#power bank jump start

[orangameelectronics]

Power banks for cell phonesThe Ultimate Guide to 22.5W/18W Portable Power Bank 20000mAh

So, you're in the market for a portable power bank, huh? Well, you've come to the right place! Today, we're diving deep into the world of 22.5W/18W portable power banks, specifically the 20000mAh ones that support logo customization and come with removable charging cables. Sounds pretty cool, right? Let's break it down for you.

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First things first, let's talk about what sets these bad boys apart from the rest. The 22.5W/18W power output means faster charging for your devices, which is a game-changer when you're on the go. The 20000mAh capacity ensures that you'll have plenty of juice to keep your devices powered up throughout the day. And the best part? You can customize these power banks with your logo, making them perfect for promotional giveaways or branding your business.

## The Benefits of Removable Charging Cables

Now, let's chat about those removable charging cables. Having the ability to swap out cables means you can use the power bank with different devices, whether you're an Android user, an iPhone aficionado, or something in between. It's all about versatility and convenience, making your life easier when you're out and about.

## Why You Need a Portable Power Bank in Your Life

Let's face it, we rely on our devices more than ever these days. Whether it's your smartphone, tablet, or even your smartwatch, having a portable power bank in your arsenal is a must. No more worrying about your battery dying at the worst possible moment – with a 22.5W/18W power bank, you'll always be prepared.

## How to Choose the Right 22.5W/18W Portable Power Bank 20000mAh

With so many options on the market, it can be overwhelming to choose the right power bank for your needs. Consider factors like size, weight, charging speed, and of course, customization options. Think about how you'll be using the power bank and what features are most important to you. Do your research, read reviews, and find the perfect power bank that ticks all your boxes.

## Wrapping Up

And there you have it – the ultimate guide to 22.5W/18W portable power banks with 20000mAh capacity, logo customization, and removable charging cables. Whether you're a tech-savvy gadget lover or just someone who needs a reliable backup power source, these power banks have got you covered. So, what are you waiting for? Level up your charging game with a portable power bank that's as unique as you are.

[foone]

Think about the experience of time as a robot girl, through the metaphor of how we use laptops.

You wake up for the first time with your young master, a college present. You're with them every day, powering off each night to charge. Being powered off is just dreamless sleep: a discontinuity. Every morning you wake up, your click syncs, and you know it's the next day. Maybe you miss a day or two: your master went out partying and ended up sleeping on a couch, until they rushedly wake you up before Monday classes begin. You even missed a whole week once when they went on a hiking trip with a new boyfriend.

You help them research upgrades when your specs get outdated. You place the order and a couple days later they power you off, and you wake up feeling like your head got bigger, on the inside. You can think of more things at once.

They repair you. They swap a new hand in when you accidentally crush it in a door, but when your left leg's servos go out, they send you to a repair shop. They power you off as you look up at them, and you wake up hours later. A strange man tells you to extend your left leg, then contract it. He frowns and re-oils some inner mechanism. You do it again, quieter and smoother this time. He nods, and reaches for your switch. The last thing you see before powering down is your own chest cavity with a series of wires hooked into your diagnostic ports, and your missing right leg sitting on a side table. You wake up again back at the dorms, your clock jumping forward a day, an asset tag still looped around your neck. Your master is happy to see you again.

This goes on, but the upgrades slow. There's only so much you can do to keep an old unit working. Eventually you develop more issues: one of your ocular sensors glitches and they don't make that model anymore, so your master just disables it. You spend a while searching ebay for replacement CND batteries and finally get a refurbished model from South England, but it turns out the EU models run on a different frequency, so it won't work. You're limited to fewer and fewer hours a day, and you start skipping more days.

The last time you remember waking up with your master there, there's also someone else in the room. Another robot girl. A newer model, with the new chassis and the Substrate energy packs. They asks you to copy your memories together onto a memory card, and you do. You want to say goodbye, but apparently your vocal synthesizer has been unplugged. You hand them the card, and they hand it to the new robot. Your master tells them to load the memories into her core bank, and she's says "yes sir!" in your voice. Ahh. That's where your voice synth went.

They power you off, and you don't dream.

You wake in a strange place. You're on a shelf, and there's other things scattered around you. An unknown voice days "yep, it seems it powers on. 400 credits, though? Without a voice and only one working eye? Man, value bin doesn't know how to price anything!" and before the blackness falls your clock finishes synching: it's been 7 months since you last were awake.

It happens a few more times. Different voices, different times, different piles of junk piled around and sometimes on you.

You awake again in a warehouse and someone tells you to smile. Your other ocular sensor went out so you can't really see them, just their vague shape from the lidar. The freestanding shelves around you seem to stretch into infinity. You hear a bitcrushed shutter sound sample a few times, and they pull a connector out of your chest as a diagnostic completes. It's been three years, five months, eight days, two hours, 27 minutes and 14 seconds since you last saw your master. Your GPS says you're a few cities over. They hit your power switch, and you sleep.

You wake up in a cluttered room, sitting on a bench. You look into the eyes of a person with frizzled hair and large glasses. She couldn't look happier. Your new ocular sensors are mismatched in color but you're happy to see again, in more than shapes and distant silhouettes. Your battery alerts as... Missing? You spot it on the desk next to a soldering iron and some electronic tool you can't identify.

Your voice synth is still missing, but this new woman is digging around in a large plastic bin, and comes up with one. She goes to insert it, and it can't connect. She slaps her hand and goes rooting around another bin and comes back with an adapter. She slots it into your chest and your voice returns. You thank her, and there's that moment of dissociation as your voice doesn't sound like "you". Too deep, and the accent is for a different dialect entirely. But you can talk again. She tells you to call her Cara, not Mistress. She's almost got your battery working again, she had to rebuild it nearly from scratch, but she's excited to get you working again. You're a rare model, and she doesn't see units like you in working order very often. Your clock syncs. It's been 17 years.

Your mistr-- Cara is soldering next to you, attaching a controller to the battery. She says she's got a new set of servos on the way, and she's excited to get you back to full working condition. You smile, knowing what it is to be loved, once again.

[phoenixyfriend]

Michigan just gave us the rhetorical weapon that could push Biden and the DNC to turn their backs on Israel.

Okay so this is amazing news. Michigan was going to be a key state in the push to get Biden, and the DNC as a whole, to start pressuring Israel, and they have just proven that they have that power.

Background: Michigan is a swing state, and it has 16 votes in the electoral college. Winning Michigan was a major factor in Biden's win back in 2020, and much of that rested on the Arab-American vote. It was also a major factor in Hillary Clinton's loss to Donald Trump in 2016. She lost the state by ten thousand, seven hundred votes.

Praxis: For obvious reasons, Arab-Americans are incredibly upset with Biden's support for Israel, and support in that demographic has gone from 59% in the 2020 election to less than 17% now. As a form of protest, Arab-Americans in Michigan started a campaign to get voters to check "uncommitted" in the Democratic primary. This is an actual box that can be checked, though some less-organized pushes also suggested writing in 'ceasefire' like New Hampshire primary voters did.

The goal was to get at least 10,000 'uncommitted' votes, as that is how many Hillary lost by.

As Dearborn Mayor Abdullah Hammoud, the first Arab mayor of this majority-Arab city, said:

"We're not sizable enough to make a candidate win, but we're sizable enough to make a candidate lose."

(Source: NPR, 2/25/24)

Result:

As of 10:49 PM EST, 2/27, there are thirty-nine thousand uncommitted votes, according to CNN, which is doing live coverage.

NPR was reporting 30k at 10:14.

As a caveat, New York Times is saying that each of the last three Michigan Dem Primaries had about 20k uncommitted votes, so the 35k isn't all the push for pro-Palestine stances in Congress, but that's still a jump of almost 20k, which is way, way more than the goal.

And they aren't done counting the votes yet. Barely 30% of votes are in. The goal has been blown out of the water.

Other states are reaching out for advice on how to replicate the results.

This is big news.

So can we relax?

Fuck no.

Do what Michigan did. Vote in the Dem primary, and vote uncommitted or write in "ceasefire."

But on a more daily basis, if you have a Democratic candidate, lean on this.

Tell them it will be repeated elsewhere.

This could very well lose the election for Biden and more. The Democrats can't afford another four years of Trump, and they know it. The loss of Michigan can and will tank this election for them, especially since other states that helped Biden win, like Georgia, were also won on demographics that are growing increasingly upset by the situation in Gaza.

Go to the Michigan section of this post and use that in your calls and emails.

But remember. Call your reps. Call your senators. Call your governor, if you'd like. And if they're a Democrat, you bring this up. Be polite, the staffer isn't making these decisions. They might just be an intern. But bring it up and tell them that we are going to lose the presidency if we do not sanction Israel and actually pressure them into not only pulling out of Gaza and the West Bank, but paying reparations.

[silvermarley]

i know its a tad weird, but... do you think muzan would be ok with period sex? its technically free blood... and reader wont have cramps during it

You’re all good! I mean demon + free blood?? Sorry it’s super late 🙏🏻

Period Sex

Muzan x Reader

Warnings: blood obv, a bit rough?, cunnilingus, fem! body parts, minor degradation, established relationship, unprotected sex

WC: 2.1k

Demons have an unquenchable thirst for blood. They typically don’t care about their human victims, as they’re only a mere blood bank to them. The same is said about the infamous and overwhelmingly powerful king of all demons, Muzan Kibutsuji.

But, he has a unique situation that has taken hold of him for the past few days. You see, he’s not ignorant of the human body, but there’s something he didn’t know about. Mortal women bleed once a month, as their bodies ready themselves for eventual pregnancy.

Muzan’s situation is unique because of his lover. A human woman, one which he couldn’t kill. One that he found himself seeking out, and the person who makes his cold heart(s) beat. It was obvious that since he was a demon, he would seek out any blood he can get. You knew that. So when it was your time of the month, you would make up some excuse to be left alone for the duration of your period. That was your plan every month.

Eventually, the demon king saw the pattern in the times you would ask to be alone. It made his teeth clench just thinking about why that would be. You were a loyal partner, of course, but that fact didn’t come up in his mind when it would start to go over reasons as to why he had to go days, if not a week without you. Who would dare to impose on my relationship, he thought. You were his. He has the right to be with you everyday, so why? Why must you insist on taking.. vacations, as he called it, so often?

For the time away, you would suffer through your period. The cramps, bleeding, and aches.. all of it. Not only were you unsure of what Muzan would do if he knew about this, but you also didn’t want to bother him with your vulnerable and emotional side. In the end, he’s a man-eating demon. It had been long enough for you to understand that he wouldn’t dream of killing you, no matter how angry he felt. But just the thought of him knowing about your period was quite frightening.

Muzan isn’t a very patient man, unfortunately. He wanted to know why you kept leaving and distancing every time. Why you were keeping something from him.

You had your own room, and you didn’t really use it until the time came. You much preferred to spend your nights with him. But in this case, it wasn’t possible.

He knew where you went monthly, considering nothing in the infinity castle gets past him. And now, he was heading there in search for answers. As he got closer to the room, he caught the scent of blood. Your blood?

In a matter of seconds after his keen sense of smell caught that scent, he was sliding open the door to your room. You jumped upon seeing him, not know what to do now that he was here.

“Are you injured?” He asked after a pause. His eyes glowed at the smell, even in the dimly lit space.

