#there are probably some grammar errors here and there but whatever

[jazziejax]

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐤 ‘𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Cowboy!Terry Richmond x Black!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - They had always had this lingering tension between them. But not it seems that whatever feelings were there have now boiled over and at the Sweet Tooth Saloon, things get a little hot.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - 18+!, MINORS DNI, Heavy tension, sensual dancing, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), soft!Terry, mild dominance, tender aftercare, implied feelings

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - since yall only like me when I write about Aaron Pierre 🙄 I’m not good at wiring smut and I don’t even like doing it but this is something to hold yall over in case I drop off the fave if the earth soon. I have Finals next week :( UNEDITED, sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes. There probably many because my laptop over heated…also, I can’t write a short fic to save my life.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭- 9,567+

The small bell above the door jingled as the large man stepped into the beauty salon, ducking slightly to avoid the low-hanging dried herbs strung up near the entrance. The scent of lavender and bergamot mixed with the faintest trace of hot iron and other chemicals, the kind used to curl or straighten a lady’s hair.

He had never set foot in a place like this before. Not because he didn’t believe in looking presentable—he just never trusted another person with a razor near his throat. And, to be honest, he didn't mind looking rough sometimes, but he was starting to become a little self-conscious whenever a woman looked at him for too long. Especially her. But the dust of the road clung to him, so his beard and his hair had grown past the point of comfort as he and his comrades spent more time than they thought in Sugar Cane Creek. Everything needed a trim. At least, the mirror at the bar last night told him as much, and Jim had made a comment about him “starting to look like a wild man”.

Terry didn’t care much what people thought, but he cared about feeling like himself.

A woman stood behind the counter, fingers-deep in a bowl of soapy water, scrubbing a comb. The early morning light that poured through the shop window was caught in her dark hair, making it shine like polished mahogany. She looked up, recognizing him instantly—because who in Sugar Cane Creek didn’t know who he rode with? But she didn’t stiffen or frown like some folk did when they saw a man from the Nat Love Gang.

Instead, she wiped her hands on a cloth, tilted her head, and smiled just enough to let him know she wasn’t afraid.

“Well, well." She mused, setting her rag aside. “Never thought I’d see the day you walked in here.” She said, a soft grin on her face. Her voice was as rich and smooth as honey fresh from the comb.

Terry removed his hat with a sigh, brushing a hand over his curls that had gotten a little thick on top of his head. “I think I'm in need of a trim.”

She raised a brow. “Hair or beard?”

“Both.”

Her gaze flickered over him, lingering on the rough edges of his beard. “I’ll say. Starting to look real close to a mountain man.” She quipped. Terry, however, didn’t smile, but something in his dark eyes did shift, a flicker of amusement that only she would catch. They had always danced around one another. Something they had been doing for a while now—exchanging looks in town while Terry earned his keep over at Cotton's and she began to start her work day at The Blush and Brush Parlor, brushing shoulders when they shared time at The Sweet Tooth Saloon. He was a quiet man, but she liked that about him. A man who didn’t talk just to fill space.

Her eyes flickered over his face, then lower to where his suede, dark brown, coat stretched broad across his shoulders. “Take your coat off." She said, already gathering her scissors. “You might be here a while.”

Terry hesitated, looking down at the shorter woman with a tired look. "Don't talk about me like I'm some sort of ruffian, now." He said, his voice deep and his country drawl thick. The brown skinned woman gave him a faux pout with a small laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry, bright eyes, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Now take a seat and let’s get you looking decent again, okay?" She grinned, playing coy with him. Terry didn't flinch at the name, but a small twitch was his lip was noticeable to her before he then shrugged out of his coat and laid it over the empty chair not far from him. He then sat down in the chair she stood in front of, allowing the woman to drape a sheet over his front, tying it at the back of his neck with nimble fingers before combing through his hair. She was gentle, but precise—no wasted movements, no hesitation.

"You know how to do men's hair?" He asked.

"Yup." She said. “Been cutting my daddy’s since I was eight. Used to say I was better than any barber in town.” He could hear the smile in her tone at the thought, though it veered off into something a little sad.

Terry hummed, the closest he’d come to laughter anyways, but he could also tell that the subject was a little sensitive to her. He let her work, let the soft snip of the scissors fill the quiet. Every so often, he felt the barest brush of her fingertips against his skin. He could also feel her large chest brush against the back of his neck every now and then, causing him to look up into the mirror in front of him, watching the woman work. He wasn’t a man who flinched easy, but something about that gentle touch made him tense in a way he couldn’t explain.

The shop was quiet except for the snip of her scissors. She worked with practiced ease, combing through his hair, trimming away the weight. Every so often, her fingers brushed the nape of his neck, light and deliberate. She felt the way he tensed, barely noticeable, but there.

“Relax, cowboy." She teased. “I ain’t gon' hurt you.” She said softly.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, settling into the chair.

She then suddenly grabbed the side of his head, straightening his head and looking at him though the mirror. He wasn't quite sure what she was doing, but he didn't question it as he watched her intensely though the mirror.

“Alright." She murmured after a while. “That’s the hair. Now the tricky part.”

She brush the excess hair from him before she turned to the washbasin, dipping a cloth into warm water before wringing it out. He expected her to hand it to him, but instead, she pressed it against his face herself. She held his head steady with her other hand, gripping his chin. And he couldn't help but wonder if she did the same procedures with all her clients, because even though his hair looked better than before, the way she was touching felt oddly intimate. The heat from her touch as well as the warm cloth sank into his skin, soothing the roughness of travel and the dry air. He hadn’t realized how much he needed that.

She worked carefully, rubbing a mixture of soap and oil into his beard before picking up the straight razor. She tested the blade against her thumb. She hummed before moving over to the leather strap against the wall to give it a quick sharpen. She tested it again, obviously to her liking since she walked back over and tipped his chin up with two fingers.

“You ever had a woman shave you before?” She asked, looking up from inspecting his unruly beard to lock eyes with his bright ones. It was a simple question, calling for a simple answer, but their gazes were intense. Terry shook his head, just barely, caught in her big eyes and soft touch as he licked his lips.

His response, or lack there of, caused her to grin. “Good. Means you’ll keep still.” She said, only leaning in briefly as she joked with him, but her sudden contact made allowed him to catch a whiff of sweet scent like, something like Ambrosia.

“Lean back,” She instructed, her foot hovering over the pump that allowed the chair to recline. Terry hesitated, blinking at her. It's not that he didn't trust her, he'd known her for quite some time now. He trusted her hands in his hair, but a blade near his throat? That was different. He never trusted anyone that much, not even his closest comrades. It's the reason why all his self-cut's were a little choppy. Something that wouldn't have mattered if he was still up to his outlaw duties and on the road. But now he was spending his time in saloon's and around beauties they didn't offer at home.

She caught the shift in his posture, her smirk turning knowing. “You scared?” She questioned.

Terry met her gaze, his own steady. “No.”

“Then sit still.” She said before she pushed down on the pump under the chair, allowing it to recline. And that he did, opening his growing facial hair to her, ample room left in case of his worst fear. But he had no reason to fear her and her intentions, because her blade was steady. Her hands were sure, and he trusted her, even though he had no reason to.

The razor glided slow, careful. She kept her grip steady, the blade sharp and sure as it skimmed along his jaw. The heat of the late afternoon pressed into the shop, thick and lazy, but it wasn’t what made her skin prickle. It wasn’t what sent that slow, creeping flush up her neck, settling warm in her cheeks.

No, that was him. It was his eyes that were watching her.

They were unblinking, steady, tracking her every move like a man who had nowhere else to be. He was always like this—silent, still, and always looking—but something about it felt different now. Maybe because they were closer than usual. Maybe because she could feel the heat radiating off him, could see the slow rise and fall of his chest under the weight of her touch.

She set her jaw, trying not to let on just how much she felt him. The every move he made under her touch.

Instead, she focused.

“Bet you’re the kind of man who don’t like feeling vulnerable." She murmured, trying to make small talk with staring man.

Terry’s eyes stayed on her. “You talk too much.” He said, quirking a brow at her. She chuckled, dragging the blade along his jawline. “Maybe. But you don’t talk enough, so it evens out.”

Her hand shifted, fingers pressing just beneath his chin as she tilted his head for a better angle. He was warm beneath her touch, his pulse steady, but she felt it jump when her nails scraped lightly against his throat. She tilted his chin just slightly, her fingers light under his jaw, and dragged the blade down his throat in a slow, deliberate motion. He let her, not moving, not even swallowing, though she could see the tight pull of his muscles beneath his skin, right at the peek of his shirt.

She shouldn’t be looking there, but how could she not? This hunk of a man was lying below her, almost open and willing as he gazed up her with a soft look in his eyes. The air between them was thick, something unspoken curling at the edges. Her grip on the razor tightened just a little as she worked, and his gaze burned hotter for it.

“You always watch this hard?” She asked finally, keeping her tone light as she wiped the hair she cut on a rag after shaking it off in the water basin and then wiping it away. She glanced up some, catching sight of his lips—pink, full, and slightly parted—tipped up at the corner. “Always.” That single word, rough and low, sent something straight to her stomach.

She swallowed as she continued working, trying her best to focus, steadying herself. She wasn’t about to let him get the better of her, no matter how much heat curled between them. But she also took her time finishing the shave, enjoying the rare sight of the outlaw that is Terry Richmond—silent, still, and at her mercy.

“You’re awful quiet for a man with so much to say in his eyes." She murmured, brushing away the lingering shaving foam with the pad of her thumb. Her hand lingered a second too long, caught in the shape of his jaw. Terry still didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just watched her.

“Didn’t know I needed to talk." He said, and she could’ve sworn she saw his blue eyes flicker to a sea green as the light hit them. The warmth in her cheeks…and else where, deepened. She pulled back, making quick work of the last stroke of hair she had to eliminate, but her hands weren’t as steady as before.

And he knew that.

By the time she was done, the shop felt too small, too warm, too much. She grabbed the cloth and wiped his face cleaning, looking at her finished product around his mouth. Her eyes met his briefly as she took in the goatee she set him up with, a small smile beginning to grace his feature as his eyes bounced across her face. She cleared her throat softly, wiping an imaginary spot of lather from his jaw and leaned back to admire her work. “There. You clean up nice, cowboy.” She said with a grin.

She turned, quickly wiping the blade clean, setting it aside, and moving a few steps away to compose herself as she gathered the material she sat out in front of the mirror.

But then she felt him stand up from the chair, taking the cape off. She felt the shift in the air when he got close—just behind her. Close enough that she could feel the heat of him at her back. She glanced up, watching as he inspected his face in the mirror from behind her. He rubbed his large hands across his face, taking in his fresh look. He only did that for a few seconds before his gazed dropped to the round woman below him. He her her eyes in the mirror, nothing but an exchange between their eyes. She was the only to look away first, cleaning the station.

Terry sat the hair cape he had in his hands in the chair, looking as himself one last time before he hummed in content. He place his hand on her shoulder, large over her breakers that was far from small. “Good job.” He said, voice low near her ear. He then stepped away, his hand dragging down and across the back of her waist as he moved over to shoulder on his coat. She froze at the feeling of him touching her, and then gulped at his fingers tracking off her body. She looked up, looking herself in the eye and blinking, making sure this was all real, before looking in the mirror to watch him put the coat over his large frame.

Terry ran a hand over his chin, feeling the smoothness. He met her gaze, something unspoken passing between them.

“How much?” He asked after putting on his hat, straightening his clothing, and she tried not to get distract by the way he grabbed his belt, using it to adjust his pants. She turns, tiring her head at him as she gave him a noticeable once over. “Hmm.” She stated with a hum, placing her hands on her hips as she stepped closer. “Well, if you were any other customer, I’d charge five cent. But for you, Terry Richmond, I’ll charge you three.” She smiled.

Terry’s lips twitched, his expression unreadable as he glanced off into the distance out side of the parlor’s windows. He adjusted his belt, the large buckle dinging softly while the leather shifted under his grip. His eyes, sharp and knowing, flicked back to her.

“Three cents, huh?” His voice was smooth, lazy, but there was an edge to it—like he was turning something over in his mind. “Mighty generous of you. Can’t help but to think I’m special.” He quipped, though his tone never really wavered from his deep baritone and his serious manner.

She lifted a brow, arms still crossed as she tilted her head at him. “Well, I’m feelin’ kind.” She smiled, playing along to the game she knew she started, all for the hell of it.

That little smirk of his deepened. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, closing some of the space she’d put between them. She felt it immediately—his warmth, his presence. It was impossible not to.

“You always this kind? Or only to me?” His voice had dropped, rough and low, like gravel dipped in honey.

Her pulse skipped. She held his gaze, not backing down, but he knew what he was doing. He knew the way his voice curled around her, the way his eyes made her skin prickle. Her breath caught, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she kept her expression even, playful, letting her smile linger as she tilted her chin up at him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She murmured, voice smooth as satin. “Mr. Special.” She finished, a certain glint in her eye as she tilted her chin just slightly—like she wasn’t the least bit affected. Like she wasn’t keenly aware of just how close he was now.

Terry huffed a quiet chuckle, but there was something else in his eyes—something sharp, knowing. His gaze flickered down, just briefly at the Lowe part of her face, before settling back on hers. His presence was suffocating in the best way, heavy and warm, filling up the little space between them.

“I would.” He admitted, voice slow and deliberate, like he was testing the weight of the words. “Got a feelin’ the answer might keep me up at night.” He said, crossing his arms.

She let out a soft laugh, looking away from his heavy stare as she shook her head. The heat curling in her stomach was unmistakable. He was good—too good. And she didn’t now how’s long she last in this little game they always played before she pounced on him.

“Don’t go losin’ sleep over me, Richmond.” She teased, even as her pulse thrummed in her ears. She breezed past him, making sure her side brushed against his as she moving over to the small counter on the left side of the door. His eyes trailed down her figure once her back was to him, taking in her round and voluptuous curves from behind. “Wouldn’t wanna be the cause of your troubles.” She finished as she turned to look at him from behind the counter. She leaned her weight in the counter, her hand clasped together with her forearms resting on cold wood. She watched as Terry stood there for a moment, the look in his eye darker than before as he stated at her. He then blinked before moving, not taking his eyes from her with his pace slow and deliberate before he stood on the other side of the counter, looking down at the woman.

Terry tilted his head slightly, studying her like he was seeing something no one else had the sense to look for.

“Too late for that.” He said. The words were quiet, but they landed heavy between them, sending a shiver straight down her spine. Before she could find something clever to throw back at him after gulping, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver dollar, and placed it on the counter in front of her hands. His fingers brushed hers, Cushing him to glance down at the small touch.

He then looked back up, his blue eyes staring into her brown ones. “That oughta cover the next few visits.” He said, voice even, but there was that flicker of something else in his eyes again—something smug, something dangerous.

She laughed, shaking her head. “That’s too much.”

Terry simply shook his head, glancing away from her. “Nah.”

She narrowed her gaze at him, lips parting slightly, but he was already shrugging into his coat, the weight of his scent—tobacco and something deep, something him—lingering in the air. “And here I thought you didn’t like to talk.” She mused, watching him, arms placed on the counter as she thought over all their silent but pleasant times together in the Saloon while the rest of the gang chatted.

Terry confined to gaze at her, his eyes taking across her face. “I don’t.” He said, his smirk lazy, knowing. He paused, casting her a slow, lingering glance—one that made her stomach twist up in knots. He then turned to the door, but before pausing and casting one last glance over his shoulder. His gaze swept over her—slow, deliberate, enough to make the air feel thick with something unspoken. Then, after a beat—“But you make it worth it, Mrs.Special.” Then he tipped his hat and walked out.

And then, just like that, he was gone, leaving her standing there, staring after him, her heart racing, her face burning hotter than a summer’s day in Cane Creek, her fingers gripping the counter a little tighter than before and the lingering ghost of his eyes still burning against her skin.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The Sweet Tooth Saloon was alive tonight—thick with the scent of whiskey, tobacco, and the heat of too many bodies pressed close together. Laughter and conversation swirled beneath the hum of string instruments, boots tapping against the wooden floor. The music was thick, rolling through the air like smoke, wrapping around every body packed into the space. Heat clung to the walls, thick with whiskey, sweat, and the deep, throaty hum of anticipation.

But all of it quieted—just a little—when she stepped onto the stage. Her deep red dress hugging her curves, sinching in her waist and pushing up her breast.

The pianist struck a slow, rolling tune, and a hush fell over the crowd like a held breath. She let them wait, dragging her fingertips along the microphone stand, tilting her head slightly as she took in the sea of faces before her. Then, just when the tension thickened, she let her voice pour out, smooth and rich like warm molasses.

The song was sultry, the kind that curled its way around a man’s spine and made him lean in just a little closer, made him think about things he shouldn’t in a room full of people. And Lord, did they lean in. The entire saloon was hanging onto her voice, watching the way she swayed, the way her fingers trailed down her own arm, the way she made every lyric sound like a promise whispered against bare skin.

Men leaned closer, their drinks forgotten, their gazes fixed on the woman commanding the stage. Her voice was rich, full of promise, of something dark and sweet.

But there was only one pair of eyes she felt, steady and unwavering through the thick haze of smoke and lantern light. In the very back, where the light barely reached, where the smoke curled the thickest—she saw him.

Terry Richmond.

He was leaning against the bar, broad and still, his hat tilted low but not enough to hide the way his bright eyes. He was half-shrouded in shadow, his bright blue gaze cutting through the dim like a knife. He wasn’t drinking, wasn’t talking—just watching.

Her heart skipped a little.

Heat licked up her spine at the intensity of it, but she didn’t let it shake her. She didn’t falter under his gaze. Instead, she let it fuel her, let it shape the way she sang, the way her lips curved around the lyrics, the way she dragged her fingers over the curve of her own waist. If he wanted to look, she was gonna give him something worth looking at.

She kept singing, dragging out the final note, letting it settle over the room like the last flicker of a candle before it goes out. By the time the last note left her lips, the saloon erupted in cheers, men whistling, clapping, stomping their boots against the floor. She gave a slow, knowing smile, dipping into a slight bow before stepping down from the stage.

She didn’t make a show of looking for him, but she knew exactly where she was going.

The moment she reached the bar, a whiskey was already waiting for her—on the house, as always. She took a slow sip, letting the burn settle deep before finally turning, finally meeting his gaze up close. The bar was crowded, but somehow, the space next to Terry was clear. He didn’t look at her right away, just lifted a hand slightly to catch the bartender’s attention. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He just looked at her, that same unreadable expression on his face.

“Whiskey?” He asked, voice low, smooth like dark molasses as he gave a small gesture to the glass she already downed. She leaned against the counter, close enough that the edge of her skirt brushed his leg. “You know me too well.” She grinned, already feeling the buzz that the alcohol as giving her. At that, Terry slid a silver coin across the counter, and within seconds, a glass was in front of her. She looked away from him as she took a slow sip, letting the burn settle in her chest. She could feel him watching her, but he didn’t speak. Didn’t have to. That was the thing about Terry—he could say more in a look than most men could in a thousand words.

“You always stare this hard, Richmond?” She asked, looking over at him with a tilt of her head once she had enough of the hard liquor, her voice still thick with the remnants of the song. His lips quirked, just barely, his eyes drifting over her figure. “Only when I like what I see.”

Her stomach flipped at his words, but she kept her expression even, playful. “That so?” She asked, a smirk in her lip and quirk of her brow. “That’s so.” He repeated in confirmation, then kicking his lips. Terry then leaned in just a fraction, close enough that she could feel the heat of him, close enough that she caught the scent of tobacco and cedarwood clinging to his coat.

