justice is envy of evil,” we’re told, explaining precisely what left Suruga so unsettled about Rouka. Rouka did what she could never do, just like Suruga did what Rouka couldn’t.

It’s a nice enough explanation, putting things into the dualistic perspective that Tooe seems to prefer. “If you can’t be medicine, then be poison, otherwise you’re just plain old water.” It doesn’t matter if you help others or hurt others as long as you do something, act in accordance with your nature, don’t let yourself be bound by the restrictions of society or conscience. Those are the type of people she seems most interested in, and the type of person Suruga ought to become as a result of this arc - someone who acts, as opposed to the inactive Rouka.

And yet neither her nor Rouka seem to fit into Tooe’s format. Rouka, despite being plain water, is still muddy. A swamp. That mud, composed of everyday misfortune, is nothing nearly so interesting as to be called poison. Suruga is even more confused. A flash-flood, capable of clearing up the dirt that Rouka collected?

Suruga didn’t envy Rouka because she was evil. The implication there is that Rouka took pleasure in shattering social boundaries that Suruga felt obligated to stick to. But Suruga has already experienced what it’s like to violently pursue one’s own wishes in disregard of the feelings of others. It’s not fun! Suruga is jealous of, if anything, Rouka’s coolness. Her ability to roll with the punches, accept what happened to her with a laugh, shamelessly use her misfortune and pitiability as weapons.

And Rouka, despite how she presents herself, was quite clearly not evil. Her offered ‘help’ is for entirely self-centered motives, and yet she’s much more concerned with the lives of others than her own. She does act like she doesn’t care about the people asking her for help, but all the same she does redirect those with more serious issues to the correct services. She did say she genuinely wanted to help Hanadori Rouka, the girl she met with the left leg, which is surprising from the perspective of Suruga’s vague animosity towards her, but completely understandable if you just think of Rouka as a normal girl.

Suruga is neither good nor evil, as Koyomi puts it at the end of the book. She didn’t do the right thing, or the wrong thing. Neither did Rouka. They simply couldn’t look away from one another. Looking away, like running away, is only something you can do if you don’t really want to look. Even if Suruga ran away Rouka would have kept haunting her. She had the qualifications for it. Similarly, I feel like Rouka simply couldn’t look away from people’s misfortune, from the devil parts. Oddities arise for a reason, people have to want them on some level, and perhaps that’s true from the oddity’s side as well.

Speaking of Koyomi, though, he’s the last to give advice. He encounters Suruga at her lowest point, where she doesn’t know what to do, and quite literally helps her get back on her feet. His specialist qualifications are a bit iffy, but this is a timeskip - he’s in college, he’s more or less overcome his coming of age stuff. The thing is, his advice is to ignore everyone’s advice. For Suruga to act like herself, act on her instincts. To do neither the right thing or the wrong thing.

Ironically, characteristically, she takes the advice anyway.

She’s immediately less unsettled around Rouka, more confident in how she wants to play it. I think about her bluntly stating she’s an exhibitionist. It’s a pervy joke, something that’s been oddly absent in this book so far. One of the things we realise, looking at the world from Suruga’s benefit, is that her perversion, her exhibitionism, frankly even her queerness and interest in BL was much played up for the benefit of Koyomi. At the same time, though, I don’t think that makes it somehow false or an inaccurate representation of herself. She was able to be more overt with these things around Koyomi, because he was accepting of it, and that’s a largely positive thing.

It’s not a coincidence that her meeting with Koyomi gives her the confidence to be more like that with Rouka, or that this line about exhibitionism actually ties into an important part of her character. You see, right after, Rouka says it must have been tough for her to conceal the devil’s arm.

I think about the arm as representative of the stigma of queerness, as something that paints her desire for Hitagi as animal and violent (even as it’s capable of finding perfectly healthy expression on the flip side), as something that she has to conceal from others. Recall how in Suruga Monkey her being a lesbian is revealed right after the arm itself, and it’s her sexuality that Koyomi finds the more shocking.

From that perspective, you could think about Rouka as helping the devil part bearers integrate into society by removing the outward signs of their queerness, their difference. She takes it all on herself, with her oddly dyed hair, baggy tracksuit, put-on limp. She takes it all on herself because she no longer needs to live in normal society. No longer can.