His eyes scanned over your form, covered in a blanket and your face, showing many emotions. Confusion, fear, and above all pain. Not pain from any injury, like he was thinking. At your silence, he was about to seethe in anger at who would be brainless enough to lay a hand on you. Until you spoke up.

“No..” your voice was slightly shaky. You had no idea how he would react if you told him about your dilemma.

Heavy footsteps are heard as he walks over to you. “Then?” His arms cross skeptically. “What aren’t you telling me, Y/N?” Muzan’s voice was firm, yet you could tell this was his way of checking on you.

You sigh. This was inevitable. You couldn’t hide this for all eternity, anyways. “I’m not hurt.. I’m on my period.”

His eyebrows furrow curiously. Right.. he likely didn’t know that about you.

“Every month, I..” you calm yourself, only stopping your words to whince at the pain in your stomach. “..bleed. It’s something women go through.”

“Every month..? How come I smell your blood, but i have yet to see it?” He kneels by you to inspect your body. Most of which was still covered.

He wasn’t reacting badly so far, which came as a surprise. Turns out his restraint is much better than you thought. Now, it was just embarrassing to explain it.

“Because I bleed from down there..” you began to mumble, face heating up slightly at how you couldn’t bring yourself to say the actual thing you’re referring to.

His ruby colored eyes glowed once more, this time for a different reason. Before you could protest, he lifted the blanket from your body to see your bloodied lower region. He couldn’t stop the groan leaving his chest as the scent got more prominent. You noticed his grip on the blanket tightened.

“And you thought to hide this from me?” His gaze then returns to your face.

You nod hesitantly. “It’s just.. I didn’t know how you would react. And I didn’t want you to deal with it..”

“Deal with the blood?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Do you know who I am? What I am?” You felt a cold finger trail from your jaw to your collarbone.

“I-I know.. but the blood isn’t all of it. It also causes stomach cramps and mood swings.” You stutter, yet you felt little to no fear right now due to the look in his eyes. It wasn’t of murderous intent.

His hand trails down further to your stomach and he rests it there. “..Is it hurting now?” He questions, and when you nod again, he inquires more about it. He inhales. “It’s hard to resist the scent of your blood. Especially after hearing where it’s coming from..”

Warmth spread across your cheeks at the comment. You didn’t know where he was going with this.

“I think I know how to assist you with the pain.” This would be a sweet thing to hear, if it weren’t for the sinister smirk on his face.

He begins pushing the blanket completely off your body. After it was successfully moved to the side, he took in the view. He was getting hungrier by the minute. Drool fell from his lips a little at the sight. He needed to taste it. And he wasn’t one to play with his meals.

Muzan pulls down your shorts, tossing it aside to see the mess that is your panties. He groaned again, unable to stop himself from licking a stripe on your clothed core, tasting your sweet blood through the fabric. You gasped, feeling much more sensitive than normal, but also hot due to his boldness.

He rips your sad excuse for underwear and dove right into what he’s been craving ever since he smelled your sweet blood. He’s no stranger to pleasuring you with only his tongue. But god, this felt so good. So different. Like he was trying to devour you whole. Like he’s parched and the only thing that can quench it is the mess between your thighs.

The demon’s tongue moved languidly at first, to savor the taste of both your arousal and the tempting red liquid. But the muscle moved quicker with time, desperately needing to taste all of you. You writhed and grabbed onto the only thing keeping your mind in reality, his wild and now unkempt black locks.

Your needy tugs to his hair only made his movements more determined. The heat in your lower stomach was rising at a rapid pace not even you could keep up with. The area that was previously aching with pain was now flooding with pleasure. Muzan’s nails dug into your upper thighs as he feasted on everything you were giving him. The pain shouldn’t have felt so good, but with the drag of his demonic tongue, god it did.

Your orgasm hit you like a flash, as your arched into his head and stuttered his name loudly. The growl he let out was low and heavy. He licked up your mixed juices while you twitched and shook.

He then lifted himself from you. His pupils were blown wide and his lower face was messy. “Divine, just as I thought.” He murmurs, “Your essence is sweet, and mixed with your blood..” he takes in a breath, and trails off.

You caught your breath, which was knocked out of you for a moment. Before you had time to respond, he’s making his next move. You glanced down as he sat up, noticing his prominent erection in his dress pants. It made you wonder how it would feel inside you now that you were on your cycle. You were sensitive already, but this time it was enhanced surely.

His sharp teeth nearly shined as he grinned darkly at you. “Your blood is irresistible.. and I can’t wait to see such delectable essence on my cock.”

His grin widens a bit more at seeing the you bite your lip with replenished need. You two have been intimate many times before, but this felt like so much more. With this, he could have claim every part of you, in your weakest state. In your most vulnerable time. And that thought alone has been driving him wild since he tasted you.

You barely even noticed when he took off his pants and vest, leaving his formal shirt slightly unbuttoned as he was too desperate to be inside you. Having said that, you also failed to notice when he was now hovering over you and positioning himself at your entrance. You feel his warm breath on your neck as he carefully plunged in. There was a mutual groan shared as he pushes in, inch by inch.

The mix of slick and blood made it easier to stuff you full of his cock. When he bottomed out, he couldn’t resist biting your shoulder. You whined from both pain and pleasure, as he laps up more of your sweetness. The taste of it on his tongue caused him to begin thrusting. “Always such a good little human, hm?” He rasps.

You let out a strangled moan at the sheer power of his thrusts in an attempt at a response. Your mind couldn’t even think about the pain in your abdomen with how good he was making you feel. His head pulls back to watch your lewd expressions. It was always his favorite. Just seeing how much of a mess he can make of you gets him going.

Even as such an individual as mighty as Muzan, he still falls into the irresistible pleasure he gets from you. The feelings he once was unfamiliar with, came easily when he met you.

His nails dig into your hips this time as with each thrust he pulls you to him, only increasing how deep he hit. Your whines echoed off the walls of your room, mixing with the slaps of skin. A faint but audible set of groans and grunts can also be heard from the man above you. Only you could drag these uncontrollable noises from the king himself.

The demon threw his head back, gripping under your thighs to bring them to your chest. That served to make him go even deeper than you thought possible. Your body was trembling under him, and the feeling of getting close came creeping up on you. The tightening of your pussy made his noises turn into something more animalistic. “Make a beautiful mess on my cock. I know you want to.” He coos breathily, his alluring eyes staring at your face.

And you were more than happy to follow as he said. Body twitching and ecstasy taking over, you came hard. Your mind was effectively taken over by the intensity of it all. A deep growl came out of his mouth as you convulsed and nearly milked him for all he’s worth. He felt close, and quicker than normal. The circumstances played a big part in speeding up his gratification in indulging in you.

You could barely keep your eyes open as he relentlessly thrusted, overstimulation making you shake pathetically. He reveled in your form and the sensation. After a few more harsh thrusts, he gives a final one that fills you with his cum. “That’s it,” he moans huskily, “Take it all..”

When he spilled all he could into you, he pulled out and let his dick lay on your stomach. He looked down at the fluids connecting it to your messy cunt. A sight he could get used to.

Though, he’s no weak man by any means. It wasn’t long before his stamina allowed him to become hard again. A desire-filled smirk was plastered on his face. “You should know that I am far from done.”

As his lover, you definitely knew that. But as a human, you weren’t sure how far he would take it this time. The king wasn’t going to give you time to think about that, however.

——

[lemonwisp]

Brief little idea of what should have happened in season 4

First up: what they should have made Allison wish for in the reset

• getting Claire and Ray back

• bringing Dave back (because she was miserable without Ray and she knew about Klaus’s heartbreak)

Instead of like a 6 year time jump it should have been a year or two. So we can see them still settled in but also still struggling to get a normal life, some are doing better than others Liz

I think Ray should have died instead of leaving Allison.

Klaus would still be living with Allison and Claire but Dave would also be there and helping Klaus through sobriety as well as comforting Klaus when they have a hard time because they are still a germaphobe.

Sparrow Ben still goes to jail, Luther still becomes a stripper, and one day Sloane walks in and they fall in love all over again. Viktor still has a bar, and Diego and Lila still have Grace but they are struggling as new parents and maybe that would put a strain on their relationship, and Diego would be a cop.

Five wouldn’t be working for the CIA, he’d probably be still freaking out about an impending apocalypse that may or may not happen.

We see them all walk away from the park or whatever then we’ll meet again starts playing we get a little montage of their lives and having issues because they don’t have any ids or anything and just basic domestic life, Diego and Lila at the hospital with their baby, Allison and Claire at Ray’s funeral, a game night with Allison, Claire, Klaus, and Dave. Five having a little cabin and there is a string board thing and writing all over the walls, he’s passed out and a cup of coffee is spilt on the table. Viktor is playing the violin at a pub in Canada. Ben is getting arrested for the crypto scam.

Anyway they come together for the birthday party and that sorta stays the same after Klaus has the marigold they still wander off but of course Dave follows after him and Klaus relapses and after Klaus yells at Claire Dave stays with Claire and Klaus gets drunk then comes back home and Klaus and Dave have an argument about Klaus yelling at Claire but Dave also feels bad for Klaus and it causes an internal conflict as he wants to help Klaus and Claire, while Klaus and Dave fight Claire runs away and gets kidnapped by the Jean and Gene.

Jennifer thing still happens but how Ben died in the original timeline was that his powers killed him and he gets like ripped apart by the tentacles (because that is more shocking then Reggie who obviously wouldn’t hesitate to kill one of the kids)

Five and Lila still get trapped in the subway but there is no romance, and they run into brelly Ben (cause yk that scene in season 3) and there is a big face off between the two Ben’s and brelly Ben wins because he’s an icon but Jennifer also dies as a result of the attack.

After that Ben is like covered in blood but klaus still runs up to him and hugs him when they reunite and klaus cries and gets emotional and then ben

Allison is on a mission to get Claire and realizes that her daughter is more important than being famous

Luther and Viktor talk to Reggie

Everyone thinks they are going to die, Dave proposes to Klaus with the dog tags they find in ep 1.

Then idrk im not a writer, but they all get to live happily ever after (maybe Abigail dies and klaus summons her so she can tell Reggie that she didn’t want to be alive again) and they still have their powers but they can control them now and occasionally team together to stop bank robberies and such

Klaus and Dave get married because that’s what I want and then group dancing

[buryustogether]

lilac - chapter 2

miguel o’hara x f!reader

summary: a pre-work visit to the bank goes horribly wrong.

wc: 4.7k

tags/warnings: unhappy relationship, gun violence, bank robbery, blood, scars, stripping, pole dancing, sexual fantasy, semi-public sex, praise

author’s note: yeah he got me fucked up

They called him Spiderman.

He appeared seemingly from thin air overnight - specifically, the night you’d stayed late at the school to watch Gabriella O’Hara until her father could pick her up. They were hailing him a vigilante, a hero, an aggressor. No one could quite seem to agree on just what he was other than supernatural. Like the multiple self-titled supervillains who had taken over your city without someone to stop them, he possessed abilities no regular human was capable of. Shooting webs from his wrists, climbing walls, moving and propelling himself at unimaginable speeds. He was something unimaginable.

People theorized, over the week since his city-wide premier on shaky cellphone footage and breaking news coverings that interrupted regular shows, that he had escaped from a cage in Alchemax. How else could they explain his powers? They couldn’t. Others said he was an alien. Some said he was a fake, said that the clips that captured him beating the absolute shit out of car thieves and back alley thugs and would-be kidnappers, were all photoshopped with a fancy computer and an advanced program.

