#But I've seen enough fan content to know that these are both going to be Things | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

edgeray · 9 months ago

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“LATE NIGHT DEVIL, PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME

and never never never ever let go”- Teeth, 5 Seconds of Summer

Mafia AU! Arlecchino x Reader Oneshot

Author's Note: It's been a while since I've actually published anything on here. Well, my gay ass is back with another oneshot. This one has been in the works for at least a month. I'm considering making a Part 2, but that will definitely take at least a couple weeks for me to publish (if not months). I wish I was kidding. School literally hates me and my teachers are incessant on killing my GPA. This is also a gift for @megistusdiary because it'll be her birthday when I post this. Please go check out her blog for amazing genshin wlw content (especially Arlecchino content!) Would you guys like this on AO3 as well?

Content Warning/Info: This is a long af oneshot (6.3k words), long af descriptions and kinda long intro, Arlecchino is referred to with they/them pronouns, implied female but no usage of feminine pronouns for Reader, general dark-ish content, pet names, Arlecchino is a lil scary, I've never been to a club so I apologize for the very inaccurate information, nor have I ever been apart of the mafia so also inaccurate, a bit suggestive but otherwise sfw, if I'm missing anything feel free to tell me!

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Monsters are said to have lied underneath beds–waiting to ensnare an unknowing victim–or stalk hidden among the depths of a closet–awaiting an opportune moment to strike its next prey. Monsters are fabled entities that are used to scare off children from bad behavior and are quickly eased from the mind by coddling parents. The mere notion of a monster shooed away like a pesky fly, swept underneath the subconscious like forgotten specks of dirt.

You know otherwise. Real monsters don’t lurk on the undersides of mattresses; no, they lurk both in the skies above and the depths below. They do not stalk dark closets because they instead stalk alleys in daylit streets. Monsters are very real, that you know is true since you’ve seen your fair share of them. You’ve met monsters in person–they’ve come to you before. Terrifying is an understatement for them, and each time one has appeared as a client, you’re no less scared shitless.

You’ve learned that even inhumane demons find themselves in need of entertainment; like the sinful creatures they are, they seek self-pleasure. And that is how you found yourself in this particular circle of hell, meant to serve and please demons, devils, and monsters alike. Perhaps it was a revolting job, working at a strip club run by a criminal organization but it paid decent money for being danced on the fingertips of whoever you were unfortunate enough to be assigned to.

If it was a regular strip club, being an exotic dancer would have been fine. It wouldn't be so bad. Lustful and prying eyes can be accustomed to quickly, and so are the flattering compliments and the awkward flirting by middle-aged married men. However, there was a difference between lecherous and predatory gazes. Here, you aren’t even viewed as a person, no, the clients here, those that come in reeking of smoke or blood (though sometimes both), armed with knives and guns on their person, see you as nothing more than a toy or prey for them. Even in the eyes of your employer, you're less than human in their eyes.

‘You harm our merchandise, you’ll pay for it,’ is the warning given to every guest when they first enter. Merchandise. That's what you are. And that single line of words is the only thing that assures you of your safety among mafia members, gangsters, crooks, and whatnot. You've heard that the organization behind this strip club does well in enforcing that rule according to other dancers, but you personally don't want to see if the statement is true. You've been here for a little over a year, and besides bruising grips and pulled hair you’ve surprisingly yet to be seriously injured in any way. So maybe monsters do have a little humanity in them.

You're quickly growing to be a fan favorite as of recently, which means more money goes your way, but you're not sure how you feel about all the attention on you. It's most likely because of how often you offer private dances and private rooms to clients. Whatever gets you the most money; the faster you make money the faster you can pay off your debt and be out of here.

Tonight is supposed to be no different from other nights. You perform on stage, you rile up the crowd, you get showered in tips, and if there is a customer that looks mentally sane enough not to murder you in private, you take them to the back. Except, tonight, you're approached by your boss, who informs you that the entirety of the club was reserved by the Fatui, a well-known mafia more powerful and larger than the one that backs you up, for some celebration. These kinds of occurrences in the club rarely crop up, but when they do, they're often the most opportune time to bag in an abundant amount of money. Big shots like the Fatui pay and tip well, but there's one unsaid risk that comes with this: as a mere dancer like yourself, your life quite literally dangles in the Fatuis’ hands tonight. The organization that owns this establishment can't retaliate against the Fatuis if they so choose to dismiss the warning. They can't even compare to the might of the Fatui.

Simply put, if a Fatui kills you tonight, no one could do more besides bat their eyelashes. You're not at all pleased with this predicament of practically bordering on death, especially when you know one wrong move with one too hot-tempered Fatui could land you at the pearly gates. Keep pleasing the crowd, keep entertaining them, keep racking in the money, you remind yourself as you continue your dance, twirling around the pole sensually, and the customers devour every movement with their eyes. The only comfort you're given is that you've heard the Fatui are quite reasonable and diplomatic most of the time. This is especially true for the Harbingers, you've heard, the twelve most elite members that serve under the Tsaritsa, and the ones that are the most exclusive customers this night. That doesn't mean the Harbingers are any more humane than the average crook. Having worked in a strip club run by the mafia and surrounded by criminal organizations, the more rumored something is, the more dangerous it is. They can be considered devils amongst demons even. That's simply how vile they're supposed to be.

The most concerning problem about the Harbingers is that you don’t know what they look like, only the occasional whisper has alluded to how to distinguish between the twelve. Perhaps, you can survive through the night if you try not to draw too much attention; let the other dancers shine instead and hope you don’t get requested for a private room or dance. That way, you can ensure you don’t end up dead.

Your time to go upstage comes sooner than you’re prepared for. Your hands are clammy, and your form trembles in a way that only happened during your first month. Both reactions don’t make for a very good combination when your survival relies on you not fucking up and disappointing criminal customers. As you approach the pole, just like every time you’ve done, you make sure that the crowd’s gazes are in the backdrop of your mind, and instead, fixate on repeating the movements you’ve been taught and have mastered with your experience. Bet your survival on the provocative sway of your hips, the practiced showcase of your legs, and the allure of your dancing form. Beguile the crowd, but not too much, just enough to wow them. From what you can tell by the volume of the crowd, you’re doing a good job pleasing the Fatui enough. Your body stops tremoring after a few minutes on stage, and with one last final push of courage, you focus your eyes on the crowd before you.