It kind of explains more of Suruga’s hesitance to let Rouka go. It’s not like she wants to keep the arm. It’s not like it represents the truth of her sexuality in itself. She was gay before the arm and will be after. I think it moreso represents Tooe’s approach to identity and self-change. You can be whatever you want, but becoming is an inherently painful process.

We’d like to think that Tooe’s message was that you should learn to change yourself rather than relying on suspicious magical artifacts, but the fact that she exposed Suruga to that risk in the first place indicates she’s fine with danger as a teaching device. Fine with her daughter becoming poison. Maybe even fine with her killing someone.

In the end, all the arm does is give her an inferiority complex. Her admiration of Hitagi, her graceful running style, is built on the fact that Suruga herself doesn’t feel she can run like that. She’s faster, but also uglier, more desperate. Her admiration of Koyomi, his self-sacrificing nature, is built on her shame over not being able to help Hitagi more herself. She’s self-effacing, but also uglier, more jealous.

Suruga is glad to lose the arm, but she still feels uneasy about Rouka getting it. About being saved by someone else. Aren’t people supposed to just go ahead and save themselves? In this one thing, at least, Rouka is a more helpful specialist than even Oshino Meme.

On that topic, the last person to give Suruga advice is Rouka herself. At the end of their second meeting, Rouka tells her to live a normal life. Do all the things I couldn’t do. She’s a negative example, telling people to not end up like her. Just stay in the closet. This, too, will pass.

That, kinda sucks though. Integrate into society? Drop all visible signs of your queerness? Get a boyfriend? Rouka’s channeling old tragic yuri tropes for the last time she thinks they’ll ever meet.

Is that really what Rouka thinks? Does she really envy Suruga’s potential to be normal? To get a job? Because the opposite is precisely what Suruga envies about her - Rouka’s ability to ignore social expectations. The thing is, after their final match, the advice changes again. Who cares about studying for exams? Just start playing basketball again. This is really the only thing I can imagine Rouka envying Suruga for. It’s the path where she gets to make use of her arm again.

Saying that basketball is representative of Suruga’s queerness here is even more of a stretch than applying that to her arm, but there’s at least one important respect in which the analogy kinda works.

The way she wins the game.

Basketball is a game for more than one player. The phrasing is a little awkward - ideally it would read “Basketball is a game for two players” to make the comparison to romance even more explicit, but - that isn’t true, is it. So the fact that there are exactly two of them playing becomes a little more significant, I think.

They have to combine their efforts to get the ball into the hoop. That’s a disingenuous way of putting it, when they’re on opposite sides, but it’s still true. Rouka, after all, couldn’t get it in alone. That wasn’t her aim in the first place. She was just trying not to lose.

Suruga didn’t just let her lose decisively for the first time, she also let Rouka win. Rouka wasn’t passed to, much, when she used to play. This is the first time she realises that basketball can’t be played alone.

And, well, when you put it in that sense, basketball isn’t just representative of romance, it’s representative of life in general. When you look back on Rouka’s backstory, at this point, one thing stands out. She never relied on anyone else. She never had anyone to rely on. It’s so bad that she ends up in Suruga’s orbit. The anime opening portrays what it might be like if they had a closer relationship, but that’s something that had to be invented in retrospect, because they really didn’t talk much. They didn’t even properly play against each other much. But when it comes down to it, Rouka is drawn to Suruga’s family inheritance of the devil parts, Suruga’s family inheritance of an annoying conman uncle, and in the end, back to Suruga herself.

Suruga’s not the only person who ever truly understood her, as you might expect from a school rivalry situation. Suruga is simply the only person in a position where it’s even possible to truly understand her. The only person that could have drawn that final dunk out of her. The only person who could remind Rouka that she really did enjoy basketball, enjoy life.

In doing so, it serves as a reminder to herself, as well.

Thanks for reading, everyone! Call this the Pride Month special, even though I didn’t discuss the queer themes of this story as much as I would have liked. Next: Otori. Oh boy.

