#or am i allowed to stare disrespectfully

[never-looked-so-good]

and what happened here 🧐

📷 @/pauline_suma

[tomieafterdark]

Toxic!Eren drabble (18+ minors dni) 

Synopsis: you want to break up but your bf is too toxic to allow that. 

Recently I had a conversation with someone and it kind of inspired this drabble (If you feel like Eren is not like canon Eren here, it is because his personality here is also based on whoever inspired this smut), except he did not fuck me after saying he would leak shit if i backstabbed him. Also a tiny disclaimer: I feel like this is obvious but I will say it anyway, everything written in this is purely fictional and should be kept that way. If anyone tries this with you in real life, get help. This is also not an accurate representation of my dynamic with whoever this smut is based on, he just has his “moments” and I like making smut out of them. That is all.

About ten minutes ago, you told Eren you wanted to break up. Things aren’t working out, and he’s way too much for you right now. Instead of having a normal reaction, he does the unthinkable—threatening to leak certain information about you and certain pictures.

It hurts you deeply, not to the core but close enough. Trust isn’t easy to build up, and it was even worse for you considering your past wounds that still haven’t healed. Every bit of trust you had built up just shattered in that moment, as if it was never there to begin with. 

He is dangerously good with words, sometimes it makes you feel like you’re his puppet and he pulls the strings whenever he wants to. Even if you can resist his words, his intense stare will pull you in instead. He has the most beautiful eyes, of course no one can resist their pull. 

When you were upset about him threatening to leak your information and photos, he just started pulling the strings without a care in the world which is what led you here; back arched, face buried in the plushie, whimpering and crying as he pounds you with no mercy. 

Your mind is foggy, you still haven’t processed the words that came out of his mouth when you wanted to break up. You did not, in a million years, expect those words to come out of him. It pretty much feels like a knife to your throat. Just as you are about to get lost in thought and perhaps cry some more, he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls on it harshly. 

“Get a grip.” He says coldly and lets go of your hair. 

You try to argue back, but he is 5 steps ahead and starts circling your clit before you even open your mouth. Whatever you were wanting to say just comes out as incoherent blabbers and whimpering as your insides squeeze tighter around him. He chuckles in response and mutters “that's what I thought” under his breath.

Since he is 5 steps ahead he is also aware you will cum any second now, which is why he switches positions quite hastily. He has your legs resting behind your ears as he teases your entrance by barely giving you the tip. He knows you get needy and will do or say anything to cum. You look up at him, that smug sadistic look on his face puts you in subspace faster than you can blink. At this point he practically got what he wanted, you won't want a breakup after this. Whatever else he does to you is just for fun. 

“Please..” you plead, looking up at him with puppy eyes. You had cried so much earlier that your face was glowing from it.  

“Repeat what you were telling me earlier babe,” he says while continuing to tease your sensitive entrance with the tip. “Tell me how I am too much for you and how you don't want to continue this!” You can hear the anger in his voice now, he does not take kindly to breakups unless he is the one doing it. This was peak betrayal to him. 

Something about him turns you into a horny nymph, even though this was your chance to resist and actually break up with him, your body and mind were both betraying you completely. You were so desperate for him, being manhandled and fucked disrespectfully hard by him was the only thing on your mind right now. His firm grip on your thighs, as he was pushing them back further, was not helping. He could feel your pussy squeezing and fluttering around his tip, even if you were not saying a word right now the rest of your body was very loud and clear. 

You feel your eyes watering again, from the frustration this time. It doesn't help that he is staring right into them, all while caressing your face. Staring into his eyes, especially with the state you are currently in felt like a trance. You were so lost in his eyes, you weren't even aware of how you were trying your best to move against his tip, completely desperate for any friction you could get.    

You have no idea how much your crying turns him on, same with your frustration and desperation. It was about time he reminded you again of how badly you need him, a reminder that no one but him could get you to act like this just for dick. He was equally desperate for you, probably more frustrated than you but he is so stoic and cold on the outside. You would never know. He had enough of messing with you though, and by the looks of it you were nearing your edging limit. 

His right hand lets go of your thigh, creeping up to your neck instead. He keeps eye contact as he chokes you very lightly. He is so close to your face, staring deep into your eyes with a predatory look. It makes you shudder, but it also makes you want to spread your legs even more for him. 

The way he suddenly bottoms out fully, with no warning, has you seeing stars. You had been in this position with previous partners, but none of them reached this deep inside of you. You have to bite your cheek to not scream, especially when you look down on your stomach for a split second and you can see his dick print on it. You suddenly remember that back when you had just gotten to know each other, you texted him saying you want him in your guts. Looks like you got what you wished for. 

He chokes you harder while pushing your head back, making you look right into his eyes again. His stare is so intense, you want to look away sometimes. His stare made you feel so vulnerable and exposed, it cut right through all your layers and saw right through your soul. It would not be too far off to say his eyes were fucking your soul. 

“I-I’m gonna cum-” you whimper, struggling to keep eye contact. You know exactly what you have to say next if you don't want him to suddenly stop and edge you even more.

“I’m sorry for causing unnecessary drama-” you cry out. “I-I was wrong..I do not want to break up..I love you!” 

“That's right.” He smiles and starts thrusting into you even harder, he drops eye contact now and the focus shifts to between your legs. He is obsessed with how you take all of him in so well, he loves watching you swallow him whole and he especially loves that you are so sensitive that you quiver and squeeze around him at every movement he does. 

He doesn't stop fucking you when you cum. Not even slowing down the pace. 

Instead, both his hands are on your hips now slamming you against his pelvis. You keep squirting, but he doesn't stop even for a second. You are so overstimulated at this point, every few thrusts make you cum all over him. 

You are close to tapping out at this point, eyes rolling at the back of your head. You are in safe hands though, he may be toxic and not allow you to break up because he is too possessive and wants to almost own you, but with that comes him being extremely careful of you. He pulls out and slaps you lightly to wake you up, fully attentive of you now. 

“Babe, are you okay?” He asks, albeit in a cold uncaring tone, but that's just how he sounds in general. He really does care.  

He comes back and slaps you again lightly, holding a glass of water in his other hand. You wake up this time. 

You don't really say anything when you regain consciousness nor do you drink the water, you just mumble “I am fine” under your breath and start straddling him. There is something about his caring nature that turns you on so much, his attention to detail is already attractive as it is but when it shows like this during sex it just makes you want him on a different level. 

The breakup was history at this point, now you were on top of him whispering dirty things in his ears. You wanted him to fill you to the brim with his cum, then fuck you with all the cum in you and cum in you some more. You had never met a guy that unlocked this side of you, it feels unreal, he is so perfect it drives you mad. 

“Please fill me up, I need you so bad..” You were crying in his ears as you quickly slid his cock inside of you, wasting no time and starting bouncing on it. “I truly am sorry for earlier, I could never be without you!” 

He is both amused and extremely turned on by your behavior, mostly turned on though as he wastes no time, putting you on your back with your legs on his shoulders. Eren had no idea how hot he looked, the sounds he was making was music to your ears. You were staring in awe as he came inside of you. 

You truly can't get enough of him, so when he collapses next to you on the bed, you crawl over to him licking him clean hoping it will lead to a round two in the shower perhaps. 

Author's note: I did not proofread this. If you find any mistakes, take it to the grave pls. 

© 2024 tomieafterdark | All rights reserved

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for calling my friend an asshole?

I'm not sure exactly how long this has been going on, but maybe 6 months or so ago, I noticed that whenever we go foreign food marts or restaurants/shops that specialize in a specific region, he brings up the fact that I'm white (and he's not) and insists that every not white person in the store is staring at me.

Now, I'm not going to act like I'm the perfect person and I'm the fucking white savior or whatever. No. Definitely not. But. I WAS raised right and there is no way in hell my mother would ever have allowed me to misbehave in stores, and she DEFINITELY would not have allowed me to be racist and/or disrespectful to POC. So I do not act disrespectfully in stores, ESPECIALLY not someone's personal family-owned store. I am on my best behavior.

I also just generally have anxiety and am insecure. So I'm more self-conscious and self-aware than the average person.

My friend knows all this and if I ever was acting disrespectfully in public, he would call me out on it right then and there. So I know that I'm not actually doing anything. Yet whenever we go to any of these places, after we leave he'll tell me things like "oh all the people in there were staring at you" or "they were probably wondering why a white person was in there, good thing you were with me" or he'll grab random packages that don't have English writing on them and ask me if I know what the product is, knowing damn well I can only read English and then will act like he's the expert in that particular product. (He's probably completely bullshitting)

So one day after spending a few months (we only actually get to hang out maybe once or twice a month due to our schedules, so it wasn't as long as it sounds lol) overanalyzing my actions in public and the strangers around me's reactions, I realized that none of them were paying me any attention at all. The shop employees would say "hi welcome in" when I walked in and would tell me my total and ask if I wanted a bag when paying and that was it. Extremely normal store interactions. No employees or other customers were staring at me and barely seemed to notice I was there.

So I tell my friend this and he still insists that everyone in the stores watch me and judge me and I told him he was an asshole for trying to plant insecurities and self-doubt in me.

So AITA for calling him an asshole and maybe these people ARE actually staring at me and maybe there's some reason why and that's what my friend was trying to tell me?

What are these acronyms?

[smilingformoney]

Happy 63rd Birthday to our favourite dungeon bat!

To celebrate, I’ve written a lil something about Snape’s 63rd birthday, which he definitely spent alone and not surrounded by love. Honest.

Even after so many years, Severus wasn’t sure he would ever get used to this.

The war had been over for a long time now. In fact, later that year would mark the 25th anniversary of the final battle against the Dark Lord, when he had been defeated at last and the wizarding world had begun to know some semblance of peace.

Despite Severus’ protestations, Harry Potter had made it his mission to let the world know what his grumpy old Potions teacher had done for the world. He had even gone so far as to name his second son after him. And ever since, the two men who had once been enemies now had something of a friendship. Severus had attended Potter’s wedding to Ginny Weasley, and occasionally allowed the odd Christmas visit.

After recovering from the near-fatal snake bite he had been inflicted during the battle, Severus had moved into a small house of his own, isolated from the world and with plenty of garden space, just how he liked it. He could grow his ingredients, brew his potions and write his books in peace.

It had been Potter who had suggested Severus publish his improved potion recipes, and Severus soon discovered he enjoyed writing books; it was a lot easier to teach when he couldn’t be interrupted. He could simply write the information, and dunderhead students could do with it as they wished without bothering him.

And so, despite his desire to stay hidden from the world, Severus had become something of a well-known writer, and somehow, even over ten years since his last publication, he still received well wishes on his birthday from fans of his work.

Most of the letters he awarded a cursory glance before being tossed aside. He was in the process of sifting through the letters when a knock came at the door. With a great sigh, Severus lifted himself from his armchair and made his way to the door as slowly as he could, hoping that if he took his time, the visitor would go away.

No such luck. On his doorstep was none other than Potter himself.

Severus sighed. “Yes?”

“Morning, Professor. Happy birthday.”

Over 25 years, and Potter still insisted on calling him Professor. To make up, he claimed, for all the years he spent disrespectfully dismissing his title.

“It was until you arrived. What do you want?”

Potter smiled, apparently blissfully unaware of Severus’ attitude.

“I just wanted to give you your birthday present.” Potter held up a neatly wrapped parcel, which his wife had almost certainly wrapped for him - Potter’s wrapping skills were about as proficient as that of potion-making.

Severus eyed the package suspiciously. Potter always sent his presents by owl, or delivered them along with a Christmas present in December.

“It won’t explode, I promise. Kept it away from George especially.”

With a reluctant sigh, Severus took the present. “Thank you, I suppose,” he grumbled. “Am I expected to invite you in?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Potter chuckled. “Well, alright then. Happy birthday, Professor.”

He turned and left to apparate away, leaving Severus in peace with a ridiculous box. He shut the door and returned to his well-worn armchair. He groaned when he saw the pile of letters still waiting to be opened.

Still, he supposed he should open Potter’s present. As he unwrapped the layer of paper, he began to realise that the box was cold from more than just the January air - it seemed to be under the effects of a cooling spell.

“What have you done, Potter?” Severus muttered as he waved his wand to open the box and lift out the contents. Frozen in suspended animation to prevent damage, in addition to the cooling spell to prevent melting, was a blancmange.

Severus stared at the dessert for a few moments, taken aback. He realised then that a note was floating alongside it, which read:

Dear Professor Snape,

A little birdie told me this was your favourite. Even after all these years, there’s always more to learn about you.

Stop by for tea soon, won’t you?

- Harry, Ginny, James, Albus and Lily

No, actually, he wasn’t getting emotional. He was irritated, and anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar attempting to sully the name of Severus Snape. He was a grumpy, irritable recluse. He wasn’t friends with Harry Potter, and he certainly wasn’t constantly taken aback by the kindness shown to him by a man who had every right to hate him.

Severus Snape spent his birthdays alone, just as he liked it, and on pain of death he would never swear otherwise.

…Oh, alright.

But don’t tell anyone.

[leafkingofbirds]

Next chapter Preview: Eclipse Edition!

In honor of the total solar eclipse today, have this snippet I just finished writing! 😄

**this is still a first draft and you may find typos. But I am open to feedback & suggestions! 🥰

***

Somehow, Kieran winds up at the base of Sir Monty’s favorite tree. On his knees, his heart pounding, staring blankly at the dirt but seeing nothing. Too lost in his own mind and the troubles of his soul.

Give me peace, he begs whatever unseen force rules over life and death. Give me clarity. I must be everything Ella needs me to be.

But there is no divine intervention. Only himself, alone. As it has always been, since the death of his mother.

He would have sought his mother's grave, but the royal mausoleum is buried beneath the rubble of the destroyed Full Moon Chamber. 

Instead he has come to Sir Monty’s. The last parental figure he would ever have.

His oldest friend is gone to the tyrant’s side. Whether Oleander has betrayed Kieran or has some plan up their sleeve doesn’t matter. Oleander isn’t here to give any of their sage advice.

Dear Longclaw has her own heavy grief. Even her big heart is weighed down with the loss of not only the last of her beloved family – as abhorrent as Radiance was – but the loss of her own sense of self. It wouldn’t be fair to ask for her help, even if she was currently capable of giving it.

Ella would try to be there for him. But to go to her would be worse than dealing with it alone. Her heartless state is but more evidence of his failure and his guilt. 

“Mother,” Kieran gasps aloud without meaning to. A deep-set plea to a woman he had not set eyes upon since he was almost too young to remember and who will never answer his cries again. 

The word only opens the wound inside him, digging deeper, ripping open old wounds until they bled anew. His mother is the reason for all of this. Jack is the reason.

As if called by Kieran's very thoughts, he hears soft footsteps in the grass cautiously approach behind him. 

“So this is where you ran off to,” Jack muses. His voice is subdued. A hush has fallen over the entire place in the wake of the battle, an aura of death and defeat.

“Leave me,” Kieran growls without turning around.

Instead, the footsteps only come closer. To Kieran's shock and irritation, Jack kneels before the small square of stone at the base of the old, broken oak.

A stone marker had been installed at the base of the tree. Oleander had quietly decided upon the wordering and installed it themselves, after Kieran had irritably snapped at them “I don’t give a damn; do it yourself!” 

It was not enough to describe all that Sir Montgomery was in life, but then, no headstone would ever be able to capture the entirety of a man’s soul.

Here Rests the Most Honorable

Sir Montgomery Snow

Who Gave His Mortal Life

In Service to the Moon Court

For a long moment, Jack gazes at the headstone in silence, his expression intense and unreadable. He looks almost angry. 

Kieran braces himself to hear Jack say something vicious, and knows he won't be able to hold himself back this time if Jack speaks disrespectfully about Sir Monty before his very grave.

Then, Jack sighs deeply, hands on his thighs, and hangs his head. Kieran peers at him curiously.

“We have both suffered the loss of the most important people in our lives,” Jack says finally. He glances up at Kieran ruefully, his expression for once vulnerable and sincere. “Haven't we?”

Kieran can only glare at him. 

Jack looks back toward Monty’s headstone. “I want to say I regret what I've taken from you. But the truth is, if I had not killed Monty, he would have killed me. And I can't apologize for not allowing that to happen. Not honestly. Because I was not just fighting this battle for myself, and I owed it to those people in there that I would let nothing and no one stand in my way. No matter how noble.” 

There's a silence where Kieran considers leaping at him at closing his hands over Jack’s throat. But there isn't enough energy in him now. What would be the point? 

“But I regret the pain I have caused,” Jack says, in a way that makes Kieran think he's never apologized before in his life and it's physically painful for him. “I know that's foolish. I can't wish the past undone and know I would have changed nothing, all at the same time.”

“You wish it hadn't come to this,” Kieran manages to say, surprised at how rough his voice sounds, how close to tears. He can't even look at Jack.

“Yes.”

Kieran scoffs. “So do I.”

Not that it mattered what any of them wished. Wishes are futile things, even for Fae.

“Nothing I can say will undo the damage I've done. Believe me, I'm well aware,” Jack says bitterly. “But I want to say this anyway: I was wrong about you. I was wrong about so many things that it makes my blood boil to look back on it. About Sir Montgomery and Eisa. About the right way to fight for equality in this realm.”

“You were wrong about Ella,” Kieran reminds him snappishly.

Jack has the gall to look surprised. Then embarrassed.  “I…yes.” 

Kieran raises his brow expectantly, demanding a better answer than that. 

Jack sighs explosively and runs a hand through his hair. “I thought her addled at best, foolishly naive at worst. I thought you were like every other Fae I had ever had the misfortune of meeting, who had dazzled and enthralled an unwitting human into doing your bidding. But…you truly love her, don’t you?”

“With all that I am.” Kieran feels his hands clench into fists. “Ella has the most pure and genuine heart for others I’ve ever known a mortal to have. And a stubborn, inner strength that has never ceased to impress me. She is braver than any Fae I have ever met. That you misjudged her angers me even more than being misjudged. And that she is in my palace right now, heartless, where she should have been safe, angers me more than anything else.”

“You feel like you failed her.” It’s a statement, not a question. Jack gazes at him evenly.

“I did fail her,” Kieran snaps. “She felt she had no choice but to use the Immortality Curse, because this realm is so dangerous for mortals. I didn’t do enough to ensure she felt safe among Fae. I wasn’t able to break her curse, despite my promise that my love would be strong enough to save her. And yes, I ignored the threat of your Eclipse and the suffering you endured, as generations of Moon Court heirs have done before me. I own that mistake as wholly mine. But, Jack - it was your arrogance and prejudice didn’t want to believe Fae lives were in any way worth sparing. You came to kill us without knowing us. Without giving us even a chance.”