Unsurprisingly, the makeup of the Fatui are men, though there are notably quite a few women. Either way, all of their attention is on you. As your eyes scan across a crowd, for one reason or another, you stop at a particular set of eyes near the back of the crowd. Intent, pitch-black abysses stare back, like they were trying to bore into your soul and devour every single motion of yours. They don’t quite hold the same ravenous desire as many of those before you right now, you mentally note with curiosity. It feels like your form is being calculated, in the way a predator would cautiously observe their next prey, a sensation you’ve experienced a few times, but each is no less chilling. The weight of their engrossed gaze causes you to shiver momentarily, and you snap away from their disturbing gaze to prevent any fumbling or faltering while you’re on stage.

Tonight marks the first time you actively seek out the same viewer while on stage, or even, during your entire time here. For some reason, you feel awfully bold, or curious, whichever two comforts you more, and unlike the meek little rabbit you usually are, you instead search for the viewer’s gaze. You find the pair of eyes with relative ease, as you remember that above their eyes are distinctive snow-white strands with streaks as black as their orbs. You take a moment to study them, and they remind you of a lion–or lioness–among hyenas. The aura they exude varied quite a bit compared to the other Fatui in front of you: not rambunctious, or arrogant; it's apparent they held an aura of indomitable authority just from the way they held themselves. Perfect posture with their clasped hands nested in their lap, with one leg raised over the other. They’re an embodiment of perfected elegance, however, much like a porcelain doll, they’re also expressionless, their appearance unmarred. You don’t examine the Fatui’s form for much longer because their scrutiny on you pricks at your skin irritatedly.

You don’t look for them again throughout your performance. In fact, you hope you never meet those charcoal pits again. You’re afraid that if you do, you’ll be ensnared by whatever beastly claws or fangs you know that Fatui hides underneath that impenetrable mask. The moment your time on stage ends, you rush back to the changing room to shake off your nerves. You sit down at a nearby chair, taking in deep sighs as you attempt to forget how you were stared down like a you were cornered, defenseless animal. And that is what you are, as much as you hate it. There’s nothing that can protect you from the Fatui. Maybe if you hide, never show your face for the rest of the night, they’ll forget they ever saw you and they’ll target another dancer. Surely, that will work, won’t it?

You’re able to steady your breathing before you can delve into a panic attack. Tonight, you decide, you’re not going to take any customers to any private rooms or take any private dances. You’d be missing out on a lot of money, but your life is more of a priority as of currently; not after the ‘encounter’ with that individual, you don’t want to think about how many more are just like them, hiding in the crowd like they were awaiting an opportunity to pounce on your vulnerable form.

Unfortunately, it seems like someone else has other plans for you because your manager storms into the room asking for your whereabouts before his eyes narrow on you. You immediately sit up, stiff as a board when he practically marches his way towards you.

"Someone wants you."

You sigh and shake your head. You should have known. "Not tonight."

He clicks his tongue. "You know I can't allow that tonight."

You bite your lip. "Just pass them to someone else."

"They're not someone you or I can refuse."

"Who?" You question with a shuddering breath, your nails digging into your thigh.

"The fourth one. The Knave. Lord Arlecchino."

Fuck your life. You might as well pull the trigger now. You’ve heard faint whispers of each Harbinger from the customers audacious enough to speak of them. The youngest, the eleventh, charming and boyish. The ninth, money-obsessed but a pretty looker. The eighth, elegant and cold, yet no less alluring. The seventh, as human-like as their robotic creations, which to say isn’t very. The sixth, is hotheaded and mysterious. The fifth, unknown. And the fourth?

Insane. Ruthless. Bloodthirsty. That’s how the fourth is described. You shiver at the horrors that appear on the forefront of your mind when imagining what may come for you. If you're lucky, you'll be alive at the end of the night, more than likely clinging to the edge of living.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Get ready as soon as you can.”

And you do. It’s not long until you stand in front of the private room’s door, your guest is already inside more than likely. The Fourth Harbinger is waiting, you remind yourself, fruitlessly trying to swallow down your stress. You can be dead the minute you step inside, this room could be marked as your grave. Whatever he tells you to do, you’ll obey wordlessly to survive. Just nod along, smile, and do whatever it is that he tells you regardless of the demand. You inhale deeply, regaining some ease of mind, before you bring your knuckles to the door, knocking.

“Come in,” comes a deep, flat voice, slightly muffled by its distance but what surprises you is how feminine the Harbinger sounds. Maybe you got the wrong room. You glance back at the room number plate on the door, and it’s the room you remember your manager mentioning. It’s the right room. Maybe someone else? You don’t have time to wonder, however, as you enter the room, knowing that if it is the Fourth, it wouldn’t be wise to keep him (Her? Them? You’ll just stick with ‘them’ now.) waiting.

“Lord Arlecchino?” You inquire as you enter the room, closing the door behind you. Sucking in a harsh inhale, you instantly recognize their distinct hair. It’s them. Your sight is immediately greeted by the figure sitting on the couch before you, sitting in exactly the same way you discovered them–crossed-legged and lounging back with unfaltering confidence. The Knave wears a scarlet blazer over a black compressed turtleneck, with a matching set of crimson leggings. Upon closer inspection, you’re able to make out red irises in their jet-black eyes. Despite the blatant and literal red flag, something about their appearance draws you in even when they scream danger. They’re… you’re not quite sure how to describe them. You admire the unblemished and pale skin, their elegant and rugged demeanor is like the perfect balance between femininity and masculinity. Are they beautiful, or are they handsome? You think both.

Arlecchino stares back at you like they’re considering devouring you then and there. You can’t suppress the shudder that runs down your spine. You’re a sheep before a wolf. There’s something so chilling about them that even with your experience with other clients, none has ever made you feel this way with just their mere gaze alone. This is what separates the average crook from one of the most powerful mafia members you've ever heard of.

You wait for a response but they only continue to observe you. You take the silence as confirmation to your question and that they’re anticipating something from you. Biting back a sigh of resignation, your hands hook underneath the band of your bra top and you lift it just the slightest amount before a cutting voice makes you freeze.

“What are you doing?” the Harbinger demands, their tone chilling and apathetic, making you want to shrink in yourself immediately. Your blood pumps loudly in your ears and your hands tremble a bit. Something about how designing their gaze makes you suddenly self-aware in a way you’ve never felt before another client–you’re practically half-naked in front of them with your skimpy bra top, undergarments, and fishnets and now is the only moment that you've actually considered how little covering is on you.