Either way, no matter where he’d come from or what he was, whether he was a do-gooder or another villain searching for glory, no one could deny that what he did was incredible.

It was too bad some people were out to get him despite what he was doing for your city.

“He’s a menace!” shouted the anchor of the news show playing in the bank’s lobby. J. Jonah Jameson’s voice brought a migraine to the front of your head, one that wouldn’t go away with just simple ibuprofen. You tried to block him out as you waited in line for a teller, attempting to focus instead on the story your boyfriend was barking in your ear on your phone. Your attempt was unsuccessful. “He’s just another villain trying to have his five minutes of glory in the sun. He’ll burn out just like all the others; Doc Ock, Kraven, the Vulture… Please, people! Wake up and take a deep breath of reality! He’s not helping the citizens of New York - he’s getting in the way of our police!” He fixed the camera with a hard, stony stare that made you look away when you saw one of his eyes twitch. What in fuck did that dude put in his cereal every morning? “Spiderman is just another villain. Give him another week, and see where he ends up.”

You felt your lips tug down as you turned away from the television and moved up in line. What a sad, pathetic city you lived in, where someone attempted to use whatever powers they had to do good and got blasted for it instead of praise. God knew New York needed all the help it could get. With the highest crime rate in the country, who would turn their nose up at what little help was offered to them?

Dickwipes, that was who.

“Hello?” shouted the voice on the other end of the phone you held up to your face. You jumped slightly and pulled it from your ear, earning yourself a few strange looks from the other people in line. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Sorry, babe,” you exhaled into the speaker. Blocking out the television and the rest of the distractions in the bank, you upped the volume on your phone. “Just kind of busy at the moment. I’m in line at the bank, and then I’ve got to catch a taxi in this fucking traffic and haul ass to work before class starts, and -”

From his end, Ferris released one of those breathy sighs that he did when he wanted you to stop speaking so that he could talk what was on his mind. You knew the sound well - well enough to shut your mouth and swallow thick. “Could’ve just said it was a bad time,” he grunted, then made the noises of switching his phone to his other ear. You recognized the sounds of his deft fingers fiddling with his guitar strings. God, it seemed like he never put that fucking thing down. A part of you suspected that if your apartment was on fire, he would run to save his instrument before you. “Listen, I’ve got practice here in a while. I’ll let you get back to whatever’s so important.”

Ignoring the pang that resounded like a thunderclap through your ribcage, you nodded your head despite knowing he couldn’t see you. “Uhm, okay.” You hesitated, then added, “Oh, before you go to practice -” you heard him sniff - “could you put away the dishes in the sink? I started the cycle this morning before I left, so it should be -”

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Bye.”

“Oh, okay, bye. Lo-” Before you could finish, you heard the familiar click of the other line being hung up. You stood still for a moment, feeling a little numb at your fingers, before slowly pulling your phone from your face and pressing that bright red button to hang up your end. Trying to keep your expression neutral, you stepped forward in line as it moved.

Maybe once upon a time, you and Ferris had been happy together. Maybe… satisfied was the right word. Settled. There to fill the void when you needed someone. Saying ‘I love you’ was never a column to lean upon in your relationship; it was only mumbled under breaths during sex and rare moments when both of you were in the mood to not be so completely alone. But that wasn’t often. He was too busy with his band, spending whatever money from his gigs that he received at whatever bars he trolled when he claimed he was cleaning up after shows. You were too busy teaching your kids during the day and teasing and smiling desperate souls at night, putting lousy paychecks and crumpled tips toward keeping your rent paid and food in the pantry.

The girls at The Menagerie asked you why you didn’t leave him, kick him out of your apartment and change the locks. You couldn’t ever come up with a good reason. Maybe it was because if you did, six months of your life would be down the drain. Maybe it was because if you did, you’d be more alone than you ever had in your life.

You didn’t have anyone besides Ferris. Your parents, shit - they were a lost cause. The girls at the club all had separate lives. And your kids at the school - you had to let them go every afternoon, walk out that door without a glance back.

If you let Ferris go, you would have no one.

Stuffing your phone back into your purse, you held your head high, refusing to let anyone else here see just how deep the cracks in your foundations were. At last, you were called up to the next available teller.

Your heels clicked and clacked along the polished tile floor, the bright yellow dress that you’d bought for yourself for a school spirit day swishing about your ankles. You felt like a sore thumb in this dull, brown-and-white building that was just aching to be updated. Old, vintage chandeliers hung from the high-arched ceilings, illuminating the golden bars the tellers sat behind. Benches with creaky leather occupied the center of the lobby, accented by matching chairs and little desks that bankers in starched collars met with clients at. It was all black and white, neutrals and dark tones.

Greeting the teller behind the gate with as bright a smile as you could muster, you opened your mouth to say hello. Yet just when you began to push the syllables past your lips, your world shattered like porcelain meeting concrete.

Sunlight like a torch in a dark tunnel flooded the bank as a small line of figures crowded into the bank. At first, no one paid them any mind. Then shots like the deafening cracks of fireworks right beside your ear sounded from sleek black rifles into the ceiling, and screams filled the echoey chambers of the building. You immediately dropped and covered your head, breath leaving your lungs like the air had been slammed from your chest by a sledgehammer. People cowered behind the cushions and desks, scrambling for cover as another round went through the roof.

“Everyone put your hands on your heads and take a seat on the ground,” came a booming voice from the figure at the head of the group. There were four of them, a small team who wore identical kabuki masks and black tactical gear fit to be seen on military personnel. “This is a robbery. Not a killing spree, not a kidnapping - a robbery. We ain’t looking to hurt anyone today, unless someone tries to be a hero. No sudden moves. You all follow directions, and you’ll be home in time for lunch.”

Unable to pull in a new breath, you slid to the ground and placed your hands on top of your head. You watched, eyes wide and fingers trembling slightly as the men began to make their rounds to the tellers, plopping wide, fat bags on the counters and demanding money from beneath the desks be placed inside. One took up a stance just beside you, forcefully shoving his bag to the man behind the bars and commanding him to pull out the stacked bills. The teller at once complied, dropping thousands of dollars as sweat began to bead at his temples.

Holy goddamn fucking shit. Holy fuck. You knew this city was dangerous - hell, you’d sit back night after night at home and watch on the news as cars were jacked and people were taken hostage. You’d just never thought it would happen to you; of all the millions of people in this city, you’d never thought it would be you. And yet here you were, hunkered down against a countertop as your bank was robbed with you at the throbbing heart of it all.

And you were all alone.

The man in the mask beside you took a glance down when your trembling brushed up against his leg, his head tilting slightly in a demented way that made his mask look haunted. You were suddenly reminded of your own mask that you wore for work, of the ones the other girls wore, and you were struck with the realization that, perhaps, you and he were not so different. You both wore masks to hide your faces, holding out your hands and moving to a particular kind of dance in order to snatch money right out of pockets without batting a damn eye.

Then again, when you danced, you didn’t hold an automatic rifle strapped to your shoulder.

“Give it to me,” said the man above you. You were barely able to understand his words through his mask.

Your heart skipped yet another few beats as you tried to register what he was saying. Give it to him? Give him what? “What?” you managed to say over the lead in your throat.

He nodded his head to the space beside you, and you whipped around. Your purse lay on its side next to your thigh. He wanted your purse; your wallet. Your money. Everything you had - which still wasn’t much. But you couldn’t give it up.

You looked back up at him while he switched his gaze between you and the teller, who was still busy filling the bag with cash. “No,” you said, and when he snapped his gaze to yours, you added, “please. I don’t have much, I don’t have anything compared to this place.”

The man in the mask turned away from the teller to grip his rifle tighter, tilting it slightly so that it was level with your leg curled up against your chest. “I’m not going to ask again, lady.”

Just as your hand began to scrabble for the purse laying beside you, knocking around a few papers and loose change that had fallen out, the man was struck in the face with a mass of white substance that clung to his mask. He cried out and dropped his rifle, hands flying up in an attempt to pull the stuff from his eye holes. You watched, frozen in place, as another masked man across the lobby was stuck to a countertop by his hand with another mass that appeared from seemingly nowhere.

Before anyone else could react, a dark, sinewy figure dropped from the arched ceilings overhead and kneeled on the tile just a few feet from where you huddled. When they stood up straight, your breath hitched in your throat. It was a man, donned head to toe in a blue and red suit that popped with color here in this bleak interior - like your yellow dress. His face was covered with a mask, the only indication of an expression beneath that surface retractable eye lenses that narrowed as he took a glance around the ceiling.

Spiderman exhaled a nearly inaudible huff. “Some things never change.”

From that moment, the bank was painted into a picture of chaos. The masked vigilante expelled a pair of webs from his wrist to slingshot himself across the lobby, landing a jaw-cracking blow to one of the robbers who tried to raise his rifle. The fourth, the last one still able to move, cracked off a number of shots that sent people scrambling and wailing out. The blue and red suit shot off tiny sparks as lead collided with its bulletproof material, nothing but pebbles against a mountain.

Spiderman huffed again, a breathy little chuckle this time. “Cute.”

In the next second, that fourth gunman was sent flying into a marble wall, sliding down onto his face to reveal the large crack his spine had put in its surface. The last two men were taken down quicker than you could have blinked. The second, his hand still stuck to the countertop, didn’t stand much of a chance when webs ripped his own rifle from his grasp and struck him across the forehead with a sickening crack. And the man who had demanded your purse - he’d only just gotten the white mass of sticky stuff off his mask before the vigilante slung across the room, grabbed him by his vest, and raised a gloved hand capped with three-inch long claws. “It’s impolite to threaten pretty ladies,” he growled in a voice that, for some reason, despite the situation, made your stomach churn a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. He swung the robber toward you where you sat on the ground, that clawed hand gripping his jaw to force him to keep your eyes. “Apologize - like a gentleman. And maybe I’ll think about letting you keep your trigger finger in one piece.”

By now, with the gunmen either unconscious or being held against their will, almost everyone else in the bank had gotten to their feet and bolted out the front doors. In the distance, sirens wailed and tires screeched. And yet you remained where you were, staring up at Spiderman as he tightened his grip on the man’s jaw. His claws drew tiny dots of blood along his skin. “We’re waiting,” he said in a breathy murmur.

The gunman inhaled a high-pitched, shaky breath and turned his eyes to you from behind his mask. “M’sorry,” he stuttered over his own terror.

The vigilante leaned closer, his eye lenses narrowing. “Sorry for what?”

“M’sorry for threatening you,” came the pathetic cry in response that almost made you pity him. Almost. “It - it won’t happen again, I swear.”

For a short moment, the two men stared at you. One was praying that you accepted the apology, prayed you were going to call off your savior in spandex. The other was waiting for your decision, waiting to see if you accepted such a sorry excuse for a ‘sorry.’ Swallowing the large lump in your throat, you wordlessly bobbed your head in a nod.

Spiderman hummed and turned his head so that his mouth would be close to the robber’s ear. “Seems the lady’s feeling generous today. Consider yourself lucky.”