#monogatariposting #hanamonogatari #kanbaru suruga #numachi rouka

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gretavanlace · 1 year

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Poppins (part 7)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, angst, depression, alcohol abuse, cheating, illusions to physical violence, language, drug use (weed, calm down), masturbation, oral sex (f/rec), shitty editing (as always), etc

“It fucked me up.” Jake confesses, passing the dwindling blunt over to you, staring up at the curling smoke as it dances above your heads.

If someone had told you that your night would end lying beside Jake on your living room floor, head and heart still reeling from a most exquisite orgasm and the taste of his own still satiating your appetite for him, you’d have suggested they consider penning fictional novels.

And yet, here you are, and here he is, and it’s bordering on perfect…save for the remembrance of pain that washes the edges of his words in black.

Refusing to tell the story that wasn’t his, he’d decided to quell your interest with one that he felt worthy of sharing.

“She wouldn’t tell the truth. Not at first. Which was a betrayal in and of itself. I thought, who the fuck are you to deny me what I’m entitled to? You know? I deserved the truth…that belonged to me.” He watches you draw in a lungful of smoke and then brushes an errant lock of hair out of your face.

“You did deserve that.” You agree softly on the exhale, avoiding eye contact so as not to break whatever spell has been cast over the two of you to loosen his tongue. “We all deserve that. Truth. Though we so often don’t get it.”

He sighs to let you know he’s heard you, and that he knows you’re right. “I could smell it on her. The deceit hung in her hair like campfire, lingering in her space - sickeningly sweet perfume. It gave me a headache. Every time she touched me it was like swallowing a rock, and she just kept feeding them to me. Jagged pebble after pebble until I was completely weighed down with whatever it was she had done.”

His prose is somehow prettier when he’s describing something ugly.

You can help it no longer, your hand finds his chest. You want to hold him, to soothe him against your breast like a distressed child. “Jake, I’m so sorry.”

He laughs it off, which only makes you hurt worse for him. “Long time ago, babe. She told me, eventually. Told me there had been someone else. Gave me that ‘it only happened once’ bullshit. But she wouldn’t tell me who. I suppose I hated her the most for that. By keeping that from me, she was choosing him, again. Or, at least that’s how it felt at the time. It’s stupid, looking back.”

“No,” you argue with quiet conviction. “It isn’t stupid, Jake. It isn’t.”

The blunt is cashed, and he drops it into his leftover tea with a hissing sizzle, and then relaxes back down onto the rug.

“I asked her to leave. She cried. I cried. She packed a bag and walked out the door. Came back for the rest of her shit later on, and that was that.”

This last bit has truly astounded you. “You lived together?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, folding his hands together over his chest. “If you can call it that, really. You know how often I’m gone.”

“That’s no excuse.” You feel murderous toward this mirage of a woman whom you’ve never met.

“Didn’t say it was.” He points out before continuing. “So, like I said…it fucked me up. Bailed on a bunch of gigs, wouldn’t get out of bed unless it was to wander my drunk ass down the street for a fresh bottle. Stopped showering, couldn’t sleep, all that shit. I forgot about her fish and accidentally let him die. Still feel bad about that one.”

You listen silently. Maybe he needs this…each spoken word feels like it's brand new on his tongue, as if he’s never opened up with such candor about these things hidden. And if he needs a mindful ear and an open heart, you will gladly give that to him. Tonight, and always.

“Josh showed up, because of course he did.” He huffs a breath of a laugh and shakes his head, searching out patterns in your popcorn ceiling. “Asshole beat on the door for an hour before I sobered up enough to hear him. Then beat on it for another hour until I finally hated the noise enough to answer.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him run through imaginary chords along his chest, a habit that presents itself when he’s nervous or angry. Right now, you imagine he’s a bit of both.

“He made me get up and shower. Wouldn’t shut the fuck up until I had. Cleaned up the trash that had piled itself up in disgusting mountains around my bed. I’ll never forget that. Walking into my room and seeing those trash bags. Five of them just completely crammed to hell and back full. That’s what it took. Those bags. Who was this? This guy who sleeps with trash and whiskey bottles and doesn’t shower, right? One of the most astonishing realizations of my life and I made it with a filthy towel that had been lying on my bathroom floor for god knows how long wrapped around my waist.”