Why are they stopping you? Isn’t this what they wanted you to do? Or maybe they just want to do it themselves. Those types of customers always have the most bruising of grips and suffocating of holds. You stiffen at the notion. How are you going to survive this night with a Fatui Harbinger of all things? How many of your limbs are going to be fractured and how many of your bones are going to end up broken?

“I…I’m undressing,” your meek voice sounds out and you hate the crack in your speech. The Harbinger continues to scrutinize you. You don’t dare continue disrobing yourself.

There are several beats of wordless response before they then stand up from the couch.

Oh shit. You’ve fucked up. Are they going to kill you now? Is this your end?

Every thought is telling you to run in the opposite direction as they stalk up to you, but you're petrified as you realize with a chill that they’re taller than you. You’re not short by any means, a bit above average height, but they tower over you, looking down at you from above and casting judgment on you like a god. Once they stride toward you, you avoid eye contact by looking straight, observing their neck and clavicle that protrudes from underneath the fabric. You tense when they raise a hand, their manicured fingers placing themselves underneath your chin and long, carmine nails dig into the underside of your jaw, making you wince. They forcefully tilt your head, raising your focus onto their face.

It’s like they plunged their hands down your throat and ripped out the oxygen from your lungs, leaving you unable to breathe. Up close, the first thing you notice is their lips, plump and red from their lipstick. Briefly, you wonder what color their lipstick would look on your skin. Then your eyes travel up, red-crossed eyes gaze back at you and you gape quietly at the distinct shape of their pupils. You swear that their pupils flash red as you finally lock eye contact with them.

“Did I tell you to?” Their tone is cold compared to the strange softness of their handsome (beautiful?) face.

Something in your gut coils inwardly and you want to look away, but their firm hold on your chin prevents you. You bite your bottom lip to repress a whimper. You’re delicate glass in their hands, and they can break you so, so easily.

“No, sir.” Only the numerous times you’ve said this phrase ensures you don’t stumble over your words. They don’t answer promptly, but as they observe your features, their lips quirk up the slightest amount.

“You know how to address me. Very good,” Arlecchino purrs after several beats of silence, in a low, oh-so-sultry tone, and oh. Oh.

You’re not sure why, but their last two words make your stomach churn, but not in a discomforting way. In the way that lights a fire underneath your skin and spreads heat to every part of your body. You’ve never quite felt this way with another customer. You couldn’t believe that your body reacts this way just from a single praise but it doesn’t stop the pooling heat in your bowels. The chill down your spine still remains in place, but there’s an off-putting equilibrium of iciness and fervor generated from the client.

The Fatui’s eyes stay fixated on you wordlessly until the hand on your chin turns your head, finally breaking you free of their intense behold. Their grip slackens so that they can trace their nails gently down your throat, every inch of surface their fingertips brush against ignites a blaze on your skin. A shuddering exhale leaves your lips and it seems like they take notice because from the corner of your eye, the small uptick of their mouth grows. Despite how sensual and probing the Harbinger’s touch feels, there’s nothing lecherous about it–purely just intrigue and fascination. It’s a touch you both have and never experienced before. Cold nails rake against your throat, not enough to mark or scratch, but enough to invoke shivers.

You’re aware you should be terrified, but for a reason you can’t pin down, you can’t jerk away from their touch. You try to reason with yourself it was only because you’re one upset away from getting yourself killed but that reasoning falls apart when their hand gingerly traces your jawline and you make the softest of groans, a barely audible noise of content. Unfortunately for you, the sound seems to have reached Arlecchino’s ears and their expression softens slightly: their eyes narrow less and their brows aren’t as creased. And that smirk–if you could even call it that from how faint it is–becomes a half-smirk.

They pull their hand away and your trance is broken, reality returning back to you as you remember that the person before you is still a Fatui Harbinger, no matter how bizarrely melting their touch was. They turn on their heel and walk towards the couch in front of you; the slightest bit of heaviness is placed on your heart. You remain stationary where you are, observing them as they seat themselves gracefully on the couch, and their attention encounters yours again. Their black pits hold expectancy in them. At first, you’re clueless as to what the criminal desires from you, but then their legs spread apart, an inviting gesture that beckons you and every rational thought leaves your easily swayed mind. Your heart skips a beat, and you're sure this time it's not out of trepidation.

Even if you didn’t command them to, your legs would take you to their seating figure. You stand before them, feeling blatantly disrespectful to look down at Arlecchino, but you await their order. They lean back, lounging laxly against the couch, their posture never lacking their usual self-assurance. It only ties the knot in your gut tighter. You’re aware of what they’re instructing you to do, but the absent confirmation makes you hesitant. It seems like the Knave picks up on this because the room echoes with one definitive spouted word from their lips, authority and dominance ringing through their husky voice.

“Sit.”

Your legs buckle underneath you from the one-worded response, the demand only stoking the consuming fire inside you. Eager to please, you perch yourself on their lap, straddling them, your knees pressed into the furniture below you and encasing both of their thighs between your own.

Oh, you think to yourself as your legs make contact with their thighs. They're firm. And for some reason, that provokes your stomach to churn in itself even more. You're so close to them, enough to feel their breath cascade against your skin.

As you seat yourself, you nearly clumsily topple over, instinctively grasping onto their shoulders for support. Their shoulders are remarkably broad, you regard, well-muscled as well. Their hands creep up on your hips, steady but gentle hands grasping on each bare side of yours to stabilize you. The heat that radiates from their hands is infectious, regardless of the nails that burrow into your plush waist. For the first time, you flush considerably, a sweltering inferno forming in your cheeks and your head fills with dizziness. Their touch is gentle–something you rarely experience with customers–so, so gentle that you would describe it as heavenly. How can someone so inexplicably vile have heaven on their fingertips?

It's not a position you never found yourself in. In fact, it's far from the first time you've been like this with another client. But here, as you're sat on top of the Fatui Harbinger, and red x-pupils search yours, a foreign feeling passes through you. Placing your finger on it, you dubiously think it's bashfulness, but the heartbeat that sings in your ears and pulses underneath your fingertips tells you otherwise, tells you it's something more. Against that, you remove your grasp on their shoulders and place your palm flat against the couch’s surface behind the Knave.

You squirm a bit, nervousness in your form as you remain as still as you possibly can, waiting for any more instructions. All you need to do is act like an obedient doll for them in order to survive; compliance is the best way of ensuring survival with people like these. You feel like you're merely eye candy from the way that their attention flits across your body, but you're immobile throughout the entirety of their observance. Being looked at is much better than any physical interaction. Their hands still cup your hips, but slowly, they descend to the side of your thighs, making your skin feel tingly.