“So much so.” He murmured, “That I might just have to get my hands on it.” Her breath caught, pulse quickening, but before she could say something sharp, something smart—before she could even decide if she wanted to—Terry’s head tilted slightly, his gaze flickering to the dance floor.

A new song had started.

Something slow. Something meant to be felt more than heard. She barely had time to set her glass down before Terry’s hand slid to her waist.

Without another word, without giving her the chance to refuse, his other hand reached for hers, his grip warm and sure as he led her away from the bar. Her breath hitched. Her heart pounded as she let him pull her into him, his palm settling low against her back. He didn’t ask. Didn’t say a damn word. Just pulled her onto the dance floor.

If he wanted to play with fire, she was more than happy to let him burn.

The moment they stepped into the space, bodies made room for them. Not out of fear, not tonight, but out of knowing. Because everyone in Sugar Cane Creek had eyes. And at that moment, everyone had seen the way Terry Richmond looked at her. The way she looked back.

The tension wrapped around them thick as smoke, curling in the air, pressing against their skin.

Terry moved slow, deliberate, his hand firm at the small of her back, the other clasping hers as he pulled her close—closer than what was proper, closer than what was wise. She let him, her breath shuddering as she settled into him, the warmth of his body seeping into hers. The saloon blurred around them, the lights dim, the chatter distant. None of it mattered. Not when his blue eyes were locked onto hers, not when she could feel the slow drag of his thumb against the back of her hand.

“You dance?” She murmured, her voice teasing, her lips dangerously close to his jaw. She felt him take in a breath with her chest against hers, and if she paused attention, she could’ve sworn she felt the way his heart was beating. “Only when I got reason to.” He answered, his voice a low rumble against her skin. “You given me plenty.” He said, his lips close to her ear as they danced.

She swallowed that his tone so close, heat curling in her belly. “Is that so?”

His fingers flexed against her back, pulling her that last inch closer. His breath, warm and slow, ghosted over her cheek. “Mmhmm.” He hummed with a lick of his lips, the sound causing his body to rumble against hers. She exhaled softly, turning her head just enough that their noses brushed, just enough that if either of them leaned in—just a little—they’d be past the point of no return.

The music swelled, the rhythm thick and slow, wrapping around them like a promise. The way they moved now—close, slow, like something dangerous just beneath the surface—only confirmed what they both had long suspected.

His hand was firm against the small of her back, his other clasping hers as he led her through the steps. It wasn’t a fast dance, nothing rowdy or wild, but it was just as electric. Every turn, every shift, had them pressing together. His breath skimmed the shell of her ear when he leaned in, his grip tightening just enough to let her feel the strength in his arms.

“You always hold a woman this close when you dance?” She whispered, looking up at him through her lashes. Terry’s lips barely curved, his smirk lazy, knowing. “Only when I don’t plan on lettin’ go.” He said, his eyes inspecting every crevice her face had to offer. He didn’t know if he’d bee be this close to her again, and he was taking advantage of the blessing he had to hold her in this way, and gaze at her face as he did.

Her breath hitched.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them blinked.

Lord, the way he watched her. He looked at her as if she was the only thing in the room. Like he was memorizing her in real time. She met his gaze, bold as ever, and let her fingers trail slow up his shoulder, tracing the line of his coat until her nails met the hot skin of his neck. A muscle in his jaw ticked at that. His grip on her waist flexed. They didn’t speak. Didn’t need to.

And then, just when she thought he might tip his head and close the space, just when she thought she might lose her damn mind waiting for it—

He pulled her into the next step of the dance, smooth as silk, a satisfied glint in those blue eyes of his. He was teasing her. Daring her.

If he wanted a game, she was more than happy to play.

“Oh, is that how you want to play?” She asked, feigning innocence while her pulse quickened with anticipation.

Terry’s smirk returned, a challenge wrapped in his expression. “You started it, darlin’.” He replied, stepping into her space that was no longer available due to him, their bodies flush against one another. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, lulling her in despite the playful facade they each wore. He controlled their movements with a firm yet gentle lead, the world around them fading as she lost herself in the intensity of his gaze and the cadence of their bodies moving in sync.

She narrowed her eyes, but her smirk was knowing. Two could play that game. She let her body press just a little closer, her curves molding against the hard lines of him, her breath a warm whisper against his cheek. He swallowed, his fingers tightening against her waist, a sharp inhale the only sign of restraint.

She felt it, that slip of control, and it sent something hot through her veins. "Careful, cowboy." She murmured, voice all honey and silk. "You might not want to let go, but I ain't so sure you can handle holdin’ on."

His eyes then darkened. His grip flexed, strong fingers digging into the curve of her waist, keeping her against him like he had no intention of letting her go. Not now. Not ever. Now, Terry didn’t scare easy. Didn’t flinch and didn’t fold to many.

But her?

She was dangerous in a way he wasn’t prepared for. Her voice, all thick honey and slow-drawn silk, wrapped around him, testing, teasing, tempting as it spilling through his ear and ran though his veins like it was his blood. Keeping his heart pumping. He could feel the shape of her, soft and warm against the hard planes of his body, the sway of their dance turning into something far more dangerous, far more intimate.

He leaned in, just enough that his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “You think I can’t handle you?” He asked, his hands drifting lower as he practically engulfed her in his body. She let out a breathy little laugh, conveniently covering the way she took in a sudden breath at his touch, one that made his pulse jump, made his restraint strain at the edges. "Wouldn’t be the first man to try and fail, cowboy.” She whispered to him, her fingers brushing against the nape of his neck, feeling the freshly shaved haircut he had gotten only hours prior.

Terry exhaled through his nose, amused, darkly so.

She was pushing him, daring him. And he welcomed the challenge. So he let his hand slide lower, fingers grazing the base of her spine, just above the curve of her ass, applying the slightest pressure that had her breath catching. She was quick, though. Slipping her arms around his shoulders, she placed her hand on the back of his head, nails scratching ever so lightly. That same muscle in his jaw ticked again.

Her smirk widened.

That was it.

The last frayed thread of his patience snapped.

Without warning, Terry spun her, pressing her back against his front, effectively caging her in. The movement had her chest rising, her lips parting, and damn if that wasn’t the prettiest sight he’d ever seen as he looked down at her. His voice dropped, a low murmur only for her.

"Darlin'..." His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down the side of her neck, lingering at the base of her throat. He could feel her pulse hammering beneath his touch while his other hand rested low on her waist in the front, easing down to a place unimaginable in front of folks. “You’re playin’ with fire." He muttered.

She tilted her chin up, leaning her head back against his chest, gaze smoldering. "Good thing I ain't afraid to burn.” She whispered. And that was all he needed. He quickly spun her around and his mouth was on hers, rough and consuming, his kiss leaving no room for question, no space for anything but him—his hands, his body, the heat of him pressing against every part of her.

She met him with equal fervor, fingers fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer, gasping into his mouth when he pressed himself fully against her. The saloon around them might as well have disappeared.

Nothing else existed in that moment. Just him and just her. That and the fire threatening to consume them both.

One moment, they were moving with the rhythm of the music, spinning slow in the dim glow of the saloon lights. The next, he was leading her off the floor, through the press of bodies, past the thick haze of cigar smoke and whiskey-scented air. The second the cool night air hit her skin, she was backed against the wooden frame of the saloon’s outer wall, the rough grain pressing into her spine, his body caging her in.

There was no more teasing, just as there was no more space between them. She barely had time to breathe before his lips found hers again. Slow, at first, like he was still savoring, still memorizing, but the second she sighed against his mouth, the second her fingers slid into his hair and pulled, something broke between them. The kiss turned hungry and deep.

Like he’d been starving for this—for her—for longer than he cared to admit.

She gasped when he gripped her thigh, hitching it up against his hip, pressing her flush against him, making her feel a bulge she that didn't know was his belt buckle, the crease of his jeans or his manhood. Heat coiled between them, urgent and burning, his mouth trailing from her lips to her jaw, down the curve of her neck. She tilted her head, giving him more, losing herself to the feel of him—the weight of his body, the heat of his breath, the quiet growl he let slip when she dragged her nails down his back. "Oh, Terry," She breathed, and damn if he didn’t shudder at the sound of it.

He lifted his head, his forehead pressing against hers, their breath mingling, their bodies still tangled together in the shadows. "I ain’t lettin’ go," He murmured, voice rough, edged with something dangerous. "Not tonight."

She grinned, breathless, running her fingers down the side of his face, feeling the slight roughness of his freshly shaven jaw. "Good." She said before grabbing him by the collar and pulling him to place her lips against her. The kiss lasted for mere seconds, a mash of panting breaths and slick tongues before Terry pulled away. He didn’t say a word before he took her hand, his fingers wrapping firm around hers, rough and warm. He didn’t have to. The look in his eyes, the quiet pull of his grip, said enough.

She followed him back through the saloon, past the clinking glasses and low murmur of conversation, past the haze of cigar smoke still hanging thick in the air. The wooden stairs creaked under their steps as he led her up, slow and steady, his thumb tracing slow circles against her palm like he was trying to keep himself anchored. Or like he was memorizing her touch.

She should’ve felt nervous. Should’ve felt some sense of hesitation as they moved further away from the music, from the people, from any excuse to slow this down.

But she didn’t. All she could focus on was him.

The broad stretch of his shoulders. The slow, deliberate pace of his steps. The way he glanced back at her over his shoulder, his blue eyes dark with something unreadable, something that made her stomach dip and heat coil between her ribs.

They reached his door.

And for a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

He just stood there, facing the wood, his breath slow and measured like he was giving himself a second to think—to decide if this was a line he was ready to cross. Then, without a word, he pushed it open. The second they were inside, it changed.

The tension that had been simmering, stretching between them in the dance, in the way he watched her, in every unspoken moment leading up to this—it snapped.

She barely had time to take in the room before she was against the door, her back pressed against the worn wood, her breath stolen by the press of his body. Terry’s lips crashed against hers, no hesitation now, no teasing restraint. He kissed her like he’d been holding back for too damn long, like he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance again, and she felt it all. The hunger. The need. The slow, deep pull of something dangerously close to devotion.

She gasped when his hands—big, warm, calloused from work—spanned her waist, dragging her closer, molding her to him like he needed to feel every inch of her against him. His hands tacked down, bending slightly to gather the bunch of her skirt. He hiked it up, catching a feel of her warm thighs that molded under his grip. The feeling of her hands caused her to moan in his mouth, her hands moving over him feverishly as she was filled heat she was giving her. He didn’t hold back, moving his hands up for the back of her legs and gracing over the smooth skin of her ass. He tightened his grip, needing it and causing her to gasp into his mouth. He took his as an option to slip his tongue deeper, almost sucking on hers while he moved his hands to begin to untie the strings of her corset.

She didn’t hold back either. Her fingers found the buttons of his vest, fumbling with them, her hands eager and desperate to feel the heat of his skin. His breath hitched against her mouth when she dragged the fabric from his shoulders, then she felt the quiet rumble of a chuckle against her lips when she yanked his shirt free and ragged her hands down his ribbed abdomen, impatience getting the best of her.

"So eager.” He murmured against her lips, voice low and teasing.

She narrowed her eyes, nipping softly at his bottom lip with her teeth, her nails grazing down his chest, feeling the sharp inhale he took at the touch. "So are you." She purred.

And he didn’t argue. He didn’t need to.

Instead, he reached back down, cupped her though just under her ass, and lifted her, carrying her further into the room like she weighed nothing at all. She barely had time to register the shift before she felt the softness of the mattress beneath her, his weight pressing her down, his mouth trailing slow, lingering kisses down the column of her throat. His touch was slow and sensual, his hands finding any place to rub and caress. Like he was still memorizing, like he was savoring.

But the moment she whispered his name—breathy and wanting—something shifted again. His slow, deliberate control had snapped.

And neither of them held back anymore.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulled him closer as if she was trying to meld them into one. Terry's breath caught as his bulge hit her core, his hands gripped her tighter, holding her as if he were afraid she might slip away. The world outside faded -no clinking glasses, no murmurs, just the vibrant thud of their hearts battling for attention in the silence between their kisses. Their mouths slid together with a hunger that left her breathless. Every kiss deepened the fire sparking between them, waves of adrenaline crashing over her as she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him even closer as he dipped down to claim her throat once more. He kissed his way down, worshipping her skin with heated touches and soft bites, igniting every nerve ending in her body.

"Tell me what you want.” He murmured against her collarbone, his breath hot against the cool air of the room. “Come on, tell me baby. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” He breathed out. There was something dangerously tender in his rough but needy words, as if he genuinely wanted to know-not just in the heat of the moment, but in that space where everything was laid bare.

She didn't hesitate. "You. All of you. Right here, right now, baby. Give it to me." It was a wild and brisk admission, and a thrill shot through her at the honesty in her voice. She could feel Terry's pulse quicken at her words, a primal urge coursing through him. He raised his head, looking directly into her eyes, and in that moment, she understood. This was more than a fleeting encounter. This was a collision of desires that had been simmering for far too long.

With a sharp intake of breath, he dove back into her mouth, a feverish kiss that stole her thoughts and drowned her in pleasure. She felt the weight of him press into her, his body a delicious contradiction of strength and softness. He paused for the briefest moment to catch her gaze, the heat in his eyes burning deeper than before, and she sensed the shift—not just in the proximity of their bodies, but in the intensity of everything that hung between them.

"Are you sure?" He rasped, pulling back just enough for her to see the uncertainty mingled with desire in his eyes. She could sense it— the weight of the moment, the gravity of their choices. "Absolutely.” She replied, her heart racing with certainty. She reached for him again, pulling him closer, and felt a grin split his face as he dove into her once more, taking her breath and leaving nothing but a breathless gasp in its wake.

Their clothes were off in an instant.

Once her corset was off and the full expanse of her skin was showing, he sucked a nipple into his mouth, his tongue trace the outline of her areola to his heart's content before pulling away to show the other the same attention. He listened to her sigh and smiled. "I love the way you sound." He said before grumbling out her name.

"Yeah?" She sighed, eyes closed as she took in the feeling of his tongue as he licked up her sternum. "I love the way you say my name." She breathed.

"Yeah?" Terry releated as his hands drifted lower in her body. “ I love your body. Your perfect." He paused to place a kiss on her stomach. “Perfect.” Another kiss, this time below her belly button. “Perfect, body.” He finished, his warm breath blowing on her core. His hands moved from her waist, deriding lower to ease her legs apart as he took in the sigh before him. He audibly moaned at the sight, practically drooling as he looked at her. “So fucking pretty.” He whispered. He wanted to taste all she had to offer. Before she could sink in, She placed her hand on his head, pushing his head back. “Wait.” She said.

Terry looked up at her, his large blue eyes dark and blown with lust. “What is it baby?” He asked, licking his lips as his eyes trailed over her form laid out before him. Her eyes sifted away from his stare, biting at her bottom lip before she spoke. “I…I’ve never had a fella go down there before.” She said softly.

Terry’s smirk faded, his expression shifting into something softer, something reverent. He rested his hands on her hips, his thumbs stroking slow and reassuring circles against her skin, before he placed his head on her bender knee. “Ever?” He asked. His voice was quiet, almost disbelieving, but there was no judgment—just understanding, just care. And something a little more that neither of them knew.

She shook her head, eyes darting away, almost shy. “Ain’t never been with a man who wanted to.” She shrugged a bit, still biting at her lower lip.

Terry exhaled sharply, his brows pulling together for the briefest moment, like the thought alone frustrated him. He cupped the side of her thigh, grounding her, making sure she felt him, felt the sincerity in his touch.

“Well.” He said, voice warm and steady, “You got one now.”

Her eyes flickered back to his, searching, cautious. But all she found was certainty. His lips brushed against her skin, his breath warm as he murmured, “You just tell me what feels good, darlin’. I got you. I just want you to play back. You ain’t gotta worry no more.” He said, his voice going back into the deep ruble that set her ablaze. And the way he said it—so sure, so gentle—made something deep in her chest tighten. Because she believed him.

So that’s what she did, ladies back against the pillows and open her legs further, barring it all and offering it to him. And Terry took it with life, gratitude, as well as pure lust. Like a magnet, Terry's fingers found their way to her slick lips as he gathered wetness before dragging his skilled digits around her clit. Her breath audibly hitched from the contact, making him chuckle before he pressed his lips against her plump thigh, squeezing with the other hand. Slow circles, maddeningly slow and gentle enough to feel like nothing at all had her willing to agree to just about anything to get off.

He then lunged forward with hunger, letting his tongue do all the talking, slithering inside of her warm walls as his nose nudged her clit. She tensed up with every nudge, let out small pants at the unfamiliar yet raviging feeling that washed over her. He glanced down, watching as he freely put his face in her center. He made it messy enough to admire when he pulled his mouth off of her, her pussy glistening like he just doused her in oil.

"Ohh, look at you, baby.” The grumble that came deep from within his throat as he watched her cute clenched around nothing as she continued to whine from the loss of contact from above. And his green eyes on her most intimate parts made it so hard not to get hot and bothered even with him not doing anything. Her poor nub was jumping with excitement as he used his large fingers to spread her lips open. “Look who’s happy to see me." He said as he took in a sharp breath, feeling her slick coating his fingers, the sound of her wetness loud within the room. “You happy to see me, hun? Huh?“ He questioned, looking up at her.

She moan and nodded eagerly, bringing her hand to cover her mouth at the stimulation he was giving her down under. Terry smiled at that, sharp teeth flashing from under his lips. He tried to keep his eyes on hers, looking into her large orbs that were filled with pleasure and a slight sheen of tears at his touch, but her pussy that just kept sucking his fingers in had him in a trance as his sick standing at attention in his underwear. “Tell me you’re happy I’m down here. Making you feel so good.” He demanded. His tone didn’t leave anymore for defiance, which she took as she angered him. “I’m so happy you’re here, Terry. You feel so good, baby.” She whined out as best as she could, breaths short and rocked her hips into his fingers.

"Mmm, yeah, I know.” Terry grinned. “When the last time sometime touched you, huh?" He asked, but this time he got no response watching as she began to reach her high and feeling her clench around his finger. Tweeting pulled his hand back at that, causing the woman to whine at the loss of contact. “Tell me, hun, and we can continue.” He said.

"I-I don't remember.” She said, and she was telling the truth, she truly couldn't. It had to be nothing worth remembering, especially in comparison to what he was making her feel now.

"Well, I’m gon’ make sure you remember this, hear" He then bent down to deliver a bite to her plush thigh, almost as if he was warning her for what's to come before he dove his face back into her heat, slurping at her hard and soaked clit. Her belly was doing summersaults, she could barely contain her volume at the feeling of his long and warm muscle working a magic she’s never felt before. But her sounds were the last of his worries, they were actually only fuel to his already burning fire.

As he ate, he made noise. He moaned, grunted, groaned in her, letting he know and feel that he was having just as much fun as she was.

Her legs had began to shake the longer he was down there, her hands gripping onto the white sheets of the inn bed since that was all she had to hold on to after he practically ripped her’s and his clothes off beforehand.

"Yes! Yes, oh, yes! I'm so close, Terry baby.” She struggled to keep her eyes on him even with his staring back up at her over her pudge, his eyes low lidded and dark. They beckoned her to stay, to not go levee the edge just yet, but her pleasure had came rolling through like a monsoon and wiped all the thoughts from her brain. She was a shaking, blubbering mess under his weight as he continued to lick and eat at her juices. He moved his mouth away from her pussy only to replace it with his hand, rubbing her clit in tight circles as he subconsciously moved her hips.