Your heart aches painfully for him. You can’t even begin to equate that scenario with the beautiful, cocky, brilliant, man before you. Still, you’ve never felt closer to him, it’s like he’s unlocked a door and invited you inside. Except this time, he isn’t giving you the shiny tour. Now you’ve been ushered in and he’s letting you peek into the junk drawer.

“It only got worse from there. He combed the knots out of my hair…took him forever, and it made me feel loved and like shit all at once. Fucking prick ordered me to strip my bed while he threw the windows open.” He makes prick sound like a term of endearment. “Then he just came out with it. Just fuckin’ said it while he tromped around cleaning like he owned the place.”

You wait while, presumably, he gathers his thoughts, or maybe his wits, or perhaps both…but you don’t push. As far as you’re concerned, you’d lie on this floor with him and wait forever, just so he never feels as lonely as he must’ve felt then.

“He said,” he waves a hand above your heads as though setting the scene. But really, you know this to be a strange quirk of his, this slightly theatrical flare that colors his words when he’s recounting his twin. “Jake, this might be terrible fucking timing, but we’re gonna do this now. You’re going to hate me, and that scares the shit outta me, but you deserve to know, and you deserve to hear it from me.”

“I knew right then, the second he said that, but I waited because….” His hand drops and reaches for your own, warm and tight in grip, like those confident handshakes that seem so important to some “I guess I waited because I didn’t want to know. Two extra seconds of blissful ignorance was too tempting to let go of. Doubt I even got two, seemed more like a fraction of a second before he was out with it. ‘It was me’, that’s all he said because he knew that’s all he had to say. He understood that on some level, I’d probably known all along.”

As difficult as it had been to equate Jake with the melted down version of himself he had described, imagining Josh - all love, sunny smiles, and sweet sentiment - caring so little about his brother’s heart, is impossible. It had to have been some imposter standing in Joshua’s shoes; a monster tucked away inside his brain steering him headlong into cruel flippancy.

It makes you angry. What a foreign feeling when it comes to these two. “It was horrible, what he did to you.” There are worse things bitten back on your tongue.

He’s playing with your fingers now, turning them this way and that, inspecting them as if they’re much more interesting than you’ve ever thought them to be. “Like I told you before, he was drunk and she was somethin’ else. She had the sweetest voice…always sounded like she’d swallowed a bit of helium. It used to drive me crazy, that cotton candy voice of hers.”

A pang of jealousy, unwelcome and unwanted, creeps to life inside you, but you hide it well - you think.

“He earned points,” he continues on. “By telling me…and she was right not to tell me. I don’t know what would have happened if I’d heard it from anyone but him. And hearing her say it? That she’d fucked my brother - with that voice of hers, all honey and sugar dripping all over his name, I think it might have killed me.”

It dawns on you, suddenly and sickeningly, “Is that what I am? What this is? You loved her, and you believe he loves me, so you’ve found an angle? Are you using me to break his heart the way he broke yours?”

The very thought makes your stomach tighten and twist around itself.

Somehow, he knows - how does he always seem to know? - and he places his wide, warm palm across your navel gently and then rolls atop you, nudging the tip of your nose with the tip of his own, an innocent Eskimo kiss that sets your pulse wild.

“You aren’t a pawn in some bullshit game between brothers, poppins. Far from it. But I’ll play with you anyway if you’d like.”

Fuck, the cashmere of his voice, the way it billows into the night like a gauzy curtain flutters in a summer breeze. Vocal chords oscillating as his guitar strings do, humming straight into your heart.

You shove aside all the need he has once again flickered to life inside you and ask, “What happened then?” Your question is meek, as if you’re afraid of the answer.

“After he told me, you mean?” He murmurs against your neck…mouth hot and wet as it searches for places that will make you sigh.

“I kicked his ass wearing only a towel, which didn’t stay on long, so you can imagine how that must’ve looked.”

An unexpected laugh responds to his unexpected joke and you watch him soften…he loves your voice, too. Maybe not as much as he had loved hers, but there is an undeniable affection there that will do just fine for you.

“I made an even worse mistake, as I am so often wont to do. In some ridiculous quest for revenge, I made it even worse.”

He sounds loathsome of himself, so you stroke through his hair, comforting him, loving him this way. Still, you can sense the book closing, he has talked enough for tonight. The wound reopened, split apart and bleeding.