Jack’s brow wrinkles. “To be fair, that is exactly how mortals have been treated by Fae for the entirety of history.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

Jack looks contrite. “No. It doesn’t.”

“I'm glad we can agree on something,” Kieran mutters. 

“Perhaps that's why I was too late to save my father,” Jack muses quietly, as if to himself. “His innocent life, spent in payment for my sins. I live now only because you demand it, Kieran - else I would fall on that damned sword as penance. And I will do what I can to help fix this. But some things I can't fix. And for that…I truly am sorry.”

Kieran's eyes fill with tears, hot and angry. He can feel Jack’s gaze on him, and doesn't meet it.  His emotions war in such a furious swirling tempest he can't keep track of any of them - he doesn't even try to name them.

What strikes him, though, is how much of Jack's words mirror Kieran's own internal guilt. 

An innocent life paid the price of my arrogance.

I would fall on my sword for my failure.

Some things I can't fix.

Kieran senses himself at a fork in the road. He can do what his old self would have done - the bitter, broken, cold version that used viciousness to isolate himself and wallowed in his own misery - and rebuff Jack’s attempt to repent. Jack would live, but they would be forever strangers. Forever estranged.

Or he can be the man Ella always believed him to be. The man Kieran strives to live up to.

Kieran lets out a long sigh. “I can’t forgive you, Jack. Not yet. But I accept your apology. I believe it’s sincerely offered.”

“If nothing else, know that I am a man who means what he says.” Jack’s level gaze doesn’t waver. He shows no sign of discomfort from kneeling so long in the dirt, even though the gashes Kieran had delt to his flank are barely scabbed over. Up close, Kieran can see the disciplined way Jack holds himself. The quiet confidence of a true warrior. This has been his life's sole purpose, and Kieran realizes, just now, how broken Jack must also feel.

“We are two of a kind that way,” Kieran answers quietly.

Jack huffs a short laugh, then grows serious again. “Kieran…for what it’s worth? I’m sorry for what happened to Ella. I hope, one day, she will be restored. And on that day, I will ask her forgiveness as well.” Jack climbs to his feet and idly brushes off his knees. “I think my chances will be better if I wait until then.”

The harsh bark of a laugh that escapes Kieran's throat just then doesn't slow Jack's steps, and soon Kieran is alone again beneath this silent, doomed tree.

His laugh turns into a sob.

His hands claw the grass and hard-packed earth as if he could tear it away. Rip open the grave beneath his feet and demand it all to be different, for fate to change according to his will, for the chance to go back in time and undo his mistakes, to unravel all the terrible things that have happened.

But he’s powerless now, and his hands can no more open a hole to bury himself than they could bring back the dead. 

Kieran puts his forehead to the earth in defeat, and lets himself weep like he has not done in a hundred years.

[saeyoungchoismaid]

I am staring disrespectfully oh my god he’s so fine who allowed him to be that hot I want names addresses all of it I will track you down and have a very serious talk with you about this bc I am currently losing my mind rn like are you joking just look at the makeup the wink the tongue I’m-

[imaginedisish]

Feels Like We Only Go Backwards (Tenet) Neil x Reader

A/N: Hey there guys!!! I’m back...again ahhhhh. I’ve been gone for a while (I always am) but hopefully I’ll be back for a while now :) I hope you’re all staying safe and doing well. I know the world is ass, but hopefully things will be better soon. Anyway, I’m obsessed with Tenet right now and I decided that I had to write a Neil x Reader one shot (I love Robert Pattinson, it’s a problem) Also, I think this is my longest fic yet...if someone wants to let me know how to do the “keep reading” thing, please tell me omg. I’m so sorry to those who have to scroll through this. Hopefully I can change that. Anyway folks, ENJOY!!!

p.s pls request tenet stuff. gimme some smut to write.

Summary: You allow your feelings for Neil to get in the way, causing you to compromise the mission and put everyone in danger. (AU, obviously because of the reader insert, and also because this particular scene does not actually happen in the movie).  ~loosely based off “Feels Like We Only Go Backwards” by Tame Impala~

Warnings: Violence, mentions of death, guns, blood, wounds, cursing, angst, possibly implications of being “lovers (or friends with benefits)” and luckily fluff :) 

Word Count: 4,163 (Please fucking teach me how to add the “read more” thing holy shit)

You storm down the cold, grey, skinny hallway lit with dimmed fluorescents. There was something inexplicably chilling about this place, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on exactly what that thing was. Maybe it was the way the lights reflected against the walls, glowing subtly against the tiles. It wasn’t a pretty glow. It was the glow one could expect to see along the walls of a morgue. 

Maybe it was the peculiar, dull ringing that followed you down the corridor, haunting your every step. Maybe it was the simple sound of your heels clicking against the concrete floors, and the idea that those clacks could call someone to your very location and leave you absolutely defenseless. Maybe it was the fact that you only had two bullets left in your glock. 

Or, it was because he wasn’t with you anymore. 

You quickly shake off the thought that he, of all people, could make you feel better. You didn’t need him. Hell, you didn’t need anyone, you thought to yourself. But still, your mind kept circling back to the image of him popping up in front of you, taking your hand and leading you away to- 

You cut yourself off. You couldn’t let your mind wonder for that long, especially about Neil. Still, you can’t help but flash back to just minutes ago, when Neil was by your side, when you made the massive mistake of letting your feelings get away of the mission. 

Neil pulled you down the hall, his hand firmly clasped around the upper part of your right arm. He was practically dragging you with him since you couldn’t keep up with his speed. 

Finally, Neil yanks you into an alcove, hoping you two can hide for at least a few minutes before running again. 

“Neil you need to give me an answer, what the fuck is-,” Suddenly, Neil pushes you against the wall, his right hand presses hard on your hip while his left hand covers your mouth. His face is in yours. Any personal space between you two is non-existent. He’s so close that you can feel his breath on your nose. He’s so close that you can feel wisps of his dirty blonde hair dance across your forehead. 

He smirks, “No time for answers.” You felt a twinge in your stomach, like butterflies, or maybe something much more gross, because now was not the time for Neil to make you feel this sort of way. 

The worst part is that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He carefully selects each and every movement he makes. He removes his hand from your mouth and places it at the nape of your neck instead, his thumb brushing lightly just below your hairline. 

You stifle a quiet moan at his touch. “N-Neil, what are you doing?” Your voice is quiet, but shaky. 

“Keeping you calm, I can tell you’re about to lose it,” He says matter-of-factly. Of course that’s the only reason, there’s nothing romantic here, and there never will be. 

‘Neil will never feel the way I feel about him’ you think to yourself. You can’t help but get a bit angry at his ability to put you under his spell. Despite your heart racing, despite your brain being bent out of shape by the close proximity of Neil, you can’t help but feel calmer. And you hated that. You were too stubborn for your own good. 

He breaks the silence, “Are you alright? I figured you’d have something to say. You said you wanted to talk to me before, didn’t you?” 

Before…when you had planned on telling him how you felt. You were going to tell him before.  Before the mission escalated past the point of return. Before you had ruined everything. Before Neil risked his life to bring you to safety. You had fucked up this time, insurmountably. It wasn’t entirely your fault, but you didn’t make it much better. 

Neil blew the entire team’s cover all to save you. You forgot the script, all because you were far too concerned with how you were going to handle your feelings for Neil. It wasn’t just any mission, either. It had to do with Sator’s henchmen. This was Tenet’s way in. This was how you could get more information. This was how you could save the world. 

And yet, you brought it all down. Somehow, Sator’s men believed that you were the only spy, and that everyone else was legitimate. They were going to kill you and spare the others, but Neil practically threw you out of the room and down the hall before anything could happen. The second he grabbed you, gun shots erupted. Now you had to pay for it, hiding in a barely-lit, cold hallway, with Sator creeping somewhere close behind, ready to attack. 

Suddenly, the guilt began to overwhelm you. What if this was it, what if you would be the reason Neil would die? What if your actions destroy the mission all together? Tears free themselves from your eyes, sliding slowly down your cheeks. 

“Hey,” Neil whispers as he moves the hand that rested on your neck up to your left cheek. He wipes away a few tears with his thumb. “It’s alright. We’re going to be fine, don’t worry-,”

Before he can get another word out, you grab his hand. “Stop, please, just stop,” You plead, unable to take anymore. He has to know what he’s doing to you, he just has to, you think, as your sadness slowly turns to anger. It irritated you that he was able to swoop in and save your day. It irritated you that he was able to touch you and comfort you, despite the lack of relationship that you desperately wanted fulfilled more than anything. None of this was fair. It wasn’t fair that he could be this non-nonchalant while you were practically doubled over with butterflies and other real anxieties from the situation you were currently in. 

Neil looks a bit more annoyed now. “I’m just trying to help,” He says, his eyes staring deeply into yours. Those eyes, you could drown in them if you weren’t careful, so you snap back into reality, allowing yourself to feed into your anger. 

“Maybe I don’t need your help,” You say, instantly regretting the words as they leave your lips. 

The corners of Neil’s mouth turn up slightly, his cocky attitude showing yet again. “So back there, earlier,” He gestures backwards, to the past, “You didn’t need my help?” 

You shake your head, “I’m just sick of this.”

Neil’s smile fades away as a confused look finds itself on his face. “Of what?” There’s a sadness in his voice. “Us?” 

His use of“Us” immediately takes you back. ‘What the fuck does he mean by “Us”?’ You ask yourself. You were undeniably close, but he never confirmed or denied his feelings for you.

Your stomach does a back flip before you allow yourself to grow angry again. 

“There is no ‘Us’, and that’s the problem Neil,” You say, pushing him off of you. He stumbles out of the alcove and rushes back in, closing the space between you and him once again. 

Neil gives you a puzzled look.“Bloody hell,” you hear him mumble under his breath. “What the fuck are you talking?” There’s a seriousness in his voice now. His cocky facade disappears into nothingness. He’s frustrated, and it’s all because of you. 

You just couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to say it. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know how I feel.” Your voice is louder now, and it seems as though you’re practically begging to give away your hiding spot. “Neil I-,”

He covers your mouth with his left hand once again. “Alright that’s it,” His voice is still quiet, “You’re the one that needs to stop now. You don’t know how much I-,” 

You push him into the wall before he can get a word out, just as he had interrupted you seconds ago. 

You step out into the hallway. “I don’t know what? How much you don’t care about me?” You notice the sudden pain in Neil’s face. You didn’t expect that, but you also refuse to believe it’s real. “I don’t need you, Neil. I never have and I never will.” 

You begin walking down the hallway as Neil whisper shouts your name, trying to get you to come back without blowing your cover. 

“(Y/N)! Please!” He calls out. 

A hand on your shoulder brings you back to reality and stops you dead in your tracks, “(Y/L/N), I’ve been waiting to meet you.” It’s a familiar voice, a voice you’ve heard before. It’s bitter, callous and malignant. A chill runs up your spine as the name of the voice dawns on you. You flinch, quickly stepping backwards and spinning around to look at the devil-man in front of you. Although, you know he would prefer if you referred to him as a god. 

“Sator,” You curse, spitting on the ground disrespectfully. You brandish your gun, trying to put on your best fake-confident face. Sator doesn’t know you only have two bullets left, and quite frankly he doesn’t need to, you think to yourself. 

Before you can even aim, Sator launches towards you. 

You jump back, and turn around to run. There’s no way you could get away from him in what you were wearing. Your black kitten heals slowed you down a great deal. Your tight, black dress made it hard for you to move in any way at all. 

Sator is right behind you. You kick off your heels, allowing you to speed up a bit. While running barefoot is much better, you know you can’t last forever. You run for a few more seconds before realizing that Sator is only getting closer. 

You turn around, back peddling now. You hold your glock up and aim. 

BANG! 

The bullet misses Sator and ricochets off the tiled wall. What the fuck? You think to yourself as the bullet falls to the ground. The walls must be bullet proof or something. 

Sator is almost within an arm’s reach of you. You lift your gun again and take aim. 

BANG!

But it’s no use. you miss again. This time, the bullet hits such an angle that it comes back straight towards you. It grazes against your left side. 

“FUCK!” You cry out in pain, stumbling a bit. You try your best to continue running, but the pain is far too great to keep going. You feel your legs starting to give out. You crumble to the ground, letting a small whimper of pain escape your lips. You grab your side, blood draining into your hands and onto the floor. 

Sator chuckles maliciously. “You seriously thought you could get away? This is my place. You’re playing in my world,” He shakes his head and reaches for his gun. He points the weapon directly at your head,

“And just so you know, I’m God here.” 

Tears form in your eyes as you hear the gun cock. You brace yourself for impact as your thoughts find their way back to Neil. You hate how you left things, especially considering that would be the last conversation he ever had with you. Guilt began to grow heavy in your stomach. 

What a way to die, totally and completely guilty, a failure, and alone, You think to yourself, as tears fall down your cheeks.

Sator chuckles again. “Crying are we know? Too late for tears, (Y/N). I think you’re all out of time.” You shudder at his words and you prepare for this moment to be your last, shutting your eyes tightly. 

“No! (Y/N)!” A familiar voice cries out from behind you. 

BANG!

You open your eyes to see Sator standing in his place, the gun now pointing above your head. You look down and see a single bullet right next to you. It must have ricochetted off the wall, just like yours did. But where did it come from? You think. 

Turning around slowly, you spot who Sator is pointing his gun towards.

“N-Neil,” You stutter, wincing in pain simply from talking. His gun points back at Sator. His eyes nervously look you up and down. This was far different from when the evening started. You remembered the way Neil looked at you when you had finished getting ready. You remember how he knocked on the door to your hotel room and let himself in. He didn’t wait for you to give him the okay. 

“Wow,” Neil said, taken back by your tight, little black dress. He looked you up and down, seemingly removing each article of clothing in his head. “You look incredible.” 

You missed that moment now. You wish you could just go back. But now you were faced with reality, with a gun in your face. 

Sator looks down at you, and back up to Neil. “I think I’ll let you watch her die, and only after you watch her take her last breath, I’ll kill you too. How’s that?”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Neil states confidently. You look up at him, confused. 

Just as Sator pulls the trigger, Neil grabs your arm and slides you out of the way. 

In the near distance, just a short ways behind Sator, you see a fiery cloud of orange erupt, followed by a massive boom. Neil somehow was able to orchestrate some sort of explosion.

Sator stops in his tracks and turns to look behind him, giving Neil just enough time to pick you up and run down the hallway, turning down a series of other corridors in an attempt to outrun Sator. 

It isn’t long before Neil realizes that you’re bleeding onto him. “H-holy shit,” He looks down to your left side. “I need to get you out of here.” 

You ignore what he’s saying. “Why did you come back for me?” You whisper to Neil. 

He steals a quick look at you as he continues to run down the hallway, but he doesn’t answer your question. 

You clear your throat and try again. “Why did you come back?” 

He ignores you again as you approach an intersection of 3 hallways, each one looking the exact same as the one you’re currently in. Neil pauses for a second, contemplating his options. His heart is beating out of his chest. You’ve never seen him this nervous. While you had only been at Tenet for about half a year now, you had grown to know Neil far too well. The stolen moments you shared, the kisses you swore to tell no one about. You didn’t know what you were with Neil. You didn’t know if this was superficial or real to him. But, you knew his emotions like you knew the back of your hand. You could tell he was panicking. You had never seen him quite like this. Something was different. Suddenly, Neil grunts and choses to go down the hallway to your right. 

You wanted to say something to him, to talk to him, but you felt yourself falling in and out of consciousness. You knew you needed to stay awake. Neil looked down to check on you and immediately noticed your condition. 

“Stay with me, okay?” He begged. You had never heard Neil talk like this before. “Please stay with me. I’m right here, it’s going to be okay.” He started to pick up his pace, practically sprinting down the hallway now. 

“N-Neil?” You managed to call out to him. 

“Yes, darling?” He responded between gasps for air. You could tell that he was getting tired. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, looking around his body for any signs of blood or even for a possible gun shot wound. 

Neil starts to slow down a bit. He looks down at you again, “I’m alright. It’s you I’m worried about.” 

“You’re not actually worried, are you?” You ask. 

Neil stops for a second, completely out of breath. He takes this as an opportunity to look at your injuries again. He puts his hand over your wound and feels all the blood that’s there. He shakes his head, clearly nervous about how much blood you’ve lost. He readjusts his hold on you, making sure you’re secured in his arms.

He brings his face closer to yours. “Fuck, of course I’m worried about you,” He says in a stern tone. He seems annoyed at the thought that you didn’t know he cared about you. “What the fuck would make you think otherwise?” He isn’t just annoyed now, he’s angry, yet he doesn’t take his face away from yours. You can feel his breath on your nose, just like you did before. The wisps of his hair greet your forehead again too. 

“I-I guess I just don’t know how to read you,” You say, taking a deep breath once you finish your sentence. Neil quickly picked up on your labored breathing and began to jog again. 

There’s silence for just a few seconds before Neil finds the right words to say. “I came back for you because I care about you. The second you left I chased after you. You were just far too quick for me.” 

Your heart flutters in your chest. You didn’t know how much he cared for you. You figured he only saw you as a member of the team, a coworker, a girl to flirt with, someone he had to care for out of convenience and association. The way he was speaking now lead you to believe that he cared for you far beyond that. You stare up into his blue eyes, gathering the courage to finally confess how you feel to him. You felt yourself slipping more quickly out of consciousness, and you desperately wanted him to know how you felt. 

“Neil, I just want you to know that-,”

Your words are interrupted by the loud swinging of a door. Suddenly, you’re outside the now flaming building and in the bitter, dark night. The wind whips and nips at your bare skin. You take a quick look around and remember that you’re in Amsterdam. At least it’s a pretty place to die, You think to yourself. You shiver as the wind attacks you again. 

Neil notices how cold you are. He sets you down on a nearby bench and takes his brown suit jacket off, draping it over you. He picks you up and starts jogging again. 

Just a short ways up the street is the BMW he had been driving for the mission. He opens the car door with one hand, making sure to keep you nestled into his chest with the other. He puts you down on the passenger’s seat, buckles you in, and carefully shuts the door. 

When he gets in on the other side, he sees you drifting off again. “Come on, (Y/N), stay with me, please,” He pleads. He leans over to you and gently kisses your forehead. Your eyelids throw themselves open as Neil’s lips leave your skin. He starts the car engine and begins to drive away. He doesn’t say a thing, but you can’t stop thinking about what just happened. 

“What was that?” You ask, wondering if he simply did that to distract you, to wake you up. He had to know what effect he had on you. 

Neil doesn’t say a thing. He only speeds up, blasting through red lights and ignoring stop signs. You look over at him. He looks like an absolute mad man. His dirty blonde hair is a mess. Dark, purple bags rest under his blue eyes. 