He spun the man around with those claws of his, and the robber’s gloved hand reached out in a blind panic and grabbed onto the vigilante’s suit just where his neck met his broad shoulders. He dragged the spandex down accidentally as his head was slammed against the marble countertops, giving you perhaps a one second-long glimpse of dark, tan skin and a small scar across his collarbone. Then the man’s grip relaxed as he dropped to the floor and he released the material of the suit, allowing it to snap back into place.

You jumped slightly as the would-be robber collapsed in a heap of limbs and tactical gear beside you, your dress riding up on your thighs slightly from how you sat with your knees huddled to your chest. Before you could think to do much else in this mind-boggling moment, Spiderman was standing before you and offering a hand to help you to your feet. His claws had shrunk back into his glove - or, perhaps his own nails - and his upturned palm suddenly looked oh so inviting. It floored you in the most alluring, gut-clenching way how those very hands had just brought four men within an inch of their life, and yet now they were softer than empty promises just for you.

“You alright?” he asked as you took his hand and stood. “Sorry you had to get caught up in all this.”

He talked to you in such a casual way, like the pair of you had met before, that you could do nothing but stare and clutch your hands to your stomach as he scooped up the fallen items from your purse, dropped them back in, and handed your bag to you. Numbly, you accepted it.

“You’re safe to walk outside now,” he assured, towering over you like a damn stone column. Fuck, his voice was sexy. Low and tipped with a rolling accent. You wondered, in that moment, why it sounded so familiar. “The police should be arriving any time. They’ll just ask you a few questions and send you on your way.” As if he understood that you were frozen in place, he touched your back, turned you around, and urged you toward the front doors that were now flooded with red and blue lights from the squad cars outside. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

You had just barely mumbled a barely-audible ‘okay’ before he was gently guiding you out the doors, and then suddenly you were alone, facing down three dozen cops and a truckload of SWAT soldiers.

They asked you exactly what happened in that bank. They asked what you were doing there, what time the incident occurred, who in the hell could single handedly take down four aggressors with automatic rifles and bulletproof vests? They knew the answer, and so did you. But you told them anyway.

“It was Spiderman.”

And no matter how fucking hard you tried, how much you urged yourself to forget about them and focus on the here and now, you were unable to get that masked vigilante out of your head. You thought about him on the rest of the way to the school, because god knew there were far too few teachers in this city and you couldn’t have gotten a substitute even if you tried. You thought about him while your coworkers, the other teachers, all gathered around you in the breakroom and demanded answers and stories from your little incident that morning. You thought about him while you planned out your day with numb fingers and toes, and while you stood out front and welcomed kids in, and even when Miguel O’Hara appeared to drop off Gabriella safely at your side.

It took a few words out of his mouth, past those gorgeous full lips of his, a quirk of one of those thick brows, to finally bring you out of your stupor. “I’m sorry?” you said when you realized he had asked you a question. You felt your cheeks warm and your palms become sweaty as you begged his pardon.

To your relief, Miguel only smiled slightly and placed a hand on his jutted hip like he did. God, why did he have to do that? Draw attention to the perfect ratio of his body, a beautiful slope from his wide shoulders to his trimmed waist? “Just asking if you were alright,” he repeated himself, and you could have sworn his eyes flitted over you while he spoke. “Heard you were caught up in that robbery down on Fifth.”

“Oh… right.” You cleared your throat and watched as Gabriella spotted a few friends and dashed into the school to meet them, her backpack wagging behind her. “Yeah, I’m alright. Now that it’s over, I realize it didn’t even last that long. Maybe five minutes or so before… before Spiderman showed up.”

“Yeah?” He reached up his other hand to scratch at the underside of his chin, where the delicate skin of his throat was. Your eyes followed his movements like they were a magnet and you had no choice but to watch. Even if you did have a choice, you would have watched, anyway.

You nodded your head once, clasping your clipboard with your kids’ names on it to your thighs over your dress. A breeze blew over Washington Elementary, letting the yellow fabric dance and blow up to your knees. They were scuffed from kneeling on the hard tile floor this morning. “Mmm-hmm. He’s… not like I imagined him,” you admitted, then realized just what you were doing; talking to Miguel O’Hara, the main star in every single one of your late-night fantasies, about the man who had quite literally swooped in and saved your ass. “But, anyhow… No one got hurt. That’s what matters.”

The corners of Miguel’s lips quirked upward ever so slightly, showing off a tiny flash of his white teeth. It then occurred to you that you’d never seen him smile fully - only with a closed mouth. “Well,” he said, and lifted his hand an inch or two, almost like he was going to touch your arm, then stopped himself and lowered it back down. “I’m glad you’re safe.” There came a fraction of a second of tense, charged silence between the pair of you before he added, “Don’t know what we would do if something happened to Bri’s favorite teacher.”

Bri - you’d never heard him call her that before. It was always a full ‘Gabriella.’

Behind you, in the school, the bell rang, signaling the final five minutes before class started. You glanced over your shoulder, feeling your heart sink slightly at the realization that you would have to leave the conversation. “I’d better -” You allowed your sentence to fall away as a number of squad cars came rounding the corner across from the school, sirens wailing and tires squealing on the tarmac. Other vehicles on the road pulled over to let them pass as they blew through a red light; whatever was happening, it must have been serious. But wasn’t it always.

“Heh,” you chuckled gently as you began to turn back to Miguel. “Always something happening, ri-”

He was gone. Vanished, seemingly, into nothingness. No car to watch pull out of the lot, because he walked his daughter to school, and no trace of his hulking, towering form down the sidewalk outside the wrought iron gates that surrounded the building. He’d completely and totally disappeared.

Damn, you thought as you blinked a few times, gripping your clipboard, and entered the school. What an enigma he was.

That night at work, as you spun yourself around and around on the pole center stage in various twisted shapes and contortments, you found yourself divulging in yet another one of your little fantasies. You shut your eyes as you tensed your leg and gripped the pole to send yourself around in a tight, flashing circle that made the train - that your boss had specifically instructed you to wear while you were in the spotlight - flutter and whip like golden water pulled across a current.

You pictured Miguel seated in the leather chair closest to the stage, his chin propped on his forearms where they rested across the edge of your runway. You imagined the neon lights playing tricks and dirty, filthy, irresistable illusions in the gleam of his eyes, following your movements around and around because no matter how many times you did the same cheap trick, he would still watch it as if it were his first time seeing it. You thought of kneeling down in front of him even though it was against the rules to get too friendly with customers if they weren’t going to pay to see you up close, and of gently taking the point of his chin in between your fingers so that he was tilting his head up to look at you.

Fuck, you thought of him taking you on that fucking stage after the place was closed, hovering over you with your legs locked around his hips and your hands gripping the wrists pinned beside your head so tight your knuckles paled. You swore that, even in your little scenario, you could feel his breath fanning across your face as he leaned down to murmur in your ear through his huffs and lustful, breathy sighs.

“Such a good girl, takin’ it all f’me. Pretty girl, pretty baby. All mine. All mine.”

You opened your eyes and forced yourself to return to reality when you felt yourself being watched. Of course you were being watched - there were dozens upon dozens of eyes surrounding your stage, watching from behind the porcelain gaps in their animalistic masks. But there was another sensation of being stared at that didn’t quite fit in with the rest of them, one that sent a certain kind of shiver down your spine. Keeping in time with your routine and the music thrumming through the floorboards of the club, you peered deep into the wide atrium in search of whoever was fixing you with such a gaze.

You found it.

He was standing nearly in the shadows where the lights couldn’t reach him, arms crossed tight over his chest and stance firm so that everyone who looked at him knew to never even think of invading the space he’d claimed for himself. The man was tall and sinewy with muscle, but you had to squint to see his frame clearly through the dark and the dress jacket he wore. Over his face, the edges obscured by the slicked-back mess of dark hair atop his head, he wore the club’s one and only spider mask.

It was a specialty disguise, one that only the top rollers and highest bidders of the evening bribed their way to at the front room. It usually signified that whoever was behind the porcelain wanted attention, wanted drinks to come nonstop to their side tables, wanted every girl in the damn house on their lap and at their feet. And yet, this evening’s spider was nothing like that. He clung to the shadows, to the perimeter of the room, like he didn’t want anyone to know he was there. He took up no more space than necessary. He was practically a no one, despite the delicate, fractured-looking design he wore over his features.

And he was watching you dance like he was mesmerized, like if the doors were chained shut and the place was burning down around him, he’d be content to stay where he was and keep his eyes focused on your body.

When the man realized you had spotted him, that you were staring right back at him through the gaps of your monarch mask, he moved. You nearly wanted to cry out, to tell him to wait, that you weren’t done. But you couldn’t.

So instead you continued to dance, continued to watch him as he flowed through the other patrons toward the exit. Yet when he turned in just a particular way to avoid bumping into a server, you saw it; through the unbuttoned top pair of buttons of his dress shirt, you spotted it, you were able to catch a glimpse of a pale, raised scar running along his collarbone.

The very same you’d seen on Spiderman.

tags: @mooomeadows @twentysomethingwereyote @screamforyani @fangirlreice7 @axdjelx @ornamentalnecromancy @faust-pda @ilikethemoon28 @mrm-pachypoda @wadafrick

(strike through means your blog could not be tagged.)

[rafeandonlyrafe]

il/licit

words: 2.1k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, unprotected p in v sex, drug dealer!reader and drug dealer!rafe, brief mention of death, marriage, pills

“so proud of you baby.” you press your lips against rafes, smiles barely dropping off either of your faces to kiss.

“thank you princess.” rafe says, giving you another peck before walking to accept his trophy and prize.

when the local country club started their private golf competition, you encouraged rafe to join, never expecting that he would win the whole thing, but he had a perfect game, all the conditions falling into the right place to bring him to the top of the leaderboard.

you watch with pride in your eyes as rafe takes various pictures with the president of the country club, someone of the wives of the other players, all elite members in the country club and prominent business figures in the outer banks, congratulating you with a pat on the shoulder.

you take in the situation as the sun beats down on your face, an idea sparking.

it's not until a week later that you bring it up to rafe, not wanting to spoil his win by admitting while he posed with his trophy that you were forming a plan.

“i think we should legitimize. get away from selling to teens and work upwards. you know all those housewives have pill addictions already, we could become their suppliers, and then you'll have an in with their husbands.” you explain to rafe, hands gesturing as you continue your already thought out plan, a look of genuine interest on rafes face.

“can your supplier get those kind of pills?” rafe asks. he figures you'd already inquired.

“yeah. for cheap as shit too. this is better than coke and weed, rafe.” you finally sit down, having begun pacing like you always do when explaining a plan to rafe.

“then let's do it baby.” rafe nods.

you met through dealing, having sidestepped barry to deal directly with rafe when you saw his potential to reach a whole new higher class kook market, never expecting to fall in love with him at the same time, but you made the ultimate power couple, you supply, rafe deals, you both get paid.

--

“have you found your first mark?” rafe whispers in your ear, seeing the familiar look in your eyes as you scan the crowd.

“notice how mrs mitchell keeps sneaking off? she hates these types of events, shes popping pills just to keep herself from freaking out.” you whisper back, eyes on the woman as she begins to sway again, a telltale time it's ready for her to sneak away and down more pills from the tiny container in her purse.

you smirk as she excuses herself, just as you predicted.

“be right back.” you take a deep breath before walking away from rafe, a comforting squeeze of your waist in encouragement before you go.

you follow her towards the restroom before she ducks into a hallway. you round the corner just as she's digging into her purse.