"Just feel it, baby. Let it happen.” He cooed in that sexy country drawl. She tried to fight against his hand, her thighs subconsciously closing around his wrist. But he smacked his large hand into her juicy thighs and kept at it with his other hand until he felt like he was done. "Be still and met it happen, baby." He cooed, enticing another moan from the woman. She felt like she was literally about to float up into the heavens, her back arching up off of the couch just to get away from the overstimulation.

"Okay! Oh, Fuck!" She screamed. “Yes, Terry!” He moved his hand to allow her to go through the motions, watching as she twitched until that special feeling left her center. "Good job, baby.” He said, pressing a soft kiss on her thighs. “Good job, my pretty girl." Another kiss from him was placed beside her opened mouth as heavy breathing left as he moved up her body.

As the tremors faded from her body, she lay there, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, her skin flushed and glowing in the dim lights of the room. Her limbs felt weightless, boneless, as if she’d melted right into the bed.

Terry was still there, right where he had been, his hands firm on her thighs, holding her steady like he wasn’t quite ready to let go. He pressed slow, lingering kisses to the inside of her knee, then another, trailing up, as if savoring the aftermath.

When she finally opened her eyes, she found him watching her, his expression unreadable at first—like he was memorizing her in this moment, like he was trying to etch the sight of her pleasure into his bones. A slow, lazy smirk then tugged at his lips. “Ain’t never seen somethin’ so damn pretty.” His voice was rough, thick with satisfaction, but there was something else there too. Something deeper.

She let out a breathless laugh, her fingers finding their way into his hair, rubbing lightly. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special, cowboy.” She smirked. Terry hummed with chortle, leaning into her touch, his hands sliding up to rest at her waist as he crawled up beside her. “Ain’t about makin’ you feel special.” He murmured against her skin, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You already are.”

Her breath hitched, her heart fluttering in her chest at the way he said it—so simple, so certain. She turned her head to look at him, finding those piercing blue eyes already on her, unwavering. And for a moment, neither of them spoke. There was no need to.

Instead, she reached for him, guiding his face to hers, and kissed him slow—letting him feel exactly how much she believed him. She slowly came back to herself with her lips attached to his, still basking in the warmth of his touch. She let her fingers trail down his chest, her nails scraping lightly over the fabric of his briefs. She could feel the way his breath hitched, bus bulge rubbing against her. The tension still coiled tight in his body despite the easy way he lay beside her.

A slow smirk pulled at her lips as she traced top of his boxers, slipping her hand into them with practiced ease. “Reckon I should return the favor.” She murmured, her voice soft, teasing.

But before she could go any further, Terry’s hand caught hers—not rough, not forceful, just firm enough to stop her in place. She looked up, brows furrowing in confusion, but the look in his eyes made her pause. “Ain’t about that.” He said quietly, his voice still thick, still warm, but full of something deeper. He squeezed her fingers, rubbing slow circles into the back of her hand. “You just came down from somethin’ real intense, darlin’. I just wanna hold you right now.”

She blinked at him, caught off guard by his words, by the tenderness in them. “Terry, I—”

“I know.” He gave her a small, lazy smile, shifting so he could pull her closer against him. “We got time for all that. Just… let me have this. Let me have you right here in this exact moment. We might not ever get it again.”

And the way he said it, like holding her in his arms was just as much of a pleasure as anything else, sent something warm through her chest. The way he already planned for this to be something more made her body flutter in a way only he can make happen. She sighed, settling against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. “That’s my good girl.” He said before placing a kiss on her warm skin.

And with that, they stayed there, tangled up in each other, letting the night stretch out slow and easy.

@kneelarmhstrung @winorlosetogether @joshuafatubaee

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@susanhill @sIvt4her @cryotrain @fakxmbj j

@wayytoocooll @brattyfics @brownskin-bratz @alonahh

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@trash-panda-xoxo @luckydaye777 @dreadheadmadi @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @saturnville @zillasvilla @kinginwithbreezy-blog

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSTURNIOLO SURPRISE TOUR DAY 1 * CHRIS STURNIOLO * BLURB

SUMMARY　::　where during the first show of the Surprise Tour, a sign from a fan in the audience catches Chris's attention.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: Wrote this while waiting for the opening of the gates in Lollapalooza, so I'm sorry if it isn't good 😭

A/N³: I don't remember if there was a rule for signs, but I had this idea so pretend that it's allowed 🤓

Chris leaned back in the medium orange fluffy couch, fingers drumming absentmindedly against the microphone as he let his gaze drift across the seated crowd, Nick's voice sounding like a background sound.

The venue was filled with excitement - including his. Every seat was occupied, fans sitting with their hands clutched in their laps or resting on their knees, only able to express their enthusiasm through loud screams instead of frantic movement.

The no-recording rule meant no phones were raised, no glowing screens obstructing the view, just pure, undistracted attention on the triplets.

Chris adjusted his mic, about to move on to the next segment when his eyes snagged on something that made his lips twitch into a smirk.

"Wait." He cut in suddenly, interrupting whatever Matt was about to say. "Before we show them the surprise, can I read a sign from a fan real quick?"

A new wave of screams erupted. Fans, despite being seated, tilted their heads, trying to follow his line of sight. Hands clutched the edges of armrests in anticipation, and whispers skittered through the crowd.

Matt glanced at Nick, who shrugged and gave a quick go-ahead gesture.

Chris grinned, leaning forward slightly.

"Hi! Can I read your sign?" He asked, pointing to a specific girl in the crowd. The girl’s eyes went wide, her entire face lighting up in disbelief. For a moment, she sat completely frozen, her hands trembling as she gripped the paper. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, she nodded rapidly, her expression torn between excitement and utter shock.

Chris cleared his throat, exaggerating the motion as he held the mic close.

"Alright, let’s see." He mused, squinting dramatically. "Your sign says, 'I’m only here for Y/N-'"

Chaos.

Pure, unfiltered chaos.

The fans couldn’t jump, couldn’t wave their arms, but their screams alone shook the walls. Some clutched their chests, and others turned their heads frantically, scanning the audience in search of her.

I mean, they didn't even know that she would be there.

Chris pulled the mic away, shaking his head with a disbelieving laugh as he instinctively turned toward the section where he knew she was sitting.

And there she was.

Y/N sat comfortably, her legs crossed, shiny clothes curving around her body, hands resting on her lap. Her smile was radiant, pure amusement dancing in her eyes that watched him like he was the only person in the entire room.

Chris exhaled a soft chuckle, lifting a hand to point at her.

"Unbelievable." He muttered into the mic, shaking his head playfully. Then, turning back to the audience, he smirked. "Well, I can’t even judge you. Everywhere I go, I’m only there for Y/N, too."

Another round of screams exploded through the venue, fans absolutely losing their minds. Chris, adoring the reaction, leaned back into his chair, eyes still locked on Y/N as if she were the only thing that mattered.

And to him, she was.

Her fingers decorated by black nails lifted to her red tinted lips, blowing him an air kiss before mouthing a slow "I love you".

Chris’s heart swelled, warmth spreading through his chest as he smiled, cheeks heating - probably because of the yellow lights, of course.

"I love you more." He mouthed the words back, blue eyes shining. "Alright, attention back to me now."

© vanteguccir

[orangesaek]

i don't want to be an idol

"As much as I love you, music is so important to me too, I can’t help it. After some time passes, after I become a bit more famous, I will reveal you to the world – I love you."

pairings: (ex-bf) idol!Mark x fem reader genre: mainly angst with a liiiiitle fluff wc: 2.1k

summary: you look back at the once-loving relationship you had with your ex-boyfriend, Mark Lee of NCT.

warnings: aside from angst, I honestly don't think there's anything else... but if you find something that needs a warning, please let me know!

disclaimer: this is an original work of fiction. do not copy, translate, or plagiarize any of my works! not proofread btw, so sorry for any misspellings/errors in grammar (but I will try to edit whatever I find that needs changing)

a/n: IT'S BEEN A LOOONG WHILE omg I've had this writer's block for so long, aside from dealing with life :') I hope everyone's doing well <3 anw, I wonder if anyone here knows VIXX's b-side "I Don't Want To Be An Idol"? lemme know <3 this story is (loosely) based on that song :')

-

You were mindlessly browsing through videos on Youtube to watch on TV one, lazy Monday, when you came across a suggested live video that made you feel things you thought you have long forgotten.

With some hesitation, you pressed on your remote to watch the said live video. 

It was Mark Lee’s showcase for his first ever album, The Firstfruit. 

You shifted carefully in your seat on the couch, trying to settle in a more comfortable position, as you watched Mark smile shyly on camera. ‘He must be really nervous’, you thought, noticing how he was sitting so still, unlike when he was with his members.

“So, Mark,” the host started. “Would you be willing to show us your ‘On Repeat’ playlist right now?”

“O-oh, yeah,” Mark laughed awkwardly before fishing out his phone from his pocket and tapping on it. The host smiled excitedly as he waited for Mark to show his phone to the camera. 

“Okay… uhm, should I…? Just?” Mark asked the host, gesturing between his phone and the camera. 

“Yes, if you’re ready to show your playlist to us.” The host chuckled, most probably because of how nervous Mark looked to him. Mark was looking down at his phone, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck before finally showing his screen to the camera. The cameraman zoomed in, and Mark looked up to check the big LED screens of the venue. It was the first time he ever showed his screen to the public, and he kinda regrets having said ‘yes’ to this.

The host turned in his seat to check the LED screen behind him. He expressed amusement at the list.

“As expected, you listen to many Western artists,” the host remarked. “Oh, and I think this one’s a worship song… wow.”

“Yeah, uhm, most of them are artists I look up to, while some are just songs that I deeply resonated with,” Mark explained, chuckling quite nervously. “But yeah, my ‘On Repeat’ playlist is honestly just random...”

The host hummed, nodding his head lightly, before tilting his head to the side seemingly in wonder. Mark noticed that, and he suddenly felt his hands get sweaty. The host turned back to look at Mark, who had now become slightly fidgety.

“Mark, would you mind showing us the upper half, too? If you don’t mind at all,” the host asked. 

Fans watching his live showcase online noticed how Mark looked visibly uncomfortable and started flooding the comment section about it, hoping that whoever was in charge of the show would notice and ask the host to move on to another topic.

Fortunately, the production team read the comments and instructed the host through his in-ear to redirect the conversation. However, before the host could even think of a way to change the topic, Mark had already revealed his screen again to the camera.

“These are my top 10.” He said quietly into the microphone.

Various reactions were seen and heard from the fans at the venue after his screen was shown. A few excited screams were heard, but most of the reactions picked up on audio were gasps and whispers.

‘Is this real?’

‘It can’t be… what is this?’

‘Daebak…’

The host observed the fans’ reactions before looking at Mark, feeling unsure about what was happening. He hesitantly turned back in his seat to look at the LED screen and finally understood why there were mixed reactions in the crowd.

Before the host could turn back to look at Mark again, he heard one of the producers instruct him again through his in-ear to ask Mark one last question about the playlist and move on quickly to the next topic.

The host laughed quite awkwardly before turning back to Mark, clearing his throat in the process.

“So, uh, Mark,” he started, feeling quite unsure what to even ask him that wouldn’t cost him his job that day.

“Uh, we can definitely see how random your playlist is… we know that your mood and your music preferences change as time goes by, and there’s a high chance that you will have a new batch of songs on repeat,” the host paused, obviously trying to find the right words.

He briefly scanned the crowd before looking back at Mark in confusion. The host couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but Mark suddenly looked quite relaxed… relieved, even.

“But is there a song in this playlist you know would always be there?” He finally asked.

Mark was quite taken aback by the question but still smiled, albeit shyly. He put his phone back in his pocket and let out a sigh that was picked up by his microphone.

“A song that would always be there, huh?” He whispered into the microphone as he stared at the floor, looking like he was in deep thought.

“I think—no, actually,” he paused. Mark looked at the camera and showed a small smile. 

“I choose VIXX-subaenim’s ‘I Don’t Want To Be An Idol’ as the song that would always be on this playlist.”

The host looked visibly confused; he wasn’t sure how he should approach this situation, which was evident in his voice when he asked Mark ‘why’.

Mark brought the microphone back up to his lips.

“Um…” he started, but paused for a moment, his mouth slightly open, like he already had an answer but decided against saying whatever it was, and was now thinking of the right words to say.

“It just resonated so much with me, as an idol in this fast-paced industry,” he answered, voice soft and sounding like he was in deep thought.

“When I first listened to this song, I wasn’t even an idol yet, so the lyrics didn’t even make sense to me… but when I officially entered this industry, I finally understood how deep the lyrics were…” he paused again before continuing, “I obviously can’t speak for every public figure on this planet, but for me, this song perfectly describes the reality of what dating can be like for a celebrity.”

The host’s expressions turned soft, seeing Mark in a new light. Sure, he may not be as popular as Mark, and he may not know what exactly Mark went through, but the host fully understood what he meant. 

The host briefly looked at the fans, trying to gauge their reactions. As expected, there were some who looked quite upset, but the majority, based on what the host briefly saw, looked as if they also understood Mark’s words and sympathized. The host felt that it was the right time to move on from the topic and smoothly opened up a new discussion about his album.

Meanwhile, you were crying in front of the TV. You could barely hear what they were even talking about now as you tried to wipe away the tears that just never seemed to stop flowing down your cheeks.

You were confused, not really sure why you were crying in the first place.

Was it because you were happy for Mark to have finally had the chance to release an album he always dreamed of? To have finally had the chance to release the drafts that were long sitting in his laptop?

Or was it because you were reminded of your memories with him? The ones you forcibly kept hidden in the farthest back of your mind?

You were reminded of the day you first met him, and how your unexpected friendship turned into a relationship. A secret one, which you readily accepted.

You were reminded of how his warm hand fit yours perfectly like a puzzle piece, and how he’d always look at you lovingly when he kissed the back of your hand.

You were reminded of those times he would come over to your apartment and insist on cooking something for you. Most of the time, you would both end up having to order food instead because Mark can do anything but cook. But it’s the thought that counts, right?

You were reminded of how he would sigh in content whenever you would run your fingers through his hair when you’re cuddling, and how he actually loved being the small spoon.

You were reminded of how soft his lips were, and how gentle he touched you, like you were going to break if he was any less gentle.

He brought so much happiness to your life. 

But you were also reminded of how he would send you flowers and gifts as an apology for not being with you on your birthdays and anniversaries.

How you never had a proper date outside of your apartment, in fear of being seen. Even a quick date at the cafe near your apartment would be too risky.

You were reminded of how you couldn’t rely on him during the times you needed him the most because he’s almost always working. One day, you’re breathing the same air. The next, he’s already overseas. You couldn’t even reach out to him anytime and had to always wait for him to do it first.

You realized how difficult it was for you to keep up with him. He’s Mark Lee afterall, one of the idols with the craziest schedules in the industry for years now. 

And that’s why you broke up with him. 

You saw how he begged for you to stay, and you could see how deeply hurt he was. He did things he didn’t usually do when you were still together. 

He called you daily for weeks. Calls you never answered. 

He texted you daily for months, asking how you were, how your day was, and if he could see you even for just 5 minutes. Texts you answered with a few words, but mostly ignored. 

You would see random gifts on your doorstep that always came with heartfelt love letters from him.

There were even times when you would receive emails from him with attachments; they were songs he recorded for you, saying that he meant each and every word.

You can’t lie—the thought of getting back with him did cross your mind before. How could you not? His idol status aside, Mark was genuinely a good person. There was not a single bad bone in his body. And you did feel that his love for you was sincere.

But you solidified your resolve to let him go forever after you decided to meet up with him one last time. He got down on his knees and begged for you to take him back. He said that things are looking up for him, and that he would be able to treat you so much better. He said that he was willing to do anything and everything to make you happy, even if that means he will have to give up his career for you. 

That was it.

You couldn’t let Mark give up on his career just for you. He worked so hard to get to where he is now, and giving it all up for you was just not worth it. Mark was obviously meant for the stage, and he was meant to inspire and give hope to everyone who looked up to him.

You wanted only the best for him. He deserved all the good things in life, you wanted him to be happy. 

And so, with tears brimming your eyes, you told him to forget about you and move on. You left him without turning back, afraid that if you did, your resolve would crumble and you’d take him back right then and there.

It had already been quite some time since your relationship ended, and seeing him on the news, interviews, print ads, TV commercials, magazine features, LED ads in the city, or hearing one of their songs playing in stores while out shopping didn’t affect you that much anymore.

“Honey, I never thought I’d see you cry because of some guy on TV.” a voice behind you asks, chuckling lightheartedly. You sniffled as you hurriedly wiped your tears away.

It was your husband. 

“It must be little peanut over here causing all this.” you said as you pointed to your belly. Your husband then plops himself beside you on the couch, gently rubbing circles on your baby bump.

“Aigoo~ is it really because of you, our little peanut?” he coos affectionately before his attention was taken away by the TV as he watched Mark perform one of the songs in his album.

“Who is he?” he asks.

“Mark Lee...” you answered quietly. It has been a while since you said his name out loud, and it felt strange but familiar to you at the same time.

“Mark Lee, huh? He’s pretty good, gotta give him that!” your husband commented, “That must be why you like him?”

‘Actually… I loved him with all my heart’, you thought, but you just nodded quietly. You looked at your husband, who was bobbing his head lightly to the music, and smiled to yourself before engulfing him in a hug. You looked at Mark on the TV.

‘I’m proud of you, Mark Lee. Always.’ you thought, as a final tear for him rolled down your cheek.

[skyefeys]

A Comprehensive Guide to Writing Gina Dialogue!!!

Do YOU like writing tgaa fics, but find yourself struggling to understand the speech habits of Gina Lestrade? Well, fortunately for you, I love linguistics and accents almost as much as I love Gina - so I've compiled a breakdown of every quirk in her speech!

(Full analysis under the break!)

Most of Gina's speech patterns can be broken down by three fundamental facts:

She speaks with a thick Cockney accent

She's uneducated, which leads to various grammar troubles

She uses a lot of informal cockney terms/slang

Let's get into it section-by-section!

(Note: Formatting looks a lot better on mobile!)

Section 1: Cockney Accent

So I’m an theater kid, and I've done dialect training for Cockney accents before - it's one of my best ones imo - so that certainly helped me write this section! Even without that, though, it's pretty easy to identify how her accent appears in her speech. Let's break it down!

Drop h's

Example: Here becomes 'ere

Drop g’s at the end of words

Example: Going becomes goin'

A few other word ends that get dropped:

Of becomes o'

And becomes an'

Th changes depending on the word - Thank you to annoyingloudmicrowavecultist for properly explaining how this works in the tags!

Voiced th becomes v

Example: With becomes wiv

Unvoiced th becomes f

Example: Nothing becomes nuffin'

For writing purposes, if a word would become unrecognizable with this change, it's left the same (but in actual speech, it would be pronounced differently)

Example: Father remains as father (but would be pronounced like fovva)

Th always remains intact at the start of words

Example: Thing remains as thing (but would be pronounced like fing)

Miscellaneous word changes

Something becomes summat (but other times is just somefin' - she's not consistent with either)

What becomes wot, whatever becomes wotever

Tomorrow becomes tomorra

Because is often shortened to 'cause, which becomes cos

Isn't almost always becomes ain't

Thank you / no thank you becomes ta / no ta

Some words spill together or are slurred

With that becomes wivvat, with it becomes wivvit (This one isn't actually used in-game, so you don't have to use it either, but it reflects how she'd actually be pronouncing it)

Isn't it becomes innit

Doesn't it becomes dunnit

Suppose becomes s'pose

Don't know becomes dunno

Probably becomes prob'ly

You might change - Another loose/inconsistent rule. Can depend on how the sentence would be pronounced out loud, but mostly is just a vibe

You becomes ya

Your/you're becomes yer

Yourself becomes yerself

Section 2: Grammatical Errors

Gina is an uneducated East End orphan, so it should come as no surprise that she makes mistakes here and there. Here are her consistent ones! Some of these are confusing/hard to explain, so I included specific examples.