At one point, Neil turns the on the radio and glances at you. “Try to listen to some music, maybe it can keep you awake.” Or maybe his concern for your well being could be enough motivation for you. 

It feels like I only go backwards baby,

Every part of me says, “Go ahead”

I got my hopes up again, oh no, not again,

Feels like we only go backwards, darling. 

Neil somehow gets even faster. You notice that he’s pushing the gas pedal all the way into the floor of the car. You manage to get out one final sentence before losing consciousness, “If I don’t die from this wound, I might die from your driving.”

Then, your eyes shut and the whole world goes black. 

——

Your eyes feel like they’re glued shut, but you force them to open. There’s an arm pulling you in tightly to a firm, warm chest. You inhale deeply, instantly recognizing the scent. 

It was Neil. His face was right in front of yours. He looked so calm, so relaxed. Either this was Heaven, or he somehow managed to save your life from his hotel room. You were hoping it was the latter. You wanted this to be real life.

Neil began to stir about a bit, but his arm never left your back. In fact, the more he stirs, the closer you seem to get to him. You decide to take it all in, because you know reality is going to come crashing down eventually. You know Neil is going to back off of you, apologize, and quickly say that he was merely watching over you to make sure you weren’t dying and didn’t mean to fall asleep. There was no way that he meant to hold you like that. 

“Good morning,” Neil said casually, not taking his arm off of you. He manages to pull you even closer still. Now your noses are touching. A playful smile stretches across Neil’s lips. 

You couldn’t believe this was happening. You’re shocked, too shocked to say a thing. 

Your silence makes Neil concerned, “What’s wrong? Did I do something? Are you in pain?”

You smile at him, “No, everything is okay. Of course I’m in pain, but this feels good.” Neil’s smile reappears. But, you’re still confused. “I just need to know something Neil,” You say, as the smile disappears from Neil’s face yet again. 

“What’s the matter?” He asks as he draws letters on your back, or at least that’s what it feels as though he’s doing.  

You shake your head slightly. “Nothing is the matter,” You pause, recalling the events of the previous night. “It’s just, am I okay? How much blood did I loose? And Neil I need to know how you feel about-,” 

Neil abruptly cuts your rambling off, “You’re alright. I took care of you after you passed out. I cleaned out the wound and sowed you up. It was easier to do with you asleep, to be honest. I don’t think you would’ve like it very much,” Neil grins before continuing, “Luckily your heart rate stayed completely stable the whole time.” 

You nod your head, waiting for him to address the half asked question towards the end of your rambling that he seemed to get the understanding of. But, there’s no response. 

You decide it’s time to say something. It can’t wait any longer. “Neil, I need to know what all this means. I need to know how you feel about me.” 

“Likewise,” He returns, but there’s no grin upon his face. He’s serious, if not somber. 

Regardless, you’re annoyed. “Likewise?��� You repeat back to him. “I’ve liked you since the second I saw you, and I feel as though I’ve made that abundantly clear. I’ve given you all the signs, all the hints, and you just continue to play these stupid ga-,”

Neil cuts you off, “I had to sit there and watch you almost die. I worked on your wound all night. I’ve been fucking terrified for the past 12 hours wondering whether or not you would make it. I ditched the team to make sure you were safe, and I don’t regret that choice one bit. These aren’t games (Y/N). Being in love with someone isn’t a fucking game.” 

Silence fills the room. Being in love with someone…those words repeated over and over again in your head. You couldn’t let them go. 

Neil catches gaze and holds it. He’s waiting for something from you, but you don’t know how to communicate how you feel anymore. It was like he broke you. 

You know Neil can’t take the tension anymore, and before you can say a word, Neil’s lips hungrily crash into yours. He grabs your waist carefully, keeping you pulled in tight without hurting your wound. 

Neil’s lips leave yours. “Are you happy now?” He asks, brushing where he just was with his thumb. 

“Y-yes,” You say, wanting more. 

“Then it’s settled,” Neil states confidently. He smiles slyly, as he always does.

You’re confused beyond belief. “What is?”

“That you’re mine,” Neil says, taking your chin in between his index finger and thumb. He brings your face closer to his, and kisses you again. 

[lesbianralzarek]

the "i am looking respectfully 👀" meme is great because it's like "you are very attractive but i understand that you're a person and i shouldn't say sexual things to you without your consent" but what if i told all my fellow sapphics that you can look disrespectfully, you just can't let them know that. there's a lot of shame with wlws not wanting to sexualize women or act "male gaze-y" but, like, the youtube lady won't know that you're staring at her tits if you don't tell her that. you're allowed to

[sunlightxing]

Show Me Some Respect

After working for years as a secretary to General Hux aboard the ship, the Finalizer, life could not have been better for you.

That was until Hux informed you that Commander Kylo Ren would be joining you on that ship. Almost immediately, you both resent each other, but after being forced to spend more alone time with him, you begin to wonder, what's so bad about him after all?

Tags on A03 Include:

-Force Choking (Star Wars)

-Fluff and Smut

-Face-Fucking

-Not How the Force is Used

-Armitage Hux Needs a Hug

-Kylo Ren is an asshole

-Y/N Makes Poor Choices

-Praise Kink

-Choking

-Cum-Eating

-Orgasm Delay/Denial

-Sexual Tension

-Sexual Abuse

-Y/N Goes Through A Lot

-Murder

-Possessive Kylo Ren

-Protective Armitage Hux

-Kylo and Hux Get Along Maybe Twice

Chapter 1: Do As He Says

A dread filled morning takes you by suspense when your boss, General Hux, riddles you with nothing but fear for your first encounter with the menacing, Commander Kylo Ren.

A/N: Hello to readers here on tumblr. I’m a little new to posting original work (especially writing) on here so bear with me as I figure it all out! I hope you enjoy my first ever Kylo Ren X Reader story (I dont use y/n cause I don’t like it, my deepest apologies)

Why’d you leave us?

A faint voice called out to you in the distance, so soft and silky, daintily whispering to you. Despite the initial faintness, it slowly began to get closer and closer, its volume ever increasing.

Your eyes fluttered open, but the bright sun blinded them, causing you to seal them shut once more. Eventually, they adjusted to the light, and you opened them to see so many large, and bare trees stretching towards the sky above you. White speckles, snow, were falling all around you, some flakes even landing on your nose.

It felt oddly peaceful, the soft moss around you feeling more comfortable than your own bed. It encased around you, smothering you with warmth and comfort. You kept your eyes shut, and felt yourself seconds from falling asleep on the slightly snow-covered ground. For just a moment, your reopened your eyes, getting one more view of your surrounding before drifting off. But then, to your horror, you saw that the ground next to you was completely covered in blood.

Your eyes widened in fear as you jolted away from your spot on the ground, and pushed yourself up against a nearby tree. The voice in the distance was coming closer towards you, and kept roaring louder and louder. The blood on the ground began to expand, seeping through the moss at an alarming rate. It surrounded the entire area around you, except directly where you were sitting.

As you glanced back up at the sky, the snow, which had now transformed into an icy hail, had begun to take on an even stranger form. In its image, flashes of their faces blew past you, and with it, followed the sound of their screams and cries. Pleading for help, for you to save them. The smell of burning wood wafted into your nostrils, and that voice in the distance was still growing louder. You knew that soon, it would be upon you.

"Wake up, wake up. Please fucking wake up!"

In a jolt of cold sweats, you gasped back to reality, frantically scanning the area around you to make sure it was safe.

"Just a dream, it was just a dream."

Your breath was sporadic, leaving you a panting and anxious mess as you pulled yourself out of bed. Even the smallest movement caused a massive amount of pain surge to through your head.

"I can't take another one of those nightmares." You thought, grabbing the glass of water from your nightstand. You looked over at your clock groggily, and your heart sank upon seeing that you had overslept, giving you little to no time to prepare for the day.

The shower water was freezing when you initially turned it on, per usual. It always felt embarrassing to have to stand outside the door, completely nude, occasionally dangling your finger under the water to see if it had heated up yet.

Over 3 years ago you began working as a secretary to General Hux, and though there was a monstrous amount of glitz and glam thought to come with such a job, it couldn't have been more painfully annoying.

Sure, Hux was somewhat kind and caring towards you, but every other person you pitifully encountered treated you like shit. They'd throw their fits when you wouldn't deliver their papers, shine their boots, tasks they very easily could've done themselves, but simply refused. It wasn't the most difficult job in the world, despite the constant hazing. However, their was a shocking increase in secretaries amongst the First Order. It was most definitely due to the jobs incredible bore-ability, and the fact whoever was placed in such a position would be treated like garbage by everyone they encountered.

You rushed through your shower, only using the time to wash your hair and then yourself. The steam from the hot water had fogged your mirror, which made it hard for you to see your hair when putting it up into two long french braids. You pulled a few strands out in the front, trying to look somewhat nice since your uniform sure didn't help. It was a shapeless, olive green suit, with baggy pants, and thick, heavy boots. The hat that came along with it also wasn't very flattering, but it wasn't like anyone saw you other than your crewmates, and General Hux.

You took another swig from your cup of water as you stared out your glass window and into the infinite galaxy. Your brain decided to alert you of how Hux would be ridiculously pissed off if you were late, as today was one of the days you dreaded most of all since you began working on the Finalizer. The ship would be making its way back to Starkiller base, and you were anything but excited for that.

Several technicians raced by you, heading off to fix some malfunction in the interior of the ship. You always looked at them and wondered if they enjoyed their jobs here, or if, just like you, it was a love-hate relationship.

You entered the control room, staring the other programmers and pilots plugging away at their stations. Though they didn't technically fly the Finalizer, their work was incredibly important. You liked to think yours was important as well, but in reality, it was pointless. Technically, you were Huxs' right hand. As a result, he told you practically anything and everything. So it was more like you were a glorified therapist that followed him around like a lost pet.

"Cadet," a voice said behind you. General Hux was standing at the entrance to the control room, looking a lot more frazzled than usual. "Will you walk with me for a moment?"

You nodded, following closely behind him. Unlike usual, you decided to keep your mouth shut, hoping he would start to explain why he looked so disheveled and unnerved, but he didn't say a word. It was becoming harder to not acknowledge how his body trembled intensely with ever step he took.

"General, if I may ask, is everything alright?" You questioned sweetly, trying not to sound disrespectfully intrusive.

Hux let out a heavy sigh, stopping for a moment to rest against a nearby wall. "I am, not alright," he panted, his voice shaking more than his body was. "When we arrive at Starkiller base, you're going to have to meet The Commander, and I already know you two will not get along."

Your face recoiled as you began to dig into the back of your mind. "Did he mean Commander Ren? That stubborn brute?" You laughed to yourself, while Hux was seconds from engaging in a panic attack.

"This is no laughing matter cadet!" He hollered, his voice nearly cracking at every syllable.

You let out a long sigh. "Hux, I can deal with Kylo Ren. He doesn't scare me at all."

"He should scare you," Hux stated plainly. "My last secretary, before you. He made one simple mistake, and Ren saw to it that the poor boy was eradicated."

Your eyes grew wide with fear, darting away from his gaze so he couldn't see the horror on your face. Hux said it plain as day, if you made so much as one, small mistake, Commander Ren would personally see to it that you were eradicated as well.

Hux groaned. "We both work for the same Supreme Leader, which means I have to work with him." His breathing patterns began to grow more heavy and frantic, and his face flushed with a vibrant red.

You tried to calm him down, as you knew the ship couldn't make the entire flight back without his orders. The two of you had gotten rather close, and you had a lot of respect for him. He'd come in some days looking like he'd seen a ghost, and you wouldn't have been shocked if he had. If the Commander managed to make Hux, your boss, that anxious, you knew this couldn't be good.

After what seemed like seconds, you had arrived at your destination. Just the sight of Starkiller base sent shivers down your spine.

Sure, you'd been their plenty of times, but you never had to willingly interact with the Commander before. In fact, you'd never so much as seen the smallest fragment of his figure. Which would make his reveal all the more terrifying.

As you approached the landing bay, the large metal doors began to open to allow your entrance in. Hux came up behind you, his posture had been perfected, and all expression on his face had been wiped. He looked like a whole new man, and you weren't sure that if you wanted to get on the Commander's good side, you'd have to become a whole new woman.

"The Commander would like us both to meet with him in his quarters before he joins us onboard." Hux said, his voice shaking. You nodded as you took one more look at the hull of the control room, not sure if it was your last.

The pair of you made your way from the control room, to the landing bay. A small craft would take you from the Finalizer to the bay on Starkiller, but you wanted nothing more than just to stay put. There were ways where you could completely avoid the Commander for the entire duration he was here, you hoped. You would just have to hide in a waste bucket every time he came near Hux, and that didn't seem so bad. You groaned, glancing over at Hux as the cruiser landed rather dramatically at the center of the bay.

“Hux, he’s going to hate me, isn’t he?”

He sighed, placing an awkward arm on your shoulder, his attempt at comfort. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

As the pair of you walked down the long hallways of the Starkiller base, it felt as if you were walking to your doom. Which, in reality you probably were. Two stormtroopers had been sent to escort you from the ship to Commander Rens' quarters. They didn't say a word the entire trip to said quarters, despite Hux's several attempts.

Eventually, the four of you arrived at what you presumed to be the Commander's meeting room. The two troopers walked up to the door, placing a loud knock on it to signal their arrival, and then stationed themselves on either side of it. Hux took in a deep breath as he began typing into a small keypad attached to the entrance, and then, the door was open.

"Commander, my apologies on us being later than normal." Hux said, walking through the doorway to the meeting room.

"Oh Gods."

Commander Ren looked like nothing you had expected, though you couldn't really see all of him. He was tall, absolutely massive, his muscles practicality protruding from his sleeves. But his face, you couldn't see so much as an outline of that. Covering it was a thick, solid metal mask, breathing canal and all. He was a true Vader knock off.

He slowly turned around, a feeling of pure rage wafting off of him. For a brief moment, you were certain he was seconds from smashing Huxs' head in, but then he stopped dead in his tracks. His head titled from Huxs' body to your own. Though you couldn't see his facial expression underneath that mask, you new it was one of disgust.

"Who are you?" He asked, gesturing in your direction. You arched your eyebrows in confusion, could he not tell just by simply looking at your uniform?

"No answer?" Commander Ren scoffed.

"I'm his secretary, Commander," you stated, gesturing in Huxs' direction, "didn't you request my presence here? "

He shook his head, placing a hand on the front of that intimidating facial shield. The movement made it look as if he was gaining a headache from your small amount of talking. "This is who you had replace the old one?" Commander Ren hissed, "have you no shame, Hux?"

"Ren, she is very talented in her work and a fantastic secretary," Hux responded, glancing over in your direction. "She has made a fantastic replacement." You smiled, happy to know Hux would still show you some form of kindness around the Commander.

"Hux," Commander Ren stated, "I'll trust your judgment here." He approached Hux slowly, giving him ample time to make your poor General tremble in fear. The Commander stopped inches from his face, his mask nearly touching the tip of Huxs' nose.

"If she makes so much as one mistake, she's gone."

Your face recoiled in disgust. "Well, what the fuck?" You thought to yourself. Did he actually doubt your abilities that much? Or was this all some sort of twisted test of your competence?

The Commander darted his head around, glaring at you in rage. Your body went completely stiff as his masked gaze penetrated your mind. A trill of pain surged through your temples, like something was digging around in your brain for any scrap of information. "That language of hers will not be tolerated either." He spat, looking back at Hux.

"My what? The hell is he talking about? I have yet to swear!" Your brain was spiraling out of control, and that trill of energy still surged throughout your brain.

His ego was disgustingly immense, not to mention he was a delusional idiot. The fool was making up down right lies about you, and to wait gain? He was already addressing Hux in such a disrespectful manner, he didn't need to take it out on you as well. But what even gave him the right to talk down to Hux in such a manner? He wasn't in any better of a position to lead than the General was, not to mention the fact that Hux was a lot easier to deal with, and a lot less moronic.

Commander Ren stood in place, his body shaking violently with rage. Huxs' body was also shaking, but his was out of fear. This was the first time you'd ever seen Hux so threatened by anyone. Usually, he presented such a mass amount of authority and dictation. But here, he was nothing more than a coward.

The Commander gave you an over-the-shoulder glance, and in that moment, you felt time stop. The world around you faded into black. Now, only you and him were in that room, and fear and panic began to rapidly set in. Your body had turned chillingly cold, and air escaped you.

A flash of light hit your eyes, his leather glove reflecting off the overhead chandelier. Before you could get a warning out, he slammed his fist into the wall next to Huxs' head. His curled hand punctured the metal frame, sending hundreds of small electrical sparks flying, leaving bare and broken wires in its wake.

"You teach her to show me some respect, or I will" Commander Ren hissed, his clenched fist now inches from Huxs' face.

Hux folded onto the metal floor, panting uncontrollably as the Commander hovered menacingly above him. You stood gazing at the pair of them, completely motionless, gulping down the fear that was now lodged in your throat. Your pupils shook in horror at what you had just seen, how absolutely horrid your new ship companion was.

Commander Ren glared at you, watching as every inch of your body trembled at his presence. He scoffed, storming out of the room with a prompt slam of the door, the sheer force alone causing you to jump. You looked back at Hux, whose forehead was drenched in sweat, and a slight tremor was visible on his hands. Carefully, as not to frighten him more, you reached down for his hand, an effort to help guide him up off of the floor.

"General..." You pleaded, wrapping your hand around his own as you began to lift. Hux shook you away, pulling himself off of the ground, trying not to show weakness. It was obvious that he was embarrassed of your viewing of his encounter with Commander Ren, but he shouldn't have been. All that quarrel showed was the fact Commander Ren was a prissy little bitch, and tyrant.

Hux dusted off his long coat, and smoothed back his red hair to its original, kept manner. He bit his lip, holding himself back from lashing out against anything the Commander had just done. You hoped he would do it anyway, give you some sort of hint that he too hated Commander Rens guts. But instead, he stared intensely at the door, his eyes becoming bloodshot with rage.

"If you want to make it out of here alive," Hux gulped, "you must to do as he says."

You scoffed in disbelief. "Hux you cannot possibly believe that," you cried. "He isn't as high and mighty as he claims to b-"

Hux slammed his hand over your mouth, his bare fingers tracing over the lining of your lips. His eyes stared painfully into your own, showing so much fear and uncertainty. "I told you to do as he says!" He hollered, the veins in his neck protruding from his already rose colored flesh. Hux removed his hand from over your mouth, and with another brush of his cape, he was gone out the doorway too, much less dramatically than the Commander.