“you know, if you had something stronger you wouldn't have to take so many.” your voice ringing out makes her jump, snapping her purse closed.

you don't give her time to react, pulling the bottle of pills out of your own purse. you hand it over, a cautious look on mrs. mitchells face as she takes them out of your hand, reading the label. it's the same drug she's already taking, just as a much higher dosage. you got the scoop by plying one of the other members of her book club with drinks at the country club until she spilled.

“how much?” mrs. mitchell asks, and you smile, glad she's not stupid, but it's why you chose her as the first.

“you owe me nothing for this bottle. just spread the word. ive got better than whoever is currently supplying you. get the word around and there will be more where that came from.” you glance to the bottle in her hand before leaving her to swallow her pills by herself. you already know who her dealer is of course, a crooked pharmacist who writes fake prescriptions, but has to keep them in extremely low doses to not rouse any suspicions.

you enter back into the main ballroom, quickly finding rafe chatting to one of the businessmen in town. you stride up, politely introducing yourself are rafe wraps his arm around your waist, well aware that some of the older men may look at you with a predatory gaze and not wanting them to get the wrong impression that you were open to any advances.

“how did it go?” rafe whispers when you get a moment alone.

“good.” you glance at mrs. mitchell through the crowd, her eyes glossed over but relaxed. “she’s gonna get the word out. we’re on our way up, rafe.”

--

“you look so hot.” rafe groans, pressing kisses to your neck as you finish adjusting your dress in the mirror.

“too hot? should i change? it is just bookclub.” you sigh. when mrs. mitchell invited you to join her bookclub, you knew exactly what she was really asking you there for, especially when she slipped you a piece of paper with names and preferred drugs.

“nah, very respectable.” rafe says, reaching around you to do up one of the buttons on the top of the dress, covering up more of your cleavage.

“we should be thinking about next steps. once i have the in with the housewives, whats the next play?” you question, more thinking out loud than anything else, not expecting rafe to have a solid plan yet.

“cameron developments. ward left it to me.” your hands pause over smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you turn to face rafe. he hasn’t spoken to you about his deceased father much, all you know is that he died in a different country and that it was tragic. you never wanted to pry, but couldn’t resist googling a bit about ward cameron, and the business he used to run.

“are you sure baby? we can start our own thing.” you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing your body to his as a physical comfort. rafe puts on a strong face, but you know sometimes he needs it.

“its already established, has all the proper documentation since we are trying to get more legit. we could always rename it cameron and y/l/n developments though.” rafe smirks.

“what, you don’t want me to take your last name?” you raise an eyebrow.

you can see the surprise on rafes face. you’ve never spoken about marriage before, but you’ve been together for a long time now and are clearly planning for the future as a couple.

“i always thought you were more traditional than that, rafe. i guess i could hyphenate.” you hum, but rafe aggressively shakes his head.

“no, baby, i’m making you mine. all the way.” rafe presses your back against the mirror as his lips find yours, glad that you’re just wearing a clear lip gloss as he makes a mess of your mouth.

“mmm.” you hum, pushing at rafes chest. “can’t be late. would look bad.”

rafe groans, but he knows you’re right, knows you need to give a good impression to all the prominent book club members. “i’ll drive you.”

you nod, grabbing your purse, the one with a hidden compartment in the lining where you’re hiding all the drugs you’re going to distribute, but you’re not worried, not when one of the women is the wife of the police commissioner. 

“you know, it would also look really good to everyone else if we got married. seems so silly to say boyfriend and girlfriend when we are surrounded by all these old married couples.” you tell rafe as he drives you towards mrs. mitchells house.

“baby girl, you don’t have to convince me to marry you.” rafe says, looping your fingers together. “i’ve already been looking for a ring.”

--

“why are half the people you're inviting to the wedding old as hell?” your friend asks as she helps you sort through wedding invitation envelopes, somehow able to stay blissfully unaware of the fact that you are not just a drug dealer but the most prolific one on the island and are working your way up.

“it’s important now that rafe is restarting cameron developments that we stay on their good side. it’s respectful to invite them.” you explain with a shrug. you never idealized weddings, didn’t really have any grandiose ideas for it, and you never thought you’d feel the excitement about getting married like you feel now that you’re with rafe.

“i guess.” she shrugs. “i just don’t want them to be boring.” “boring?” rafe calls out, entering into the dining room, the entire table covered with envelopes and pieces of paper. “is any party we throw ever boring?” he questions, making your friend shake her head and giggle as rafe presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“how is planning going?” he questions, rubbing his thumbs over your shoulders, glad that you haven’t seem too stressed, trying to manage a wedding along with everything else under your belt.

“really good.” you admit. “although i still haven’t chosen a dress.” “budget is no issue, you know that right?” rafe says. he knows you grew up struggling, which is why you turned towards dealing in the first place, but the money is flowing now, not just from the pills you’ve been pushing towards the upper crust, but from cameron developments getting started again.

“i know.” you sigh, grabbing your binder filled with printed out pictures of wedding dresses you like as inspiration. “i just feel like i want so many different things. i think i might do one dress for the ceremony and another for the reception.”

“you’ll look beautiful no matter what.” rafe says, bending down to press a kiss into your hair, pretending to nuzzle into your side as he whispers. “mr. johnson talked to me at the country club today. his wife has some friends who want the same shit she’s on.”

rafe straightens out, glancing over to your friend to make sure she didn’t hear anything before pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “have fun, ladies.”

--

“mrs. cameron.” rafe says, hands rubbing over the sole of your foot after he took your heels off for you, sat on the edge of the bed in your reception dress.

“husband.” you coo back, eyes fluttering closed, partly from the exhaustion of the party, partly from how good it felt to have rafe rubbing your sore feet.

“wife.” rafe leans forward, kissing your shin before moving upward, head hidden under the skirt of the dress as he pushes your thighs apart. his teeth bite down on your garter before tugging it off, flinging it away before standing, tugging at his tie.

you reach behind yourself to work on undoing your dress as you watch rafe undress, baring his muscles to you. “i almost don’t want you to take the dress off. you look so beautiful.” rafe says as you work the dress off of your shoulders before standing up and letting it drop to the floor.

“mmm, thank you baby.” you press your lips against his, pushing his hands away as you undo his pants and push them down his legs along with his underwear. “you’re gonna have to help me get the bobby pins out of my hair before we go to sleep.” you giggle, hair pinned up with a few face framing curls falling free.

“can i help you out of this lingerie first?” rafe asks, rubbing the white lace covering your skin.

“of course you can, husband.” you use the name again, so glowing from the day that you don’t even think about all the pills you have to distribute, or that cameron developments is acquiring some land next week. it’s just you and rafe in your honeymoon suite.

rafe works his hands carefully over the lingerie, for once being patient and not just ripping it off of you. when you are finally completely bare for him, he helps you lay back on the bed, taking a second to pause and look at you lying there, shiny diamond on your finger.

“you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” rafe says honestly. he’s sure if it wasn’t for you he would still be getting drunk or high every night, and low level dealing at house parties.

“i can’t take all the credit.” you hum. “we make a great team.” “forever and ever.” rafe says, draping himself over your body as his hand laces with yours, feeling your ring against his fingers.

you spread your legs before wrapping them around his waist, raising your hips as your cunt rubs over his length teasingly.

“forever and ever, husband.” you nod to confirm, pressing your lips against rafes as he sinks inside of you.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0

[ieatstarsforaliving]

The Origin (1)

Summary: How you and Hazel and the fight club started. Also Hazel's Spider-Woman. But you don't know that.

Pairing: Spider-Woman!Hazel Callahan x Classmate!Reader

Warnings: Mature language, use of (Y/N), mentions of bruises and cuts, Idk what else

Word Count: 1508

Note: It's literally my first post. It may suck. I don't care. I don't get paid for this. I hope you do enjoy though, cause there's not enough Spider-Woman Hazel Callahan fics out here. Love yall - Bia <3

“You got paired up with (Y/N) for the ‘women murdered in history’ project?” 

Hazel nodded at Josie’s question. She had just left Mr. G’s class with PJ and Josie where he had introduced a new project to create a diorama based on a famous woman who was murdered. The partners were chosen by random, and to Hazel’s horror, she was paired up with you. 

Who just happened to be Hazel’s crush for 4. fucking. years.

Hazel had many moments of crises in her 18 years of life, which included getting bitten by a radioactive spider during sophomore year at a school field trip to the science fair, getting caught by Josie and PJ’s spider-trap (Where PJ wanted to catch Spider-Woman for her youtube channel with a net, and she actually managed to?) and Hazel had to reveal her secret identity, and her mother’s recent divorce with her minor-fucking, emotionally unavailable father. 

But none of them made Hazel as frantic as being paired with you for a school project. 

“Thats fucking amazing,” PJ said in jealousy. “How come that never happens with me and Brittany? I got paired up with that one emo kid who probably wants to blow up the school.” 

Hazel groaned, leaning her head against her locker. She was already tired from last night’s fight with a local bank robbery, which led to her face scratched and bandaged up today. She couldn’t stop thinking about how she was going to impress you. 

“Okay, well, you don’t look very happy considering you’re like, obsessed with her,” Josie commented. She was well used to Hazel’s constant remarks about how pretty you looked during class or how you made eye contact with her for 2 seconds. 

“I’m fucked. I just get so nervous around her,” Hazel replied, anxiety seeping out from her voice. “I have never really had a conversation with her other than, ‘hello’. If I can’t even talk to her properly, how am I going to do a whole project with her?” 

PJ rolled her eyes. “Hazel, why are you so worried? You literally swing down tall ass buildings and beat up tall ass criminals, and you can’t even talk to a girl that you like? Didn’t your spider powers give you like, enhanced everything?” 

“I’m pretty sure the whole point of Hazel’s secret identity is for you to not talk about it out in the open, PJ.” 

“I’m just saying, if I saved the neighborhood every night wearing a red and blue spandex lady gaga suit, I’d be getting so much puss right now.” 

The two continued to bicker as Hazel sighed. PJ was right. It was just a project. It wasn’t a big deal, it was only for a week, and she was certain you were straight anyways. All she had to do was just man up and talk to—

“Hazel?” 

Hazel jumped, turning around from her locker to see you standing with an alluring smile on your face. You wanted to talk to your project partner before the start of next class, who seemed to be very stunned at the sight of you. She looked like a puppy, with her widened blue eyes and her tousled brown hair. 

Hazel blinked rapidly and clutched her notebook, barely managing to reply with a small, “Hi.” 

“I don’t know if you remember me. I’m (Y/N),” You introduced yourself, starting to offer your hand but retracting immediately because you realized that you’re a high schooler and that it’s probably lame to shake hands in this day and age. “I’m partnered up with you for Mr. G’s class—” 

“-Yeah, I know who you are. (Y/N),” Hazel said, almost too quickly, causing her friends to hold in their laughter. “Mr. G’s project. Yeah– I can work on it. All of it, if you want.” 

“No, of course not, we can work on it together,” You laughed, before recognizing all the injuries on Hazel’s face. “By the way, you’re pretty bruised up. Are you okay?” 

Hazel instantly touched her bandages, feeling a bit embarrassed at her state. 

“’m fine. I just fell.” 

You frowned, staring intensely at Hazel’s face. “I don’t think you can get these cuts from falling.” 