Impulsively, you mumble out a quiet "Sir…" as strange sensations brush against your skin.

The sound surprises you and you feel on edge as their eyes travel from your lower half to your face. You gulp considerably. From their stare, they expect more of a response, a reason for their addressment, but even you don’t know yourself; it seems like an unconscious calling that just rolled off your tongue. You cow underneath their gaze, even when the two of you are at eye level. When you linger in quietude, their hand releases one of your thighs and lifts to your face, supporting your chin while their thumb rests on your bottom lip, unfurling it just the slightest amount to implore an answer from your now parted lips. Gleaming scarlet pupils grip your regard sternly, piercing into you and instilling you to spew something out. Except, you still can’t, now too entranced and lost in the crimson.

“Doll.”

Despite the pet name, it's devoid of any affection or warmth. It's a word that drips of command, a reminder of your place: simply a toy that they can play with however they want, a manipulated and decorated plaything for their amusement. That means you answer to them, and so when they request a response, you're under the obligation to please them. Your survival is in their palms anyway, if they wanted you to dance, you would just so they wouldn’t strangle the life out of you.

However, its implication doesn’t prevent the tingling shudders that wrack your body nor the involuntary clenching of your thighs around theirs. Was it the gravelly voice that aroused your behavior? Your cheeks flare at the knowledge that Harbinger sensed the physical reaction. It shouldn't be possible. It shouldn't be possible, your thoughts repeat, but then they're interrupted by:

"Oh?" Arlecchino inquires to themselves, a stark amusement in their speech. Their red glare illuminates slightly, replacing the lost darkening with a faint glow in their pupils, and the corner of their mouth curls up. It is only then that you discover something entirely new: that monsters can be sinfully, cataclysmically, terrifyingly beautiful and the sight before you is the most exquisite example. A devil has you wrapped in its claws and its fangs readied for devouring but it’s disguised as an ethereal angel; blinded by their perilous allure, you mistake their snow-white hair, their lustrous piercing rubies, their flawless porcelain skin, and their burning, fleeting touches as traits of a seraph. From a measly smirk, you forget the atrocities lying underneath their fingertips and dismiss the hazard their presence holds.

The hand on your thigh rakes its fingers up, red nails trailing across the surface of your fishnet, wrenching out a breathy gasp from you as they travel inwards. Tingling pleasure injects into your veins as you subconsciously lean in, imploring for further sensual contact. A plea sits on your tongue and nests in your eyes as you beg them through your pitiful expression. They drink in your desperation with a slow swipe of their tongue over their lips, and that single action is debauched enough to elicit a soft groan from your throat.

“Well, aren’t you an amusing toy?” They drawl out with a preposing rasp and dark abysses glint with an insatiable hunger.

They smirk enticingly, their thumb running across your bottom lip and smearing your lipstick on their thumb pad. Their grip on your chin tightens a bit, pulling you even closer to them before a shadow casts over you when their face nears. Before you can even fathom their intentions, they descend upon you, closing the distance between the two of you. Your lips are greeted with something pillowy soft and fervently warm, and you sharply inhale from the sensation. Every one of your nerves sings frenziedly, your muscles tense all over, and your heartbeat drums deafeningly in your ears–all of this as your body is engulfed in a fervid tornado of heat that makes you lightheaded with pleasure. It takes you several beats to realize the reason for this is that Lord Arlecchino, the Fourth Harbinger, the Knave is kissing–no, kissing is far too intimate, devouring–you voraciously like they're trying to rob you of any air, trying to imprint themselves on your mouth. Their mouth dominates yours, pushing against them with a deep fervor and famished urgency, eager to swallow every bit of shocked noise you make.

You close your eyes and allow yourself to indulge.

You first taste lipstick with a waxy flavor hitting your tastebuds. It’s cold against your lips, yet warm at the same time. But the physical texture and flavor of their lips are irrelevant; there’s only one true manner you would distinguish their taste:

They taste like sin.

The type of sin that’s chocolate coated and sprinkled with colorful toppings; depravity so sweet and charming it makes you reconsider the bounds of right and wrong. Degeneracy is far, far tastier than anything you’ve indulged in before. How can something so evil be so heavenly? Cushiony soft, placidly warm, flatteringly zealous, it’s like having a dance with a devil; so unequivocally immoral but no less gratifying. You question if they really belong to the Fatui because how can something like this come from such? You want to engrave the texture of their mouth onto your memory, feel this faux intimacy even when you’ve long parted. The Fourth Harbinger, you surmise as you surrend your will to them, is decadent–the only word that can be defined as both wicked and delectable at once–the perfect word to describe them.

The last remaining bit of reasoning comes to the backdrop of your thoughts and begs you to not be swept away in the heavenly embrace. You discount it in favor of accepting this godsent gift by leaning further with a weak imitation of their ravishing lips and pressing back. It’s a feeble attempt to match their insatiate nature, far too domineering and forceful than you can manage but they display a token of appreciation when they squeeze your thigh, indenting your skin shallowly with the burrowing of their nails. The action exposes just how sensitive you’ve gone underneath their touch and you reward them with the sweetest of sounds.

“Arlecchino,” you mumble with half-lidded dazed eyes in between ravenous exchanges and it evokes a depraved throaty growl from the Fatui, like provoking a call from a starving beast. They lean deeper to indulge in your taste. The gruff sound reaches your ears and it’s like a psalm–you shudder from its musical melody.

Their clutch on your jaw releases and their fingers outline your jawline before snaking to the back of your head. Well-manicured digits entangle themselves in your hair, and there’s a gentle shove against your skull that forces you deeper into the kiss. Your hands clutch onto the couch underneath you as tight as you physically can for any sense of grounding and your knees attempt to close in even more to feel more of their body against yours. The hand on your leg, in turn, caresses the length of your thigh.

Every graceful touch, stroke, and brush exudes an unyielding and infectious warmth that only adds to the stoking fire in your gut, and you’re bathed in so much swelter from the ecstasy that you feel dizzy. Yet, you never want it to end, you grow more addicted and drunk with each encounter of their lips. That, paired with your strained breathing, prompts your stamina to falter much sooner than the Harbinger’s. You let out a soft whine to signal your depleting oxygen, and their mouth unlatch with yours, pulling away despite your ache for more. With the separation comes a small string of saliva attached between the two of you, evidence of the shared intimacy that’s snapped when they lick their lips. The hand behind your head detangles from your hair and you silently mourn over the loss of contact.