Will say me instead of my, and meself instead of myself

Example: "I dunno much about guns meself."

Incorrect tense usage of was/were in negatives - Instead of I/it wasn’t, she’ll say I/it weren’t

Example: "I was up in a balloon, weren't I?"

Incorrect tense usage of does/do in negatives - Instead of he doesn’t, she’ll say he don’t

Example: "Somefin' wot 'e don't want people readin'."

Double negatives

Ever becomes never in negative statements

Example: "I swear on my life, I ain't never laid eyes on that dandy before."

Never + anything becomes never + nothing

Example: "I never done nuffin' o' the sort!"

Never + anyone becomes never + no one

Example: "All me life, growin' up in the slums, I've never trusted no one."

Haven't you ever becomes ain't you never

Example: "Ain't you lot never gone over an 'ouse lookin' for dough when the owners are out o' town?"

The word that or who in the context of ascribing a feature to a subject is replaced by the word what

Example: "She's always goin' on about all them cases wot Sholmes is lookin' into."

Other example: "I think I wouldn't fancy me chances wiv a lawyer wot lives in a place like this."

Will say them instead of those

"All them skylights open, dead easy."

Will say no more instead of anymore

"Ya dropped it, so it ain't yours no more."

She’ll sometimes mess up bigger, unfamiliar words. This one's entirely in your discretion what words she might mess up. Some canon examples:

“Supperment” instead of supplement

“Mantlescript” instead of manuscript

On a similar note, she'll sometimes confidently get sayings wrong and think she sounds smart

“Toby's...'ow did they put it...? ...Oh, yeah! A 'bone-fide' detective!”

Section 3: Cockney Terms/Slang

In addition to her thick dialect, growing up in the East End means Gina has also adopted a plethora of unique words and phrases. This'll be more like a vocab section!

Cockney rhyming slang - Some words are replaced with phrases that rhyme with them. She uses a few in canon:

Instead of believe, she’ll say Adam an’ Eve

“Would you Adam an' Eve it, eh?! Wot a mug!”

Instead of face, she’ll say chevy chase

“Yeah, I can see it written all over yer chevy chase!”

Interjections/Exclamations

Blimey - Express surprise or shock

"Blimey, yer right! That streak o' light in the photo looks just like an arrow, dunnit?"

Cor - A general interjection, kind of a euphemism for god

"Cor, listen to you! Ya stumble across a bit o' balloon an' suddenly yer the best investigator in the world!"

Oi - I doubt I need to define this one, but it's basically the equivalent of "hey"

"Oi! That's off limits up there!"

Words for people

Cove, bloke - A boy or man. Gina tends to use cove more often than bloke.

"That's where the cove ended up after 'is 'instant kinesis' or wotever they call it."

"When I lifted the last bloke's purse, 'e got wise to me."

Dandy - A conceited, fashionable upperclass man. Can be used as a noun or adjective.

In reference to Ashley Graydon: "I swear on my life, I ain't never laid eyes on that dandy before."

Dee - Thank you to uzukirie for figuring this out in the replies of this post - dee is short for detective!

To Sholmes: "I don't need no 'elp from some stuck-up dee!"

About Gregson: "Yeah, the dee let me keep it. After I looked daggers at 'im for long enough."

Swell - A wealthy or elegant person. In canon, Gina uses this exclusively in reference to McGilded.

"It's because o' that, this swell found me. …'E did 'elp me get away, mind."

Miscellaneous vocab

Dodgy - Suspicious

"It was amazin' when you showed that dodgy professor's dodgy experiment was a total fix!"

Rum - Odd or strange

"I mean, wot's the point of spendin' a joey to make a few bob, eh? That's a rum idea, innit?"

Coppers - Cops

"If you do wot the grown-ups tell ya, it'll get yer mates dragged off by the coppers. Or worse."

Scarper - Flee/run away/leave in a hurry. Also comes from rhyming slang - Scarper = Scapa Flow = Go

"If I did that, 'e said 'e'd let me scarper before the coppers showed up."

Have a butcher's - Take a look. Also comes from rhyming slang - "butcher's hook" = look

"Most days I push the cushion up wiv me 'ead an' look out the crack. Then I can 'ave a butcher's at who I'm gonna fiddle."

Rude words/phrases :)

Gordon Bennett - Expresses surprise or contempt - kind of a euphemism for goddammit.

"Gordon Bennett! You lot!"

Flamin', bleedin', - General emphasis. Pretty much just gentler ways of saying fucking.

Note!! You might be tempted to make Gina say "bloody", since that's well-known British slang, but she never says that. She says bleedin' in its place.

"Don't be so flamin' rude, 'Oddo!"

"It's lies every bleedin' place ya look in this world, innit?"

Bleedin’ Nora - A variation of "Bloody Norah", a surprised/irritated interjection.

"Wot the bleedin' Nora, 'Oddo?! Wot 'ave you gone an' done?!"

Bogtrotter - A derogatory term for an Irish person. She uses this to refer to McGilded.

"Look at the mess it's got you into, believin' in that bogtrotter!"

Mug - An idiot.

"You can't do it from inside, you mug."

Blue blazes - An alliterative exaggeration of "blazes". A euphemism for hell.

"Where the blue blazes 'ave you been, eh?"

Cobblers - Rubbish/nonsense. Literally, it means testicles - derived from Cockney rhyming slang, where "cobbler's awls" = balls.

"All this nonsense about the boss plannin' to kill people… It's cobblers!"

And 1.2k words later, that's pretty much it! Now you can write Gina dialogue spot on <3

Feel free to suggest anything I'm missing/got wrong - I come back and edit this for accuracy's sake every time I notice something I left out, or when people in the replies/tags point things out!

[megumiluvv]

I Went on a Date With My Brother’s Babysitter

Finally!! The date you’ve all been waiting for (I hope)!! Please ignore any grammar errors, I spent forever on it and I’ll try to fix it as I read over it. (I reread my stuff a lot to make sure I like it still).

There will be more of this au!! Don't worry about this ending just because they went on a date! I still have plenty of fluff prompts and ideas from you guys if you send them in!!

Masterlist

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Choso is a nervous wreck. He can’t even fathom how he managed this, getting you and just you for the day. No uncle, no Yuji, not even Gojo. He dresses casual and waits outside your door, knowing you’re just as nervous as he is.

You change outfits plenty times before just settling on something casual but still nice since you’ll be going to the aquarium and probably somewhere cozy to eat.

Choso waits outside your door and his brain short circuits from how you look. It may be something you’ve worn many times in front of him before, but you’re always stunning in his eyes.

“Sorry if it looks bad, I changed like, twenty times…” You blush and push your hair to behind your ear.

“No, no, you look… you look perfect…” Choso trails off, feeling a little embarrassed by his own casual clothing.

“Thanks… You do too… Goshhh, why is this so awkwardddd?” You blush and rub your warm cheeks.

“Maybe because we said it’s a date…?”

“Right, right…” You sigh and shut your apartment door, locking it carefully behind you.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

The two of you walk out of the complex and head to the aquarium since you (somehow) live nearby, and the weather is nice. As you’re crossing the street, you subconsciously hold his hand, used to doing so during your outings with Yuji. Choso doesn’t say anything about it, instead enjoying the feel of your hand in his.

You show up to the aquarium and Choso pays for the two of you. You enter and instantly drag him to the jellyfish.

“I love these! Oh! And sharks!” You smile excitedly and look around the room of jellyfish.

Choso smiles at your wonder and excitement, showing you the touch tank that you gasp at and carefully touch the tops of the jellyfish.

“They feel funny. I bet Yuji would love it here.”

“He’s more of a zoo kid instead of aquarium.” Choso smiles and watches you fondly. “But he would probably like the tiger sharks.”

“Because they have tiger in the name?”

“Partially.” Choso laughs with you.

“What’s your favorite sea creature?” You ask Choso.

“That’s a tough choice, between sea otters, angelfish, and whale sharks. I also like jellyfish too.”

“Oh gosh, those are all such cute choices!” You smile. “And some angelfish have those stripes like the one across your nose.”

Your voice has a teasing lilt as you trace the tattoo across his nose. His cheeks flush a bit and you giggle.

“Y’know, I never asked where you got the tattoo.”

“It was a rebellious thing against my parents.”

“Really? You had a rebellious phase?”

“It was a long time ago, it’s embarrassing…”

“Come onnn, you gotta tell me someday!” You smile. “How old were you when you got it?”

“It was a before Yuji was born, I think I was 17? Paid in cash and everything.”

“Really? It still looks so fresh.”

“Whatever. I was arguing with my parents and staying with my uncle, he said he knew a guy and took me. He loved the look on my parents’ faces when I came home.”

You smile at the thought of Sukuna instigating something like that, knowing it totally fits the man.

“Your uncle does have a lot of tattoos, makes sense he’d know a guy.”

“Yeah, I kind of regret it, though. Hard to get a job with visible tattoos sometimes. But I think I have enough jobs as is.”

“That’s true. You really work hard for Yuji.” You look up at him with admiration.

He hums in agreement and looks over at an exhibit that has otters. Choso takes your hand and pulls you along.

The otter goes around its little tank, a soft thud each time it pushes off the glass to move to the slide. Choso watches with a small smile on his face and your eyes notice the way his crinkle like when he’s watching Yuji do something. Cute… You think to yourself.

He finally speaks up after a few minutes. “Let’s go pet the stingrays.”

You perk up and follow him, smiling softly as you get to the touch tank. Choso rolls up his sleeves, his forearms having muscle from the various jobs he’s had. You stare for a second too long and he notices, smiling a little and guiding your hand into the water.

The water is nice, and you feel the strange sensation of the yellow stingray’s back on your two fingers, carefully avoiding the stinger and not pressing onto the creature at all. There are some smaller creatures that can also be touched, zebra shark being your favorite in the pool.

Choso watches your face as you watch the fish just swim across people’s hands. Your eyes trail after each animal for a few seconds before moving to the next, a small smile quirking into your lips. He smiles to himself, he could look at you for hours.

The two of you dry off your arms and use the free hand sanitizer. Choso then leads you to the shark tank and you watch the animals, taking pictures and videos (respecting the rules set for photography), and speaking quietly like the sign says in the tank.

“I love love love these sharks.” You whisper.

Choso grins and watches you look around the tank, the way your eyebrows furrow for just a second when kids walk in and talk loudly. But when you realize it’s just a kid, you no longer frown and just smile at the kids’ marvels at the sharks.

Choso watches everyone filter through as you quietly talk about what you need to do this week and other plans.

“I’m practically free tomorrow, that’ll be my housekeeping day, I guess, vacuum, might rearrange… Gojo works Thursday, so I have to watch Megumi. If Yuji wants to come over and have a playdate, I can do that.”

“Mhm, I don’t work tomorrow or Thursday, so I could help. Yuji comes home Thursday morning.”

“Awesome.” You smile.

You go through the rest of the aquarium, stopping by the sharks again before looking through the gift shop.

“Ooh! Yuji would love this!” You smile and show Choso a tiger shark plushie. “And we can get him a book on sea creatures since he can read now.”

Choso smiles and grabs a few things you’d like and buys them before you can see, keeping them a surprise for holidays or your birthday.

It’s now time for dinner. Choso leads you to a cozy restaurant, and you browse the menu for anything that looks good.

“Don’t worry, I have the perfect order for you.” Choso grins.

“Oh? And what is this perfect order?”

Choso points out the most delicious looking thing on the menu and you salivate a little.

“That looks literally perfect.”

“I knew you’d like it. Tastes better than it looks too.”

“Really?”

He nods and you guys go about dinner, talking a little more romantically now that you’re out of casual topics.

“Have you had a date before?” You poke at your food which, indeed, tasted better than it looked.

“Went on a couple in high school, nothing serious. Super casual hookups too, but rare since I was more focused on my brothers.”Choso shrugs. “You?”

“Same.”

He hums and eats a few more bites before you speak up again.

“Is this a casual thing?”

Choso looks up at you, noting the uncertainty in your eyes and voice. He feels his chest tighten a little and sets his fork down.

“…honestly? No. Ever since I met you, I’ve kind of known that I felt more than casual things for you. You’re so kind to Yuji and anyone you meet, you’re funny, not to mention drop dead gorgeous-” He starts to ramble before you cut him off and blush.

“Okay, I get it, charmer…”

“…Sorry, I got carried away. It’s just- I’ve felt this way for so long, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt like this for anyone.”

It’s now Choso’s turn to look at you with uncertainty. He just poured his heart out and you’re just silently staring as he speaks.

“…So you really like me?”

“…Yeah.”

“…I have too. For a while, I think.”

The air now feels a bit lighter for Choso. “That’s… that’s great, I’m glad…”

You smile a little, relieved your feelings were returned. They have been this whole time.

“Honestly, everyone around us keeps thinking we’re dating, it kind of felt like we were.” Choso laughs.

“I know, right?” You laugh too. “Gojo keeps asking if you’ve asked me out yet, then turns it to a little ‘oh maybe I’ll do it first’ thing. I can’t ever tell if he’s trying to make you jealous or if he really means it.”

“Yeah, he gets on my nerves though.”

Choso pays for the dinner and tips the nice waitress you two had, and you hold his hand again as you walk back home in the dark.

“Nice night. Quiet.” Choso muses.

“Mhm.”

“Tonight was nice.”

“Yeah, it was.” You look like you want to say more.

Choso notices that. “What is it?”

“…What… are we?”

Oh. He realized that you both didn’t really put a label on it. Sure, you had admitted your feelings, but you never really acted on it.

“What… do you want us to be…?”

“…” You lean closer to him and he blushes at the sudden proximity.

“…Do you… wanna date? Like actually label it?” He asks, suddenly unsure.

“…Yeah.” You whisper.

Choso lets out a soft breath. “Me too…”

The two of you stare at each other, really close to each other’s faces.

“…I’d kiss you but I don’t think I’d be able to stop.” He whispers.

“…You said Yuji’s not back til Thursday…”

He grins a little at the innuendo and guides you inside his apartment.

“Then let’s savor it, yeah?”

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Taglist (ask to join anytime): @samaraxmorgan @cherriee-ee @auor4 @chaotic-ish @meowsannie

@mediokerrv @flooftoof @dazaisfavgf

[aliteralsemicolon]

honestly, the whole ai fight or disagreement thing is kinda insane. we’re seeing the same pattern that happened when the first advanced computers and laptops came out. people went on the theory that they’d replace humans, but in the end, they just became tools. the same thing happened in the arts. writing, whether through books or handwritten texts, has survived countless technological revolutions from ancient civilizations to our modern world.

you’re writing and sharing your work through a phone, so being against ai sounds a little hypocritical. you might as well quit technology altogether and go 100 percent analog. it’s a never ending cycle. every time there’s a new tech revolution, people act like we’re living in the terminator movies even though we don’t even have flying cars yet. ai is just ai and it’s crappy. people assume the worst but like everything before it it will probably just end up being another tool because people is now going to believe anything, nowadays.

Okay so...no. It's never that black and white. Otherwise I could argue that you might as well go 100% technological and never touch grass again. Which sounds just as silly. There are many problems with AI and it's more than just 'robots taking over'. It's actually a deeper conversation about equity, ethics, environmentalism, corruption and capitalism. That's an essay I'm not sure a lot of people are willing to read, otherwise they would be doing their own research on this. I'll sum it up the best I can.

DISCLAIMER As usual I am not responsible for my grammar errors, this was written and posted in one go and I did not look back even once. I'm not a professional source. I just want to explain this and put this discussion to rest on my blog. Please do your own research as well.

There's helpful advancement tools and there's harmful advancement tools. I would argue that AI falls into the latter for a few of reasons.

It's not 'just AI', it's a tool weaponised for more harm than good: Obvious examples include deep fakes and scamming, but here's more incase you're interested.

A more common nuisance is that humans now have to prove that they are not AI. More specifically, writers and students are at risk of being accused of using AI when their work reads more advance that basic writing criteria. I dealt with this just last year actually. I had to prove that the essay I dedicated weeks of my time researching, writing and gathering citations for was actually mine.

I have mutuals that have been accused of using AI because their writing seems 'too advanced' or whatever bs. Personally, I feel that an AI accusation is more valid when the words are more hollow and lack feeling (as AI ≠ emotional intelligence), not when a writer 'sounds too smart'.

"You're being biased."

Okay, here is an unbiased article for you. Please don't forget to take note of the fact that the negative is all stuff that can genuinely ruin lives and the positive is stuff that makes tasks more convenient. This is the trend in every article I've read.

Equity, ethics, corruption, environmentalism and capitalism:

Maybe there could be a world where AI is able to improve and truly help humans, but in this capitalistic world I don't see it being a reality. AI is not the actual problem in my eyes, this is. Resources are finite and lacking amongst humans. The wealthy hoard them for personal comfort and selfish innovations leading to more financial gain, instead of sharing them according to need. Capitalism is another topic of its own and I want to keep my focus on AI specifically so here are some sources on this topic. I highly recommend skimming through them at least.

> Artificial Intelligence and the Black Hole of Capitalism: A More-than-Human Political Ethology > Exploiting the margin: How capitalism fuels AI at the expense of minoritized groups > Rethinking of Marxist perspectives on big data, artificial intelligence (AI) and capitalist economic development

I want to circle back to your first paragraph and just dissect it really quick.

"we’re seeing the same pattern that happened when the first advanced computers and laptops came out. people went on the theory that they’d replace humans, but in the end, they just became tools."

One quick google search gives you many articles explaining that and deeming this statement irrelevant to this discussion. I think this was more a case of inexperience with the internet and online data. The generations since are more experienced/familiar with this sort of technology. You may have heard of 'once it's out there it can never be deleted' pertaining to how nothing can be deleted off the internet. I do not think you're stupid anon, I think you understand this and how dangerous it truly is. Especially with the rise in weaponisation of AI. I'm going to link some quora and reddit posts (horrible journalism ik but luckily I'm not a journalist), because taking personal opinions from people who experienced that era feels important.

> Quora | When the internet came out, were people afraid of it to a similar degree that people are afraid of AI? > Reddit | Were people as scared of computers when they were a new thing, as they are about AI now? > Reddit | Was there hysteria surrounding the introduction of computers and potential job losses?

"the same thing happened in the arts. writing, whether through books or handwritten texts, has survived countless technological revolutions from ancient civilizations to our modern world."

I think this is a logical guess based on pattern recognition. I cannot find any sources to back this up. Either that or you mean to say that artists and writers are not being harmed by AI. Which would be a really ignorant statement.

We know about stolen content from creatives (writers, artists, musicians, etc) to train AI. Everybody knows exactly why this is wrong even if they're not willing to admit it to themselves.

Let's use writers for example. The work writers put out there is used without their consent to train AI for improvement. This is stealing. Remember the very recent issue of writer having to state that they do not consent to their work being uploaded or shared anywhere else because of those apps stealing it and putting it behind a paywall?