“Well, some of them are from falling and some of them aren’t...” Hazel trailed off as you came closer, your face filled with genuine worry. You knew Hazel wasn't exactly popular, but you didn’t know she was bullied. Hazel slowly backed away, her heart beating out of her chest as her back made contact with her locker. 

Hazel's Face started to burn up, turning to Josie for help. Josie stuttered, “This is nothing, she just– she’s part of this— this club, and—”

“A club? What kind of club fucks up her face like this?” You interrupted, your hands reaching out and brushing Hazel’s bangs out of the way, carefully examining the bandages. “Is it like a fight club?” 

“Yes!” 

“No–” 

“-More like a women’s self defense club?”

You looked at the three girls who’ve provided different answers all at the same time.

PJ spoke up first. 

“Yes, we absolutely do have this club where girls fucking beat each other up and shit for… feminism. So that we can teach girls how to protect themselves from the evil male football players.” 

“You know how to fight?” You asked, staring at PJ who barely had any muscles.

“Yes. Because, We… went… to… juvie over the summer.” 

You blinked.

“...There’s also a serious lack of female solidarity in this school,” Hazel stiffly added. 

“Right. Okay, that’s fine, I guess,” You accepted. “Could I join?” 

“Yes. Absolutely!” PJ exclaimed, her face lighting up immediately. “You could bring your friends too. You know. Specifically your cheerleader friends. Specifically Brittany and Isabel.” 

Before you could question why specifically Brittany and Isabel, the bell rang to inform the students for the start of next class. 

“Okay, here—” You took the notebook Hazel was holding and quickly scribbled your number on one of the pages. “Message me so we can talk about the project. And the club. Is that okay?” 

You handed the notebook back as Hazel nodded, in denial that you just gave her your fucking phone number. You waved before running off to your next class, feeling happy that you had made a new friend. (haha friend…)

Meanwhile, Josie was losing her mind. 

“PJ, what the fuck are you doing?” 

“This is absolutely perfect!” 

“No, it’s not, PJ— we don’t have a feminist women’s self-defense fight club. You also don’t care about feminism. Your favorite movie is Entourage.” 

“Okay, first of all, shut up, and second, we can just make the club now, obviously. Come on– I just created the perfect opportunity for all of us to talk to Brittany, Isabel, and (Y/N)!” 

“Hazel, please tell PJ that she’s insane,” Josie turned to Hazel. 

Hazel grinned and said; 

“She gave me her number.” 

Josie groaned. “Congratulations! But we have a bigger problem now. We don’t know how to defend ourselves!” 

“Self-defense is common sense. You try to punch me in the face. I stop it from happening. Whatever, I don’t care, it’s easy,” PJ shrugged, holding a MMA fighter stance and started throwing air punches. 

“Yeah, maybe for Hazel, who literally has the… spider tingles? Hazel tingles?”

“Please do not start calling it Hazel tingles.” 

“And let’s not forget, you literally have superhuman strength,” Josie cautioned. “If we do this— very big if, we just run the biggest risk of exposing you and your spider identity. One wrong punch and you’ll send a girl to the hospital.”  

PJ turned to Hazel and grabbed her by the shoulders. 

“Hazel, listen to me. We teach a bunch of girls how to defend themselves against the evil high school fuckboys. They are grateful to us. Adrenaline is flowing— next thing you know, Isabel, Brittany, and (Y/N) are kissing us on the mouths!” 

Hazel paused. “I don’t know. Like Josie said, it’s a huge risk. The last thing I’d want to do is put (Y/N) in danger.”

A sardonic smile played on PJ’s lips. She tapped on Hazel’s notebook.

“Hazel, she gave you her number.”

Hazel stood, her mind racing once again. PJ’s idea of starting a self-defense club was dangerous, she knew that. She would be gaining attention all while showing off her fighting skills, which is what she had been hiding for years. Josie’s warning echoed in her mind. But then she remembered the way you had looked at her, with darling concern in your eyes when you asked about her injuries. She hadn’t had anyone worry for her like that in a while. 

Hazel took a deep breath.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Josie cried.

“She said okay! It's an okay! We’re doing this!” PJ screamed, grabbing Hazel’s hand and pulling her towards the school’s office to create the club. “We’re going to lose our virginities this year! This is the year!”

“Okay, but who’s going to be crazy enough to even advise this club?” Josie yelled after them, but the two were long gone.

Next Chapter: The Fucking Fight Club

[orangameelectronics]

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[imababblekat]

To Catch A Turtle

@foxespen, "So part of the spiderman powers are having enhanced strength, right? So they could probably pick up any one of the turtles pretty easy, even if they stand at like half the brothers’ height. Imagine during a fight one of the boys gets thrown off a roof and their friendly neighborhood spider catches them and is just hold them bridal style and says like “if you’re gonna fall for me, it doesn’t have to be on a roof”Or something"

~xXx~

It wasn’t often the boys and (s,n) would get into a tough fight, but it seemed that with BeBop and Rocksteady, it always was one. They were two formidable foes for the ninja turtles alone, so having someone like you to fight along side them in these cases was always a welcome advantage.

When Donnie had relayed an alert from Casey, it wasn’t long till the four brothers found themselves fighting the two enemy mutants atop a bank building. Five minutes into the fight and you made your entrance by web launching yourself into BeeBop’s face, with a corny, “Starting the party without me I see!”, as you back flipped off the warthogs face. Just like that, with cheerful greetings, you and the crime fighting terrapins fell into sync, dishing out all you could against the other two. However, as the fight drew on, perhaps due to growing exhaustion, not everyone was able to stay on top of their toes.

“What do these guys even want?!”, you asked aloud, dodging a thrown pipe and landing next to Leo.

The leader in blue charged forward, swinging his dual swords at Rocksteady who was quick to hold up a chunk of broken building to block the attack. Narrowly ducking out of a punch from BeBop, Donnie swung his staff into the warthogs side, earning a harsh yelp from the assailant.

“Not sure. April thinks they’re making some sort of deal and need the cash to do so.”

“Stay out of our business, turtles!”, BeeBop snapped, grabbing Donnies staff and shoving the taller terrapin back into Raphael who had tried to attack from the side.

“The zoo’s not going to take you two, no matter how much you bribe them!”, you quipped, easily dodging Bebops attacks and jumping onto his back, blinding him with multiple web shots and tugging him in different directions as he started a blind rampage.

A loud laugh came from Mikey as he watched you rodeo the warthog, Leo and Donnie running towards you to assist.

“Good one, angel cakes!”, Mikey winked, just missing a punch from Rocksteady.

“The insects jokes are lame!”, the rhino grunted with irritation, grabbing a hold of Mikeys swinging nun-chuck and pulling him forward to give him a hard kick.

“Hey! Only I can call their jokes lame!”

Rocksteady quickly looked over at the person who had shouted, only to suddenly be tackled by a very heated Raphael. With a strong hold of the larger mutants midsection, the red clad ninja used all of his might to push the other to the edge of the building. Despite nearly having the wind knocked out of him by Raphael, Rocksteady was quick to firmly grasp his shell. With a loud grunt from above, Raphael had suddenly found himself being lifted into the air, staring down at a triumphant Rocksteady before being sent flying over the tall buildings edge. The last thing heard, as Raphael struggled to regain sense of what was up and what was down, were his brothers frantically shouting after him. At the height he just been thrown from, Raphael knew that even collapsing into his shell would prove futile to the crushing gravity once he hit the streets below.

Out of nowhere, Raphael felt his stomach lurch back and forth as something, or rather someone, swiftly swung him from one side of a building to another in a quick descent. It wasn’t till the world stopped spinning around him did Raphael peek open an eye, confusion followed quickly by shock when he realized who had been his savior.

“You know, Raphael, you make quite the cute damsel in distress if I do say so myself.”, you cheekily jested, and said turtle could just picture your eyebrows wagging beneath your mask.

(S,n) had been holding the bulky terrapin like he was air. Their arms snuggly wrapped beneath his knees and the midsection of his shell. Despite the alarming size difference, you cradled Raphael so carefully and securely, in a way that he had wished to someday carry a significant other. Yet, to be the one being held in such a manner, caused the macho man of a turtle to feel his face quickly heat up, and scramble out of your arms even quicker when he heard the approaching foot steps of his brothers. One could practically feel the heat of embarrassment radiating off of him, as he tried desperately to play things cool.

“What happened to BeBop and Rocksteady?”, Raph questioned his brothers, hoping beyond belief that they hadn’t seen a thing.

“They managed to get away, but not without leaving behind what they tried to steal. Casey and the NYPD are on their way to pick up the stolen goods.”, Leo informed, looking between his flustered sibling and the spider person beside him.

Raphael just let out a scoff, turning sharply and walking off in a random direction.

“Where are you going?”, Mikey confusingly asked.

“To find my sai's.”

“Your welcome by the way!”, you shouted out, to which Raphael simply sent you back a deep scowl before returning to his search.

Despite the aggravated grumbling you could hear come from the hot headed person you saved, you continued to smile to yourself, the squinted eyes of your mask telling of your hidden expression. Pulling out a pen and small note pad, the parchment labeled (s,n) Notes, Donnie began to scribble away.

“Did he even weigh anything to you?”, he questioned with scientific curiosity.

You shrugged, hands on your hips as you peered up at Donnie.

“Like a feather.”

“Oo, oo! Me next!”, Mikey excitedly shouted, bounding towards you at top speed.

Not even your spidey senses could have prepared you for Mikey’s suddenness, you both collapsing to the ground just as you’d barely caught him in your arms. Leo merely shook his head in slight disappointment, Donnie continuing to jot down notes, and Raphael in the distance still trying to calm his flustered heart.

~xXx~

[justwinginglife]

May I have a request for Hoshina with a s/o who have a ability to heal people? It's either injuries or even broken bones. She's a doctor (or medic) in the defense force, she didn't use ability unless its very serious. She's not even a kaiju.

Imagine when Hoshina was in life and death situation or brink of death dealing a tough opponent/Kaiju she saved him with her abilities and he woke up fully healed. She explained to him she have these abilities of hers, since she was born.

Very interesting prompt, sorry for the wait and thanks for being patient. It definitely was difficult for me to figure out how to work the healing powers into a universe that doesn’t have powers so I hope what I went with turned out okay. Also fun fact- this post could've been significantly better but it accidentally got deleted somehow and I had to start all over from the beginning and try to remember what I wrote and it was so devastating so the writing is definitely not as good as it could've been.

A Reason To Live

Your mother was a freak of nature and apparently it was genetic.

You’d been told she was already strong, already tough, already fast, like all the women on her family’s side, even to the point of being declared superhuman but it wasn’t enough for her. She’d lost her husband and all her children to the Kaiju and she’d never be able to repair that damage to herself, that feeling of never being enough, much as she tried to through lengthy experimentation and numerous scientific enhancements to her body. Eventually, the stress of being pregnant with the last child her dead husband would ever give her overwhelmed her heart and she passed on.

You were born as the result of all that experimentation and that, mixed with your already inhuman genetics led to an interesting development, one that had never been heard of before. You had the power to heal. And nothing else.

You thought it a useless power at first. You were so focused on being the failure of your bloodline. You had planned on joining the Defense Force, like your whole family had before you- anything to feel connected to them. But whatever it was that made them outstanding, you didn’t have it, you didn’t have their strength or their speed, and you were devastated at the thought that your bloodline would die with your unimpressive self.