You heave for air, your chest rising and falling rapidly. You’re a little perturbed when you notice that they’re not even out of breath, a small but firm reminder that they’re as inhuman as humans can be. That knocks a sense of reality back into you. Customer, mafia, Fatui, Harbinger, it comes back to you like a train. Here you are swapping spit with them while in the lap of potentially the most dangerous criminal you could ever meet, but fuck were they a good kisser–you’ve never experienced anything that came close to this in your lifetime.

Any foolish doubtful contemplation of the morality of this interaction is swept away just like that when you hear:

“Greedy little thing that you are,” they regard with the most cunning and handsome of smiles, discrete amusement dripping from their words. Their dark pits behold you entirely, the same way they have always done when it seems like they were contemplating what part of you to savor the most. Only this time, you’re not so disturbed by the notion. If anything, the swirling heat in between your legs suggests the opposite.

Greedy wasn't a word often associated with you, yet you couldn't more correctly describe yourself in that moment. Greedy. Greedy for a Fatui Harbinger no less. As ashamed as you should be, there's no use denying that you crave for their touch, for their gaze, for anything and everything they're willing to give you. You want everything and more. The more you contemplate, the more it seems obvious why you wouldn’t. Are they a devil disguised as an angel, or are they an angel that fell from grace? Regardless, they bring nirvana to you. An incessant desire bubbles inside you, your throat swelling up with an urgent request on the tip of your tongue. Would they allow such a thing if you plead? Would they be offended by your impudence? Would they punish you for such? But the necessity outweighs any reconsideration of your insolence and the supplicant beg tumbles out of your loose lips.

“Can I… touch you please, my Lord?” You croak out, wincing at just how wretched it comes out. The response from them is not immediate as the two of you stew in silence, a building sense of dejection inside of you. The expression on their face noticeably contorts, smile lessening, their brows furrowing, and their red x’s glinting dimly. Their free hand raises to near your neck and you suck in a harsh breath as their fingers enclose around your throat. The mere action sends a stinging reminder to your lust-dazed thoughts about their position, and a chill pierces you.

Mafia, Fatui, Harbinger, the Fourth Harbinger, the Knave–the labels cycle through your thoughts. Though their grip is lax, not exactly suffocating and giving ample space to breathe, their fingertips does acutely jab into your skin, a display of their impressive grip strength. You have no doubt that they can suffocate you with one hand alone, snap your neck, or, as your mind ventures into more harrowing territories, crush your skull. Those thoughts alone has you breathless with anticipation. A heavy weight suddenly appears in your gut, so heavy that you feel like you can’t move so much as a muscle.

Did you just go too far? Was that too much to ask? Was this how you were going to die?

The reflex to gag and inhale combat each other in your throat, a discomforting sensation that crawls up your spine while you tremble. You’re almost certain that the nails have penetrated the layer of skin, drawing beads of blood that’ll trail down your mark. You whimper at the prickly pain. Yet, in all your unease, the most masochistic thought arrives briefly at the forefront, and you can’t help but consider: this position is just as intimate as all the other interactions. You’re already so vulnerable in their lap, does the hand around your neck change your peril in any way? No, you’ve been a defenseless lamb to a slaughter the moment you’ve stepped into the domain of a menacing wolf.

Ah. Even now, you can’t dismiss the warmth of their fingertips.

“Do you still want to touch me when I do this?” They demand callously, their voice harsh and reverberating through the room. Their grasp closes more around, and you feel your supply of oxygen inhibited. Tears begin to brim your eyes, but you’re undeterred. Unlike Arlecchino’s, your answer is instant and breathless. Your eyes intently lock on theirs, the hardened expression enough to satisfy their question. There’s no need for contemplation. Danger, you determine, is addicting.

“Yes.”

The previously small smile stretches across their lips considerably. Content, or dare you say it, thrill writes itself over their face and the boulder previously pressed against your shoulders is lifted. Your throat is freed from their hold, but their touch doesn’t halt there. Instead, they rotate your head for you to face to the left, exposing your side profile to them. From the corner of your eyes, you watch as their face draws closer to your skin, hot breath cascading across the small dents her nails created. The one on your thigh finally leaves, moving to one of your hips, tender strokes across your flushed surface. They lean forward, and moist, plush skin meets yours. Lips traverse over the length of your neck, teeth scraping against, making you weakly groan. It takes all of your will to still your body, only allowing for the Harbinger to do whatever they desire to your form. Their touches are burning, burning, burning–so hot that you wonder if you’re experiencing a heat wave. Peppered kisses follow the edge of your jawbone, all the way up to your earlobe. A wet kiss graces your ear and then the most sinful of statements dignifies your eardrums, like a devil whispering hymns directly into your ear.

“I think I’ll keep you to myself after this.”

A short hum follows afterward.

“If you want to touch me, you’ll have to work for it. You’re only mine for tonight, aren't you? Entertain me. Give me a private dance, doll. After all, you have me for all night.”

---

Link to M-Alexa's amazing art and how I imagine Arlecchino to look like in this oneshot.

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact fanfics #guys I'm so tired it's 2AM rn #i have school tomorrow guys #i chose to finish this tonight despite the shit ton of homework I have to do #arlecchino brain rot does that to you #def worth it #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact arlecchino #genshin arlecchino #genshin fics #arlecchino smut #edgeray.writes #edgeray.blog

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cvnntagious · 3 months ago

Text

Have My Baby | C. Sturniolo

"where'd you come from, with all these statements? / only thing i wanna know is, can you have my baby." -chief keef

pairing : toxic!chris x fem!reader

summary : when a sweet date night with your boyfriend turns into arguing in the restaurant, chris wants to let you know he still loves you, even though he doesn't act like it most of the time.

warnings : use of y/n, mentions of cheating, arguing, swearing, use of bitch in a derogatory way, lowkey angst??, manipulation, smut, p in v, riding, talk of breeding, pet names (baby, princess, ma), 18+

a/n : please don't point out how i keep posting everything BUT the requests i've gotten… i also made a bot for this so enjoy

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

The fancy restaurant you sat in buzzed with chatter, lit with only the dim, warm lighting of the expensive glass-beaded chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. Chris set his menu down with a small, content sigh, smiling at you as he looked into your eyes. "Know that I want," He said simply, placing his hands in front of him on top of the menu, "You?"

You looked up from the menu, matching your boyfriends smile. "What're you getting?" You asked him before setting your menu down in front of you as well, still opened, "I'm a little stuck. Maybe we can share?"