I shouldn't have to expand further on why this is a problem. Everybody knows exactly why this is wrong even if they're not willing to admit it to themselves. If you're still wanting to argue it's not going to be with me, here are some sources to help you out.

> AI, Inspiration, and Content Stealing > ‘Biggest act of copyright theft in history’: thousands of Australian books allegedly used to train AI model > AI Detectors Get It Wrong. Writers Are Being Fired Anyway

"you’re writing and sharing your work through a phone, so being against ai sounds a little hypocritical. you might as well quit technology altogether and go 100 percent analog."

...

"it’s a never ending cycle. every time there’s a new tech revolution, people act like we’re living in the terminator movies even though we don’t even have flying cars yet."

Yes there is usually a general fear of the unknown. Take covid for example and how people were mass buying toilet paper. The reason this statement cannot be applied here is due to evidence of it being an actual issue. You can see AI's effects every single day. Think about AI generated videos on facebook (from harmless hope core videos to proaganda) that older generations easily fall for. With recent developments, it's actually becoming harder for experienced technology users to differentiate between the real and fake content too. Do I really need to explain why this is a major, major problem?

> AI-generated images already fool people. Why experts say they'll only get harder to detect. > Q&A: The increasing difficulty of detecting AI- versus human-generated text > New results in AI research: Humans barely able to recognize AI-generated media

"ai is just ai and it’s crappy. people assume the worst but like everything before it it will probably just end up being another tool because people is now going to believe anything, nowadays."

AI is man-made. It only knows what it has been fed from us. Its intelligence is currently limited to what humans know. And it's definitely not as intelligent as humans because of the lack of emotional intelligence (which is a lot harder to program because it's more than math, repetition and coding). At this stage, I don't think AI is going to replace humans. Truthfully I don't know if it ever can. What I do know is that even if you don’t agree with everything else, you can’t disagree with the environmental factor. We can't really have AI without the resources to help run it.

Which leads us back to: finite number of resources. I'm not sure if you're aware of how much water and energy go into running even generative AI, but I can tell you that it's not sustainable. This is important because we're already in an irrevocable stage of the climate crisis and scientists are unsure if Earth as we know it can last another decade, let alone century. AI does not help in the slightest. It actually adds to the crisis, we're just uncertain to what degree at this point. It's not looking good though.

I am not against AI being used as a tool if it was sustainable. You can refute all my other arguments, but you can't refute this. It's a fact and your denial or lack of care won't change the outcome.

My final and probably the most insignificant reason on this list but it matters to me: It’s contributing to humans becoming dumber and lazier.

It's no secret that humans are declining in intelligence. What makes AI so attractive is its ability to provide quick solutions. It gathers the information we're looking for at record speed and saves us the time of having to do the work ourselves.

And I suppose that is the point of invention, to make human life easier. I am of the belief that too much is of anything is every good, though. Too much hardship is not good but neither is everything being too easy. Problem solving pushes intellectual growth, but it can't happen if we never solver our own problems.

Allowing humans to believe that they can stop learning to do even basic tasks (such as writing an email, learning to cite sources, etc) because 'AI can do it for you' is not helping us. This is really just more of a personal grievance and therefore does not matter. I just wanted to say it.

"What about an argument for instances where AI is more helpful than harmful?"

I would love for you to write about it and show me because unfortunately in all my research on this topic, the statistics do not lean in favour of that question. Of course there's always pros and cons to everything. Including phones, computers, the internet, etc. There are definitely instances of AI being helpful. Just not to the scale or same level of impact of all the negatives. And when the bad outweighs the good it's not something worst keeping around in my opinion.

In a perfect world, AI would take over the boring corporate tasks and stuff so that humans can enjoy life– recreation, art and music– as we were meant to. However in this capitalist world, that is not a possiblility and AI is killing joy and abolish AI and AI users DNI and I will probably not be talking about this anymore and if you want to send hate to my inbox on this don't bother because I'll block your anon and you won't get a response to feed your eristicism and you can never send anything anonymous again💙

[chuuyasheaven]

❤️ Rei's Kinktober ❤️

Notes !! Firstly, this is my first kinktober, and I’m literally so excited??? I didn’t know what it was until like two years back but I was always late to it, well not this year!! Besides, this will be different like any other you guys will see so just sit back, relax, and enjoy reading this nasty stuff !!!! Rules !! 01. For each weekday will be drabbles written for, except for sundays, those will probably be a short fic or whatever.

02. If you didn’t notice, the names were listed down in alphabetical order, because it’s fun. But also, for each week (or category) will be the characters written for which I think fit in the week. It might occur that some will be there more than once, but my list isn’t that long tbh. .

03. THIS IS AN NSFW EVENT, in case you didn’t know. But we don’t judge here, meaning if I make any grammar errors or take longer to post, I do NOT want to hear anything about it. Thank you !!!!

Week one : “I LIKE ‘EM NASTY !!” — Rough Sex.

01.10 — “Tamin’ bad girls !!” with Akutagawa Ryunosuke !!

02.10 — “Goin’ feral !!” with Atsushi Nakajima !!

05.10 — “Disobedient wife !!” with Fyodor Dostoevsky !!

07.10 — “Endless denial” with Jouno Saigiku !!

08.10 — “Keepin’ you in place !!” with Nikolai Gogol !!

Week two : “I WANT ‘EM SWEET !!” — Soft/Passionate Sex.

10.10 — “Cockwarmin’ cuddles !!” with Atsushi Nakajima !!

11.10 — "Mornin' ride" with Chuuya Nakahara !!

13.10 — “Takin’ a break !!” with Edgar Allen Poe !!

14.10 — “Reassurin’ his wife” with Odasaku Sakunosuke !!

15.10 — “Birthday present” with Ranpo Edogawa !!

Week three : “I LIKE ‘EM SUBMISSIVE !!” — sub! men.

16.10 — “Virgin killer” with Akutagawa Ryunosuke !! 17.10 — “Under the influence” with Chuuya Nakahara !! 20.10 — “Thigh lover” with Dazai Osamu !!

21.10 — “Stress relievin’” with Edgar Allen Poe !!

22.10 — “Special candy” with Ranpo Edogawa !!

Week four : “I WANT ‘EM TWICE !!” — threesomes.

24.10 — "Outsmartin' failed" with Fyozai !! 26.10 — “Seekin’ comfort” with Shin Soukoku !!

28.10 — “Competition” with Soukoku !!

29.10 — “Missin’ information” with Suegiku !!

Halloween :

31.10 — “Bittersweet torture” with Fyolai !!!

IM LITERALLY SO EXCITED ⁉️

[silentcryracha]

❍ ‗ Making art with Hyunjin ‗ ❍

Pairing : Hyunjin x f reader

Summary : chapter four of a cute standalone miniseries. It's what it says in the title

Genre/ Warnings : scenario/imagine/headcanon, drabble, fluff, suggestive but no smut, unserious but helpful Hyunjin, it's cute idk

Word count : 635 words

A/n : none

ps: There could be grammar errors. Do NOT repost on other socials. Leave feedback if you feel like it, otherwise enjoy! ♡︎

masterlist

series masterpost

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hyunjin loves art, yes, but he loves you more. Don't even try to not make things about you if you're around because you'll be unsuccessful.

"Okay mr. Picasso draw an apple for me"

Five minutes later he'd be handing you the sketchbook, a pencil sketch picturing YOU holding an apple.

"This is ridiculous" you whisper, lowkey speechless. Hyunjin would pout, looking genuinely sad for a moment.

"You don't like it?" and of course you'd throw yourself at him covering him with kisses and praises all over his face.

He's just extra talented and in love! It's not his fault!

He'd be so happy to either learn from you or teach you, if you asked. Like oh my gosh imagine if he had an actual artist as a partner? He'd be so in awe and interested in each and every step of the process.

He would a hundred percent ask you to teach him, whatever the technique. He'd just be so excited to spend time with you regardless <3

Same thing if the roles were reversed and he was the teacher! He'd be very honored if asked him to teach you, probably because even though he's crazy good he wouldn't consider himself a professional artist.

You'd just end you having so much fun together. I feel like Hyunjin would shower you with praises and encouragement.

"That looks so good already, baby."

"It's...missing an arm and hair"

And he'd just respond "It's his business not yours" in the cutest most unserious tone.

"Hyune, come here a sec" you call out and whatever he was doing, he'd walk over.

"I don't think the sketch is bad but something is off. Is it the colors?" he listens, giving you a sweet kiss on the head, then focusing on the painting.

"I think the purple is a bit bright, try adding some black. I know you usually shouldn't but I don't think it's a drop is gonna hurt." he answers softly, picking up the acrylic and then mixing.

He picks up the brush and skillfully covers up the previous color, smiling to himself in satisfaction afterwards.

"See? Now the palette is more balanced." he gives you another kiss because, well yes.

"Yes it does! Colors do make such a difference. Thank you, honey"

It doesn't always need to be a learning experience though! Sometimes you just want to have a laugh or make a mess and then then make out covered in paint like it's not that serious.

It would happen specifically when someone got stressed working on a piece, and maybe it just sucked and wanted to throw it away, so might as well transform it into a whole abstract piece and get a laugh out of it. Mood lifted!

You and Hyunjin were just chilling, sitting together on the couch late at night, a whole storm outside. He turns to you, saying:

"Do you want to play a game?" you look up at him.

"Okay, Jigsaw. What were you thinking?"

He stands up, walking around the living room to pick up two sketchbooks, some pencils and spare pastels. Then comes back to hand you one.

"We pick something in the room -in our line of view- to draw, then we each have three chances to guess it right." you bite your lip, smiling.

"Okay. And what if we don't guess right?" he shrugs, a smirk struggling not to appear on his plump lips.

"Then one piece of clothing, of choice, comes off." he replies, "Each. time." you pout, feigning innocence.

"But...it's quite cold. Will we not be cold?"

"Well then let's hope we lose fast, so we can warm each other up." he winks and you giggle like an idiot, because of course that's where he was going.

"Bet"

And the rest is history <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[icanhearcolors]

Close Encounter

Summary: A conversation between my Tav and Astarion inspired me to write a short one-shot (I lied it's a series) reader insert about what I think would happen if they met before they were taken by the mind flayers

pt 2 | pt 3

This is pretty much my first attempt at reader insert so be nice to me pls ;-;

Lemme know if I made any grammar or spelling errors

Word count: 2.9k

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“I’ll take the most you can give me of whatever has the most alcohol in it” 

You announce, slapping some gold coins down on the scuffed wooden bar. The barkeep who probably hasn’t had any business for the past hour startles out of his daydream and glances at you in surprise. He’s a dwarf, with a braided beard and kind eyes, and if it weren’t for the creaky wooden step stool he climbs up on to take orders he would barely be able to see over the bar top.

“Bit early in the night for that wouldn’t you say?” He asks as he climbs a ladder to retrieve a glass from the shelf above his head. You glance out the window as the last few rays of the setting sun color the night a deep reddish purple before it fades into a comforting black. 

You slide another gold coin across the bar. The barkeep smiles,

“Perfect time for some chultun fireswill if I say so myself miss.” He winks, slides the hefty glass full of orange liquid your way, and swipes up the coins before turning to another customer making their way into the tavern. You hold the glass up to your nose and sniff its contents. The fumes coming off the heavily spiced spirit has your nose burning and your eyes watering- perfect. 

You tap the glass on the counter and knock it back. You manage to get a few swallows in before your brain catches up to you and the fireswill burns a searing path from your throat into your stomach, settling there and warming you from the inside out. You slam the glass down and cover your mouth with your hand, trying and failing to hold in a fit of coughs. 

“Easy now.”

A cold hand lands on your shoulder, cooling your heated skin, and you turn, bleary eyed, unprepared for what you find.

He’s an elf, a very very pale elf- but not sickly pale. He just looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in a century or two. His hair catches your eye, a shocking shade of pure white that makes his skin seem tan in comparison. It’s shorter than most elves keep their hair, and it curls in every direction, framing his face beautifully. Once you recover from your initial dazed attraction to him you attempt to level him with your meanest glare that you hope says piss off. He raises his hands in playful surrender and smiles disarmingly at you.

“Rough day?” He asks in a drawling voice. You take him in. He’s wearing a clean white shirt under a set of padded leather armor, and spotless black leather boots. He looks every bit a spoiled noble that has never seen a day of work in his life, but his hands are calloused, and his eyes look haunted. Speaking of his eyes, they’re quite an alluring shade of red. What an odd color for an elf-

His eyes narrow perceptively, as if he’s reading your thoughts as they flit across your face. He turns away, gesturing at your drink and turning your gaze away from his unique appearance.

“Most Baldurians don’t even touch that stuff until well past midnight, are we celebrating or forgetting?”

You turn your body away from the charming elf and stare into the last few sips of your drink. 

“We aren’t doing anything. I’m here to drink, not to talk.”

“Forgetting it is then. Excellent.”

From the corner of his eye you see him grin roguishly, the flash of his white teeth sending a curious spark of adrenaline through your system. Before you can discern why you suddenly went from warm and buzzed to fight or flight, he turns away, tossing a blue coin purse onto the bar and calling for the barkeep, allowing the alcohol to calm your frazzled nerves once more.

“Excuse me Lydon, I’d like to buy our grumpy friend here a drink that won’t burn a hole through her stomach,” He leans over the bar and drops his voice to a low murmur as if he were sharing a secret, “got anything good for me?” he practically purrs.

The dwarf, Lydon, flushes a deep red and grins coyly at the mysterious patron, “Maybe. But I don’t have enough for everyone Astarion, what if someone comes asking me how she got the good stuff and all I’m willing to sell them is stale ale and swill?”

Astarion’s answering grin is downright lethal. 

“It’ll be our little secret,” He winks. “I’ll take it to my grave.”

Lydon blushes even darker if that were possible and mumbles something about having a type before trodding off toward the old wooden door behind the bar. You’d never related to anything more. Astarion turns toward you and raises an expectant eyebrow.

“Waiting for a thank you?” You ask, wrestling with the instinct ingrained in you to be polite. Your tendency to people please is what landed you in this run down tavern in the first place. You don’t know this elf, and you don’t owe him anything.

“Well I wouldn’t say no to a little gratitude darling- especially not from you” his eyes trace a path from the top of your head to your scuffed leather boots and back up again, stopping at the blush on your cheeks, he smirks, and meets your eyes again. He steps closer to bump your shoulder with his teasingly, and stays there, close enough that your arm brushes his.

“But no my dear, I’m not waiting for a thank you. I’m waiting for a story.” 

“Oh yeah? Keep waiting.” You growl, and he tosses his head back, a genuine laugh bursting out of him. The sound of it is contagious, and you fight the urge to grin yourself. You nearly manage it, save for a slight twitch of your lips that he of course notices.

He tsks, shaking his head at you “I saw that. No use hiding that smile from me, love. The damage is already done.” 

You glare, this time with much less hostility. 

“Who are you? I’m morose and drunk on purpose, elf, and I will not let you wrestle me from it.”

“My name is Astarion” he says with a wink and a mock bow before he leans in, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, “and I’ll wager you’ll let me do a lot worse than that before the end of the night.”

Your breath catches, your pulse picks up, and you’re about to lose yourself in those strange eyes of his when a loud creeeeeaaak and a crash causes both of you to leap away from one another. The dwarven barkeep’s old step stool seems to have finally given in. He lay sprawled on the floor behind the bar, his foot caught in between the split wood.

“GODS DAMMIT” He howls, kicking off the stool. He sighs and hobbles up to you and your new… companion. You can see nothing but his angry eyes and the flushed red tips of his ears as he pours your drink and reaches up to hand it to you. When you grab for it he pulls it out of your grasp and stares at you with a threat in his eyes.

“You didn’t see that.” He snarls at both of you.

“See what?” Astarion feigns ignorance, looking around the room dramatically for whatever the dwarf could possibly be talking about. The barkeep rolls his eyes and hands the drink to you before limping off to find a chair to stand on.

You breathe slowly through your nose.

In.

Out.

In.

You will not laugh.

You have self control.

You take one glance at the pinched “I’m trying not to laugh” look on Astarions face, one that probably mirrors your own, and you explode in a fit of giggles so intense they make your stomach ache.

Astarion can’t hold it in either and slaps the table in his silent gasping laughter, the two of you making quite a scene, but somehow you really don’t care. 

You wipe tears from your eyes and sigh once your laughing fit subsides, your sour mood a distant memory despite your best efforts to cling to it.

“How dare you,” You whine half-heartedly. “I was so committed to my bad mood and you had to go and ruin it.”

Astarion’s eyebrows lower in confused amusement.

“Awww you poor sad little thing. I’d apologize, really I would, but unfortunately for you I’m not sorry.”

You take a swig of the drink he bought for you. It tastes of cherry and currant, and you have never had something so delicious from such a tiny little tavern.

“You should be” you murmur, hanging your head, the humor fading as you’re reminded of why you’re here in the first place.

Astarion notices your shift in demeanor and reaches down, lifting your chin with a cool finger and bringing your gaze to his.

“About that story,” He smiles encouragingly, and you give in.

The alcohol must really be getting to you now, there was no other explanation for the warm, safe feeling that hummed under your skin. Astarion was sweet, and attractive. His attention felt good, and before you could even make the decision to trust him you were already talking. You told him how you were a magistrate in the lower city, complained how the court system was broken and corrupt, and how the judge only appoints magistrates that unthinkingly obey his preferences, never allowing them to make their own judgements. You had tried for months to get on his good side but you think all you did was obliterate any meager scrap of respect he did have for you, and now every interaction you have with him he barks orders at you like you’re his dog and then dismisses you. You were thinking of finding a new profession altogether, but the lower city was plagued with crime, good people died every day because of it, and you had the power to help at least a little if only your boss wasn’t such an asshole. To your embarrassment you began to tear up as you finished your story.

Astarion for his part never interrupts you. He listens with rapt attention to your woeful tale, an indiscernible look on his handsome face. You try to turn your head away as a tear escapes your eye but his grip on your chin tightens, forcing you to stay right where you are. He wipes it away with his other hand and stares at you for a moment, seemingly deciding something.

He reaches up and drags a hand through his hair, releases a held breath, and plucks the glass from your hand, drinking what was left of its contents in two gulps. He brings the glass back down to the counter, a drop of the crimson wine dripping down his chin. The image gives you an odd feeling, like you’re missing a revelation that is only just out of your grasp. He glances behind you, and you turn and follow his gaze to another rather pale looking elf, this one with darker hair but similarly colored eyes watching the two of you with rapt attention. Goosebumps rise on your skin and that fight or flight instinct is back in full force. Your heart begins to pound against your chest, understanding the danger that you’re in even if you do not. 

“Smart girl” Astarion murmurs, and you whip back around to face him.

He wipes his face with his sleeve and grabs you by the hand, pulling you off the bar stool.

“W-what are you-” He places a hand on your lower back and begins deftly guiding you through the raucous crowd of drunk Baldurians. One stumbling wizard in the crowd pats his pockets down and cries,

“Has anyone seen my coin purse? It’s blue!”

“Walk faster” Astarion says into your ear, his warm breath whispering across your neck. You do as he says.

After what feels like a lifetime of dodging drunk elbows and slipping through temporary openings in the crowd you reach the exit, and Astarion rushes you soberingly into the cold night air. 

“You stole that guy's money didn’t you?” You accuse.

He doesn’t even have the decency to deny it,

“What are you going to do darling? Arrest me?” is his reply.

He doesn’t slow down for a single second, ushering you into a dark alley near the tavern.

“Astarion what are we doing? You can’t just wander into abandoned alleyways at night! This is how people get kidnapped.”