You turned around, looking at the meeting room remorsefully. Your life had just flipped completely upside down, and you know now that you had no say in anything that would happen to it. Hux obviously wasn't going to be any help in standing up against Commander Rens' tyranny, so it looked like you were on your own.

And you hated being on your own.

You walked back to the ship with shane covering your entire body. Every person who passed by you, whether it was a technician or a stormtrooper, seemed to be mocking you. While that wasn't at all the case, Commander Rens' doubt of your capabilities made it seem like everyone else doubted them as well.

As you turned a corner, so flustered and furious you didn't even know what planet you were on, another secretary slammed into you, spilling an incredibly hot and sticky liquid all over your uniform. "Oh my Gods, I am so sorry!" The girl whimpered, reaching for a cloth towel at her side to try and help dry you off.

You clenched your jaw tightly, worried all your rage might come flying out at her. She looked to be so incredibly overworked and stressed, just like you were about to be. You wondered if she had ever dealt with Commander Ren, or maybe her own General was just as terrible as he was, though you doubted that was humanly possible. You hated to admit it as much as the next person, but the treatment of secretaries, especially those that were female, could not have been more horrendous. Every one you had encountered had a horror story, or was currently living through one. Thankfully, your first job was with someone like Hux, a lot more patient and caring than any other. Thoughts crossed your mind of how awful your life would've been if your first job was to Commander Ren. Just the idea alone sent shivers down your spine.

The girl finally finished drying off the excess with a little help from you, but your clothes were soaked with whatever fluid she dumped onto you. Her eyes slowly began to swell up with tears as she stared at your ruined uniform.

"Hey," you said, taking her hand in your own. “There’s no need to cry. I'll go clean it myself, and it'll be good as new, don't worry."

She sniffled, reaching her other hand up to wipe the tears off of her face. Never could you have managed to snap at that girl, because you knew exactly what kind of suffering she was going through, as you had just dealt with the worst of it all. The girl hugged you in gratitude before scurrying back to wherever she came from, getting a replacement for the drink she had dropped. You took in a deep breath as you dreadfully looked down at your tarnished gown. Starkiller base was not somewhere you were familiar with, so finding a washroom was going to be far greater task than it should have been.

For what seemed like hours, you scanned each and every room across the vastness of the ship, hoping to finally find an area for you to clean off your soiled uniform. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched a stormtrooper exit a room with a fully washed, black undergarment, and you knew you had finally found your sought for destination. Rushing into the room, you hoped no one else would be inside, so you could quickly rip off your uniform and wash it without anyone seeing you in nothing but a bra and underwear.

Thankfully, no one was inside the washroom, giving you ample time to strip practically nude, and lock the door behind you as to not allow anyone to barge in.

Staring blankly at the machine that scrubbed and cleansed your attire, the chill of the empty room you sat in was beginning to sting your bare skin, your hair sticking up and goosebumps forming across every inch of it.

The process could not have taken any longer, but finally, it was washed, and ready to be moved to the next machine for drying. Minutes passed by as you sat in the cold and ever darkening room, rubbing up against the warm drying machine periodically as to not die of hypothermia.

"For God's sake, can you just hurry up!" You cried, slamming your foot against the machine, hoping that would throw it into a faster gear.

It did no good, the machine kept carrying on at its slow pace, causing nothing but agony and frustration on your part. You groaned, flopping back into the chair you had been sitting in, only for it to crumble into a hundred tiny pieces as you flopped yourself onto it.

"Mother fucker!" You groaned, lifting yourself off of the cold, metal floor. A bruise was clearly about to form upon your ass after that downfall.

"Language, cadet. That mouth will get you nowhere."

You spun around quickly, leaving your bra-covered breasts completely exposed to the eyes of Commander Ren, who now stood perfectly centered at the entrance of the washroom, the door closed behind him. Your eyes jolted to the lock that was now unfastened on the doorway, yet upon making eye contact, it clicked back into a locked position. Looking down, you noticed Commander Rens' finger was out of place from the rest of his clenched fist, and though at first you had no idea how he managed to weasel his way in here, now you did.

"The force?" You questioned in the back of your mind, watching the pointer finger retreat back to its clenched position.

His head tilted down, obviously showing his gaze had shifted from your eyes, to your almost fully naked body. You covered as much of yourself as you could, feeling completely flustered that so much of you was exposed to his eyes.

"What?" You asked. "Planning on insulting me again? Just get out."

"You're hung up on that?" He questioned, letting a small chuckle escape his throat. "I could have said so much worse."

You rolled your eyes at him, now hoping to make him so angry he would storm out like he did before. "Good for you, Commander. I'm sure you could've."

Silence reigned in the room longer than you would've preferred it to. You had hoped he would make some ridiculous, insulting statement so you could fire back at it, but he was silent.

"Do you mind?" You questioned, tilting your head towards the doorway so he could take the hint to leave.

"The ship was supposed to depart exactly 17 seconds ago," he remarked, keeping his gaze on your chest area, "Hux was going to be sent after you, if I didn't choose to."

You curled your lip sarcastically, letting out a small laugh along with it. "Well thank you so much for that, sir," you said sarcastically, again, gesturing towards the door in hopes that he would leave.

There was a long pause, giving you time to reflect on what he had just said. He would've had no knowledge your uniform had been soiled, tarnished by that poor girls dropped beverage.

So how the fuck did he know you were here?

He stood motionless. The only noise he exuded was the almost asthmatic breathing sounds from his mask. "Finish whatever task this is." Commander Ren instructed, finally moving his gaze away from your body.

He turned to the doorway, giving you a final glance before opening the door, and exiting the room. You stared at the metal frame in disbelief, the fact the Commander had just seen you in arguably your most venerable state was horrifying and embarrassing.

A slight movement on the door caught your attention, as the knob shifted back to its locked position. "Jeez, how kind of him," you scolded, turning back to the dryer that had finally finished its job, of course, right after the Commander had left.

After unlocking the door to the washroom, adorning your freshly cleaned uniform, you sprinted down the halls towards the bay. Thankfully, there wasn't a line of people standing outside the washroom waiting to use it themselves. For if they had seen the Commander in there with you, things would have just gotten so much more complicated.

You marched down the halls, now thinking about how ridiculously awkward your next several months of encounters with the Commander would be, now that your second meeting with him was when you were practically naked.

“Gods. This day cannot get any worse."

[mythiccheroacademia]

Hey I love you hc so far I was wondering if you could do one if s/n was about to get in a fight with this girl but Aizawa canceled there quirks but that didn’t stop s/n from putting her hand on her and beating her ass. How would Bakugou,Todoroki,Izuku, and Shinsou react to that

that’s so sweet of you, honey bunny! thank you sm for this ask! ive been itching to write something spicy lmao. i hope you like this!

A/N: i hope you don’t mind, but this s/n will be female-identifying just because if they’re going to get physical (and it’s not for hero training), i’d rather it be between two girls. i personally am not comfortable with the idea of a man putting his hands on a woman over something that’s not life or death.

Warnings: lots of cursing and a few punches

PSA: I don’t condone violence! Especially between women. I think us girls need to stick together. However, if someone is coming at you disrespectfully, they need to get checked and that's on period. Just try to use your words rather than your hands hehe

Before I forget, Happy 2020 everyone 💜

Bakugo Katsuki:

y’all know this man is the king of using his fist first and words later

you’re pretty sweet and laid-back and you mind your own business

anyways, there was this girl didn’t like you for some reason

all she did was gossip and talk shit about you 

bakugo told you he’d help you jump her but you were trying to the bigger person and told him you’d talk it out 

you and the girl met during lunchtime, you took Mina to help mediate

you politely confronted her 

she denied it and called you crazy

you pulled out the receipts 

her “friends” sent you all the screenshots

“why are you so obsessed with me?” you ask

“who would be obsessed with an ugly bitch like you?”

“sis, who you callin’ a bitch?”

now Mina wants you to throw hands

like why is she calling YOU a bitch when she’s the one that’s talking shit and you don’t even know her???

things start to escalate and you both are screaming at one another and attracting the attention of your friends

she uses her quirk on you and everyone gasps

like, what the hell?

Aizawa immediately uses his scarf and cancels your quirks and orders both of you to the office

but you’re seeing red at this point

“you’re lucky i’m being held back bc i’m not afraid to pull up on a bitch, and that’s on period”

“shut the fuck up you dirty looking rat”

you don’t know if Aizawa loosened his wrappings or not, but you were able to get  free and you went in

Mina and Bakugo cheer

the other girl got suspended

you got two days under house arrest, but you thought it was worth it

bakugo was proud and wouldn’t stop bragging about it

“tch. of course my girl beat her ass. she can check that, dumb bit--”

you hit his head, “boys aren’t allowed to call girls bitches, idiot. but thank you baby”

Todoroki Shoto:

you dated some guy from another school who cheated on you with some girl

you were pretty torn up about it

you broke up with him without a second thought and found someone much better :)

you didn’t know the girl or care about her, so you just forgot about her*ladies, remember to check your bf first before the other woman. she’s not in a relationship with you, he is*

but for some reason, she wanted to torment you

you two went to U.A. but were in different classes

you didn’t see her much, but when you did, she’d make sly comments 

it got on your nerves, but you just let it go

shoto told you she wasn’t worth the energy

but then she saw you and todoroki at your locker and said,

“probably won’t be long until I fuck her boyfriend again,” she giggled to her friends

you slammed the locker shut, that was the last straw

“if you have something to say, say it to my face”

“i think you heard what i said, bitch”

“what’s your problem with me?”

“you think you’re all that bc you date the hottest guys in school, but they only want you bc you’re a skank”

shoto looks the girl dead in the eye and says, “then what does that make you?”

the girl gets so angry

but at you???, and uses her quirk on you

shoto pulls you out of the way 

aizawa comes out of nowhere and cancels all three of your quirks

it’s meant to calm you down, but the girl is trying to go at you

“you’re nothing more than a $5 prostitute and once everyone passes you around like the whore you are, i hope you get an STD and die”

yeah, all bets were off after that

even aizawa was like 😧

shoto put your hair up for you

“fuck her up y/n”

quirk or no quirk, you beat that ass

Midoriya Izuku 

*y’all are in your second-year*

izuku is weak for strong-willed women

literally went 😍🤤 when you told him he should ask you out

you spend a lot of time with each other and he knows about the situation with your (equally as strong-willed) ex-best friend

your ex-friend started to spread disgusting rumors about your little sister (who also goes to U.A as a first-year) just because it got out that her crush liked your sister

izuku, trying to be your hero™, thought y’all should talk it out so he brought both of you to the lunch table 

bless his heart but this boi don’t know 

 you both sat in silence before you glared at your boyfriend 

“why am i in front of this girl?”

izuku: 😯

“don’t address me like i’m some child” she says

“then stop talking about my sister like some little ass girl, bitch”

“shut the fuck up, bitch! ain’t nobody care about your ugly ass sister!”

“yo izuku, why the fuck did you place me in front of this low down dirty bitch”

izuku again: 😮

he immensely regretted this

izuku tries to calm you two down, but things just get worse

suddenly there are mentions of area codes and he didn't quite understand how they correlated to how well people fight, but he didn't have enough time to think about it

he’s trying to hold you back now

someone called aizawa over because you two started using your quirks

your sister is begging you to chill out but you’re too furious to listen

aizawa cancels your quirks before things go too far

izuku got so scared because he knows the punishment for fighting and he would hate it if you got expelled because of his dumb idea at peacekeeping

“y/n, please calm down! it’s not worth it”

even with your quirks gone, you two are rolling around the ground, punching, scratching, and screaming awful things at each other

yells at bakugo for cheering you on

Hitoshi Shinsou:

you know this man is shady af

you two make snarky comments to each other all the time

he loves the way you hold your head up high

he just loves your confidence, it was one of the things that made you so attractive to him

so it hurts him when you started being insecure and timid

he asks you what was going on, but you just say you’re tired

but after a while, you breakdown to him about some girl that’s been bullying you

he knows how it feels to be demonized, so he comforts you, and offers ways to defend yourself against the bullying

very mature™️, very adult™️

it seems to work for a little bit, but then it gets worse

her words start getting to you and, instead of being sad, you start getting angry

but its that really calm type of angry 

shinsou defends you a lot, but one day you tell him it’s okay

then you tell the girl, “next time i see you, it’s on sight baby girl”

it was in a sickly sweet tone that sent shivers down everyone’s spine

on the lowest of keys, it turned shinso on 

he’s like: 🥰😏

you and your bully were then paired up for combat training

you two fight each other and you’re going at her with everything you’ve got

shinsou is at the side, cheering you on 

he thinks you look hot when you’re angry

also, he’s so ready to see you destroy that girl

for educational purposes 

it’s obvious that you two are fighting with ill-intentions and aizawa is forced to cancel your quirks

she doesn’t stop running her mouth though

“you deserved to be picked on”

“oh word?”

“did i stutter?

there was a moment of intense silence as you stared at her

then shinsou yells, “snatch that hoe, y/n!”

and you did just that

you don’t know what happened to her

but you got detention, but your boyfriend gets it too for instigating 

so both of you just eat sweets and gossip to each other

[wherevermyway]

i just want my sweater back | bang chan | smut | oneshot

pairing: established!bang chan x female!reader rating: explicit! 18+ warnings: sexual content (including soft dom!reader, whiny sub!bang chan), profanity, some degradation, chan has a scent kink and a thing for feet, talk of exhibitionism, talk of masturbation. someone also says “i l*ve you,” ew. dumb note: i was wine-drunk when i came up with this so i can’t guarantee it’s any good but it’s thirsty asf, oop - word count: 2,149 also on AO3 here recommended tracks: often by the weeknd, skin by rihanna for: @skzctnightnight​ since we were talking about subby chan. love you. ♥

it was simple, really: your boyfriend, bang chan, wanted his sweater back. sure, he wanted it back because it smelled like you, but he still wanted it back. why he really wanted it back wasn’t really important.

“Baby,” Chan whined, lightly tugging on the pullstrings of the hoodie you were wearing. “Can you please just give it back to me? You can have a different one of mine. I just want my sweater back.”

You shook your head a couple of times, honestly loving watching him unravel as he begged and pleaded for you to return his well-worn black sweater. “It’s warm and I wanna keep wearing it. It’s January, baby. This is my favourite sweater, too.” In his defence, you did have it for about a week straight at this point, deliberately wearing it every single day, because you knew.

Deep down inside, you knew he secretly wanted it for nefarious purposes. Whenever he stopped by to visit you, you would always find a suspicious amount of worn clothing missing from your laundry basket. Miraculously, you always managed to find them in his dirty clothes pile back in his dorm, conspicuous new stains somehow appearing every time before he had washed them.

“Yeah, it’s January, which means I’m cold, too,” you mockingly whine back at him. “What am I gonna do when you take the best sweater anyone could ask for? Freeze?“ You weren’t actually bothered by his request, but you did like making him squirm a little bit.

Chan groans, tilting his head back. “Baby,” he whines. You loved watching him unravel at the smallest things. He took in a long, calculated breath and brought his head back down to give you a pleading stare. “Pretty please.”

Those were the magic words that you knew he wanted you to proceed with reckless abandon, unless he uttered a safeword. “So,” you say, reaching in your pocket as you pull out a pair of your worn panties that you found in his laundry basket earlier, “are you gonna admit the truth? You want your sweater back so you can make it filthy because you love the way I smell? Make it filthy like my stolen panties?”

He blinks a couple of times, trying to act natural, like you hadn’t caught him in the act. Syllables sputter from his mouth, but he can’t quite make them string together in his favour. He shakes his head side to side nervously.

“Lock the door and return to me on your knees,” you confidently say, as you sit up on his bed. Chan takes in a deep breath, turning on his heel to lock his door. He then returns in front of you, timidly taking his assumed position, tucking his wrists behind his back, looking down at the floor.

“Are you going to be a good little slut?” You lean down, lifting his chin to look up towards you. “Are you going to be honest and admit to me why you really wanted your sweater back?”

Chan’s eyes look up to yours for a brief moment before returning to the ground. “I’m sorry, mistress,” he whines, biting his lip back.

“What is it, baby?” You croon with a sickly sweet tone, waiting for him to confess his sins to you. “Are you embarrassed?”

Chan sucks back a quick breath and closes his eyes in shame. “I love the way you smell, mistress, especially after a long week like this.”

“Is that so?” A devious smile comes up on your face. “What does my naughty little slut do when he steals his mistress’ well-worn clothing and has it to himself?”

The man in front of you uncomfortably whines, shifting around awkwardly and allowing for the arousal between his legs to settle for a moment. “I use your clothes,” he mewls with no real answer.

“That’s a terrible answer,” you say, pressing your clothed foot up against his erection, eliciting a soft, but needy gasp from the man beneath you. Chan shudders and curls into himself a bit. “You know it, too, so you’d best be honest before I’m forced to punish you.”

The truth was, Chan loved it when you pushed him around like this. He loved it when the two of you would have little quickie sessions around the dorm. Nearly every time the two of you snuck around the house for a quick fuck, you would slide your panties off and press them to his lips, using them as a makeshift gag. He knew that if any of the other guys saw him in such compromising positions, nobody would take him seriously again, and something about that caused his heart to pump faster.

There was a time where Minho almost caught both of you in the studio. You had been leaning up against the console table and Chan was peering up your skirt, staring at your exposed skin. Your foot was up against Chan’s crotch, panties crumpled up in your hand, as the door opened. You made a quick movement, readjusting yourself to just look like you were leaning against the panel, giving Chan a firm scolding for working so hard and for so long.

“I’mjust looking for a flash drive, don’t mind me,” Minho awkwardly stated as he grabbed something off of the coffee table behind Chan. He made a pointed effort not to look at either of you, but he did have a smirk on his face before he darted back out through the front door.

“Oh my god,” Chan whined, bending forward, looking up at you with pleading eyes. “I thought he was gonna catch us and I was gonna lose it.” He sighed, keeping his palms behind his back. “Mistress, I’m so close, I’m gonna fucking come,” he had whined. “Please, please, please,” he whimpered and opened his mouth as he waited for you to shove your panties into the open space.

It had only been maybe a month or two ago. Both you and Chan had enjoyed the thought of getting caught, but if he was caught submitting to someone else by his bandmates? There would have been no greater sin. It was a source of internal conflict for him, but he loved it.

You press your foot against him a bit firmer, a devious grin on your face. “This is your last warning, baby. Tell me what you do to yourself, what you have the audacity to do with your mistress’ clothing.”