The gesture could've been seen as some type of romantic 'Lady and the Tramp' scene, if it weren't for the underlying tension. You two had never been good together. The way you practically had to beg Chris for two days straight to take you out tonight said it all, and yet, you both sat disingenuously and played house day by day. Even so, all this fancy bullshit had only been enough to fool your boyfriends fans, but everyone else around you guys saw. They saw the way Chris' shitty antics affected you - How they'd caused you to vie for his attention in the same shitty ways he did yours.

There was a flicker of something you couldn't quite make out in Chris' eyes, but he maintained that same smile. "Pasta, like always. You don't like Alfredo," He answered, his tone sweet, making it so that no one around would notice the complaisant undertone like you could.

Of course he'd be like this, how stupid of you to assume he'd enjoy himself tonight. His attitude made you remember how silent he was while you got ready for your date after he finally agreed, only watching you get all dolled up while he wore his usual beanie and t-shirt. Your shoulders dropped when you caught the insincerity, eyes flicking to look at the menu once more as your smile faded. You took a minute to examine while Chris watched from across the table, opening your mouth to say something when you were ready, only to be cut off by the dinging notification on your phone.

Instantly, your head snapped to your phone not far from the menu, reaching to grab it. "Forgot to turn off my ringer." You gave him an uneasy chuckle, flipping the switch on the side of your phone.

"Who's texting you?" Chris asked, smile now gone and hands to the side of him when you looked up at him.

You sucked in a sharp breath before clicking the power button to check the contact. "My mom," You answered, hearing your phone buzz a few more times on the table.

"Seems important, you should text her back."

Hesitantly, to his wishes, you picked your phone off the table and unlocked it with your face. You clicked on messages to type a reply, feeling your phone being snatched from your hands before you could even read the texts for yourself. "Chris-"

He hummed as he read the messages, his face sour with your phone held up to it. "Baby pictures," He replied, sounding disappointed.

A huff left your mouth when you saw him going to type for you, making you reach over the table and snatch your phone from him. "The fuck?" Chris raised his voice a bit, causing people at surrounding tables to glance over.

"I'm not a cheater like you, asshole. Don't sound so down about it." You ignored the agitated charge in his tone as you tweaked your neck at him, speaking in a low tone and giving him an almost disgusted look.

Chris rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "Oh please, don't be a bitch about stupid shit. I've never cheated and you know it." His tone was sassy, tongue prodding at his cheek.

The scoff that came from you was so bitter, it almost had Chris leaning over to spit the taste of it out of his mouth. "Only 'cause I caught you before you could actually meet up to fuck her." The blunt words caused a pain in his chest, though he'd never admit it. He kept his composure in front of you, not even flinching at the daggers your eyes threw at him.

He shook his head dismissively, looking up at the light fixtures above you two. "I can't stand you sometimes."

That instant click of your tongue he knew so well made Chris' eyes snap back to your face, knowing he'd really ticked you now. "Ya know what? I shouldn't have even forced you to take me out on a date for once," You stood from your seat, grabbing your belongings as calm as you could in hopes to not alert other people simply enjoying their meals, "I knew it was too much for you to handle. Especially in these times where you 'can't stand' me."

Chris watched with parted lips as you walked away from the table, stiletto heels clacking against the marble floors. You thanked the hostess, letting her know you wouldn't be dining here tonight in a sweet tone before turning to the door. It took a moment, but eventually Chris snapped back into reality, rushing out of the doors to catch up to you.

You already had your hand on the door handle of your car when he finally caught sight of you again, making him sigh in relief that you hadn't already taken off. Your eyes met his when he made it to the tail of your car, sighing before opening the front door. "Get in, you scrub," You demanded in fed up exasperation as you slid into the drivers seat.

━━★

The ride home had been silent, and it was no different for the walk into your house. You hung your purse up on the hooks nailed by the door, Chris walking past you and stopping at the bottom step with his hands in his pockets. Why didn't you just take him home and go back to your place? You hadn't a clue. You really had no intentions of talking things out— at least not tonight.

There were many things you didn't have a clue about. Like why you hadn't left him back when you guys were seventeen, when he'd hid you and played with your feelings all the way up until he realized he could brag about you when he started doing YouTube. You could've really put your foot down when you guys were eighteen and he'd told you he could never love you. You should've told him to fuck off back when you were nineteen and caught him practically sexting multiple other girls for the first time. But now he's twenty, all rich and famous, dragging you out to LA with him and his brothers, and he doesn't even feel the need to show any sort of appreciation for everything you do for him.

"You look gorgeous," He mumbled as you walked past him, making your way up his stairs with tall heels on, to which he wrapped an arm around your waist from behind to guide you.

The stinging from you swatting him away from you was nothing compared to the stinging way you'd walked out of the date you so desperately pleaded with him for because he couldn't manage one peaceful night with his girlfriend. "I don't need your help." You placed your hand on the wall as you picked up your pace to walk a few steps ahead of him.

Chris sighed, slowly but surely trailing behind you. By the time you'd made it to the stairwell leading down to his room, he'd just made it to the top of the stairs at the entrance, searching your irritated face as you rounded the corner. His pace picked up significantly when he saw you take the first step down without even thinking to take your shoes off, afraid you'd fall or something. He grabbed you again, this time hooking your arm on his. "Please," He said gently, not wanting you to push him away this time.

Again, you huffed, reluctantly allowing him to guide you down the stairs like he was some gentleman, though you knew he wasn't. "I'm so tired of you." You started, unable to help yourself. You were just so frustrated with him all the time.

His eyes on the ground, Chris licked his lips at your words, genuinely ashamed of himself for tonight. "I know, baby," He assured you, surprising you when his words came out remorseful, "I know."

"Don't 'baby' me, you ruin everything," You continued on, ranting out of a mix of sadness and anger. "What am I? Just some girl you flaunt to a camera as if you're some awesome, amazing boyfriend?"

He looked up at you, eyes drooping like a child being scolded as he opened his bedroom door for you. "I love you." He simply replied as he let go of you, voice barely above a whisper.

You walked into his room freely, finally taking your shoes off. "Every time you start some stupid 'I love you' shit, I physically cringe," You began an almost entirely new rant, Chris grabbing your heels from your hands to set them neatly aside as he listened intently, "Because, fuck, I love you, but I'll never ever believe you feel the same after what you said to me years ago."