His startled gaze clashes with yours in the dim light for a moment before he laughs. Not an amused genuine laugh, but a pained, choked sound that claws its way out of his throat involuntarily. He runs a hand through his hair once again and then turns away from you, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“It is indeed, darling,” He whispers so quietly you have to lean towards him to hear it. 

“You have no idea.”

You don’t have time to react, the alcohol slowing your reflexes, before his hand is around your throat and your back is against the brick wall of whatever building is behind you. You reach up and grab his wrist, eyes widening in panic. For a flash you see in your mind your body lying asphyxiated in the revealing light of morning, another victim to the merciless city of Baldur’s gate, and you prepare to fight like hell, when Astarion lunges for you and…

Kisses you?

Your brain short circuits, all thoughts drifting away with the sensation of Astarion’s mouth on yours. His hand around your throat gentles, his long fingers drifting over your skin until they press into your pulse point, feeling your racing heartbeat. 

You fist his shirt sleeve in your hand. Maybe it's because you’re smashed, maybe it’s because you can’t remember the last time someone kissed you, maybe it’s because you know no one that’s ever kissed you has been as good at it as this man- whatever the reason may be, you kiss him back. 

He tilts his head and deepens the kiss, stepping closer until his body is pressed against yours. You reach up to do what you’ve been dying to do since you first saw him and feel the soft strands of his hair.

He leans into your touch and it emboldens you to kiss him deeper, your tongue scraping against something… sharp?

He gasps and pulls back, just a few inches, staring into your eyes. He seems to be searching for something, almost desperately.

You stare back, equal parts terrified of and enraptured by this beautiful stranger.

Finally, he drops his hand from your neck and steps back, the cold air assaulting you once more as you crash back down to reality. You gaze at Astarion, confusion written all over your features.

“I can’t do this” He laughs. It sounds just as pained as the last one.

“Can’t do what?”

“I can’t bring you to him”

His head snaps up to the sky, studying the stars.

“I still have time to find another. Petras saw me with you, he’ll tell Cazador if I come back with someone else. But I can lie. I can say you knew what I was, escaped before I could lure you back. Maybe he won't question it. I’d spend a few weeks in the kennels but it could be worse. I can’t tell him I changed my mind, I can’t spend another year in that tomb.” He’s rambling now, not to you but to himself. 

He rubs his face in his hands and takes another stumbling step back.

“Go” Is all he says.

“Go? Go where?” You mumble, feeling cold and strangely a little hurt by his retreat into the shadows.

You don’t have dark vision, in the dim torch light much of his face is now hidden from you, but his eerily red eyes seem to glow like a cat’s now in the dark. The sight fills you with dread. Pieces begin to connect, the hundreds of unsolved missing person cases, the handful of eyewitness accounts claiming they saw the missing leave with someone. The descriptions varied, but a few details remained constant. The unknown person was always charming, flirtatious even, they tried to get their victims intoxicated in some way, and they always had a pallid complexion, red eyes, and sharp canines. Sifting sluggishly through your muddled memories you can even recall a couple of accounts of victims leaving taverns on the arm of a white haired pale elven man.

Astarion was a vampire.

“Go back to the courts,” He begins, “and never apologize to Judge Eruien. Stand up to him when he’s being an ass, he’ll never respect you otherwise. Go back home and lock your doors safely behind you. Never invite anyone in unless you trust them implicitly. Go back to your life in the sun, make Baldur’s gate a little better just by being in it, and if you ever-” He leans toward you, his face inches from yours once more. Now that you know what to look for, you catch glimpses of his uncomfortably long canines with every word that he speaks. 

“See anyone with eyes like mine again… run.”

With that he steps back into the shadows. They seem to swallow him whole, and you do run, a small voice in the back of your mind reminding you that you never told Astarion the name of that judge you were lamenting about.

In the years that follow you take his advice, and your work life drastically improves. Enough so that you feel comfortable asking the old elven judge about his former magistrates, a tear dripping down your cheek as he tells you what he can recall about a white haired elf with golden eyes and a promising future that was ripped away when he was murdered almost two centuries ago by a gang of Gur that didn’t appreciate his final ruling.

A month later you wake up in a nautiloid.

[yunjardi]

my heart bel♡ngs to daddy [series]

[young sugar daddy!jake × fem!reader]

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[click here for this series' masterlist to read previous chapters, general warnings, and playlist]

[!!chapter warnings!!: smut [mdni], angst, some fluff?, DADDY KINK, overstimulation, unprotected sex, reader gets lifted up, smoking weed, arguing, crying, mentions of food, mentions of toxic family (!!!) lmk if i missed anything!]

*sorry for any grammar errors

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-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-

chapter 15: lipstick stains

upon arriving home from the japan trip, you gave perry some extra food whilst telling him how much fun you had as if he was listening to your rambling. traveling is fun and all, but nothing beats the feeling of being able to take a shower in the comfort of your home before climbing into your own bed. really the only downside to coming back from a few days off is the work shifts you have to make up. good thing you had an earlier than usual shift; earlier shifts mean you'll have more free time later in the day when things get really busy.

it was quick for you to doze off considering that you had such an eventful few days and now you were thinking about working. but before you could fully fall asleep, you remembered to text jake. you knew he'd worry if you didn't text him at least once before you went to bed.

your tummy filled with butterflies from simply texting the guy, so you could only imagine how much more excited you'll be to see him.

an uneasiness crept up on you while you read the texts over and over again.

why did he speak to you as if he's your boyfriend?

why is he always so affectionate?

'whatever, it doesn't matter, i'll just sleep,' you forced yourself to stop thinking about it in order to get to sleep.

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you woke up at the ripe hour of 3PM in the afternoon which left you with only about an hour and a half to get ready for your shift. springing out of bed, you ran to begin getting ready.

since it was your first day back, you wanted to look extra appealing to the customers because tips are always appreciated, right?

you made sure to put on a bit of makeup to hide the fact that you'd woken up so late, and you headed off to the bar.

the bar had become a bit of an anxiety trigger ever since that girl came around, but you came to realize that she was probably just trying to start some shit because she was most likely bored. you were there to work and nothing else; she just happened to get in your way. 

before you could even get to the break room to put your personal belongings in your locker, an excited yeji engulfed you in a tight hug.

"ah, it feels like forever since i last worked a shift with you! innie and i missed you so bad while you were away with your little boyfie in japan!" yeji blabbed excitedly while you two were still hugging, "innie was all sulky because he was stuck with me the whole time ha! you already know how i like to annoy him on purpose."

it made you feel genuine joy to know that your friends were at home waiting for you to come back. you decided to wait until you could all meet up to give them souvenirs that you bought them.

"i never wanna leave you guys again," you remarked as you two broke the hug to begin your shift. yeji nodded in agreement while you guys made sure your outfits were in check before heading out.

the feeling of mixing drinks again felt oddly comforting. after all, it's all you used to do before jake came around; taking care of your customers was something that was important to you because it was once your main source of income. but now that jake was in your life, you didn't have to worry too much about how many tips you made, though it still boosted your confidence to see stacks of cash being given to you.

secretly, you'd been saving up all your tips to get jake a nice gift as a way to thank him for everything. sex was still somewhat a way to 'thank him,' but your heart wanted to make something truly meaningful for some reason. you also didn't want to use jake's money to buy a gift that's for him, so that was a reason to work harder.

your plan was to buy a designer white, long-sleeve button up shirt and make a recreation of the iconic maison margiela kiss-mark shirt. you thought of buying him an original one, but 1. there are only a few in the entire world, and 2. it's a crazy expensive piece of clothing. but it's more personalized and truly one of a kind if you remade it yourself, so you were trying to earn and save as many tips as you possibly could. your backup plan if you didn't have enough money was to make him some sort of baked good that was decorated to say something not-so pg-13 as a little joke. you felt more driven to put even higher quality work into your job because of this. you almost didn't want your shift to end because you were hungry for as many tips you could get. plus, you were having a great workday since no one who's previously messed with you during a shift has shown up.

when the time came for your workday to end, you eagerly walked back into the staff lounge to gather your belongings and head home to count up your money. you hoped and prayed that you could slide by with the money you'd earned.

you wanted to give something, even if it wasn't much, back to him for giving you what you feel you didn't deserve. you always believed that he could put his time, money, and energy into someone or something else, but after he told you that he chose you, you couldn't help but feel guilty for the times you pushed him away, for the times you didn't trust him because you barely trust anyone.

'i want to prove myself to you,' you thought to yourself as you walked to the bus stop, 'i need and want to trust you.'

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

the bus ride felt so long which made you even more antsy to get home, but you were more than happy to hop off the bus and speed-walk to your place.

you barged into your house, locking the door behind you before busting into your room to quickly count up your money. if you had enough, you were immediately going out to get the materials you needed so that you could finish tonight and give him his gift the next day.

your heart beat got faster as you realized that you had more than enough money to get everything you needed for your project and some supplies to bake something for him as well as an extra surprise. letting out an excited squeal, you quickly changed out of your work clothes to speed to the shopping center that was closing in an hour and a half.

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you swore that your heart rate hadn't slowed down until you got back home from the shops, hands full of everything you needed to begin making your gifts for jake.

you decided to mix the ingredients for a tray of brownies and put it in the oven so that you had enough time to complete the shirt just in time for the brownies to be baked. you managed to quickly get everything in the oven and began prepping the shirt soon after.

laying out the (outrageously overpriced) white gucci long-sleeve button up on the clean counter, you applied a shade of red lipstick that jake had bought you and began meticulously placing gently kiss marks on the top part of the shirt. it was, surprisingly, turning out better than you anticipated. once the lipstick was set, you took out some fabric paint you bought from the store to touch up the kiss marks, afterwards putting paint sealing solution onto all the kiss marks to further protect them.

as if the timing was perfect, you heard the oven beep. you hung the shirt up in your bedroom before placing the warm brownies on the counter to cool down. you couldn't help but smile to yourself as you imagined what jake's reaction may be to your gifts, especially the brownies.

once they were cool enough, you spelt out 'i love ur huge dick' in chocolate letters as a joke. you knew jake would have a good laugh before eating them. placing the finished brownies in a clear plastic container, you put them aside to begin packaging the shirt in a flat box.

there was one last touch to the gift that you'd been meaning to do for a little while.

you dug out a small ring box and placed a spare key to your house inside it. you figured that he deserved to have one considering how much he took care of you. plus, everyone, 'everyone' meaning yeji and jeongin, who you'd trust with your life had one, therefore it'd be fitting if jake had one.

placing the dainty little ring box inside the same box that contained the shirt, you sealed it so it was ready for you to take to his house the next day.

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the next day came quickly, and you hopped out of bed to gussy up before calling a taxi to head to his place since it'd be quicker to do it that way than if you were to go on the underground train.

you wore a cute, short, pleated white skirt paired with a black and white prada cardigan, white knee-high stockings, and some simple black prada heels to tie the outfit together. you wanted to look pretty for jake since you were showing up to his place unannounced.

the taxi ride to his place was quite long considering that he lived on the opposite side of the city, the city being heavily divided by social class, but it was interesting to look around at the other houses.

finally, you arrived outside the gate of jake's house, typing in the security code that jake gave you to open the gate. now, you had to practically trek across his extravagant front yard and circular driveway just to get to the damn front door. the walk you had to take throughout the front yard felt longer than the taxi ride.

you reached out to ring the doorbell, hearing it echo through the house from outside. since jake's ahem- mansion was quite large, you always expected to wait a minute before he actually came to let you in; it was honestly painfully awkward to just stand there. finally, you heard the door unlock, and you were greeted by a shirtless jake clad in only joggers and a small towel around his nape. you also could help but notice that his hair was now a shade of brown which made you laugh do yourself because of how you made fun of him about doing bald. regardless, his image was making you blush.

"oh, princess," jake said with surprise in his tone, "i didn't expect you to come this early in the day." he smiled sheepishly as he witnessed the shock in your face from seeing him shirtless as if you hadn't seen him in this state a million times. "well, i came early because i brought gifts!" you smiled at jake as he guided you inside, his hand on your lower back. "that reminds me," jake smiled, "i have something for you as well." you couldn't help but become shy at the thought of jake getting you a gift even though he does it literally all the time.

once you got into his main lounge area, you set the clear brownie container and the gift box side by side on his coffee table. jake hovered over the container to read the little message you left on the brownie slab, his giggle turning into his signature laugh. jake moved toward you, hugging you from behind.

"well, if you love it so much, why don't you fuck it?" jake asked you teasingly, gently biting and kissing your neck. "now?" you asked with wide eyes to which jake responded with a hum, the feeling of jake's hard becoming prominent against your back. "if you say so," you shrugged, trying to tease him by seeming nonchalant.

jake moved onto one side of the couch, tossing the towel that was once around his nape onto the table whilst inviting you to sit on his lap.

he pulled you into a messy kiss as you began to grind your hips down hard against his, jake feeling the soft moans you were letting out against his lips.

without breaking the kiss, jake managed to get you out of your clothes, besides your knee high stockings which jake found incredibly sexy, and have you grinding on his bulge. you moved your hands to pull his joggers and boxers off, still as impressed as ever at the sight of his cock. pushing your hips toward him, you took hold of his member and put it against your lower stomach, admiring how deep his cock would be buried inside you. seeing you 'measure' how deep he would be turned him on even more, which he didn't even think was possible considering the fact that he's already fully hard and hot and bothered.

jake quickly lifted your hips, impatient and wanting to be inside you. feeling his thick tip pass through the first few inches of your entrance made you go insane, your walls already tightening around jake's cock. "it barely fits yet you still take every inch so well, princess," jake praised, "now be a good girl and start moving for me, okay?" you nodded in compliance as you gently lifted your hips and collided into his, jake letting out a satisfied groan. jake was so deep inside you that you swore you could feel him all the way in your stomach.

he let you bounce on his cock, adoring how cute you were while moaning as you fell into spells of pleasure. "fuck," you let out a whiny moan, biting your lip gently afterward, "you feel so good, jakey. it's so deep inside me." jake smirked at the way he could feel your thighs gently trembling on top of his, knowing that you were falling apart over his dick.

at this point in time, jake was fully just thinking with his dick which led him to swiftly get up off the couch, still holding you, and begin fucking you while standing up.

your eyes were rolling back as you moaned loudly for him. you were so overtaken by pleasure that you couldn't even let him know that you were about to cum. the feeling of your cum running down jake's hard-on had him fucking you harder, faster. even after all this time, jake's stamina still takes you by surprise. no one could ever do it like jake; he's the only one who could make you go this crazy.

jake soon brought you back to the couch, still not finished with you. he roughly turned you around so that you were facing away from him and made sure you were comfortable before shoving himself back inside you. you let out a loud moan at the sensation before jake began thrusting into you from below, his hands running all over your body yet still keeping you steady at the same time. you, once again, found yourself cumming all over his cock without warning, your orgasm washing over you in waves. "mmm fuck," you whined out, still being stuffed with jake's member, "that feels so good, daddy."

not long after you, jake's orgasm also took over him, hot ropes of cum spurting into you as you tried to catch your breath. it was probably one of the craziest orgasms jake has ever had.

still quietly panting, you let jake pull out so that you could plop down on the couch next to him.

"you're fucking insane, you know that?" you asked with a light laugh once your breathing slowed down. "only because of you, you know that?" jake countered your comment, nudging you on the shoulder playfully before standing up to retrieve some wet wipes from one of the bathrooms so that you two could clean up.

"here, i'll go upstairs and get us some clothes," jake smiled at you as you now tried to hide your body away as if he hasn't seen it a million times already, "if we don't cover up soon, we'll probably end up fucking again." jake joked and let out a laugh, though you both knew his statement was fully true. taking his discarded sweatpants with him, he headed upstairs to his bedroom to fetch some clothes.

you took that time to put your underwear and bra back on before jake came back downstairs. after all, it was kinda starting to feel weird just sitting fully naked in his mansion that had huge windows off to the side from where you were sitting.

soon, jake came back fully dressed and holding out something for you to put on: one of his short-sleeve shirts, a pair of your leggings, and those mid-calf nike socks that you thought were obscurely over priced for just a pack of 4 (but you had to admit that you loved them).

"ah, i forgot your gift," jake sighed as he remembered that he'd left the gift he had for you all the way upstairs, "wait right here, i'm gonna wrap it real nice since it's still up there." he flashed his cheeky yet shy smile, slightly embarrassed that he had 1. forgotten it and 2. hadn't even packaged it yet. "you're silly," you laughed as jake dragged his socks on the marble floors to get back over to the stairs.

you took it upon yourself to get up and go place your gifts for jake over on the kitchen counter since the brownies seemed out of place just sitting on the coffee table. picking up the brownie container and gift box, you headed over to the kitchen to place them both on the counter.

glancing off to the side, you noticed two glass cups next to each other. of course, you wouldn't have thought much of it because why would you, but you couldn't help but notice that one of the cups' rims had faint traces of red lipstick on it.

suddenly, your stomach felt sick. you couldn't tell if you were upset or angry. all you knew was that you wanted to get the hell out of his house.

you sped over to the coffee table, swiftly retrieving your bag and walking into the foyer where you put on a pair of sneakers, that you usually left at his house, and walked out the door.

you didn't slam his door per se, but you closed the door loud enough to make it known that you were leaving.

quickly, you dashed down his driveway and front yard, making it outside of the gate before hailing a cab to take you home.

it took everything in your power to not start crying in the taxi, your phone now ringing off the hook with multiple calls and texts from jake wondering where the hell you ran off to.

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

"yeah, and n-now i f-feel h-horrible," you blubbered to yeji over the phone after explaining the situation and how you made the gift yourself only to be confronted by lipstick stains from someone else, "i literally d-don't even w-wanna think about h-him. god, i could puke right n-now." you sniffled loudly and blowed your nose into a tissue. "my sweet y/n," yeji sighed softly, genuinely feeling for you, "i know, i know, let it all out. heck, you could even scream at me if you want to. but seriously, he's such a jerk for that." yeji continued to listen to all the little things you had to say whilst she tried her best to cheer you up.

yeji was really the only other girl you had in your life besides literally yourself. you knew that you couldn't lean on any other woman for issues like this; especially not your mom for because she's on another level of asshole-ness, you didn't talk to your siblings either, your sisters in specific who you could really use right now, at all, so without yeji, you'd probably be doomed when it came to stuff like this.

"honestly," you sniffled, "...i feel like smoking weed right now." yeji couldn't help but chuckle at you. "go ahead, girl, just be safe or you'll get it from me" yeji joked from the other line, "anyways, you know exactly who to call for that stuff."

after hanging up the phone with yeji, you went straight to your contacts, calling someone else up while trying your hardest to avoid all of the missed calls and texts from jake.

.

.

.

"hey, yeonjun."

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

knock, knock, knock.

you sprung up from your bed upon hearing the knocks at the door.

looks like yeonjun is finally here.

you opened the door and were greeted by his sly smile as usual.

you offered him to stay the night since you two would be getting high together, and you didn't want him driving home whilst not being sober. he, of course, jumped at the opportunity.

"hey, it's been a little while," you laughed quietly as he pulled you into a hug, "thanks for showing up on such short notice."

"oh, it's no problem, really," yeonjun shrugged with a chuckle, "now that university is over, i have nothing else to do."

you led him over to your room so that he could set his bag down and get everything ready. he made sure to bring some food over as well since weed tends to make you hungry. yeonjun may seem like the type of guy to just go over to a girl's house and not think about anything but getting some action, but he cared deep down.

both of you sat on the couch, and yeonjun got everything ready for you two to start smoking.

you let him take the first hit, watching him inhale deeply before letting the smoke pass through his pretty lips.

they weren't as pretty as jake's, though.

passing the blunt over to you, he let you take a hit before he pulled you closer and put his arm around your shoulder.