“I,” he starts, a blush creeping up on his face. “Sometimes, I’ll lay in bed when the guys are asleep, and I’ll,” he breaks eye contact with you and closes his eyelids in shame. “I’ll take a pair of your panties from my collection, hold them up to my face while I touch myself and then when I get close, I…” his voice trails off and you run your foot up the length of his cock slowly, from your toes all the way to your heel. Chan rolls his head back and tries to stifle a moan.

“When you get close, you…?”

“I’ll come all over your panties, hide them under my pillow. I don’t want the guys to know about it, so I just kinda keep them there until the morning. I think about it while I fall asleep.”

“Stand up,” you command. Chan obediently does as he’s told, keeping his hands behind his back and avoiding eye contact with you. “So, let me get this straight,” you move to undo the button on his pants, slowly unzipping them, “you’re such a horny slut that you not only jerk off while there are other people in the room, trying to sleep, but you also steal your mistress’ panties and clothing and disrespectfully use them as cumrags?”

Chan meekly nods his head.

“I didn’t hear you,” your voice is stern as you pull his pants down, letting them fall to his ankles. “Use your words and look at me, my filthy slut.”

“Yes, mistress,” he whimpers, turning to look at you. “I get so turned on thinking about you that I can’t help it. Sometimes, I think Changbin can hear me. I don’t know if he actually does, but that turns me on, too.”

“Yeah?” You question, pulling Chan closer to you by the hips and you stand up. “Get on the bed, baby, then tell me more about what you’re thinking.”

Chan does as you ask, making sure to keep his hands behind the small of his back. “I always think about what the other guys would think if they knew about all of the things that you do to me, mistress.”

He inhales sharply as you pull his briefs off, tossing them to the side as his cock quivers as it springs free. You unbutton your jeans and slide them off, watching Chan as he tries so hard not to look at you.

“If they saw me being submissive to you,” he chokes out and his cock twitches in response to whatever he’s thinking about, “I’d never live it down. I’d be so embarrassed, but, honestly, it would be so hot. I just picture them talking down to me, calling me such terrible things. I’d be the group’s slut, not their leader.”

Some precum starts to leak from the tip of his cock, and you bite your lip between your teeth. “You are a slut, but you’re my slut, baby.” You slide your fingers against the crotch of your panties, making sure to get as much fluid mopped up, seeping into the fabric as possible. When the silky fabric is completely soaked through, you slide your panties off and present them in front of Chan’s face.

His eyes immediately open wide as he stares at the panties in front of his face, then he darts his eyes to you, his pupils dilating instantly. “Mistress, please,” he whines, awkwardly shifting a bit.

You drop them unceremoniously over his face. “I’m not gonna gag you this time, baby,” you say softly, bending down to his ear. “So, do your best and make sure that you stay good and quiet so your friends don’t hear all the lewd noises you’re going to make for me. Understood?”

Chan nods his head feverishly. “Yes, mistress, I understand,” he breathes out, rolling his eyes back as he takes in the scent of you.

You get on the bed and throw a leg over Chan’s hips, positioning yourself over his lengthy, throbbing cock. As you slowly slide yourself down on him, Chan must have briefly forgotten he didn’t have anything in his mouth to absorb his moans. He lets out a choked cry, moaning until you bend down, pushing the panties up above his lips to give him a quick kiss and gently bite his bottom lip.

“You’ve gotta be quiet, baby,” you whisper, “unless you want everyone to hear you. Is that what you want?”

Chan bites his lip back, trying so hard to not make any loud noises, and he shakes his head. “N-no, mistress,” he manages to choke out , “but I’m not gonna last long, I feel it already.” A look of embarrassment washes over his partially visible face and he goes back to nibbling on his lips.

“That’s okay, baby,” you say as you quickly bring your hips down against his. Chan’s eyes tear open, rolling back as he arches his back up and lets out a soft, strangled cry. “You can make it up to me after.”

“Wanna,” Chan whimpers, “ah, wanna make you happy, mistress.” You sit back on your heels and grind up and down on his cock, enjoying how it completely fills you up and puts pressure on all of the right places inside of you. “Make you come with my tongue. Gonna make you come so hard, mistress,” he continues to pant out.

“What a good little slut,” you say in a hushed tone, rolling your pelvis up against Chan’s. “I’m gonna make you come inside me, then make you clean all of it up, baby.”

“Ah, fuck,” Chan groans, his body shifting in discomfort. “Mistress, I’m already, ah, can I please?”

“‘Please’, what? Use your words.”

“Please let me come inside you, mistress.” He writhes a bit and bites his lip so hard that the skin starts to turn white. “Please let your filthy slut come.”

You grind up against his cock a few more times, then trail a hand down his chest. “Come for me, baby.”

It happens almost instantaneously. Chan arches his back higher and lets out a desperate, choked-up moan as you feel his cum spill inside of you. “Fuck,” he whines, shaking beneath you a bit before he’s able to settle back down. You pull the panties off of his face, and a warm smile creeps up on your face. Watching Chan unravel was always your favourite part of being intimate with him.

You look down at Chan, bending at the waist to give him a deep, loving kiss. “I love you, Chan,” you bend down to his ear and whisper, “but I’m running out of panties thanks to you.”

[cryptidsandcatacombs]

listen sleep is irrelevant when there are vampires around a corporeal form what is that my needs of the flesh lol what are those

Ship: Noe Archiviste/S/I Rating: very adult anyone under the age of 18 skidaddle no srsly it's all nsfw smut from here no minors are allowed to read. All nsfw under the cut srsly do not read if you're a minor

Summary: Listen I'm not saying I'm horny for Noe Archiviste and I decided to make a self insert fic powered by that horny and make it everyone's problem BUT IDK you guys can decide for yourself whether i'm lying or not yall graduated high school, so yall have an adult level of reading comprehension. You guys got this. I'm rooting for you and so are my 10000 horny thoughts. This fic is brought to you by the sound of your past mistake chasing you. Remember. Ever day is leg day when you're running from your problems.

Also very highly self indulgent. Don't read if you don't like self inserts who are incredibly horny for certain people....or am I? Who knows.

Note: my s/i is a trans guy with all the feminine parts still attached. just needed to clear that up Copper. That's all Noe could smell. Being this close to Oz had an effect on him. One that drew him into a haze of nearly drug induced ambrosia. Gods how it made him dizzy in the most pleasant ways.

Oz unbuttoned the top of his shirt and gave him a slight smile. "Well, what you staring at," Oz said in a flirty tone.

Noe gulped going between Oz's purple eyes, chest and finally his neck. Fuck he was avoiding the neck. He felt like a Victorian virgin whose never seen a bit of skin before. Noe just felt Oz was so...exposed. It drove him crazy.

"Listen," Oz said interrupting Noe's haze, "I know what you're thinking. Well, what you waiting for. It's not like I'm saying no."

Noe was taken aback. Was Oz offering himself to him. No, it can't be. It can't be that easy. Who would offer themselves to a vampire?

"Oh or is the big bad vampire scared? I promise Noe, I've been wanting this for so long," Oz said through labored breath. Oz pulled down his shirt exposing his chest. "Please Noe, will you deny what we both clearly have been longing for. Partake onto me my love."

Noe's body moved closer to Oz than he already was. His lips grazed close to Oz's pulse. He can practically feel it throbbing with excitement.

Oz craned his neck to help Noe find a spot. Noe grazed his teeth experimentally to find the one spot that made Oz moan.

"There... no not there....wait where....," Noe thought to himself as he prodded around Oz's neck.

Suddenly, he heard that moan he had been looking for. Perfect.

He bit a little further. He looked up to see Oz's reaction.

Oz was panting wildly, face several shades dark with a violent, lustful blush. God, it was bliss to look upon.

"Please...." Oz said in a tone that Noe could have sworn was begging. If there was any doubts before, they were gone with his reserves.

Noe plunged his fangs further into Oz's tender, soft flesh. Noe shuddered at the feeling of Oz running his fingers through Noe's hair. God, it was heaven.(edited)

"Please, don't stop..." Oz said panting and moaning.

Noe tasted the blood that pooled onto his tongue. He grabbed Oz closer pulling him onto his lap. The effect Oz had on him was beyond addiction, beyond lust. It was an obsession he couldn't quit.

He had waited for this day for so long. It's what kept him up at night in a cold sweat and it invaded his dreams. However, all those dreams ended in a nightmare. Oz lying cold and deceased in his arms from not being able to simply stop. Blood run dry by his own hands. Tears streaming down his face by what he's done. He couldn't bare to act on his need to suck Oz's blood out of fear he may not be able to stop himself.

But dear god, how he wanted this so bad. So bad he's so happy he's tasting it now.

Noe suddenly push Oz down onto the couch they were sitting on. Oz's back fell to the couch, Noe pressed against him.

Noe dug himself deeper into Oz. Oz spread his legs to further accommodate him. This only encouraged Noe. His fangs dug further into Oz's pulsating flesh as he ground his ever swelling boner against Oz's crotch. Noe partook in Oz's blood like a dying man who hasn't seen food in days.

Oz began to grind back, moaning and whimpering gripping Noe's clothes for dear life.

Noe released his fangs from Oz's neck causing Oz to stare back curiously wondering why Noe stopped. The answer came in the form and Noe unbuttoning his shirt.

"So hot..," Noe managed to pant out, "Can't breathe."

Noe quickly, with deft precision, unbuttoned and took off his shirt revealing a sight Oz couldn't help but stare at disrespectfully and objectify to filth as he's done so many times in his sexual fantasies.

"Hey you ok," Noe asked noticing staring as Oz was not subtle and also thirstier than the most dehydrated man lost in the desert.

"Oh, yes I am. I just always thought you were very sexy. God, you're beautiful," Oz said blushing head to toe.

Noe's cool broke and he started blushing too. "T-thanks," he managed to squeak out.

Oz giggled at Noe's flustered reaction. Oz lifted his hand to Noe's face to calm him.

Noe stared down at Oz's face. It was almost magical seeing Oz's disheveled stated. Blood dripping down Oz's neck, shirt wrinkled cascading down his nearly exposed breasts, eyes and face filled with wanting. Noe touched Oz's hand that was still on his face. This wasn't a dream. God, this was better than one.

Noe couldn't help what he did next.

Noe lowered himself on top of Oz. Noe and Oz's noses practically met they were so close. A mix of being so close and Noe's hot breath against Oz's skin made Oz turn away flustered.

Noe placed his fingers under Oz's chin to keep his face where he needed it to be. Noe slowly and sensually placed his lips upon Oz's. Oz returned the kiss just as slow and soft.

Noe ran his fingers through Oz's hair as he pressed his lips harder against Oz's. Oz returned the favor running his fingers down Noe's exposed back. The sensation made Noe shiver and moan as he ran his tongue against Oz's lips. The kisses became laced with moans as Noe pulled on Oz's shirt.

Noe parted from the kiss with panting. "Take your clothes off," said pulling on Oz's shirt.

Oz did what he was told. Noe stared in fascination as his eyes partook in every length of the increasing exposure of Oz's skin. Noe suddenly became aware of the grating ache of his own erection. He would have taken his own pants if he wasn't so afraid it'd embarrass Oz at this moment.

With the last article of Oz's clothing gone, Oz turned away embarrassed by Noe's stare. Oz had trouble finding himself attractive, but Noe would beg to differ.

As if reading his mind, Noe turned Oz's face towards him. Noe gave Oz a kind smile. One that Oz always fell in love with over and over again.

Noe leaned into Oz's face. He gently put his hand on Oz's cheek, rubbing his thumb across it. "You're beautiful," he whispered.

"Thank you," Oz said blushing. "You're amazing Noe. I love you so much."

Noe smiled hearing those words. He had longed to hear them for so long even though he had heard them in many ways in his imagination and dreams. Nothing compared to how he heard it coming from Oz's own lips.

"I love you too Oz. More than I could ever explain," Noe said barely above a whisper.

Noe once again took Oz's lips onto his own as he pressed Oz back onto the couch again.

Noe once again placed himself between Oz's legs once again becoming aware of his aching erection.

"I-I'm sorry, mind if I..." Noe said lifting himself off Oz. Noe place his hands around the button his pants to gesture what he wanted to do.

"Mind if you what," Oz asked.

Noe was taken aback with that question. "God Oz, you better be glad you're cute at times like these," Noe thought to himself.

"My pants," Noe stuttered out, "Mind if I take them off."

"Oh yeah sure," Oz said immediately, "Why wouldn't I want you to?"

"I don't know. Anxiety told me I shouldn't because you might not like it," Noe said now fully embarrassed.

Oz bit his lip and ran his fingers through his own hair. "Listen, I want this I promise you. More than I have ever admitted to you."

Noe whipped his head back to Oz now fully intrigued. "Really," he asked without hesitation.

Oz nodded covering his face.

Suddenly, Noe placed his fingers on Oz's pussy to find it wet beyond what he thought it would be. The sensation of Noe's fingers down there made him gasp and moan as he curled his toes inwardly.

Noe kissed Oz's neck around the same spot he bit to tease him further. "How long have you been thinking of me like this," Noe asked as he rubbed Oz's wetness a little harder. Noe's thumb reached for the clit to tease him further.

Electric pleasure surged through Oz's body in such an overwhelming way that he couldn't talk. All that came out were squeaks and moans. The stimulation was killing him.

"Now now, that's not what I asked," Noe whispered in Oz's ear. "Be a good boy and tell me exactly what you've been thinking of me." Noe breath hitched as he managed to shudder out his next words,"and please don't' skimp on the details."

Oz wriggled under Noe's touched as he to rub the same way. Noe's brow furrowed realizing Oz wasn't going to talk unless Noe made him. Noe took his thumb away from Oz's clit. An action that made Oz whimper from its absence.

"Now now, I'll give you what you want once you give daddy what he wants," Noe growled out, his voice dropping to such an octave it seemed like it came from somewhere deep in his chest.

Oz's lip quivered as he struggled to tell him. God where to begin.

"Well, I had a fantasy similar to this. I'm alone with you in your place. You get so close to me and bite me sucking my blood because you can't take it anymore. The need making you so feral it hurts. Then you fuck me so hard I can't walk straight for a few days," Oz said blushing turning away so flustered by describing his sexual fantasies.

Noe blushed harder than he thought he would hearing someone think of him that way. He never thought he'd find anyone who thought of him that way. Confidence suddenly rising within him, he teasingly placed his hand upon Oz's thigh, hovering just above the spot he needed Noe's hand to be.

"Really and how often do you think of me in such a....sinful manner," he said voice heavy with lust straining against taking Oz right then and there.

"More than you can imagine," Oz admitted daring not to look Noe in the eye.

Noe's breath came out ragged hearing that. Noe's fingers grazed harder into Oz's thighs. He suddenly remembered he never took his pants off. They were officially killing him from how hard his cock was straining against them now.

Noe furiously tore them away revealing all of himself to Oz. Oz's eyes took Noe in fully, trying not to stare at his dick too long. Oz stared back up at Noe's. Noe leaned in close to Oz.

"What," Oz squeaked out.

"Were you staring," Noe asked.

Oz nodded blushing 500 shades darker than he thought he would.

Noe blushed along with Oz. "I-uh I hope I look ok," Noe said rubbing the back of his neck eyes darting to uncertain places. Places he will never admit but fortunately the writer is tattle tale and those places were Oz's tits. You're welcome.

Oz smiled and kissed Noe's cheek. "You look amazing. You're so beautiful," Oz said whispering against Noe's cheek.

Noe turned back to Oz's eyes. God, Noe considered himself the luckiest bastard on Earth right now and so did Oz. They felt so lucky to be in each other's presence right now, wanting each other in mutual lust.

Noe and Oz pressed their lips against each other for another kiss as Noe slid his hands down Oz's thigh and onto his clit once more.

Oz moaned wildly into the kiss as Noe pressed rubbed it harder and faster.

"S-stop..t-t--too mUCH,"Oz managed to squeak out.

"Ssshh sshh it's ok. You're so close. I just want to feel you cum once. Or tell me where you want it by precious boy," Noe whispered reading the vibes.

Oz, with much hesitance, pushed Noe's fingers towards Oz's dripping vaginal hole.

"P-please," Oz moaned.

Noe nodded as he dipped two fingers in. Oz dug his fingers into the couch cushion as Noe thrust his fingers in and out.

"Better," Noe asked checking in on Oz to see if he was doing ok.

"Yes oh gods yes," Oz said through his moans and pants.

Noe took this as a sign to go harder and deeper. Noe dug deeper trying to find the spot that would make Oz scream. Noe managed to find it with the sound of Oz's gasp.

"There," Oz said barely audible.

"There," Noe asked as he thrust his fingers harder onto that same spot.

Oz's toes curled and dug into the couch. His nail dug and scraped against Noe's back, driving him insane. Gods, Noe wasn't sure how much of this he could take before he took Oz like an animal in heat.

Noe, wanting to speed up the process before his own orgasm denial drove him to madness, kissed and teased around Oz's tits and nipple. Oz ran his fingers through Noe's hair encouraging him. Noe moaned at the sensation of Oz doing this. Curse the fact he was so tender headed.

Noe sucked on one of Oz's tits as his fingers thrust into Oz's spot harder feeling Oz on the edge of cumming.

With a final moan and gasp, Noe finally felt Oz cum around his fingers. Noe suddenly became self aware how hot and sweaty he felt at this moment.

He needed Oz now.

Noe took in Oz's blissed out, post orgasm face. Noe bathed in the sight. He couldn't believe Oz came for him of all people. Fantasized about him doing this to him. The thought of it made Noe's dick twitch with need.

Noe turned Oz's face towards him once more as he took him into another kiss. Sliding both hands down to Oz's hips, he pulled Oz forward so Noe's dick was at Oz's entrance.

Noe lifted Oz's legs higher onto his back so he can get a good angle.

"Ready," Noe asked looking for Oz's consent.

Oz nodded. "Please....fuck me please...."

That was the last thread that was cut for Noe. He ceased to be a man with reserves or gentleness at that point.

Noe dug his fingers into Oz's hips as he pulled Oz's body forward and thrust his throbbing cock in roughly. More roughly than he thought he would.

Oz moaned feeling himself squeeze around the sudden intrusion. God it felt amazing to him.

Noe panted, heart pounding at the new sensation he had never felt before. Oz was so tight around him. He could get drunk off this feeling for the rest of eternity.

"You ok," Noe asked checking to see if Oz was hurting or if it was too overstimulating.

"Yes. It feels amazing. I need you please please please," Oz said running his fingers through his own hair becoming overwhelmed with pleasure.

Noe nodded taking this as a sign he's allowed to move. Noe steadied himself, hand hooking around the back of Oz's head, other hand on Oz's hip. He began to thrust slowly and deeply trying to find a pace they both liked.

Oz's moans became progressively loud reaching in harmony with Noe's own moans. Both Oz and Noe's nails dug into each other with each motion.