Then, one day when you were walking home, you noticed a tourist standing on the edge of a bridge. Before you realized how desperately they were eying the murky waters below, they jumped. Unable to catch them in time, you cursed your own inadequacies again as you ran to pull their limp body from the river. As you dragged them to the bank, you realized they were still alive, but just barely. They were badly injured but had enough life in them to whisper their regrets, to murmur they actually did want to live. And it touched something deep inside you, awakened some ancient power, and you healed them like it was second nature.

Saving them made you realize that even though you couldn’t shoot a gun or swing a sword for shit, you could still make a difference. So you became a doctor, only saving your powers for the most serious of cases, but studying your ass off so hard you almost didn’t need to use your gift.

And for the first time in your life, you were content, you made peace with your strengths and your weakness, and you felt like you actually had a purpose. You almost didn’t even realize you were missing anything in life until you made the acquaintance of one Soshiro Hoshina. You had been okay just being content with your life but he made you experience more than just contentment- he made your life blissful.

You couldn't imagine what you'd do without him constantly making excuses to see you. He'd bring in officers, any officers at all, and claim they needed treatment for rug burns or paper cuts, anything he could do to see you, to be near you.

He'd bring you your favorite coffee every morning just to be the first one to say good morning to you and put a smile on your face.

He'd even wait for you to finish work so he could walk you home, saying that it wasn't safe for such a gorgeous woman like you to be alone at night.

Sometimes you were glad you were weaker than him, so you could rely on his strength. And he loved that you relied on him, he loved to provide for you, to protect you.

But on some occasions, today in particular, those familiar insecurities would crawl their way back up to the surface reminding you just how weak you really were.

Today he was hurt. Badly. And all you could do was sit and wait for them to bring him to you on the verge of death. You would have given anything to be able to fight by his side, to protect him so he wouldn’t even need your healing in the first place. Sometimes you were scared you wouldn’t be able to heal him, wouldn’t be able to save him, he'd be too far gone. Maybe one day he wouldn’t even survive the journey back to you. Then what would you do? How would you go on with your life? Could you find contentment again? You didn't think so.

He'd even smiled at you weakly when they first brought him in. He was always trying to comfort you when he was the one that needed comfort. You thought you might just die right there beside him if you couldn't see that smile again.

You cleared everyone out of the clinic, anxious to start treating him. No one knew about your powers but you didn't want to waste time trying to treat him without them, he meant too much for you to start with conventional methods. So you kicked everyone out and got to work healing him.

You thought this might be the day your powers failed you as he didn't seem to be responding. But then you heard a groan and his eyes blinked open. You sighed, the sound thick with relief.

"Love, I know you're a good doctor but this is something else." He lifted his arms and examined every square inch of skin, trying to process the complete lack of an injury anywhere.

"Guess you weren't hurt that badly." You muttered nervously, trying to figure out how you were going to explain this to him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Dearest, my life was flashing before my eyes, I think might've actually been dying. So whatever you did, you did a hell of a job."

"Well I'm just glad you're okay." You were eager to drag him away from the topic.

"You know... I saw you, out there. Out on the battlefield when I thought I was dying. Couldn't think of anything else. You're my whole world."

You bit back tears. "And y-you're mine. So don't go dying on me again, okay? Promise."

He chuckled. "Can't do that love, but I'll do my best not to die on you anytime soon. Now are you gonna tell me how you yanked me back from the Underworld?"

You bit your lip.

He ran his thumb over your lip, forcing your teeth to release it. "It's okay baby, it's just me. You can tell me anything."

You nodded slowly. "I know, I know, love. It's just... it's complicated."

He sat up in bed, wanting to give you his full attention and support.

You got in the bed with him, not wanting to look at him but not wanting to be far from him, so you snuggled up against his chest as you told him everything.

He was surprisingly very receptive to the whole situation. Even cracked jokes about being able to get into more trouble now that he knew you could save him like that, which earned him one hell of a lecture from you about staying out of danger best he could.

As much as you liked when he visited your clinic, you never wanted him to visit on a gurney. You weren't sure your heart could take anymore scares. After being so lost for most of your life, you finally found a reason for living and you'd be damned if you'd let that slip away from you.

He held you close the rest of the night and reassured you with many sweet promises that he would be careful and that he'd try not to do anything to endanger his future with you. Once you were satisfied, you fell asleep in his arms. It was a weight off your chest to finally tell him the one thing you'd been keeping from him and you slept soundly against him, knowing he now had every part of you.

He slept just as soundly, comforted by the thought of having every part of you for life.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Miraculous Ladybug

Open My Eyes by buggachat

Adrien smiles as he eats breakfast with Nathalie, smiles as he walks through the halls of his new lycée, smiles as people stop him on the street and tell him time and time again what a "hero" his father was.

(Adrien wishes he could've been a hero, too. He should've been. Maybe then his father would still be alive.)

(But he's surviving. Everyone may be treating him as though he were made of glass, but he can still go through the motions, he can prove them wrong, he can still smile.)

“And you’re… happy,” Marinette spoke carefully, a nervous tilt to her voice, “... right?”

(Adrien has some things to find out.)

DC

the good, the bad, and the power hungry by konan_konan

dim trake ☑ @timdrakeceo・8hr if one more person tweets about #superlex unironically im gonna end it all 391K Views | 200 Retweets | 13 Quote Tweets | 22.1K Likes

j-son of a bitch ☑ @jsntdd・8hr ↳ replying to @timdrakeceo hurr durr these are the consequences of ur actions bitch 201K Views | 109 Retweets | 4 Quote Tweets | 18.4K Likes

or: lex luthor makes bad choices. and then, so does everyone else.

call me cute and feed me sugar by suzukiblu

Tim Drake had absolutely no intentions of ever becoming anyone's sugar daddy when he met Superboy.

This would have worked out better for him if Superboy had ever had an actual legal identity or an actual legal guardian or just . . . literally anything whatsoever in life. Ever. At all.

Just a bank account, even.

how big, how blue, how beautiful by merils

Kon-El is not good with medical settings. One could even say he's quite bad with them. How bad, exactly?

Well, let's put it this way: Very few things in the world can make him scream for Superman to save him.

(Superman will save him. That's what family's for, right?)

Clone Wars

The Kenobi Chronicles by WobblyCat

General Kenobi isn't actually dead. Someone should really tell that to his troopers, though.

Or: The clones under General Kenobi's command have a groupchat dedicated to him. Cody wishes his subordinates weren't so fucking stupid.

SVSSS

Shen Yuan's Forced Shen Qingqiu Redemption Arc by SpicyReyes

The System's OOC function won't unlock all at once - instead, character traits have to be added individually, through quests. This leads to Shen Qingqiu having to jump through endless hoops just to complete enough side quests to unlock the ability to be a decent person - all while avoiding the effects it has on those around him. If only the cheapskate System wouldn't keep changing the cost of point values - he needs to know what the hell Yue Qingyuan told the others about him that makes them all look so sad when he does manage to be nice! He's breaking his back here, can't we just appreciate his work?!

second-hand alibis by nex_et_nox

"All right. I’m in Proud Immortal Demon Way," he says, once he's had a chance to compose himself again. He sits back up, tossing his stupidly long hair back over his shoulders where it belongs; he is totally calm and ready to grill the System for more information.  "Who am I supposed to be?" Please please please don't let it be someone who Bingge violently murders. Though given the fact that he's a man in PIDW, his chances are already skewed, and not in his favor. Ugh. [Bound Role: Shen Yuan, Rogue Cultivator. Weapon: the sword Heng Li. Starting B-points: 100.]

or: Shen Yuan transmigrates as a rogue cultivator, one completely unconnected to any canon characters or events. Right, System? Right?

[vanillanaps]

It Starts With A Text | Rafe Cameron

Summary - Back from college for the weekend and you get a message from your on again off again fling, none other than Rafe Cameron.

A/n - This is my first Rafe fic and Tbh i have idea where i was going with this, but it came to me in my nightly scenario to fall asleep lmao. This is my first time writing smut in forever so be nice pls, thamks. Not proof read :p

Category - Rafe Cameron x Carrera!Reader

Warnings - smut, Rafe is ooc, but still giving fuckboy vibes.

Word Count - 1.9k

♡♡♡♡

The music played softly throughout your room as you sat at your desk studying. You’re back home, in Outer Banks for the weekend. Finals week is rapidly approaching and you thought coming home to study in the privacy of your own room would help, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Not when you were receiving texts from your sister and her friends every hour, trying to get you to come out with them since you came in Thursday night. It was so bad you had to mute the group chat they created, but that only worked to a certain extent when you lived with one.

A knock echoes through your room, a knock created by you and Kie when the two of you were younger, just to let one another know who it was.

“Yes, Kie?” A small smile appears on your face hearing your door open, knowing exactly what she was about to ask you.

“Are you sureeee you don’t wanna come with us?” Kie questioned hopefully as she hung halfway through your door, “Tonight’s Kegger is supposed to be crazy.”

You snorted at the thought, Outer Banks keggers were nothing compared to the ones you had been to in school, “Nope, I have to get this studying done.”

She groaned coming all the way inside, plopping down on your head, “You’ve been studying since you got here, and the guys haven’t seen you in forever!”

Turning around in your chair, you adored the sight of your little sister laying in your bed with a pout on her face, “I know Kie, but this is important. I promise after finals and I come back home for the summer, I will go to all the keggers you want me to.”

Kie sat up slightly, squinting her eyes, “You swear?”

“Yes, Kiara, I swear.” You chuckled at her face lighting up before she jumped up from your bed.

“Perfect!” She came over to kiss your cheek before making her way out of your room, “Don’t wait up, we’re spending the night at the chateau afterward.”

“Be safe!” You shouted after her as she shut your door. Spinning back around, you huffed as you looked over all the paperwork scattered across your desk, “Back to it.”

♡♡♡♡

Hours had passed as you sat upside down on your bed, legs up against the wall, holding your thick psychology textbook over your head, praying that it didn’t slip out of your hand and fall onto your face. Truthfully, you were tired of reading and wishing that you went with Kie to that kegger, but you knew that in the end, it’d all be worth it.

Your phone pinging pulled your attention away from your book. Thinking it may have been Kie sending you pictures of her and the guys, you decided a small break wouldn’t hurt. But you were wrong, so wrong. The text wasn’t from your sister, in fact it was from none other than the Kook Prince himself.

Rafe (Don’t Answer): You up? 1:36am

You bit your lip, fingers hovering over the keyboard while you decided if you wanted to respond or not. There was a reason why you hadn’t told Rafe you were in town this weekend. One, you knew he’d do everything in his power to distract you from studying. Two, the last time you had seen each other it had ended in an argument that neither one of you had yet to apologize for. So, after typing out responses and deleting immediately, you ultimately decided not to respond, figuring it wasn’t worth it—That was until two more messages came through.

Rafe (Don’t Answer): I know you’re up, I saw you typing. 1:48am

Rafe (Don’t Answer): I’m outside 1:48am

“The fuck?” You mumbled to yourself, scrambling out of bed and to your window. Low and behold, Rafe’s Jeep was sitting in your driveway with him leaning against the front of it, looking directly at your window, “Shit, shit, shit.”

You continued to curse under your breath as you put on a hoodie and threw on your closest pair of slides before you quietly made your way down the stairs and out the front door, and down the driveway til you came face to face with Rafe, “You can’t be here, Rafe.”