"you don't look the way you usually do," yeonjun pointed out, "there's something wrong, isn't there?" you sighed out after your next hit, nodding in defeat as you rested your head on his arm. "do you wanna talk about it, beautiful? a pretty girl like you should always be smiling," yeonjun asked, not forgetting to add a dash of flirting as he usually did.

"do you remember jake?" you asked as you passed the blunt to him, him nodding before taking a hit, "i think he's seeing someone else at the same time as we're having a... thing, if you can even call it that. i went to his place earlier today to bring him some gifts that i made him the night prior as a surprise, and i saw that he had two cups in his sink, one of them stained with dark red lipstick. it made me feel shitty, so i decided to leave without saying a word to him." you explained between the passing of the almost gone blunt which prompted yeonjun to get up and prepare his bong to smoke from.

"bro is a fucking sleaze, seriously. and i'm not just saying that to make you feel better, i'm saying it because i think you deserve someone who won't lead you on like that. please don't think that you're at fault for being upset," yeonjun reassured you, putting his arm around you again and letting you fall into him after taking another deep inhale of weed, "god, he's a fucking dick for that."

you couldn't help but let a few tears roll down your face as you opened up to him about what happened. you weren't even particularly close to yeonjun, but he just felt so trustworthy. were those thoughts maybe a side effect from being high? possibly. did you really care? nope. you just needed to get everything off your chest.

"please don't cry," yeonjun said upon feeling his shirt become wet with tears, "he is not worth it. guys aren't supposed to leave women in tears like this. remember that, okay?" you nodded as yeonjun helped you dry your tears.

at this point, you couldn't even keep count of how many hits of weed you'd taken. all you knew right now is that you were overcome with intense sadness, barely being able to stop your tears as yeonjun hugged you tight, his sweet cologne tickling your nose.

you were so out of it from your emotions paired with weed that you didn't even notice how quickly you drifted off to sleep.

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

waking up, you didn't expect to feel your mattress underneath you. you got up and peered out your open door, seeing yeonjun fast asleep on your couch with a cozy blanket and pillow underneath his head.

quietly, you snuck over to your bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror and staring at how shitfaced you looked from smoking all night. you decided to brush your teeth, wash your face, and fix your hair a bit to see if it'd make you feel better.

you suddenly heard the bathroom door creak open, seeing yeonjun's reflection in the mirror.

"oops, i didn't even think of knocking," he looked down sheepishly. "don't worry about it," you chuckled in response, "i was just on my way out anyway. wanna go out to get breakfast or something?" yeonjun nodded, already beginning to brush his teeth. you smiled at him before walking out of the bathroom to give him privacy.

while you were waiting on him, you decided to plop onto your bed and check your phone.

the calls and texts from jake were reaching the hundreds at this point. from what you could see, he'd been texting you almost all night.

you felt your stomach tie itself into a knot. you slid your phone to the other side of the bed and lied down, pretending to sleep so that yeonjun would leave you be once he got out of the bathroom.

you felt like sobbing your eyes out.

you hadn't gotten texts like these since you left home all those years ago.

shutting your eyes tightly, you tried to think about something else, anything else, but you simply couldn't.

the bathroom door creaked open, yeonjun walking out and spotting you on your bed. he figured that you went back to sleep and decided to chill on the couch until you "woke up."

suddenly, you heard a weird noise that startled you a bit, but you decided to ignore it until you heard the door open.

your soul fully sunk through your body. you forgot that you gave jake a spare key.

"and what do you think you're doing here?" you heard jake's deep aussie accent question yeonjun as you gulped. "i should be the one asking you that question," yeonjun argued back, "y/n? are you awake? we've got some company."

you had to bite the bullet, you had to. you crept out of your room, seeing jake and yeonjun staring at each other with fury in their eyes.

"jake, what are you doing here..." you sighed out as you looked down. jake ran toward you, relieved that you were safe. he reached over to pull you into an embrace which you rejected. jake swore the world stopped spinning when you moved yourself away from it; you'd never done something that...cold.

"uh, s-should i leave?" yeonjun asked awkwardly though still worried. "i advise you do," jake replied to him immediately. "don't talk to my friends like that..." you glared at him, causing him to stiffen.

"okay, i'll go," yeonjun sighed as he walked over to grab his backpack off the floor, "but if i hear that you put your hands on her, you're done for; i'll fuck you up, remember that." before he walked out the door, made sure to mouth 'be safe' to you.

"what the fuck, jake?!" you yelled out once the door was shut, "you didn't have to be aggressive with him! h-he was just helping me with something." it wasn't a complete lie.

"if anything, i should be asking you 'what the fuck!' you literally haven't contacted me since you abruptly left my house yesterday evening no matter how many times i messaged and called you! you had me worried sick! what the hell is going on?! was he here all night? is that why you didn't talk to me? did i interrupt your little fling?" jake rebuttaled.

"you're one to talk about having a little fling," you said under your breath before going off, "you're the one having girls over at your house one after another! you probably dyed your hair for her too... you were probably shirtless and fresh out of the shower because you had something going on before i got there, huh? you're lucky she left before i got there, right? she would've been so upset to see another girl over, wouldn't she? i saw that lipstick stained cup, jake, and i'm absolutely over it. i'm not just gonna sit here and act like i'm fine with this because i'm not."

jake sighed in frustration as he put his forehead on one of his hands. "look, it's seriously not what you think-"

"don't waste your breath. get out, get out and go back to her. what you do is none of my business; i don't give a fuck anymore."

"y/n, fucking listen to me, okay?!"

you flinched at the way he raised his voice. for the second time today, you were brought back to when you were still living with your shitty family. the yelling was getting to be too much, and you were trying your hardest to conceal the tears that threatened to pour from your eyes.

jake noticed how your body seemed to stiffen at how he was talking to you, and he felt horrible about it, but it was the only way you'd listen; he knew you well.

"that girl who was at my house prior to you coming over was the same girl who'd been harassing you at work. she came over unannounced to whine and question why i took you with me to japan instead of her, and i explained everything to her. i kindly asked her to butt out and which only made her angrier. she's trying to get between us, and i don't know what else to do but wait things out and hope she eventually leaves us alone and-"

"if i'm you're "everything," then why are you having such a hard time being assertive toward her? i trusted you, jake... i thought you actually cared, but it seems like you don't anymore."

so much for wanting to trust him, right?

jake's eyes widened in shock at the sudden realization that you heard him say that you're his everything when you guys were back in japan.

"w-wait, you heard that?" jake asked.

"wow, is that really what you're worried about right now? the fact that i heard you lie?"

"i wasn't lying! y/n, please stop being like this. i was serious then, and i'm still serious now. please don't cry."

you honestly didn't even realize you began crying until he pointed it out. frantically, you wiped your tears in embarrassment.

"h-how do y-you expect me t-to believe y-you?" you hiccuped through your tears, "j-just admit t-that y-you don't c-care about m-me." you fully sobbed your eyes out in front of him, your emotions making your body physically weak.

"y/n," jake's voice broke as tears rolled down his cheeks, "i-i just- i really care about you. fuck it, y/n, i can't take it anymore-

.

.

.

i love you..."

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a/n: dramaaaaaaa hehe, i hope you enjoyed this one 🩷 it's very plot heavy, but i hope you were able to read it all the way through without falling asleep 😭

taglist: @axartia @jjhmk @jayroseyy @ayohahaha @asaheyow @bunhoons @red-xherry @duolingofanaccount @lix-freckle3 @leeis @green-orangeade @imbaeksbae @sunghoonmybeloved @tum73er @sjakewrld @jeondolly @lalalalawon @jckeplanet @meinapricity @bubbleseo @cherryunie @bently-baby @fluffypiesstuff @teti-menchon0604 @rjsmochii @omgjwon @sunshine-skz @wy1999t @oceanyocean @nyfwyeonjun @mxshimoo @multifandombtvh @donghyckl @iloveoceaneyesss @jakeswhore @jinsfavoritedoll @brownsugarbaybee @heehee01 @mesopret @heesitation @heeverseblog @yoursjaeyun @mklhyvn @jungwon-xo @crazydelulu @kyurizeu @ineedsomezzz @graythecoffeebean

p.s. i removed lots of accs from the taglist that i have never been able to tag, so pls lmk if you don't see yourself here but you originally asked to be on the taglist! tysm!

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[vodika-vibes]

It's My Choice

Summary: Echo is in recovery at a GAR medical facility on Coruscant after being assumed KIA. You want to see him, more than anything, and you hope he knows that he's your choice.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 1190

Warnings: reader is described as having hair long enough to style, and as a supermodel.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So I had an idea, and I decided to run with it. It might not flow well, simply because I'm very sick and have been for the last two days, but I'm happy with it. (Also, pardon any typos/grammar errors, I typed this while not wearing my eyes.)

You lean back in the hard, uncomfortable chair of the GAR medical facility, your gaze drifting to the ceiling as you wait for an update on Echo. The chairs really are terrible, but then the clones were never meant to have worried family you suppose.

Jokes on them. Echo has you.

You allow the back of your head to thump against the wall behind you and you stretch your legs out in front of you and cross your ankles.

You've been here for almost 12 hours now.

Fives contacted you as soon as the Resolute landed on Coruscant and informed you that Echo was alive and was being treated for his injuries here. He mentioned that you didn't have to come, but clearly he's lost his damned mind.

As if you'd be anywhere else.

Of course, you probably should have taken the time to make sure that you fixed your hair and washed the extreme make-up off…and changed out of the six inch stilettos you had been forced into for work today.

But, whatever. Echo's alive. Nothing else matters.

Even if your agent has been blowing up your com for the last six hours. And even if General Skywalker has been side-eyeing you like he thinks you're trespassing. 

Your comma chimes again, and you absently lift it over your head to read the message. And then promptly deleted it. Your agent will just have to deal.

A door at the end of the hall opens, and you tilt your head to the side, before you sit up straight as Fives steps into the hall and walks over to you.

He takes in your carefully styled hair —artfully tousled, your stylist called it— the dark make-up, and the impossibly high stilettos and he huffs out a laugh, “You come here right from a shoot?”

“Echo’s more important than any photo shoot. Besides, I had already finished when you called.” You reply as you kick your heels off and scramble to your feet, “Can I see him?”

Fives smiles at you, “Yeah. Follow me.” He waits for you to scoop your heels, and your bag, off the ground before he starts walking, “I should warn you…he looks bad.” Fives says quietly as he stops next to the door.

You lift your chin and glare at him, “Contrary to what you, and apparently everyone else, believes. I'm not dating Echo because of his pretty face.”

“Okay, okay. Sheathe your claws, kitten. I just wanted to warn you.” Some of the offended tension drains from your shoulders, you didn’t mean to snap at him, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone made an assumption about you and your choice to have a relationship with Echo.

Fives opens the door and moves to the side to let you into the room, and your breath catches when you see him.

Like Fives said, he looks bad. Thin, too thin by far, and so pale. The prosthetics and cybernetics are new, but honestly, you’re only bothered by them because you’re sure that they must have hurt.

“Echo,” You step into the room, and set your heels and your bag in a chair, before you move closer to his side. There are tears in your eyes, but they’re happy tears, “Welcome home.”

Echo blinks at you, twice, and then he slowly slides up in the hospital bed, “Cyar’ika…when…how did you know I was here?”

“Fives commed me and told me. I’ve been sitting out there for hours.” You look around and then huff out a sigh, before dumping your stuff on the floor and moving the chair next to the bed. You lightly take his prosthetic in your hand, a scomp, rather than a hand.

You hope that it was his choice, rather than one made for him. 

He tenses, but he doesn’t pull away from you, “You didn’t have to.”

You smile at him, “Echo. You’re here, and you’re alive. Where else would I be?”

His gaze flickers across your face, and then over to the heels lying on the floor, “Well, judging by the height of those heels, a photoshoot.”

“Not half as important as you.” You reply dismissively.

He shifts and slowly sits up, properly, before reaching out and pressing his flesh hand against your cheek, “Cyar’ika…” Echo hesitates, and then flashes a wry, self-deprecating smile, “I don’t think I’m pretty enough for you.”

You bite your tongue to stem your immediate, and loud, disagreement. Instead you reach up and press your hand over his, rubbing your cheek against his hand. “Why would you say that?”

“Why-? Cyare. Look at me!”

“I am looking.”

“Then I shouldn’t have to explain-”

“Would you like to know what I see when I look at you, Echo?”

“Not really.” You tilt your head, and he sighs, “Tell me.”

“The man who, after meeting me, an actual supermodel, invited me to go to a bookstore with him.” Echo flushes, and it’s obvious due to how pale he is, “A man who overheard me mentioning to my agent that I was worried that I wasn’t going to be able to meet my favorite author and made sure that I arrived on time.” Your smile widens, “A man who learned who my favorite author was, simply so he could read the books too, so he’d have something to talk about with me.”

Echo averts his gaze, “We talked all night.” He murmurs.

“We did. And I got in so much trouble the next morning because I had dark circles under my eyes, and you got in trouble because you were late to formation…but we did the exact same thing three nights later.”

Echo laughs softly, “I thought Rex’s head was going to explode.” He admits.

You release his scomp hand and reach up to press your hand against his cheek, “I see the man I fell in love with. The man who looks at me and sees more than the dumb supermodel that everyone expects me to be.” You scan his face, almost anxiously, “And I’m hoping he still loves me.”

He looks at you, something soft in his gaze, “You still want me-?”

“Always. Forever. Until the stars go cold.”

“Your agent is not going to approve.” Echo warns as he lightly tugs you off the chair and onto the edge of the bed.

“I cannot emphasize enough how little I care about my agent’s opinion.” You admit quietly, “If I have to choose, I know who my choice will be.”

Echo exhales slowly, and slowly tugs you in until your forehead lightly bumps against his, “I love you.” He whispers, “I never stopped loving you. Even when I could barely remember anything, I still remembered your smile and the smell of your lotion and the feel of your skin under my fingers.”

“Charmer.” You whisper.

“Mean every word.” Echo whispers right back, and then he tugs you once more and catches your lips in a kiss that’s soft and loving enough that it nearly brings you to tears.

You have your Echo back. He might look a little different, but he’s here and it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

[chil-aglia]

WHUMPAY 2025

This will be marked off as 'muzzled' as that is the main focus!

Hope you enjoy this! And sorry for any grammar errors made!

Credit: @whumpay

——————————————————————————————————

Silence by Force

Quick note: This is not canon to the main story of DILLH. And while EPF does make an appearance and is the main villain in this, they may or may not change in the main story of the DILLH fic

Prompt: Muzzled

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles + my OC’s

Warnings; Muzzled, pinned down, blood, implied abuse, etc

Summary: Caden should’ve listened to Leo when he told him to be careful around the EPF. But he didn’t listen and now he had to face the horrors of what humans can do to him…

——————————————————————————————————

When Caden awoke, he was met with the curious and unfamiliar eyes of people he’d only briefly encountered. They wore strange clothing—suits, from the looks of it. How was that possible when it was the middle of an apocalyptic era?

No matter. Caden recalled what had happened, and he was pissed—pissed at himself for being stubborn and ignoring Leo’s advice. Leo had been around longer than he had; he knew the EPF and had had run-ins with them from time to time. And even though the EPF was helping out the Resistance during this war…

They still got the jump on Caden. They led him away from prying eyes, far enough that no one would hear him scream as he was chloroformed by a man named John Bishop. He knew Leo didn’t like Bishop—not just because the older slider kept glaring at him through the mindscape, but because Caden could feel Leo’s overwhelming hatred toward him.

And Caden ignored the signs. He was an idiot. And now…here he was, somewhere unknown, somewhere alone. Normally, Leo would’ve told him to calm down by now, sensing his rising panic. But there was nothing.

He couldn’t hear Leo in his head, and whenever he tried to pull himself into his mindscape, his head throbbed with such intense pain that he couldn’t focus. Maybe whatever chloroform they had used was tainted with some kind of mysticism?

Was it blocking Leo from getting to him? He didn’t quite know or understand the situation, but he didn’t have time to think. Not when the door opened, and strolling inside was John Bishop, wearing sunglasses and a fancy tux.

Caden let out a snarl of annoyance as he lunged toward him. Maybe he could run past and escape.

But he only got so far before he yelped and collapsed to his knees. Looking down, he noticed his legs were chained to the ground. He could probably cut the chains, but then realization dawned on him—they had taken the katanas, leaving him with nothing to defend himself.

He clicked his tongue, instinctively going to move his hands to try and rip off the chains with his barehands. But he couldn’t move them, making him perk up, widening his eyes in surprise as he turns his head over his shoulder.

His arms were tied behind his shell. Restrained. Unable to move.

Great…

“What a fascinating specimen you are.” John Bishop spoke up, admiring the mutant turtle who glared up at him. The human strode closer, crouching down to Caden’s eye level as they stared at each other, waiting for one of them to make the first move.

Where was Leo…? He could help Caden out right now.

“Hm… despite living in such terrible conditions, you seem rather healthy...” Bishop noted, placing a hand under Caden’s chin and tilting his head up.

A mistake.

Caden hissed and swiftly moved his head away, snapping his jaws open and biting down on the hand that touched him. He didn’t know what else to do—there was no way he was going to be touched like some lab rat.

Bishop let out a surprised and annoyed yell, using his free hand to punch Caden. The young mutant grunted at the hit, releasing Bishop’s hand from his mouth as blood stained his teeth.

Caden eyed Bishop, who clutched his bleeding hand, looking both puzzled and flabbergasted. Caden narrowed his eyes, spitting out the metallic taste of blood to the side.

“Fine then…you want to be a wild animal.” Bishop scoffed, standing up and walking away. As Caden eyed him suspiciously, another human walked in once the door opened, revealing what looked to be a muzzle of sorts.

A muzzle…they were going to muzzle him?!

“No! Get away!” Caden both hissed and pleaded, watching as another human walked in afterward, the door closing as they advanced toward him. His heart raced in utter panic as Caden tried to move as far back as he could, but he was yanked forward, groaning as they roughly pinned him down to the floor.

“Let go!”

They ignored him, holding his head still as he tried to move it in any direction he could. He felt the contraption being wrapped around his head and mouth, and he let out a broken sob of fear when they finally let go. The clanging sound of the muzzle echoed as Caden scraped it against the floor.

“This should teach you some manners,” John Bishop stated, smirking down while Caden looked up at him, eyes slightly glossy as he sat up.

His breaths came in sharp, muffled bursts as he struggled to get used to the cold, suffocating weight of the muzzle. He thrashed his head, trying to shake it off, but the leather straps dug painfully into his skin. The men who had restrained him backed away cautiously, eyeing him like he was some feral beast.

John Bishop wiped his bleeding hand with a pristine white handkerchief, not bothering to hide his contempt. “You mutants really don’t know how to behave, do you? Savage and primitive, like animals that need to be broken.”

Caden growled lowly, the sound vibrating through the muzzle. His heart pounded against his plastron, but the fear was starting to meld into anger—a burning, choking kind of fury that made his vision blur. He wanted to fight back, to rip the smug expression from Bishop’s face, but the chains held him in place, dragging him back to reality.

“Now...” Bishop continued, flexing his wounded hand. “We’ll see how much fight you have left when your spirit’s crushed. You mutants...you turtles think you’re superior just because you’ve survived out there. But strength means nothing without control. We’ll see how long it takes before you’re begging for mercy.”