Noe reached down and began to scrape his fangs against Oz's neck. Oz tilted his head back to expose himself more. Noe found another good spot and plunged his fangs into Oz's flesh once more.

As Oz's blood pooled onto Noe's tongue, he began to thrust harder. Oz moaned louder gripping Noe's hair. Noe moaned from the feeling of Oz tugging on his hair. He lifted Oz's lower body higher and began to thrust deeper and harder.

Noe ran his fingers through Oz's hair, pulling Oz's hair roughly. Noe released his fangs from Oz's neck. His teeth scraped and traveled other places on Oz's neck leaving deep, dark love bites all over.

Oz's legs began to buckle and shake from all of this happening at once. Nails dug further into Noe's skin.

"Oh gods don't stop fuck don't stop," Oz moaned and panted out.

Noe picked up the pace, thrusting harder until Oz screamed.

Oz became barely audible at this point feeling himself on the edge of cumming.

"Oz, you're so close. I can feel it," Noe panted out feeling himself getting close too.

"Don't stop. I'm gonna cum," Oz said just before biting down on Noe's shoulder.

Noe gasped and bit harder into Oz's neck. Noe had no idea being the one getting bit would turn him on too. Well noted.

With a few hard thrusts, Noe felt Oz cumming around him with Noe cumming with him.

Noe took a few moment to compose himself and then collapsed on top of Oz. The room was only filled with exhausted pants coming from both parties.

"So, how was that for you," Noe asked.

"Amazing. What about you," Oz asked in return.

"That was incredible," Noe said kissing the nearest parts his lips could reach before giving him a soft peck on the lips.

Noe pulled himself out of Oz, watching the stream of cum drip from Oz's hole. The sight made him shiver with arousal. Little did he know, Oz loved the sensation of it too.

In both their minds, they decided one round wasn't enough.

But it was Noe who made the first advance. Noe picked Oz up off the couch.

"How about we do this again, but this time on the bed where we can cuddle and have more room," Noe said holding her close.

"Ok," Oz said leaning his ear into Noe's chest feeling his heart pounding from excitement.

Noe settled Oz down onto the bed, moonlight beaming down into the room. "Thank you Oz my little moonbeam. I love you so much," Noe said pulling Oz towards him.

"I love you too little starlight," Oz said as Noe pulled Oz in for another kiss.

This was going to be a long night.

[fanficparker]

Under My Umbrella | Tom x Haz one-shot

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Tom Holland

Word count: 5.5k words

Warnings: Swearing, angst, lots of tears, alcohol

Summary: The one where Harrison did the audacity to kiss his life-long best friend or his twin sister’s boyfriend.

A/N: Life is short and this is just a piece of fiction, why stop myself from posting it on my own blog?

PART 1 ♡

(Tom's POV)

"I am so sorry. OH GOD, I AM SO SORRY!"

I hear Harrison screaming on the top of his voice. My vision is blurry, the rain isn't allowing me to see much, although I am sure there is much more than just the rain pouring down his face; his tears were also streaming down along with it.

He had taken five steps away from me after kissing me in the rain and my world has already fallen apart. He is pulling at his curls so aggressively. He will hurt himself. I take a step towards him with my hands reaching out but he takes another step back.

He is drifting away from me. And I am drifting apart from myself.

I freeze on my feet. My heartbeat feels non-existent. I am confused. Am I dead or alive? If I am dead then where am I? Is it heaven or hell? It kind of feels like both.

Harrison has just kissed me. His taste is still lingering on my tongue. My head is spinning without even a single drop of alcohol. His touch did this to me. And now I am starving. Starving for more.

"I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have. Shit! I SHOULDN'T HAVE!"

"No... No... " I try to stop him but he's already running. My ankle is aching. I can't run fast, I can't catch his pace. Then, he slowly vanishes away from my sight.

"HARRISON! HARRISON... PLEASE STOP! Please stop... Please..." I scream, sinking down to the footpath. I was too late to scream. I was too late to stop him.

He's gone. He broke the promise.

***

I can hear those distinct lyrics as the soft music resonates in the air. It's the Ember Island's version— our favourite version. I am sitting here waiting for the interviewers to arrive but my mind keeps drifting off to the song.

"This is our song!" Harrison says as we are lying down on the bed.

"Umbrella? Really?" I ask, surprised.

He turns on his side and faces me, I do the same. His head rests on his elbow while my head is still on the pillow. We were looking at each other.

"Yeah..." His voice is soft. He hums and looks back at the ceiling while the music plays from his phone. He starts lip-syncing along with the lyrics, "Cause in the dark, you can't see shiny cars. And that's when you need me there with you, I'll always share. Because..."

"When the sun shine, we shine together. Told you I'll be here forever---"

"You are singing." RDJ chuckles sitting beside me. And I realise that I was actually singing. My stomach twists into a knot and my face gets warm.

"We can sing it together, kiddo!" He says, enthusiastically.

"I... er..." I try to stop him but he is already singing.

Why am I always late?

"Under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh..." RDJ is singing, he is nodding his head sideways and is peaking at me occasionally.

The song is the same but the voice is different. The lyrics mean different when Harrison sang them. In Harrison's voice, they meant something but right now they are just raw. Hollow.

***

We are on the same magazine cover.

Oh my god.

We are on the same freaking magazine cover!

'The Spider-man 3 star tells us about his secret power food', The Hollywood Reporter headline reads with my gym photo-shoot as the background.

There are three more sub-headlines to the cover, placed near the right margin. The second one says, 'Harrison Osterfield: The young British actor tells us about his inspirational journey as the young face for Agent 007. (Pg. 3-4)'

The rumours were true. He has done it.

Oh my god. And I am not even there to congratulate him.

"I am so proud of you. I knew you would grab it!" Harrison bounces on his feet while I stand near him, blushing furiously.

"My mate is Spider-man! My mate is THE Spider-man!!" He proudly yells and keeps his palms on my shoulders. When I look up into his blue eyes, they are glossy and act like mirrors. I can see myself reflecting through them. Then I notice a little pinch of sadness shining through them.

"Don't forget me though..." He says slowly. His energetic voice started sounding cracked. It made me think for a moment.

I gulp, "You can be my assistant. I-It will help you... gain experience in the industry." I was planning to ask him this since my role was confirmed because how was I even supposed to step into my new, more chaotic life without my biggest support system?

He pulls back his arms from my shoulders and looks at me with wide eyes.

"What?"

"Yes!... Also, you know... I-I am kinda afraid going on the journey alone." I bite at my lower lip.

Just say yes, I pray silently.

"Oh, div! You'll not be alone there. You'll have big stars. All those fancy people, fancy life-style and those fancy---"

"These fancy things will never come in between us, Harrison," I cut his rambling off. He pauses and glances at me.

"I am alone without you..."

I am always alone without him.

I regret not saying always, even though it doesn't matter anymore.

My fingers flip through the pages, my eyes land on his half-page portrait. He was wearing a black and white formal suit; his index finger is pressed against his forehead as he is bent forward while his were eyes boring into the front. They are staring into my soul.

My breath hitches in my throat. It's just his portrait but those eyes. Those eyes. I avert my gaze from the picture to the text. He talks about his journey from school to landing this role. He talks about his family, he talks about his journey as my assistant and then he talks about me. I can hear his voice even when it's just plain text.

'I cannot thank Tom enough. He pushed me harder whenever I slowed down. He pulled me up when I fell down. I really look up to him.'

No Harrison, you are wrong. You pushed me harder when I slowed down. You pulled me up when I fell down. It's me who looks up to you.

"Oh em jee!" The teen girl squeals seeing me at the airport. Harrison and I were walking, dragging our trolleys. I was wearing a cap, sunglasses and even had my hoodie on yet she somehow spotted me. She ran towards me.

"You are Tom Holland! I am such a huge fan of you!!!" She is still squealing as she takes out her phone, asking me for a picture. I was really sleepy and sleep-deprived at the same time, but it still made me smile. I lowered my hoodie and took off my goggles.

Harrison was standing beside me, grinning too. I was ready for her to take a selfie with us but then she walks up to Harrison and points her phone to him.

"Huh?"

I see a little confusion appear on his face.

"Take our picture," She says almost disrespectfully. I feel a pang in my heart, I can't even imagine what he must be feeling. But then he looks at me, takes the phone and smiles.

The girl stands beside me, and Harrison is standing in front of us.

"Smile..." He whispers, looking at me in the eye, his face breaking into a bigger grin and I can't stop the smile that spreads across my own lips seeing him smile.

But I know he was sad from inside and even when I was physically present there, I wasn't still there to make him really smile, the one that makes his eyes crinkle.

I am really sorry for making you feel left out when all you did was try to make me feel included. Sorry for every time I left you alone. Yet, you always kept smiling. How do you do that?

I seriously need to learn a lot from you...

***

I had stopped stalking him on social media weeks ago. It was taking a toll on my mental health. But much to my dismay, I had a notification of him mentioning me in his Instagram story. My finger hovers over the unseen story. I click to see it.

The story was completely black, he has even tagged me in black. This story is exclusively for me. The song plays in the background.

No. No.

He can't do this to me.

He can't fucking do this to me.

"Now that it's raining more than ever, Know that we still have each other, You can stand under my---"

I threw my phone at the wall and the song stops playing abruptly. I am sure that I broke the device. But at least the song has ended.

I hate him for this!

How can he do this do me? How can he go so low?

I sunk down to the floor of my room. I am not just crying, I am screaming. Just like that night when I sunk down to the footpath...

Harrison and I were walking on the wet footpath. The rain was only getting heavier but none of us cared. The occasional honking of vehicles or the whooshing sound of tires against the wet concrete didn't bother us either.

Our shoulders were bumping against each other while we talked and laughed at stupid things. We sometimes did it, went out to have an ice-cream and talked about everything. It cleared off our minds and provided us with a break from our busy lifestyles. Harrison was holding the umbrella over our head as he was the taller one. A small portion of my other shoulder was slightly wet even when we were super close to each other. The umbrella was small, so I shifted closer to him. But I accidentally twisted my ankle due to the slippery path.

"Ouch!" I stop, putting my arm across his shoulder to balance myself, lifting the injured foot in the air.

"What happened?" He asks in a voice full of concern, stopping his motions.

"My foot. I think... I got a sprain."

"Oh, Tom. I tell you to be careful." He says and hands me the umbrella while I shift towards the wall, supporting myself. He crouches down on the empty footpath and unties my sandals, holding my foot in his hand.

"At least I didn't break my nose this time." I chuckle but it ends up as a whimper when he twists my ankle.

"It looks mild," He declares, re-tieing my sandals and stands up. I smile at him in gratitude but he wasn't smiling back. My expression changes to reciprocate his'. Then I realise that he wasn't properly standing up. His knees were slightly bent and his face was at the same level as mine. We were staring at each other. He took a step closer to me and suddenly all my senses were shutting down. The only thing I could feel was how close he was to me, how the scent of his aftershave was the sweetest smell I have ever inhaled, how his eyes were staring at mine, how they flickered down to my lips, how they closed, how the sound of his shaky breath made my heart shiver, how his lips were feeling against mine, how his breath tasted of vanilla and chocolate...

My limbs lost all their strength and the umbrella fell down, drowning us both in pouring water. His hands came to hold mine as he interlaces his fingers through mine, giving them a little squeeze.

He was kissing away the water droplets off my lips. I didn't do anything. I just let him. Or maybe I was kissing him back but it was all... so natural. I have never felt so calm and protected in my life. The way his lips rolled over mine... I was completely intoxicated.

There was something intimate about rain. Something soothing. Your ears are drumming with the pitter-patter sound that you can't hear the regular hustle-bustle. For once I felt like Harrison and I were absolutely alone in this world. I liked that feeling.

But we weren't.

That's when the reality hit him and he panicked.

I was dating his twin sister.

PART 2 ♡

(Harrison's POV)

It's 5 am and I am still not sleeping. My headphones are plugged into my ears while I feel like an absolute piece of shit. Not just I have done the forbidden audacious task of falling for my best friend but also the heinous crime of kissing my sister's boyfriend.

Lily doesn't even know why Tom broke up with her after a relationship of over a year and that too, over the phone. She has no idea that the person she trusted so much for consoling her, the one she chose to cry in front of, the one she chose to hug, the one she chose to share her pain with was actually the sole creator of the pain. Her twin brother was nothing but a snake.

The day after I kissed Tom, there was a knock at my bedroom door in the middle of the night. As soon as the door opened, I stumbled back with what force Lily hugged me. She was crying into my t-shirt. Her behaviour confused me and an instant fear of something bad happening to her settled at the bottom of my heart; my brother instincts made my fists clench. I wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone who had hurt her this way.

"Tom broke up with me," She utters in between her sobs. Her words acted like salt being rubbed over my open wounds.

Turns out I was also a hypocrite. I didn't kill myself.

I was helpless. I felt both like the criminal and the victim at the same time.

I hugged her back tighter, hiding my face in her hair.

"I am so sorry, Lily. I am so sorry," I whimpered and kissed the top of her head as she snuggled closer to me.

She thinks my sorries were of sympathy. No. They were my apology. But they feel hollow just like my heart and existence...

***

Out of so many editions, The Hollywood Reporter apparently, chose to put me and Tom on the same one. Seems like nature has decided to pull me inside the deepest guilt trap possible. I lock the magazine in my cupboard. I no more have any desire to look inside of it.

I haven't slept for the past twenty-four hours. I am so nervous. I feel so insecure. I want to talk about me landing a significant role to him. I know it's just me playing James Bond's younger version in a long flashback and not the real James Bond, but still...

He is the only one capable of calming my nerves after my mum. But sometimes mum couldn't, sometimes it's not her field of expertise. Sometimes only a friend could help you.

Tom was roasting marshmallows in this garden when I entered and sat beside him.

"What's up champ?" He says, not even looking at me.

I was quiet and looking down at my lap when he finally notices and turns to look at me.

"How's it going?" He asks. I look up to meet his soft brown eyes, instantly melting at the sight.

"Not well... I dunno... I feel weird. I don't know if you will want to hear my rant but--"

"Just vent to me. My ears are always open..." He says, patting my knee.

I nod my head. He knows exactly what I want. He listened to all my rambles with zero interruptions even when my mouth was stuffed with marshmallows, without judging me or passing any opinion...

Turns out the asking for help from Tom option doesn't exist anymore, considering he had blocked me after me mentioning him in that blank music story and now my and his names are bouncing all over- #1. The old fashioned, not being used for what it was first designed for: Instagram; #2. The infamous, super political, the lifeline of democratic announcements: Twitter; and #3. The safe from boomers, modern version of fanfiction dot net: Tumblr.

The fans think they know better about our situation then what I and (probably) Tom knows.

'Tom Holland and Harrison Osterfield have unfollowed each other on Instagram!!!' reads one of the fan posts.

I didn't unfollow him, it's him who blocked me and that's how Instagram works. Our mutual following, likes, comment and tags on each other's posts are automatically removed.

'No, they haven't unfollowed each other. One of them has blocked the other!!!' reads the reblogged version.

Holy Shit! This user is far more observant (or a stalker) and knows how Instagram works. I know Tom isn't very good with the working of social media, but it also turns out that he doesn't know how this tabloid fan culture works too.

P. S. All these triple exclamation marks on the fan posts are making me freak out.

Also, I am so grateful that they all are unaware about Lily and Tom dating and their break-up, else they would have dragged her into the controversy too.

Thank God.

I have blocked the supposed tags they tag me with and limited my comment section, so I don't have to deal with any kind of questions, speculations or hate in general.

I feel bad for Tom, he hasn't done that yet. I don't even know if he knows there's an option for it. It can seriously degrade his mental health.

I wish I could tell him.

***

It's kind of awkward when people are watching you eat and in my case, my mum and my two sisters are gawking on me instead of eating their own food. Woman's stare is always intimidating and I am blessed with three female pairs of eyes on me.

"You know... You don't have to block Tom just because he broke up with me." Lily says, sitting across the dining table.

That almost made me choke on my food and drop the fork on the plate. I could already feel the glimmer of interest sparking in mum's and Charlotte's eyes. It is as if they all were planning to have this conversation with me for a long time.

But wait... Does she think that me deleting Tom from my life is because of her break-up?

Oh my god!

Was there too much miscommunication between us?

Wait...

There was no communication from my side.

"Harrison?"

It was my mum this time. She keeps her hand over my shoulder, her voice sounds super worried.

"What is it, Hazza?" She asks, lovingly. She speaks as if she knows it is more than Tom and Lily's break-up. But I don't know how to tell her...

The next moment, mum has shifted her chair near me and had engulfed me in a side hug. Soon Charlotte and Lily walked up to me and were covering me from all sides. That's when I realised that I was crying. No. I wasn't just crying, I was sobbing. It was even difficult for me to breathe.

I need air.

I excuse myself and got up. They don't ask anything, maybe in an attempt to go slow with me. I really appreciate the gesture.

***

That's how I end up in this pub, pouring my heart out to a stranger. He's carefully listening to me, while occasionally sipping his drink and nodding his head. It really feels good to be listened to. I am telling everything to him from the exact beginning and how I fell for my best friend and then he started dating my sister and then how everything came crashing down...

"That's really fucked up, friend!" He comments in his Indian accent.

He was a trans-man who found me sitting in the corner with a cigarette in my hand. I wasn't even smoking but lost in thoughts. The stick was almost going to burn my fingers when he came and slapped it away and now he was listening to everything I was saying.

And then he's narrating his own sad love story to me and oh my god it's so much worse than me, yet he's pretending that I am the worse affected.

"And that's how she killed herself and I couldn't do anything..." He finishes as I blink. Like a fish, my mouth opens and closes, I instantly gulp my beer in one go in order to not look like a fool who has nothing good and uplifting to reply.

"That's really sad..." I somehow manage to say.

"Yeah. It is..."

I seriously need to go, else I will breakdown crying. I excuse myself and leave, I am not even drunk enough which sucks.

***

There is a guy walking in front of me on the pavement and he's really really drunk, unlike me. I really want to reach home fast and lay under my soft blankets but this guy is walking, occupying the whole pavement, stumbling on his feet with every step. He stumbles harder this time, about to fall face-first on the concrete. I rush forward and catch him.

My hands feel as if they were made of hard ice when I see his face.

He chuckles, "I know you are not Harrison... but I am seeing him everywhere. So funny... haha..."

"Tom..." I whisper and he starts to cry. He seriously looks like shit. His shirt is all wet and hairs are super messy. It's hard to even see him like this. I throw my arm around his shoulder and place his hand around my neck and get him straight on his feet. I try my best to walk him to my house.