"So was I. And now what? You're gonna say you didn't mean it?" You cut him off, "Even freshly eighteen, I'd never say some stupid shit like that to put you down, whether I meant it or not."

Chris hummed as he turned back to you, "I was young-"

"So was I. And now what? You're gonna say you didn't mean it?" You cut him off, "Even freshly eighteen, I'd never say some stupid shit like that to put you down, whether I meant it or not."

"You don't understand," He took a few steps closer, "Y/n, I'd do anything for you."

You crossed your arms as you looked at him, not buying it. "Oh, I'm sure you would, Christopher."

The sigh he let out at your sarcasm actually caused you to snap out of your angry haze for a moment, feeling a bit sorry for him for some reason. Of course, he had this chewing out coming for quite some time now, but you'd never expected yourself to be so blunt about everything out of nowhere. "you're just so much better than me," He said in a defeated tone, features soft as he looked you up and down.

At any other given moment, he would've said that in such a condescending tone, but it was almost as if he didn't have it in him to pick and egg on the argument like normal. "I want nothing than to spend the rest of my life with you," He breathed, stepping closer to wrap his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder.

"Chris, what're you-"

He cut you off with a kiss, much more gentle than any kiss you'd ever gotten from him before. His fingers made his way up to underneath your chin, lifting it to move the kiss from your lips to underneath your jaw. "We could do so much together," He picked up his head, hands sliding under your cute, flowey shirt, "We should've done so much more together by now."

You looked at him with a confused expression, like you were unsure of if he was being serious or not. "I wanna start a family with you," He punctuated his words with kisses down your neck, "And get married. All that sappy shit."

"You're such a fake," You replied as he gently pushed you down on his bed. This, like other times, had to be some sort of manipulation to keep you from leaving, and deep down you knew it. Yet, for some reason, you always ended up letting him have his way with you. Of course, the sex was good, but was it good enough to endure the torture of Chris Sturniolo himself?

Even so, when your boyfriend crawled on his bed to attach his lips to yours from above you, you opened your legs for him to slip himself between. Chris groaned when you reached your hand around his neck to play with the tufts of hair just at the base of his skull, ultimately pulling his kiss in deeper. "A fake?" He feigned offense, "You have no idea how i really see you."

"A little hard when you claim to hate me." You forced out a chuckle, shifting uncomfortablely benath your boyfriend.

Chris sucked in through his nose. "Don't be like that," He breathed before allowing his head to dip just under your chin, peppering kisses along your exposed collarbone.

You rolled your eyes, chin subconsciously lifting to give him better access. His motions only served to dampen your panties. Your hand rose to fall into his soft curls, massaging tenderly at his scalp. Chris groaned at the contact, lips exploring your body in slothish motions. He was in no rush.

Finally, he lifted his head again, kissing you so quick and gently that it'd almost felt like he caressed your lips with his. He wasted no time in sitting up against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap in that same motion. "Healthy or not, I could do this every day," He said softly, reaching up to brush his thumb over your cheek, "And this-" He didn't finish his sentence, hands roaming down the fabric of your dress in admiration.

He was so right— The problem is that this wasn't healthy. But fuck did you guys know how to forgive each other, with as much as you knew how to get on each others nerves. You exhaled softly at his words, somehow feeling content by them. Your arms wrapped around his neck, resting on his shoulders, "Sad to say I could too."

"I know."

With that, he grabbed your ass and lifted it from his lap, then letting go to unbuckle his jeans. He pulled them and his boxers down simultaneously, freeing the erection you hadn't even yet noticed. He wasn't interested in fully undressing himself, and he wasn't interested in undressing you at all. With how sexy you looked all dressed up for your guys' date? There was no way in hell. He reached to bunch your dress up at your waist, fingers dipping to press against the wet spot on the fabric of your panties. "Perfect, you can't resist me," He hummed out, lifting you over his aching cock.

"I can," You tried to fight back, only for your argument to be diminished by the way he ran his tip through your folds, eliciting a whimper from you.

You practically broke down on top of him, your legs on either side of his as you held onto his shoulders for support. He allowed the head of his cock to tease your aching clit and dripping entrance to no end, making you unable to hold back the pants the soft caressing on it forced out of you with your face now buried in his neck. "Chris," You whined, causing him to chuckle.

His hand let go of the base of his dick, gripping your hips to plop you down onto him with a hiss. You yelped at the way he'd filled you up so quickly, trembling a bit in his grasp. "Stay still, okay ma? G'na fuck a baby into you," He demanded, voice gruff with lust, "You'll know I'm fa'real then."

At that, he began thrusting into you, agonizingly slow as he sucked in through his perfectly straight teeth. You looked down between your bodies, lips parting to let out more sporadic pants of pleasure. Impatience took over him, beginning to thrust into you at a faster and rougher pace. By then, full moans escaped your lips, unable to contain them as he fucked you so good.

He grunted as your jaw went slack, his pace almost animalistic. He was never one for wasting time. He needed to cum. What other way would you carry his child if not for him shooting his warm seed into you? Surely your favorite panties would be soiled by the end of this, and you'd be lucky to keep your dress nice.

w/c : 2.7k taglist : @m4ttsmunch @mattsnumberonehoe @k4yd1 @sturnobsessedwh0re (lmk If you wanna be added!)

#cvntagious #chris sturniolo #★ ⋮ toxic!chris #chris smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfiction #matt #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you

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whirlybirbs · 3 months ago

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Given that Izuku is not only a huge All might fanboy but also directly in his life, he’s seen Derecho become the hero she is now and also seen how her relationship with All might has changed. What are his thoughts? Does he also ship them? Does he have some sort of negative feeling towards her after how close she got to ending all might??

Izuku Midorya was one of those hero twitter stan users who would comment under All Might x Derecho content going: "cute but remember when she tried to k*ll him". Keyword: was.

Midorya agreed widely with the stance that the glimpses the public gets of some sort of relationship over the years is for marketing. Not the use of past tense.

(He asked All Might one or two times about his history with you in babbled sentences over historical recounts, but each time the man swept it away and under some far-off rug as a guise of "focusing on the basics".)

And then he meets you for the first time.

You're standing there before dawn, smiling up at Toshinori Yagi — All Might — on Takoba beach before class. Midorya knows enough that this is a private moment, and he can't help but stopping in his tracks. You're both by the sea wall, leaned against one another, watching the sunrise. Two of the greatest pro-heroes of all time. All Might's hand is on your back, and you're saying something that's making him rumble out a half-cough, half-laugh into his shirt collar.