Caden wanted to spit a retort, to tell him that he’d never break, that Leo would come for him, but of course he couldn’t say that. They had no clue of his and Leo’s situation. No words came—just a muffled snarl.

A hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing painfully, and he snapped his head toward the new figure—another human in a lab coat. This one eyed Caden with a clinical curiosity, as if he were nothing more than a specimen.

“Sir, should we prepare him for the extraction process?” The lab tech human asked, adjusting his glasses.

Bishop nodded, not even looking at Caden. “Yes. Start with blood samples and a full physical examination. See if there’s anything unique about his mutation. We’ll keep him isolated for now. Make sure he stays restrained.”

Caden’s pulse quickened. Extraction? What did that mean? Panic clawed at his throat as he jerked back, trying to pull free from the chains. The scientists approached with syringes and sterile equipment, their gloved hands reaching for him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, teeth grinding against the muzzle as he willed himself to pull into the mindscape—to just feel Leo, even for a second. He needed him. He needed that familiar presence, that sense of safety.

Nothing. Just that agonizing, hollow ache in his chest.

“Stop fighting.” One of the humans muttered, gripping his arm with surprising force. A needle pressed against his skin, and Caden froze, trembling as the syringe pierced his muscle. The cold liquid burned its way through his bloodstream, making his limbs feel heavy and unresponsive.

“Good.” Bishop muttered, watching as Caden’s struggling waned. “Let the sedative do its work. Once he’s compliant, we’ll begin the tests. Maybe this one will be useful after all.”

The last thing Caden saw before his vision faded was Bishop’s cold, satisfied smirk. He wants to…

He wants to go home.

[pedrosarmsling]

Thirsty

Pairing: Married!Dave York x afab!reader

Summary: Being a part time, live in nanny sounded like an easy but still busy summer job. You just weren't expecting to ever interact so closely with the dad/husband of the family.

Author's Note: Hello! Thank you for taking the time to read my first ever fic. Please be nice!!! I did intentionally leave this somewhat opened at the end on the off chance anyone might want more. I see this as a drabble but it could always turn into more! I am so excited to finally have the courage to put my thoughts to "paper" and share them with such an amazing fandom. I hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS: Infidelity (Dave & Carol are married), mentions of an unhappy marriage, power dynamics (employer x employee), no use of y/n, no physical description of reader, fingering, Daddy kink, light choking, Dave deserves his own warning, reader mentions they shouldn't be doing what they are doing but Dave doesn't acknowledge it (dubcon?) Please let me know if I missed anything!

*Also - I reread this multiple times, so hopefully there are minimal to no spelling/grammar errors*

**********************************************************************

This wasn’t what you had expected to happen when you took the babysitting gig.

You had been babysitting for the Yorks for about…a month? Whenever summer started for the girls. You had only ever interacted with Carol and the girls to start off. You knew there was a dad/husband in the dynamic but according to Carol, his job had him away a lot. So your chances of ever running into him would be slim.

The very first interaction you had with him was brief.

Very awkward. But thankfully, brief.

You were staying for a couple of days while Carol was out of town and Mr. York was supposed to be out on a job. So when you woke up in the middle of the night and headed down to the kitchen in just a t-shirt and your underwear to get some water, the last thing you expected was to see Mr. York in his office just off to the side of the kitchen. 

That made for an awkward interaction during morning coffee before the girls woke up.

The past month or so had been full of small exchanges everytime he was home and you were there working. You didn’t mind though. In fact, you enjoyed the interactions no matter how short they were, mainly because you had developed a small crush on Mr. York. Obviously nothing would come of it. He was older…and married. Unhappily married from the way Carole spoke and how he and Carol interacted but still. He probably saw you as a kid considering you were fresh out of your 3rd year of college.

Yet here you are. At 12:14 AM on a Friday night, pinned between him and the kitchen counter with his hand in your sleep shorts as he rubs that sensitive bundle of nerves through your panties. 

You just wanted to get some fresh water in your water bottle. 

“Mr. York..” Your voice faltered slightly as you tried to be sensible and stop the situation before it went any further. 

“Daddy.” The baritone of his voice resonated in your ears as his lips explored your neck. 

His response left you confused, although part of that could have been how flustered he had you before that. 

“What do you mean?” You struggled to fight any noise back that tried to leave your body that wasn’t speaking.

“I mean..” He pulled away from your neck to allow his dark eyes to lock with yours. “..when we’re in a normal setting. Surrounded by my wife or my daughters, you call me Mr. York.” You felt his free hand gently grip your neck as the middle and index fingers on his busy hand slid past the elastic waistband of your panties and started to tease your wet slit, pressing against the entrance of your eager cunt before they slowly slipped in. Just as you started to let out a moan, his large hand gripped tight on your neck, cutting off whatever noise you were about to produce. 

“But when we have these moments like this where it’s just you and me. Where I have you soaked, panting, and trembling like a pathetic bitch in heat, you call me Daddy. Do you understand?” He used the grip he had on your neck to make you look at him before you nodded in response.

“Yes, Daddy.” You sounded ridiculous. Your voice was raspy as you tried your best to speak with the lack of airflow. And that seemed to please him as a maniacal smirk spread across his lips. Those lips that you so desperately wanted to taste.

“Good girl.” He praised before releasing his grip and channeling his energy into the force behind the rhythm he was fingering you with. “Keep the obedience up and make sure you don’t make a fucking sound.” He used his freehand to reach down and push your shorts down until they fell and pooled around your ankles before he boosted you up onto the counter. A low groan released from his lips as he spread your legs and saw your glistening cunt in the low night light. “Fuck that’s beautiful.”

“Mr. Y-...” You had to stop yourself and correct what you were saying. “Daddy..someone could walk in.” You were breathless, trying to keep quiet as his fingers brought you closer and closer to the edge of release. All you were able to mentally register was how his thick fingers were spreading your tight hole more than you had ever felt before and the playful, satisfied smirk he was sporting from hearing your concern. 

“No one is going to walk in.” He said it so confidently that arguing with him didn’t even cross your mind. “I need you to cum for me, Princess.” His words made your cunt flutter around his digits, drawing a low growl from him before he started pumping them in and out of you at a quick pace. 

“Fuck…I’m so fucking close…” Your eyes moved from watching where his fingers disappeared into you up to his, your brow furrowed as you gave into your orgasm. You quickly brought your hand up, covering your own mouth to stifle your cries as you come on his fingers. 

Dave couldn’t help but watch you. 

Watch how you would physically respond to every push into your tight cunt. How you rolled your hips to work against his thick digits. How you were completely lost in your own ecstasy to care anymore if one of his daughters were to interrupt. Or Carol were to come home early…fuck if she saw. He had to catch her with her boss a few years back. Her catching him with you would be a bigger win in his opinion. 

You wanted, no, needed this just as much as he did. 

Your eyes slowly open, meeting with his as he still held your hip, keeping you lazily pinned to the counter, cheeks flushed a bright red, your chest rising and collapsing as you try your best to come down from the high. 

Jesus you were such a sight. 

The sound of one of the girls’ doors opening up stairs and hearing their sleepy voice calling out your name had you sobering up fast.

“I’ll be right there, sweetie!” You call out as you hop down from the counter. 

You shake your head as you look back up at Dave, clearing your throat as if that would aid you in composing yourself faster. 

“This uh…this wasn’t smart, Mr. York..” You weakly 'stood your ground' before dismissing yourself out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Dave’s eyes never left your body. 

He knows you’re right. This is stupid…but he also knows that he was just getting started with you.

*************************************************

[godfreyr]

I am the anon who messaged you on the other account I am 15, and still young so stop cursing me or saying stuff about my grammar, I am from Spain, and speak 7 languages, so doing some errors is more than fine, you are hating on my grammar and probably speak less than 4 languages. I was just asking a question and you took it in the wrong way, but whatever be a hatful oldie, it’s time to get married and have kids instead of hating on a child.

Spread love, cause that’s what my family thought me at least unlike yours

{ You’re so aggravating… Jesus Christ… This is my last response to your anon asks, and this will be long because it’s the same issue I have seen around tumblr nowadays and I think it needs to be addressed—

First and foremost, congratulations for speaking seven languages.

If your family taught you to spread love, you’re doing it wrong. Because YOU started this shit.

The thing is: when you spread hate online being ageist, you’re bound to make enemies. I’m not the only 30 year-old here… so you managed to offend half of my followers with your ask and they will obviously retaliate. It’s pretty easy for you to hide behind anonymity, stalk another one of my blogs and continue to attack me, all the while asking people to not spread hate against you. Maybe get out of anon and talk to me like a real person? That would be a good start.

As for my personal life, even though it’s none of your concern, and since you seem so drawn to me and interested in me, I’ll indulge: I am married and I have a very happy life, thank you. My family taught me to put people like you back in their places when I have to. I’m soft, but I have teeth and I can bite back harder—precisely because I’m older. As for having kids, not everyone wants kids, not everyone can afford to have kids, not everyone CAN have kids. Again, this was sexist to say the least! So far, you’ve managed to be both ageist AND sexist… I guess the whole “spreading love” is going very well, right?

You see, hopefully you will be 30 someday, you will still love what you love today, you will continue to seek connection with people with similar interests and guess what? It’s normal! You don’t age and automatically become a boring person who doesn’t have hobbies. Blogging has been my hobby since I was your age, and it was a very fulfilling experience. I made tons of friends along the way, and I continue to make friends and connect through the things that I love.

I’m far from being an “oldie” we are not in the 60s anymore! I’m just having fun, same as everyone else. Besides, you should be paying more attention to yourself and your own life instead of wasting your time with granny here. I’m a nobody, nobody cares about what I do online, I’m not famous… so the real question is: why do you care, sweetheart?

Now, reevaluate your opinions and your ageism while you still can, and try to evolve as a human being. It will be a favor to yourself!

Ps: I find it funny that men in their 40s can be interested in games and anime, but GOD FORBID a woman in her 30s who enjoys tv series and blogging in her free time! }

*Roman: annoyed and displeased*

[mental69er]

Hii. Could you write a Firecracker x Fem!supe!reader. If you'd want to you could just do whatever with this request or Firecracker recently joined the seven and, reader is already apart of the team and. Firecracker kind of develops an obsession with reader kind of like the one she has on Homelander but, she is in denial because yk homophobia "girls cant love girls!". I dont really know what else to add so 😔 (also sorry if this request is a bit of a yap session) (I hope you have a good day/afternoon/night even if you dont read or do this request!) (Also this is my first request so sorry if it sounds rude in any way.) (English isnt my first language so sorry for any errors in grammar!) (Sorry for the bother and !Remember to stay hydrated!)

I hope you have a good day/night as well! Here's some Firecracker and fem super reader!

Content: fem reader as a superhero, obsessive Firecracker, homophobic Firecracker because she's in denial, mild spice, Fireracker pinned to the wall

Firecracker couldn't stand her.

Her entire existance was an affront to God.

Firecracker had been over the moon when she'd first heard she was going to be part of the Seven. Joining the team had been a dream come true, especially for someone like her who'd come from next to nothing.

The joy of being one of the Seven quickly began to fade when she realized who her teammates were. Homelander, she could look up to, Noir and the Deep she could ignore, A-Train had long deserted, and she'd thought of Sage as a friend once before the supe had used her to become Starlight's punching bag,

But her.

The superhero known as Myght.

Everything about her infuriated Firecracker to the point that she was entirely too distracted. Myght's eyes were a soft golden brown, sparkling in the light. Her long black hair spilled down her shoulders in waves. She was so beautiful she was probably full of herself.

Her lips were full and pulled up in a cocky smirk as she sat during the meetings and imparted her opinions. Opinions she should have no right to, not when they contradicted Homelander's own.

Firecracker couldn't help but speak up during those meetings to defend their leader, earning skeptic or mildly irritated looks from Myght. Firecracker wanted to piss her off even more, as payback for the way that she couldn't stop thinking about her.

Firecracker could spend hours thinking about what Myght said in a meeting or during a mission. Thought about how awfully muscular she was. A woman shouldn't have biceps that size, or have abs, or thighs that could crush heads.

Firecracker thought about how on one mission Myght had carried Firecracker to safety in those arms and how ashamed Firecracker had been to be seen weakened like this, relying on someone she hated.

And she made sure Myght knew she hated her. She'd poke fun of her, making snippy comments, and try to take her glory during missions. Not to mention she shit talked her on her podcast and it was validating to see others chime in on their hatred of her. For the most part.

'Sounds like someone has a crush' was one of the comments on Firecracker's latest half hour rant. Firecracker immediately deleted the comment and blocked the user from ever seeing any of her videos, pulse thudding with anger.

How dare they fucking think that! Firecracker only dated men and was only interested in them. Rage pulsed through her as thoughts she tried to suppress fought to surface into her concious mind.

She decided to work them out by going to the gym in Vought tower and take them all out on the equipment there. Eventually, when her muscles were too sore, she was able to finally go back to her room and shower, trying to wash away the weird heat churning in her stomach as the comment replayed over and over in her head.

"I don't like her!" she screamed out in frustration to no one and punched through the tiled wall, before taking deep shuddering breaths to calm herself. She'd find herself doing this more frequently when multiple comments accusing her of being hot for Myght kept circulating around in her comment sections. She kept deleting and blocking but someone always said something about it.

As Firecracker's time on the Seven extended, so did her efforts to piss off Myght.

Myght barely gave Firecracker any thought and that only made Firecracker try harder to annoy her.

Eventually though, as it always did with supes, the taunting and teasing devolved into violence. Myght swung Firecracker into the wall after a particular meeting, hand to her throat holding tight, anger making her bare her teeth.

"Seriously, what issue do you have with me?" Myght had spat out, grinding words. Firecracker tried to pry the hands off of her throat, but the grip was tight. Bits of plaster crumbled around her as she struggled to free herself.

"What have I done to warrant this behavior?"

"You existing is bad enough," Firecracker grit out, trying to catch her breath. Their faces were close together and she couldn't help the way her eyes flicked down to Myght's lips. Firecracker had never realized that Myght smelled this sweet, her perfume wafting over into Firecracker's nose.

"I think you want my attention," Myght said and Firecracker laughed.

"I want you gone. Don't flatter yourself," she said, pulling her lips back to show how unaffected she was.

"Really?" Myght asked, huffing. She stepped in, til their bodies were touching. Firecracker could feel the warmth of her against her chest, feel the shape of her breasts and muscles, and her heart rate slammed up.

Her eyelids fluttered as all those annoying comments about having a crush on Myght surfaced through her mind. At all the countless hours she had spent watching footage of Myght's rescues and trainings in an effort to better understand her enemy leading to Firecracker's costume feeling uncomfortably tight.

Just like it did now, the material sticking to too hot and too tight skin.

Firecracker had wondered, against her better wishes, what it would be like to be held in those strong arms again. What it would feel like to have that body pinning her down.

"Really," Firecracker said, voice sounding too breathy.

"Are you sure about that?" Myght began slipping a leg in between Firecracker's own and Firecracker's eyes flared in panic. "Because I've seen the way you talk about me on that little show of yours. And I've seen the comments they post about us."

"You're delusional if you think I feel that way about you," Fireracker spat out even as her body tensed when Myght's thigh slotted perfectly in between her own. Fireracker had to tamp down on the ridicolous and curious urge to buck right into it.

Myght merely smirked, thumb pressing down hard over Firecracker's pulse. "We'll see about that." She stepped back and let go and Firecracker nearly fell over, legs feeling strangely weak. She rubbed a hand up and down her throat.

"Things would be a lot better if you stopped being so cruel towards me and your own self," Myght offered softly.

"Fuck off," Firecracker growled out. "You disgusting leech. I'm letting every single one of my fans know what you did today during my podcast."

"Go ahead," Myght smirked and walked off.

Firecracker mumbled a few choice words under her breath about her. She would show her! When she turned to go to her room, she became aware of the uncomfortable wetness between her thighs.

Shit.

She really didn't want to think about why that was.

And when she finished ranting on her podcast about what Myght had done to her, vindicated by the many comments agreeing with her, her feelings of arousal had not gone away. Only intensifying when she had recounted them live for her audience.

As usual, there were a few comments that continued to ship her and Myght.

'Them fucking against the wall would have been so hot. Firecracker submitting to Myght, riding her thigh until she comes all over it' followed by thirsty emojis.

That only filled Firecracker's mind with images she didn't need, images that made her hand crawl mindlessly to the front of her shorts, rubbing down as she continued to read the reply thread.

'Do you see how ripped Myght is? She could probably get Firecracker off by rubbing Firecracker's cunts against her abs'.

Firecracker stifled a whimper at the thought of that, hand rubbing harder while her hand holding her phone began to shake from effort of holding back.

'Firecracker wants to be fucked so bad by Myght. Pinned under her and taken.'

"I don't," she defended breathlessly, hips beginning to cant up. Frustrated tears leaked from her eyes as she forced herself to pull her hand away before she could orgasm. Shaking with anger and want, she tore away from the chair, tossing her phone to the side and went to the shower.

She turned the water on cold and let it run over her until her body had calmed down.

She needed to get rid of that demon woman. Only then would she be able to stop feeling this way.

[spidey-bie]

Hi i'm sick and I wanna live out my shoujo romance fantasy so here y'all go.

Hobie x Sick Reader

G/N Reader

Can be read as platonic or romantic.

No warnings as far as I know.

"Bart. *Cough.* This is it for me. When I'm gone.... *cough cough* tell the kids my story."

Hobie rolled his eyes and chuckled.

"You've got energy for jokes so I think you'll be ok."

You were lying bed with a pretty nasty cold. High fever, chills, cough, sore throat, runny nose, the full works. After realizing that you probably needed to get food after not eating anything all day you called Hobie to drop something by. You weren't expecting him to come swinging in through your window, masked up, with a bag full of ingredients.

"Where's your pots?" Hobie was in the kitchen. He had said that there was no reason to order something when he could just cook for you himself. In your semi lucid state you couldn't find any reason to disagree with him. You realized your mistake when he brought you what he'd created cooked.

"Isn't this the part of the story where you're supposed to feed me some rice porridge?" You look away from Hobie at the disaster in the bowl. A bubbling murky green liquid looked back at you.

"What is this mess?" You look up at him scared to hear his answer.

"It's food." He hands you a spoon. "It's my nan's recipe. Guaranteed to help you get over your cold."

You looked down at the bowl once again. This time in disbelief. There's no way in hell you were gonna eat whatever sludge Hobie had concocted. You didn't think you were the greatest chef in the world but this was something else. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of your stomach growling. In your current state you knew that you couldn't cook anything and you knew Hobie wouldn't let you waste food.

"Oh my God." You sighed sadly and you spoon a bit of the....disaster. You swear you see something move in your spoon but you proceed to bring it closer to your mouth. It didn't taste as bad as you thought. But the conflicting textures throughout it made you gag. Hobie sat with you until you ate every single drop.

"See that wasn't so bad, was it?" You were too weak to glare at him and collapsed back onto your bed. He gathered your bowl and started to walk back to the kitchen, but stopped short when you grabbed the hem of his jacket.

"Bug, I won't be a minute. I'm just gonna put this in the sink."

"Please. Just until I'm asleep." He sets the bowl done on your bedside table before sitting back down. The last thing you can remember is his cold hand resting on top of your burning forehead.

(A/N: I feel like garbage but Hobie thoughts. If there are grammar errors then no there aren't. I might come back and add and revise this later.)