Mum was terrified of seeing Tom like this, so were Charlotte and Lily. Although, Lily helped me carry him to my room, while he was babbling some unintelligible stuff.

We lay him over my bad.

"You should change his shirt, it's really dirty," Lily suggests and walks out of the room, giving us privacy. I intake a sharp breath as I drag the half-asleep, completely drunk Tom to sit up on the bed. And before I could pull his shirt up, he's puking over my chest. I back up.

"Sorry..." He mutters and falls over the mattress.

I gotta' change my shirt too.

My hands reach to the edge of my shirt as I try to pull it up but then I see Tom, and suddenly it feels wrong. Hasn't he seen me shirtless like thousand times before? And he's not even completely conscious... Yet, I turn my back to him and change into a new jumper. Then I struggle to get Tom changed too, making him wear one of my hoodies and then throw both our dirty clothes to my laundry basket.

"You should wash your face and brush your teeth. It will feel nice..." I suggest, not sure if he was even listening to me. I again get him down on his feet and carry him to the bathroom where I splash cold water over his face. He drinks some water too. And then he's brushing his teeth, a little messily though.

As we complete, he refuses to go back to my room and instead, tries to sit on the bathroom floor, too tired to walk back. The next moment I find myself lifting him up with my arms tucked below his knees and the back of his neck. He's heavier than I anticipated but when he holds my shoulder and snuggles close to my chest with his warm breath hitting directly over my neck; my knees feel like noodles. I try my best to not look down at his face or fall down and successfully carry him back to my room and get him back on the bed.

"Haz, I need to talk about something..."

I flinch hearing Lily's voice. I turn on my feet and see her standing by my door. Warmth rushes to my face, realising- she must have seen me carrying Tom in my arms...

I swallow and walk towards her as she walks outside the room and shuts the door behind us.

She takes in a jitterybreath, "I really think..." She hesitates for a second, "Tom likes you... more than a friend and more than how he likes me..."

"I-I-I---" I try to speak but only a ragged stammer comes out, not expecting this conversation at all.

"He always talks about you and when he finds me wearing your clothes..." She fidgets with her fingers, "He gives me extra attention and... asks me not to remove them while we have... sex..." She pauses, looking embarrassed. I try not to react and stay still, listening carefully.

"I think the only reason he was dating me was that I look like you..." She finishes, knocking out all the air from my lungs.

"Why-why are you telling this to me?" Out of a million things I could say, I chose this.

"Because..." She looks straight at my face, "No one looks at a person as you look at Tom unless they are madly in love with them."

"But then why did he date you?" I ask with a heavy heart.

"... Cause it's easy to be... straight?" She speaks, her lips pressing into a thin line. I think for a moment.

"B-but what about you---"

"It's all about you and him right now. And anyway, he loves you and not me. You don't want your sister to end up with a man who doesn't really love her, right?" She asks, hopefully.

I inhale and nod.

"And I won't want my brother to not end up with the man he really loves..."

***

For the first time, I don't feel guilty, rather I feel some burden lifting off my chest. I walk inside the room, remembering my conversation with Lily. Tom was fast asleep on the bed and that makes me smile. I take out a blanket and cover him with it, switching off the lights. As I was trying to move away, his hand grasps my wrist making goosebumps rise over my skin.

"Can't we even... not share the bed anymore?" He speaks, sounding tired.

Suddenly, I am again feeling guilty. I turn on my feet, his hand was still gripping my wrist when I get into the sheets beside him. I prevent looking at his face. I am too weak for that stuff, especially when he sounds already half-sober.

His hand slowly slips off me and I clench my eyes shut.

***

I am sure that I was lying on the bed unable to sleep for several hours now. It's raining outside, pouring heavier with each passing minute. But it's better than the silence because seriously when the raindrops weren't tapping against my windowpane, all I could hear was my jittering heartbeat, heavy breathing and the sound of Tom's own breathing.

I shift underneath me, turning on my side to finally look at Tom.

Now that he's sleeping, he won't catch me staring, right?

He was sleeping on his side with his arm tucked below his head, facing me. My fingers slowly slide across the skin of his face as I breathe in deeper and rest my palm over his cheek. My thumb softly strokes his smooth skin while my pinky was playing with his ear.

His eyes flutter open, lashes resembling butterfly wings. Those freaking pools of chocolate. Once again, I was frozen on the spot.

How fair it is that people can be naturally born with eyes as soft and as brown as those?

"Haz..." He whispers my name and I feel the knots in my stomach tying.

"Why did you run...?" His voice is quiet but sounds serious. He seriously demands an explanation. But I am just staring into his eyes, not speaking anything.

Because I did some outrageous friendship destroying shit and running away was my way of escape, albeit, it just made everything much worse...

"I am sorry," That's what I say, finally. He huffs at my words.

Then he shifts closer to me, my heart clenching tighter than ever, my armpits sweating disgustingly.

"That's not the question I asked..." He says, wriggling a hand out from under the covers and putting it over my face, stroking my skin and playing with my ear, just like I was doing a few moments ago.

I lick my dry lips, swallowing softly.

"Okay, wrong question..." He smiles lightly, "Why did you kiss me?"

His grin appears to tease me. I am already overwhelmed by the closeness when he's asking me such questions. I try to divert the question as I avert my gaze, suddenly unclear of how long an eye-contact should be maintained.

"I thought you would be mad at me... You blocked me and---"

And then Tom shoves his head forward, pressing his lips against mine. My mouth splits open at the contact, an embarrassing puff of air escaping.

Tom's other hand is quick to find my arm from below the sheets as he slips his fingers through mine, while his other hand is busy tracing a thumb across my jaw. It's weirdly soothing. The sound of the rain tapping against my window makes it even better.

My eyes are shut as he tilts his head, pressing his lips tighter, his tongue licking at my bottom lip. He squeezes my hand, making me gasp. He sees the perfect opportunity, sliding it inside my mouth while I am a whimpering mess. His breath smells and tastes of mint from the toothpaste, eliciting tingles in my abdomen.

I lurch forward, trying to kiss him back but he's swift to pull away, lips separating with a soft popping sound. My eyes flutter open at the loss of contact.

"Ask me why I kissed you?" He mumbles against my lips with a big, confident smirk.

Son of a...

How can I ever forget about the surge of confidence levels in him after there is some alcohol in his system?

"Ask..." He repeats, more forcefully this time making me look directly into his eyes.

I breathe in, "Why..."

He raises his eyebrows and I fight the urge to roll my eyes back.

"Why did you kiss me?"

He chuckles and softly pats my cheek, pulling away his hand from my face but the other one continues to hold my hand in his.

"... 'coz I wanted to. I wanted to kiss you."

"Did... Did you think of Lily?"

His face turns serious at the question, almost sad. He shakes his head.

"No..." He pauses, looking at me sternly. His Adam's apple bobbles in his throat, "When you are with me I forget about everything else."

A tear escapes his eye, sliding though the side of his eye and falling directly over the pillow. He clenches his eyes shut, squeezing my hand tighter.

Drunk Tom is also emotionally unstable...

"I am sorry Haz. I can't love her when I am already in love with you." His voice sounds so wrecked, so broken... I just pull him to my chest, pulling my hand out of his grip and wrapping it across his torso.

"I understand why you ran... And yet I kissed you again," He speaks in between his sobs.

I don't know why but his words made me smile. Maybe because he understands, yet he did it. It's so courageous. He's so brave. Like it's us against the world.

"Lily understands," I tell him. He stops sobbing abruptly, his body freezes as if he's unable to comprehend my words.

"Huh?" He asks in disbelief, pulling away from my chest and looking into my eyes.

"Yes. She does. She just told it to me." I smile wider, swiping the tears off his face while he blinks.

"Really?" He utters, voice creaky.

"Yes!"

He keeps staring at me like a frightened animal. He is still not believing me. It made me chuckle.

"Yes, div! Come 'on just believe me!" I insist.

His mouth parts, tongue poking out. He's silent for a minute as I notice the changing expressions on his face.

"She did not!" He exclaims.

"She did!"

"Oh god. Am I this obvious?" He laughs, probably assuming my conversation with Lily to be something funny. Not his fault though. I cut him some slack, considering all life he's been surrounded by three brothers in an easy relationship not the complicated and competitive one I share with Lily. Although with Charlotte it's all super smooth.

Still, the sound of his laughter feels good. I can't complain.

This time I pull him into a kiss interrupting his giggles. I am going to keep kissing him till his lips swell. But all we both are doing is smiling into the kiss, unable to hold the contact even for a few seconds.

But then again, now I have plenty of time to kiss him like that later. Right now, it's this moment that matters. It's Tom who matters.

No more holding back...

_______

Taz taglist: @hazmyheart​ // @justasmisunderstoodasloki​ // @tommysparker​ // @just-a-littlebit-of-everything​ // @thenoddingbunny-blog​ // @calltothewild​​ // @viagracex​ // @httplayer​ // @slytherin-chaser​ // @perspectiveparker​ // @catkeeperthetall​ // @god-knows-what-am-i-doing​ // @its-a-leap-of-faith-kid​ // @emmaloo21​ //

[twistedcharismaaa]

Contemplating...

Summary: Lakeith contemplates on how he should make his first move.

Author’s Note: Hi guyssss! I’m here with another one-shot! I hope that you guys enjoy! I love you guys sooooo much! I pray that all of you stay safe. You are loved. Enough of me chatting, don’t forget to leave a comment for ya girlll!!!!

Skin the shade of the clearest midnight sky shimmering effortlessly under the soft-colored strobe lights. He ran his fingertips over his lips and leaned forward in his cushioned chair. He nodded his head along to the beat of the music echoing throughout the club. He stretched out both hands and formed a square with them. Ah, there it was - he conjured the perfect frame of her. He squinted his eyes in total concentration while subtly biting his bottom lip.  He didn’t know if it was the liquor in him or what, but he could’ve sworn he saw stars dancing across her cheekbones. The only thing occupying his brain was how he wanted to telescope her astrology. He rested his hands on his lap and rubbed his thighs casually thinking - contemplating. 

He contemplated and she noticed. She noticed him watching her with eyes full of curiosity. She tugged at one of her loose curls while crossing her right leg over the left letting the painful anticipation brew through her gracefully. What felt like hours to them both, at last, their eyes met. Time itself stood still for them - bowing and surrendering to their wills. At that moment, her breath became caught in her throat. Instantly, he felt his heart rate quicken. His heart was beating in his chest like an unheard drum. Quickly recollecting himself, he waved at her subtly while flashing a timid but flirtatious smirk from across the room. His eyes were locked, unmoving, and blatantly stubborn as he admired her. A sly smile formed across her lips as she watched him. If only could see her up close … maybe it would quench the craving he had for her? Her aura was so mesmerizing that it left an unbearable hunger inside of him. The feeling was so strong, so disrespectfully insatiable. He had to say something.

“So say something,” he thought to himself. 

Her body awakened with arousal feeling his heavy essence from across the room. He was full of desire for her and she relished in the feeling quietly. It left her wondering what else he could make her feel. It was something about the way he looked at her. It made her feel her invincible yet soft, submissive yet dominant, and nervous yet enticed. She never wanted his eyes to leave hers.

“Come closer,” she thought.

 Lakeith left his booth and approached the melanin blessed goddess boldly. She was even more beautiful up close - smooth enriched umber skin, deep brown fierce eyes, and her smile was heavenly - almost angelic. He ran his fingers over his beard while trying to quiet his roaring mind. He felt his mind run away with him easily taking him on unwanted trips. He had so much he wanted to say but sadly no words seemed to escape his slightly gapped lips. Awkwardness crept in the air ready to devour him fully as embarrassment crawled up his spine and rested on his right shoulder. He cleared his throat while teetering back and forth on his feet. He slipped both hands into the pockets of his jeans. Again, he smiled but this time wider. She didn’t realize the effect she had on him ….or maybe she did? Maybe she was enjoying watching him unravel like a loose seam. She made it easy to become lost in her eyes, her lips, the fullness of her thighs, or the - 

“Do you want to dance with me?” the woman questioned completely interrupting Lakeith’s rapid thoughts. She placed the half-full glass that she was holding on the table before her. She uncrossed her legs teasingly watching Lakeith eyes studying her strawberry-shaped thighs. Finally, she stood to her feet while softly running her fingertips over her dress eyeing him seductively. 

Lakeith swallowed harshly. He nodded silently in compliance as she reached for his hand. He extended his hand towards hers while biting down on his bottom lip. 

“Yeah,” he answered.

 Suddenly, he felt her hand graze his temptingly slow. Now palm in palm with her, the woman gradually pulled him onto the dance floor with each step. A playful smile appeared on her lips as she used her free hand to stroke his face gently. She pulled away from him altogether swaying her hips to the rhythm of the beat. Then, she turned away from him and grinded on him recklessly. Lakeith’s hands rested on her wide hips as he cocked his head to the side watching her whine her waist on him. She felt his breath tickle the back of her neck causing chills to slither down her spine wildly. His grip on her hips tightened as he gradually took dominance of her body. He rotated his hips against her ass as he visualized the movements in the most lustful way. 

“I am bewitched by you,” he whispered in her ear.

The woman smiled to herself as she watched Lakeith’s fingertips caress her bare thigh. She allowed his fingers to drum around the hem of her dress as he planted a kiss on her shoulder. She gasped as she felt her clit throbbing as goosebumps blossomed on her skin. Quickly, she turned towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She stared deeply into his eyes as he stared intensely into hers. 

“I want to be yours for the night,” she said softly. 

Lakeith pressed his forehead against hers eyeing her for a little while longer before kissing her lips gently. The kiss was sweet yet sensual. As they parted from each other’s lips Lakeith felt the hunger for her grow inside of him like a raging storm as she felt the need for him brewing throughout her like a neglected teapot. Again, he dove in for another kiss as he pulled her into him letting her feel his growing erection. He let his tongue explore her mouth devilishly as his hand wandered up her dress. He strummed his fingers against her lips before sliding her panties to the side. She sucked on his bottom lip before breaking the kiss. She rested her head on his shoulder as she felt his fingers circle her sensitive bud. Absentmindedly, she twisted her hips on his fingers leisurely riding his profound fingers attempting to reach her mountain peak. Reluctantly, he removed his fingers from her womanhood. 

“What is it?” she asked.

“I wanna know your name.” he demanded

“Call me Ari,” she answered.

“Lakeith,” he whispered back while sucking on his fingers.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said while leading her off the dance floor. 

When he looked at her he saw constellations and astrology that had yet been discovered. As he lead her off of the dance floor, he contemplated silently. He thought about how he wanted to kiss every star she held tenderly, stroke every moon aggressively, and bask deeply in her galaxies to be forever lost in her milky ways. 

-----

@ghostfacekill-monger​ @l-auteuse​ @soulfood-fics​ @tgigoldie​ @shaekingshitup​ @thickemadame​ @mskirara​ @mdmecjskywalker​ @savagescorpion​ @teardropzih​ @chaneajoyyy​ @cyntgefel01​ @jamielennkeeler​ @peacefuldesiress​ @aislinnsilver​ @musically-hypnotised​ @cicici03 @mooon-berry @lovesunnyandmary @ju5tp34chy @luna8819 @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @zeckharyah

[fromcabin13]

Could you do a Stanley barber x reader where she’s a bit of a badass and she always defends Stan until one day she gets into a fight for him 🥺👉👈

i really really hope you like this, this is my first request ever and i'm really happy about it ! my requests are always open :)

MR. AND MRS. FREAK

Stanley Barber was a freak to everyone on Westinghouse High School. To everyone except one person.

She was the only one that sat down with him on every classes they had together. She laughed at his jokes, she complimented his new clothes and smiled at him. The only one that genuinely smiled at him. That's why he couldn't do that to her.

“Shut up, asshole”, “No one likes you, Brad”, “Stop bothering, Ricky”. Although she was the only voice that defended him from the constant mocking and with who could sit in silence touching subtly each other's hands while smiling, he absolutely couldn't do that to her. She already had weekly verbal fight for returning the rude comments, what could happen to her if she became his friend or something more? (not that he had the chance, he thought when the boy allowed himself to the brief idea of them actually holding hands in public).

He knew she was sorry for him, he knew that by the apologizing smile and the cussing whenever her friends laughed at his clothes. He knew that because of the many times he caught her glancing at him and hurried to move her eyes to the floor with an embarrassed look on her face, why would a girl like her (strong and that actually doesn't give a fuck of what they say about herself) even care enough to look at him?

But sometimes, only sometimes, he did let himself to wander off with his mind and do stupid things.

Like the time a kid made a cruel joke about her and Stan didn't shut up. He got a bleeding nose and a swollen lip. Instead of obeying her (“Stan, let me help you!”), he ran away. He couldn't face her after a week, she gave up on trying to speak to him about it eventually. Instead, she wrote to him.

“I understand.

I am thankful anyways.

—___ ”

The note was in his locker. He couldn't bring himself to stop smiling after that.

His response was the example of another of the stupid things the brain made him do.

“You understand that I'm a freak and that I will get you hurt?

Or you finally understand that what they say about me it's true?

—Stanley”

He wished he shouldn't of gave her the note or waited for her to read it. Maybe it was each other's fault because of the smile and the look that they shared afterwards.

Jenny found them staring at the other's eyes and laughed at her. Calling her names, yelling her name with a grose tone to get attention.

—Of all the people in the school, annoying ___ had to like the freak? Or is he your charity work?

Stan couldn't bare to look into her dreamy face anymore or else he would do more stupid things without any logical reason but when he turned around, that's when ___ recurred to the first thing she thought of.

A hit and a “you are going to regret this" was what paralyzed Stan. The sound of two girls fighting was what made him turn around again.

Everyone was staring at a clearly drunk (as always) Jenny Tuffield trying to fight the girl who had a pretty strong defense. Bradley smiled at the scene and Stan finally realized that he was standing there without even trying to un-do the stupid thing he caused on the first place.

___'s friends finally came to the scene with the principal, pushing Stan aside while he tried to reach for the only girl he thought that was worthy in that high school.

She got detention for starting a fight. Everything was unfair, the boy swore he could hit the principal on the face in that instant. Instead, he offered himself to take the girl with a clearly black eye to the nursery.

—Do a breath alcohol test to her, would you Mr. Whitaker? She stinks. —the victim retorted, she was dragged to the nursery by the proclaimed freak of WHS but she couldn't kept ger mouth shut.

___ sat down over the uncomfortable gurney that the school had. They couldn't afford better food but could afford a gurney, she laughed silently at her own thoughts. At least, she could distract herself from the boy that stared at her from the moment he closed the door.

—Did I grow a third eye?