You cauterize it with a joke, just to hear that gentle chuckle of his. “So, no naked grudge match carried out in your depression room? Oh, the disappointment is crushing, Jakey.”

You’re gifted with the laugh you’d so hoped for. “No, babe, that definitely happened. But if you ever feel the need to retell that story, have mercy on me and leave that part out.”

A quiet descends around you like a comforting caul…dragging you back down into the blissful trenches where there is only him. Only Jake.

No peculiar sibling rivalry. No strange twin bond that you’ll never begin to understand. No confusion. No complications…

But never no Josh. Even when there is only Jake, there is still Josh. He lingers in your peripheral vision, a blurry specter watching, reminding. The same way Jacob floats about in your heart when Josh’s hands and eyes are on you.

Jake speaks into the hush first. “You heard me when I said you aren’t a pawn in some fucked up game, right?” His hand is trailing down, down, down, now…tucking itself between your legs, playing with you idly over your panties that are still damp from the last time he decided to grace you with his touch. “I mean, you really heard me, right?”

“Yeah,” it rides out on a feathery moan as your legs spread further apart for him.

“Yeah?” He’s satisfied with your answer, and taunting you a bit now. Sweetly mocking how lost you seem to already be.

“Jake…” it’s a whimper and you don’t care.

“I suppose this is alright, don’t you think, poppins? If I touch you here? Done it before, haven’t I? And he has too, hasn’t he, babe?” He doesn’t pause for your answer. “Playing field’ll stay nice and even, even if I make you cum in these pretty wet panties, won’t it?”

Your hand has wrapped itself around his wrist, urging him to keep going. “If it isn’t a game between the two of you, why is there a field?”

“That’s such an excellent point, baby doll.” He breathes, soft and slow, against the shell of your ear. “Fuck keeping things even, yeah? How about something new? Would you like that, hmm? If I did something new to you?”

“Don’t tease me,” you whine, devoid of absolutely any shame. “Just do it, Jake, please.”

You don’t even know what you’re begging for, nor do you care.

“Do what, babe?” His fingers are inching under the lace you wish would disappear. “What if I make my way down?” Those same fingers are now tapping against your lips. You lap over them and he groans at the curl of your tongue before he’s walking down your body with them like two tiny legs. “What if I just kiss my way down until my face is between these pretty thighs and my mouth is against your sweet little cunt.”

“Oh god, Jake, please…” you’re shoving at his shoulders now as he grins through a bite to your throat. “Please!”

He’s at your breasts all at once, tugging your shirt as he had before until you pull it off. That mouth you’re aching so badly for, closes around your nipple, sucking as his teeth sink in deeply enough to make you squirm away.

“Does that hurt?” He pants through licks and suckles that threaten to tear you into the tiniest of pieces.

“No.”

“Then lie fucking still.” The way it trips off his delectable tongue, heated and unwavering, causes you to clench around nothing.

You do as you’re told and pray silently for him to make his way lower and lower.

Like the deity he seems to be, he hears your prayers and answers them by dipping down to lavish an open mouthed kiss upon you, savoring you through the soaked material that once served as underwear, but has now been demoted to an annoyance to be dealt with.

The moment his lips meet silk, he pulls back as if you’ve burnt him, fingertips to his gorgeous mouth like he can’t believe this is real. Coincidentally, neither can you.

“Let me see, poppins,” his chest heaves with every word, fighting to be heard. “Show me where you want my mouth, pretty girl.”

Yanking your panties to the side you once again begin to beg. You can’t seem to help it, and he seems to like that very much.

“There?” He offers that conspiring, lopsided smirk. “And what should I do with my mouth right there, babe? Would you like a little kiss?”

With a growl that sounds like you’re little more than a feral cat mouthing off, your hands fist in his hair and yank him in with force that catches him off guard enough that he loses balance and sort of falls into place, groaning vibrations against your cunt until they spark and sizzle down to your toes.

He strokes the flat of his tongue over your clit, once, twice, three times, then rolls onto his back, taking you with him.

With you now perched and writhing above him, he spanks your thigh, and, with his eyes blazing up at you, sends you reeling with a gravelly “Well, c’mon then, Mary Poppins…feed it to me.”