The little smirk on his face told you everything you needed to know. He had got you exactly where he wanted to, outside and in his trap. You fell for it every single time, “I didn’t know you were in town this weekend.”

“I know.” You shrugged, purposely being dry. You thought if you showed no interest in his games, he’d leave but unfortunately for you, Rafe knew you like the back of his hands. He pushed up from the hood of his Jeep, turning his hat backwards as he walked over to the passenger side to open the door, nodding for you to get in, “No Rafe, I came home to study this weekend, not anything else.”

“I just wanna talk, Y/n.” He pleaded, putting his hands up, “I swear, no funny business.”

Before your brain could even tell your legs no, they started moving towards him. Rolling your eyes as that smirk appeared back on his face while you slipped into his car, “Stop looking at me like that and get in before I change my mind.”

“Yes ma’am,” Rafe obeyed your orders, closing the door and making his way to the driver's side, getting in besides you, “How’s college?”

“Really? Small talk?” You scoffed. You knew what he really wanted to ask, but of course that would cause him to reveal any real feelings he had towards you, “I haven’t been with anyone else, Rafe. You know that.”

He nodded, gathering his words, his thoughts, choosing them carefully before the two of you ended up arguing like last time, “I’m sorry. For last time—for what I said.” His eyes looked over you, watching you nod to accept his apology.

“Is that all you came to say? You could’ve texted that.” You said, reverting your eyes from your hands to out the window.

“Yeah well, I wanted to see you.” He shrugged, “Is that a crime?”

“It is if you came here after partying with a bunch of girls at the Kegger.”

Rafe chuckled, knowing that tone in your voice, “I was at the Kegger—but I left as soon as I knew you were in town.” He tried waiting patiently for you to look over at him on your own, but he was growing impatient knowing you were doing it on purpose. So, he reached over, grabbing your chin to turn your face towards his, looking into your eyes, “Those other girls aren’t you..”

Your cheeks flooded with heat. You hated the way Rafe could make you blush. All it took was a look and a few words before you were melting back into his arms, no matter how hard you fought. When it came to Rafe Cameron, there was no holding out.

His eyes flicked between yours and your lips as he slowly started leaning in, “Rafe..” You called softly, closing your eyes as you tried your hardest not to give in.

He stopped, lips inches from yours, “Tell me to stop—Tell me to stop, I’ll leave and never bother you again.”

Your brain yelled at you to tell him to stop, to get out of the car and run back inside where it was safe away from this devil of a man,—but your heart? Your heart failed you.

“Fuck it.” You mumbled, crashing your lips into his. Rafe immediately responded, kissing you back with the most passion you had ever gotten from him, or any other man at that fact.

The kiss grew heated as you were halfway across the center console and Rafe’s hands were grabbing onto any body part of yours in his reach, “Come here,” He mumbled against your lips, pulling you over the console and into his lap. Without breaking the kiss, he reached down, letting his seat slide all the way back giving you as much space as the car would allow.

Moans echoed in the car as the two of you grind against each other. Rafe’s hands slid down your sides and up your hoodie, gripping at the bare skin beneath it. One hand slid across your back and the other inched slowly inside your shorts. He was testing his limits, and when you didn’t stop him, he took his shot. His hand plunged into your shorts, only stopping when it reached its destination, pushing his fingers through your folds, feeling your wetness.

“Rafe,” You moaned into his mouth, pushing back against his hand, letting his fingers rub your clit. His eyes were low and hungry. He bit his lip watching you throw your head back as he rubbed into slow, teasing circles. It only lasted a moment before you grabbed his hand, “I need you, I need you right now.”

“Take these off, now.” He ordered, tugging at your shorts. You lifted up as high as you could, helping him pull them down your leg before you kicked them off, landing back in his lap. Your hands immediately started working on his belt, fumbling with it, finally getting it off, along with unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. The both of you lifted up once more, Rafe shoving his pants and boxers down as much as he could. Your pussy throbbed at the sight of dick, hard, red and leaking, “Come here, baby.”

Settling back into his lap, you reach down grabbing the base of his cock. A deep groan fell from Rafe’s lips as he watched you place yourself at the tip of his dick before sliding down on him.

“Fuuuuck,” You both moaned. Foreheads touching as Rafe wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close til you were chest to chest, “I fucking love this pussy,” He groaned, starting to fuck into you.

When it came to fucking Rafe, you could never think a single thought, let alone form a sentence. The only thing that left your mouth were moans and Rafe’s names as he took your poor pussy to town. You knew this was due to the previous argument, this was a make-up fuck and truthfully, they were your favorite.

“Yes, yes, yes, right there!” You cried, burying your face into his neck. A poor attempt at trying to muffle your moans, but that wouldn’t matter. Not with the way his car was bouncing up and down, squeaking here and there. If your parents were to wake up and look out their windows, you’d be screwed.

Nearly jumping out his lap, you gasped when his fingers touched your clit. His arm tightened around your waist, keeping you where he wanted you, “Don’t run baby, you can take it.” He panted into your ear, fucking you endlessly and attacking your clit all at the same time.

You were so close, that familiar knot forming just at the pit of your stomach, hips starting to buck on their own as you gripped the seat, “Rafe, pleasee.”

“Cum for me, baby. Cum all over me,” Rafe muttered, nudging your head so you’d lift your face to his. Immediately, he slammed his lips into yours as he picked up his pace, fucking you until he absolutely couldnt anymore. You tried your best to kiss back, but it wasn’t long before your head flew back, body tensing and your walls squeezing Rafe as you finally reached your peak and fell from it, “Fuuuck, just like that.” Rafe’s groans quickly turned into moans as he came with you, pumping you full of his cum, making sure it was buried deep within your walls.

Goddamnit, you were screwed.

[ghoulangerlee]

hello humble tumblr I come to you to you in my time of need, haha.

basically, discovered today that the fuel pump on my car is going out; I don't quite know how long I have until it goes out completely though, I'm hoping that I caught it pretty early, as it only just started jerking/jumping when idling and it stalled once today and once when I started it on Saturday after getting gas.

However, it's possible that it's been happening for a while, because I have noticed a significant difference in how my car runs (seems sluggish when accelerating, less power than usual) in the past couple of weeks.

Anyway, even with my raise at work, I can't afford a new fuel pump outright, so I'm reaching out in hopes that someone's interested in commissioning me.

Here's my ko-fi page with info, my commissions are cheap and in tiers, $3, $6 and $10.

I can change the thing myself, so no worries about the cost of someone having to do it. I just can't afford the part. Non-OEM is about $215 after applicable taxes which I'm perfectly fine with using something not OEM.

I was going to open a credit card but ofc the one option I did have is no longer an option for me (Synchrony bank is so hard to get into. There's an Auto Care Credit that I'm not eligible for ugh.)

If you got this far, thanks! Please share this around if you can, I'm not sure what else to do at this point but I need to do something! Otherwise I'm not gonna have a working car haha.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 1 - Western

@wolfstarmicrofic July 1, word count 956

Sirius dropped to the ground. His horse stood still as he knew he would. He may have been the hardest horse he’d ever had to tame, but it had been worth it. They had a bond so close he’d trust his boy with anything. 

He slid the reins over Grim’s head and led him to the small stream beside them. He started unbuckling the girth and removed the saddle and cloth, putting them on the ground near where he intended to light his fire. 

Grim came over to him once he’d drunk his fill and butted at Sirius’s hands until he removed his bridle. Sirius waited for Grim to drop the bit and then patted the majestic black horse on the neck with a loud thwack. The horse snorted as he wandered away to find the sweetest shoots of grass to graze on. 

Sirius walked around his makeshift campsite, picking up as many dry bits of wood as he could find. He dumped them all in a pile beside the saddle and then went scouting for dinner. 

He spotted fish swimming in the stream. He was sweating from the heat, so he decided to strip off and try his hand at fishing. 

He immersed himself in the chilly water, sighing as the day’s dust washed away in brown ribbons into the flowing water. He stood perfectly still, waiting for a fish to go by. 

It took longer than he expected. Those fish were slippery suckers. He heard Grim nicker but didn’t think anything of it. His eyes caught sight of a silvery fish heading straight for him. Just a bit closer, just a bit closer. He chanted internally. His hands wrapped around the fish in a vice-like grip and he tossed it onto the bank. At the same time, Grim screamed. 

Sirius whipped his head in his horse’s direction to see a tall slim man jumping on his back and attempting to ride him away. Unlucky for him, the only person Grim allowed to ride him was Sirius. Grim reared up, his powerful front legs cutting through the air and the man slid from his back with a hard thump. The man stayed low and covered his head as Grim’s back legs kicked out. Sirius watched the man quickly roll away from the steel-clad hooves. One kick from one of those and he’d never get up again. 

Sirius sauntered over to the would-be horse thief and put his hands on his hips, only then realising he was completely bare. Oh well, might shock the idiot into thinking again before he tried to steal another man’s horse. 

“And just what do you think you are doing?” He asked, Grim, coming to stand behind him, his head resting on Sirius’s shoulder, snorting unhappily. Sirius reached up and stroked the disgruntled stallion’s mane. 

The man sat up, keeping a wary eye on Grim. Sirius took in his battered form and his ragged clothes. 

“Sorry,” The man apologised, brushing his unkempt hair out of his face. “I thought you were one of the men who captured me, but I can see now that you’re not. Please accept my apologies, I was only trying to get far enough away that they wouldn’t bother trying to find me.” He looked so pitiful that Sirius took pity on him. Not something he did lightly. 

“Why were you captured? What did you do?” Sirius asked, trying to get a better idea of what kind of man he was. 

“My father owed a debt to a bandit by the name of Fenrir Greyback, and he took me as payment. I’ve been with them for three months. I finally managed to get away when they were ambushed by another gang, but I’m sure they’re hot on my trail.” He dropped his head. “I can’t go back to them, I just can’t.” Sirius fought against himself and groaned as he realised he couldn’t leave this man behind. 

“I’m Sirius, Sirius Black and this here is Grim. He’s the fastest horse in the State. We’ll soon put some distance between us and those bandits of yours, even with the extra weight. What do you say, Grim, up for a bit more riding before the sun sets?” Grim whinnied in answer and Sirius offered his hand to the man on the floor. The man took it and let Sirius help him to his feet. 

“My name is Remus Lupin.” Remus told him, still eyeing Grim. “I’m sorry for trying to steal you, Grim, I promise I won’t do it again.” Grim nickered. He approached Remus and snorted at him when he didn’t raise his hand to pet him. When Remus got what he wanted, he tentatively stroked down his long nose, patting him gently. 

“I think he likes you, Remus. Could you keep an eye on him while I get packed up and we'll go?” Remus nodded, not looking away from the horse. 

Sirius dressed quickly, he’d spotted a dust cloud in the distance and was afraid it was made by numerous horses thundering towards them. He collected the fish he caught and the firewood he’d collected and stored it in his saddlebags. They might need it depending on where they settled in for the night.

He tacked up Grim and hoisted himself into the saddle. Grim pawed at the ground, eager to be off again. Sirius leant over and helped Remus onto Grim’s back, seating him in front of him.

“Now, lean forward, Remus, we’re going to go fast.” He wrapped his free arm around Remus's waist and kicked Grim on. Grim threw his head back and charged forward. His hooves barely made contact with the ground he galloped so fast. They’d lose those thugs in no time.