She had the guts he always wanted to have. Talking disrespectfully about a person makes the person want to cease to exist or to care. That's what made Stanley Barber look like he didn't give a fuck. And he did played the part until he finally realized that the person he sat with on a daily basis, was actually defending him. That's when he began to care... he began to care about her, to pay attention to her, to understand there are people willing to stick up for the underdog.

—No, you actually missed one after getting punched —She laughed shyly at the answer and he approached the girl by softly laying his hand on her cheek. —. Why would you do that?

—Why wouldn't I?

He sighed, turning his head sideways so that he could avoid her intense glare. She scratched the back of her head not know what to say.

—We can't speak anymore, ___—he finally took action, putting his arms on each side of her legs and getting closer than he imagined.—. I can't do this to you.

She shortened the few inches by making it one minimum centimeter, her voice sounded darker and more tense than she originally wanted. All because of the distracting curls that were now resting over her forehead, almost screaming to her that they were the prettiest thing in the world. —The whole problem with you is that you are not doing anything... to me.

The boy's eyed quickly made a routine that consisted on staring from her lips to her eyes. She did the same, both aching inside to end the torment that maintained them apart on the first place.

—You're- you're making this harder than it should be. —the stutter made him realize how head over heels he was for her.

And he was willing to let the people that made his school years hell take that away from him?

He sometimes was surprised about his thoughts. The scared thoughts that kept him awake at night, the feeling of unsafety every time he left his house. He didn't want that for her but she made him happy, she made him feel safe. He didn't want her to have to deal with what he had dealt with, so he vowed himself that he would try anything he could to make her feel the same things with him.

She finally step back sighing, she understood everything. She couldn't read minds so she put the pieces together and concluded that Stanley didn't like her that way.

How astonished was the bewitching girl when she felt the lips of the freak on her own lips. He, as surprised as she was, finally furrowing his eyebrows pleased with how good things could go when you do stupid things. They wondered if that kiss could last forever.

Hand slowly setting on the curls made sure he couldn't run away again, not like he wanted to but she needed to be sure. After a while, they pulled apart (not really, since their foreheads couldn't bring themselves to glue off each other's) but his eyes were afraid it was all a dream.

—I'll protect you. —___ assured him, being mystified of how a teenage boy could be that breathtaking.

He broke in with a laugh. Finally opening his eyes to speak over her lips, kissing them to overcompensate for how long (and much) he had craved them. —I'm sure you will but I want to protect you too.

Mr. and Mrs. Freak (as people kept calling them) finally ended the long-term torture of pushing themselves away, agreeing on watching each other's back. They had one thought in common that was the thought that made the change: high school kids suck. Stanley Barber finally began (and not only act) to not give a fuck, they made each other feel like they were finally at home and that's all what they care about.

[enygmass]

Title: Caveat Emptor

Author: Ames

Wordcount: 3393

Warnings? : Everyone is an asshole in the end?

Characters: Jonathan Crane, briefly Oswald by mention, and the entire Irish Mafia

Synopsis: Jonathan discovers that undergraduate lessons can be applied to real life situations. He also discovers the saying that there is ‘no honesty among thieves’ is more real than anticipated.

AO3 Link can be found HERE

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There were seven steps to a sale that Jonathan Crane could recall from his brief venture into business during his undergraduate years. The first step to a successful sale was prospecting: one needed to find potential customers and decide whether they were in need of your service—and if they could afford what you had to offer.

Angelo Murphy was a chief for the Irish Mafia, down in the Cape Carmine area. In fact, word had begun to trickle down from the upper-class criminals to those residing within the rodent-infested alleys that Angelo Murphy was primed to take over upon the retirement of the current Skipper, James Synnott. Oftentimes changes of power such as this were handled swiftly, to prevent too long of a buffer period—or layover, as some liked to call it—which could allow another criminal to step into place. Angelo Murphy needed to prove to the other members of the Irish Mafia that he was more than capable of handling himself. Angelo Murphy needed to do something big.  

Jonathan recently found himself becoming a fan of “big” things.

Not a new change of behavior, of course. Jonathan began elaborating his plans to make them “big” ever since names such as Two-Face and Riddler started getting thrown around. No longer was his typical method of subtle manipulation and toxin injection working. He couldn’t lean into politicians' ears and play the role of Judas anymore; Jonathan needed to step up to the plate and play as Pontius instead. He needed the starring role, and truth be told, this was the only way to gain recognition for what he was capable of in these new times. And Jonathan was capable of a  lot.  

Which is why the co-occurrence of both Jonathan’s need to change pace, and Murphy’s need to prove himself, seemed to be almost written in the stars.When Angelo Murphy’s subordinate approached him one evening and handed him a card that simply said ‘J. Crane’ with a phone number on the back, Murphy was not hesitant to call.

The second step of a successful sale is preparation. You have to prepare for the first contact with the customer, research and collect all relevant information, and develop a presentation tailored to the customers needs.

Murphy was a desperate man. Jonathan's practice had led him to become familiar with the scent of desperation over many years; it smelled of musk, of sweat and grime, of anger and adrenaline that was accompanied with shifty glances and trembling palms. One could almost taste the terror on their tongue if they looked upon a desperate man for long enough. It was a satisfactory flavor that pulled at your heart and your mind and left a desire in its wake. Once you've tasted terror, it leaves nothing but an empty hunger, and Jonathan was ravenous .

A warehouse in the Industrial District seemed a suitable enough spot for a meeting to occur. The Irish Mafia were known to be hesitant about meeting in areas that were not open and did not have more than two exits. Jonathan credited that particularity to the time they tried to strike an arms deal with Cobblepot that resulted in the death of the previous Skipper and the premature coronation of Synnott. Anyone with half a brain cell knew better than to try and skim money off the top in a deal with the likes of Oswald. Besides, the scent of rotting wood, the constant chill that seemed to cut through all of his clothes, and the low groaning noise of the wind passing through the exposed foundation made Jonathan feel almost like he was back in his lab again. It was incredibly therapeutic .

After you successfully prepare for a sale, there comes the stage of approach. This is when you first make contact with your client in a face-to-face (or face-to-mask, he supposed) setting. There are three ways to do this: a premium approach, in which the client receives a gift; a question approach, in which you prompt the client with a question; or a product approach, in which you give the prospect a free sample to review the service. Jonathan? Well, Jonathan always did favor the latter.

“Mr. Murphy, I presume?” Jonathan’s  raspy voice sounded filtered by the tears in the burlap mask he wore over his head. Pulling his hand away from the various bags he had been oh-so-lovingly caressing moments earlier, Jonathan centered his attention towards the group of men approaching him now from one of the two exits. They all looked typical of henchmen—tall, broad-shouldered, with angry scowls on their faces that seemed to waver upon seeing Jonathan's lanky form. Henchmen usually had to be exposed to many things during their services, and Jonathan had no doubt that more than one in this group had been exposed to what  he had to offer this day. All of them, of course, except the dark-haired man who stood front and centre.

Besides being desperate, Murphy was also the most common looking creature that Jonathan had the pleasure of regarding. Once one had been exposed to the flash and the flair that the rogues of Gotham so proudly carried themselves in, to come face-to-face with someone calling themself a crime lord while dressed as though they had just crawled from the couch was a bit of a disappointment. Murphy was short, with a beer gut, and his hairline was already receding. When he arched his eyebrows at Jonathan’s question, it brought much amusement to the rogue to see that the hair-line was capable of going back even farther.

“Mr. Crane, I presume?” Murphy’s parroting of his words only further proved to Jonathan that the man likely didn’t even have two brain cells to rub together in that head of his. The henchmen around him seemed to agree. Most people who had dealt with rogues before also knew better than to act disrespectfully in their presence—Jonathan, especially.

“Your presumption would be correct, Mr. Murphy. I’m so glad that you managed to make it here unharmed with your, ah,” Jonathan paused and allowed the words to hang in the air as he surveyed the men again. He then let out an airy chuckle, “Groupies in tow.”

Murphy’s eyes seemed to narrow a bit at these words, and his hands came to fold behind his back.

“Best believe we made it here unharmed, Mr. Crane. I got more pressin’ matters on my plate to deal with than any unwanted  inconveniences, mind you.” Jonathan’s head tilted slightly at these words as Murphy’s gaze slid from him to the products he had displayed. A few steps forward, and Murphy’s hands unfolded to rest upon the chipped surface of the table. “Is this it?”

“Not all of it, of course. These are just test samples.” Jonathan’s hand shot out and hovered over the bags again, as though he were uncertain which one to grab. Truth be told, he was eager to show all of them, but Murphy seemed more keen on dealing with those other matters than  allowing Jonathan to put on his show, and pointed to the bag nearest to him.

“Mitchell, c’mere.” One of the henchmen, a man with a mop of curly blonde hair and an uncertain expression, took a few steps forward to stand beside Murphy. “I want ya to open this one here.”

Mitchell looked as though he wanted to do anything  but open that bag, and Jonathan wondered if he should advise Murphy against doing such things. Then again, he wasn’t responsible for the henchmans’ life, nor did he particularly care for it. So when Mitchell wrenched open the bag and a burst of putrid green dust shot up into his face, soaking through his pores and entering into his mouth, the only thing Jonathan could really do is sigh.

Then Mitchell started to scream.

The fourth and fifth steps of a successful sale include presentation and the handling of objections. The presentation allows you to actively demonstrate how your product meets the needs of the customer. Jonathan felt strongly that, given the manner in which Mitchell was now thrashing on the concrete floor, and how Murphy was spouting off slurs Jonathan could only dream about, his product had been aptly presented. The handling of objections was a more tedious process. This was where he was supposed to ask Murphy if he had any concerns. He felt like the presentation may have raised a few.

"Mr. Murphy, as you can see, the product is one of a kind, and incredibly effective.” Jonathan did his best to speak up above the howlings of Mitchell, but his voice had always been so soft and hollow, and raising it to anything above an indoor-level was not something he was capable of. So, without even taking a break from his speech, Jonathan pivoted and gave a swift kick to the fallen Mitchell’s head. The resounding crack echoed throughout the warehouse before blissful, and abrupt, silence followed suit. Murphy stared at him. Jonathan adjusted his sleeves as though this were a Sunday stroll and not a black market exchange.

“As I was saying, the product is incredibly effective. What you just witnessed here was merely a pinch of what I’m willing to negotiate for you. Do you have any concerns with what I’m offering?” Typically, this would be the moment where paperwork would be pulled out of briefcases and pens handed out, but Jonathan had done enough paperwork in his lifetime that he felt no sense of urgency to do more. Murphy continued to stare for a moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching, before he rapped his fist twice on the table.

“How long does it last?”

“46 to 72 hours. Of course, factors such as the victim’s body weight and health must be taken into consideration when calculating its longevity. I’ve found personally that those with heavier body weights tend to be able to tolerate higher doses as compared to those with lighter body weights. Also, a few patients of mine seemed to have an almost reduced susceptibility to the effects. I’m sure this won’t be much of a bother for whatever you have planned, however.” Jonathan pressed his fingers on the table in anticipation. He normally didn’t mind diving into the ins and outs of his product, but tonight he was the only rogue—to his knowledge—actually doing anything, which meant if anyone caught wind of his actions the Bat would be on him within minutes. This was why it was always good to plan crimes in coordination with someone, else in case one got caught.  

Murphy seemed satisfied enough with that response and didn’t press any further. Nor did he bother to look down at Mitchell’s unconscious form by his feet. This was good. This was  very good. It meant that they would be done soon.

The sixth step to a successful sale is closing. This is where you get the decision from the client to move forward, which Murphy’s curt nod assured Jonathan was the case. There are then three strategies to choose from: an alternative choice close, where the seller asks if the client will be paying upfront; the extra inducement close, where the seller offers something else to the client; or the standing room only close, where the seller emphasizes how time is of essence. Jonathan was short on funds and needed to establish himself as soon as possible, so the first option was the only viable one. Breakouts from Arkham were hardly cheap, after all.

“Excellent! If you would so kindly place the money on the table here, I’ll lead you to the rest of the product.” Jonathan gestured to a space beside the various bags.

A heavy pause filled the air in the moments after Jonathan had provided his instructions. It weighed down, pressing harder, and harder, as Murphy stared at Jonathan with a slightly wide-eyed look. Then, Jonathan understood. Oh, he  understood.  

“The money isn’t here,” was all Murphy offered.

“The money isn’t here.” Now it was Jonathan’s turn to parrot back the words. A shiver of unease stirred among the henchmen.

“The money won’t be here, either.” Another sound soon filled the room, one that Jonathan had also come to recognize from so many years in the business. A clicking of hammers being pulled back on guns. Murphy's big thing wasn't to buy Jonathan's product and use it, no. Murphy seemed intent on stealing the product, thus showing that the Mafia is above the rogues, and then using it to make it clear that the Mafia is also above Gotham. Devious. If Jonathan wasn't so unamused already he might've felt a trickle of respect for the man. Too bad he had delegated Jonathan as his scapegoat. An unfortunate mistake.

Oswald was not the first rogue to be crossed during a deal. In fact, contrary to popular belief, double-crossing was a common occurrence when it came to intra-underworld dealings. Criminals were dishonest by nature and God forbid that change when dealing with one another. This posed a great inconvenience, because many of the rogues regarded themselves as  above criminals, Jonathan included. This was why over the years many of the rogues had begun to design their own foolproof methods to counteract such double-crossings. Riddler had his robots, Harley had her hyenas, Ivy had her plants, Oswald had an entire army of henchmen at his disposal, and Jonathan, well. Jonathan always liked to pick the locations he did his dealings at with a  purpose.  

“Mr. Murphy, think hard about this. Although that may be a bit of a challenge for you.” Jonathan couldn’t stop the rueful grin from splitting across his face at the sound of Murphy’s snarl in response. The henchmen he had arrived with were now pointing a variety of weapons at Jonathan’s form. They looked uncertain, unwilling, and their eyes told Jonathan that more than a few were terrified. This alone sparked that long-standing hunger in Jonathan’s gut that caused his grin to turn from rueful to damn near predatory. He bet they could see his teeth between the openings on his mask. He hoped that made things  worse.  

“Show us where the rest of it is, Scarecrow, and we’ll make sure you keep a majority of your straw within ya.”

It took a miraculous deal of self-restraint on Jonathan’s behalf to keep him from groaning at the man’s goad. He was getting quite sick of the jokes people kept mustering in association with his persona. If it wasn’t something about having a brain, then it was straw, or yellow-brick roads. It was, to be frank, rather demeaning.

There were more pressing matters to attend to, however. The henchmen had inched their way closer to Jonathan, who slid his hands off of the table and folded them behind his back. This was partially for comfort, and partially because he didn’t need Murphy seeing the silver remote he held before the surprise was ready to be revealed.

“This is incredibly unprofessional of you, you know? Synnott and I had a good standing relationship, and now? Well, Murphy, now you’ve gone and fucked it.  ” There was a bite that came with the curse. Jonathan didn’t typically swear, but that comment about straw had really wormed its way under his skin. “I would like to keep all my organs arranged in the way they are, though. You want to know where the remainder of the product is?” Murphy gave a curt nod, and if Jonathan’s smile spread any wider, he would be giving the Joker a run for his money.

There were numerous benefits to always being permitted to pick the location of your meetings. One of them was convenience; the warehouse they were in now was located close to where Jonathan had established his lab. Another was time; it did not take long for Jonathan to arrive at the warehouse, nor did it take much effort to move the product. Yet another was the area itself. For example, Jonathan knew that there were numerous vents that led to the basement of the warehouse. These were used to filter air into the workers’ areas from the furnaces during the cold winter months. This also meant that if any chemicals were to spill in the basement, the toxins from those said chemicals would fill the entire warehouse in seconds— one of numerous reasons why the warehouse had been shut down.

Jonathan knew that he could elaborate on what he intended to do. He elaborated all the time with Batman—every rogue did—but that was because Batman was  worthy. Murphy? Well, to Jonathan, Murphy was just a piece of shit someone forgot to clear out. Which was why when he had hit the button on the silver remote and putrid green gas billowed upwards into the room, Jonathan didn’t blink twice. He did, however, dive behind the table as a flurry of gunshots from terror-stricken men with weapons filled the room. Gradually, the gunshots reduced in numbers, and the screams that had been like a cacophony moments earlier began to fade away, until there were no sounds except Jonathan’s breathing and a few lingering, echoed groans. His mask’s built-in filtration device was suddenly appreciated a lot more.  

He peered over the edge of the table. Several dark masses littered the ground, and numerous new holes decorated the warehouse walls. The green toxin had begun to move its way upwards out of the warehouse, and Jonathan knew it was only a matter of time before the Bat signal lit up the sky. He needed to get out of there,  now.  

But first.

The seventh, and final step, of a successful sale is key. Once a sale is closed, the job is not done. The follow-up stage keeps you in contact with customers, not only to repeat business, but to enable referrals as well. Maintaining relationships is both cost-efficient and key to expanding business.

Jonathan hauled himself up and carefully stepped around the bodies of the henchmen. They had done a good number on themselves. A few henchmen's heads had been shot open by their panicked colleagues, and the blood let out a sickening squelching noise as Jonathan carelessly stepped through it. There were pieces of brain matter on the floor, and it appeared as though there was a tongue lying not too far from a corpse. These things mattered little, of course. What Jonathan was most focused on was the still shivering body of a man with a receding hairline whose beer gut stuck out not too far away. A few steps, and a sharp kick, and Jonathan was once again looking down at the face of Angelo Murphy.

He had been shot in the leg, it seemed.

Tragic.

Jonathan leaned down and peered at the man.

“Looks like I’m not the one whose straw came out, am I?” Jonathan chuckled and patted the man's cheek, smiling at the way it prompted another groan. He then reached into his coat pocket and fished around a bit before pulling out a card and tucking it into Murphy’s own front pocket. The card was white, pressed, with a single black line of “J. Crane” on the front and a phone number on the back.

“Well Murphy, unless you have any questions or concerns, I think we’re ready to wrap this up. I’ve never been a fan of verbal sparring, and I think I’ve done enough to earn your business today. Give my regards to Synnott, will you?” At this, Jonathan straightened up and stepped past Murphy’s now-twitching form. He hadn’t taken enough time to enjoy the way Murphy had looked at him with so much  horror in his eyes. He almost wished he had a spare minute to soak in it some more.

“Oh! And do remember to recommend me, yes?” He spared the man a flippant glance from over his shoulder. “My product is one of a kind, and incredibly effective. You’ll find nobody better than me.”

With that, Jonathan adjusted his sleeves once more and made his way to the second exit of the warehouse—the one not blocked by corpses. He supposed that until the calls for his toxin came in and he could begin generating revenue again, he could just request a loan from Oswald. The free drink that was sure to come with his arrival certainly beat what he had just endured here.