You’ve been known to do a stupid thing a time or two, but never anything as stupid as wasting time when Jake is asking for something as depraved as what he happens to be asking for now. To that end, you lower yourself down, head falling back to cry out to a god you think you might not even believe in, when he yanks you down completely.

There’s no way he can breathe, but the way he is sucking you in, there’s no way he cares. Praise and pleas for more muffle against you, as does his drawn out moan when he tugs his cock free and wraps a fist around it.

Tongue fucking inside you now, perfect nose brushing rhythmically over your swollen clit, your hips begin to chase it now all on their own.

He nods in urgent approval and sends his fist flying over his cock faster as your toes sweep over the muscles flexing and pumping wildly in his arm.

Growls and groans of lust and exertion press inside you as he drags you closer and closer to that bright and stunning end. Hands in his hair, you let him take you there. Though you might be steering the ship, he is the sea upon which you sail.

“Cum with me, fuck Jake, please please please, I want it, want it so bad…” have you even made a sound at all? You can’t be sure until you feel him nod again beneath you, his free arm wrapping around your waist to pull you down even closer, like he wants to get lost and disappear inside you.

He has built a shimmering, iridescent world, all for you, but you don’t step into it alone. He goes along, reaching up to grab your hand with a barely discernible gasp of your name, just to save you from feeling lonely in your heaven.

Somehow, when the blurry haze begins to clear your head, you’re on your back again, quietly sobbing for air as your body trembles with divine aftershocks.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he wonders almost silently…face pink and shining with you and breathtaking. “God, you make my chest ache. It hurts to look at you, sometimes.”

Shying away from his worshipful prose, you feel around for your shirt, eyes watching his mouth. You adored it before, and now you’d simply lay down and die for it without thought.

You clean him up. Carefully dragging cotton over his hand, stomach and belt where he has spilled and made an indulgent mess…you contemplate using your mouth, but think maybe the moment has passed.

A comfortable, nearly domestic, quiet takes over until finally, you ask him to stay.

He declines with sweet kisses upon your cheek, and lets you in on another secret - he’s leaving to pay a visit to his favorite tree in the park. He plans to sit a while, as it’s where he does some of his best thinking.

You don’t ask what he plans to think about beneath an old sugar maple at close to four in the morning. Maybe you’d like to know, you figure, but maybe you shouldn’t.

The morning finds you showered and a least somewhat put together, wandering through the very same park. Meandering towards the rusty back and forth creak of a swing set.

Josh waits just where he said he’d be when he’d phoned to ask you to join them.

Looking casual and clean in crisp joggers and a band T that you know, without a doubt, smells of fabric softener - he is relaxed back against a bench, contently watching Lil’s ponytail fly as she chases around with her tiny companion - a friend from the neighborhood. He’s the sweetest thing who is almost always happy to let Lily boss him a bit. They often remind you of what the twins must’ve been like as children.

You slide into position beside Josh and he ponders as if you’ve been conversing for hours. “Remember what that was like? Just running to run? Look how happy she is.”

His question is rhetorical, his smile sly, when he turns his attention to your face. “Look how happy you are, sweetheart. You’re glowing. Is it safe to assume that my lesser half paid you a visit last night?”

You feel your lips part stupidly in shock.

“He called me this morning, just after I called you.” He shrugs casually. “Told me he was around and that the two of you talked. I know what ‘talking’ means when it comes to Jacob.”

You shake it off, grounding yourself by watching his lovely daughter rather than the twinkling accusations in his eyes. “We did talk.”

“Amongst other things, I’m sure.” He blows right by his own comment and leans in a little closer. “Do you think less of me now? Now that you know exactly what I did to him? Because you should.”

“No.” You answer without hesitation, and truthfully. “And he said he did something even worse, so it seems to me like you two are even.”

“Even?” There’s a disgruntled edge to his tone, but instinctively, you understand that his disgust is centered squarely upon himself. “We’ll never be even. Not after what he gave me to make things right.”

You squint into his eyes, trying to piece together the puzzle. “And how did he make whatever it was he did, right? What did he give you?”

He allows you to stare a while and then gives you your answer by shifting his gaze to the tiny beauty laughing in the sandbox.

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