You made All Might laugh.

You... you made him smile.

And you're beautiful.

OhmygodtherumorswerealltrueIwonderhowlongthey'vebeentogetherItmustbeatleasttwentyyearsnowWhatyeardidtheymeetagainOhright—

All Might's eyes catch Izuku's over his shoulder.

Midorya swallows thickly when his mentor gives him a soft wave, come on over, earning your attention as you follow the gesture over his shoulder.

"Uh, hello," he starts, his hands wringing the straps of his bag, "I'm—"

"Izuku," your voice is softer in real-life than it is on all those hero reels; you're pretty. Softer than you were in your prime, but still possessing an edge that electrifies the air. Midorya's cheeks are hot, "I've heard... Big fan."

The praise makes his whole body go rigid.

You lean back against the sea wall, and Izuku's mouth parts in quiet shock. All Might has talked about him? T-To his partner? Partner? Lover? Wife...? Are they married? His eyes narrow in on both of yours hands, darting back and forth. No ring. No ring? Maybe just... good friends? No, no way. Friends definitely don't stare at one another in the sunrise.

...Do they?

Friends definitely don't look at you the All Might is, all soft appreciation and love.

Or... do they?!

"Th-Thank you! That's incredibly kind," Midorya stutters out, his expression a little wild. Almost like a cornered deer. It's cute.

"Derecho is going to be helping us with instruction today," All Might says slowly, his hands moving to the lower of your back. The gesture could be considered professional. Izuku feels like his brain is going to short-circuit, "She's very important to me. I'm sure you're familiar with her quirk?"

"Y-Yes! Electrification and general control of elemental lightning—"

"Someone's done his research," you croon with a smile, "You're really smart, kid."

Oh, god, and she's, like, super duper nice—

"And her weakness?" Toshinori presses for good measure, just proving how much Midorya knows.

"Electrolytes! Your body needs more than the average person in order for the conductivity of your quirk to be maximized. Also, prolonged use of your quirk can impact your cardiac conduction," he chatters; your smile is growing.

You nudge Toshi with your elbow. You approve. Not that you needed any proof aside from Toshinori's gut instinct that Izuku Midorya was the right pick for his legacy.

"And blondes," you toss in as a joke, "Those count as a weakness, I'd say—"

Another laugh from All Might. This time it results in a little bit of blood. You're offering up a tissue — one from the pocket pack kept in the pocket of your over-sized sweatshirt. He thanks you. You gently touch his arm.

Izuku Midorya has so fucking clue what's happening right now.

He spends that next night on a deep dive, hours long rabbit hole of 'All Might and Derecho dating?' searches and interview supercuts from their primes. There are no answers — none except a few tweets with unreliable narrations of their interactions and body language.

He actually finds himself saying 'please kiss' out loud on more than on occasion.

What the fuck.

...He's never shipped anything harder in his life.

— a reference to this fic here ;

#bruised ego #don't get me started on the teacher!derecho and teacher!all might thoughts in my brain #I WILL EATTTT MY HNAANANANANDSSSS #anyways my precious boy loves them both to death #if he ever finds out he will keep this secret until the day he dies #or the day mina says something in the dorms that is factually incorrect about all might's relationship history and deku corrects her #on autopilot #not realizing everyone just head him say 'no no him and derecho have been together for twenty three years so he never dated cow-girl'#bakugo is a closet shipper tho i will say this #that kid loves the angry electro mommy derecho with all his heart

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cartierre · 2 years ago

Text

ALWAYS FOREVER | mv1

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU max verstappen x fem!indian!reader

♡ liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, f1 and 649,405 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1 मैं करता हूं (i do)

view all 2,398 comments

yourusername मैं आपसे बहुत प्यार है (i love you so much) comment liked by maxverstappen1

user1 rue, when was this?

user2 did we just get harder than hard launched by max?

danielricciardo amazing wedding, so happy for both of you!

christianhorner it's wonderful seeing you grow up and being a husband now. you better treat her good! ⤷ user3 christian defending y/n is so adorable ⤷ user4 not only a second dad to max but apparently also to her hahahahahah

user5 i'm speechless. i- what even happened ⤷ user6 how did we all collectively just missed that max was dating (and is now married!) to someone????

♡ liked by maxverstappen1, christianhorner and 73,578 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername so many differences and yet here we are; mr. and mrs. verstappen

view all 628 comments

maxverstappen1 most beautiful woman, mrs. verstappen ⤷ yourusername well thank you very much, mr. verstappen

user7 not her changing her beautiful desi surname to some generic bitch ass white one ⤷ user8 she probably wanted it? that's her decision to make?

user9 they're so beautiful omfg

user10 i'm still in tears how max fully embraced her culture for their wedding like the OUTFITS he looks so good in traditional indian clothes

♡ liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, schecoperez and 128,394 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername summer break/honeymoon in delhi

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user11 i need more desi max content ⤷ user12 i didn't even know i needed it this bad

user13 why do i feel so proud seeing them together? i'm in tears they're so cute

user14 i've seen some paparazzi photos of them in delhi and lemme tell you max is literally GLOWING idk who y/n really is but she's doing him so good

user15 them spending their honeymoon in delhi feels so special to me as an indian fan of max. him learning and embracing our culture makes me just love him even more.

♡ liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 87,392 others

yourusername zandvoort ✿

view all 532 comments

user16 omg is she going to attend the gp this weekend? ⤷ user17 probably ⤷ user18 this will be the first time we'll see her at a race! ⤷ user19 can't wait for her paddock fashion game ngl

redbullracing our good luck charm 💪🏼 comment liked by yourusername

♡ liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, f1 and 80,302 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername now that i've seen you win once in person, trust me: i won't be leaving you alone to any races from now on. i'm so proud of you, माय लव (my love)

view all 354 comments

maxverstappen1 ❤️❤️

user20 watch her post one of these every few weekends because max is unstoppable ⤷ user21 this man doesn't know how to loose ⤷ user22 he's not only winning at races but also at life i mean she's so cute

redbullracing our good luck charm seems to have proven their value ⤷ yourusername i'm happy to be of service

♡ liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, schecoperez and 362,940 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1 जन्मदिन की शुभकामना��ं ✨ (best wishes for your birthday)

view all 2,391 comments

user23 him learning hindi for her is the most adorable thing ⤷ user24 is she learning dutch for him tho? cuz i haven't seen her going around speaking in dutch ⤷ user25 girl- bffr

yourusername हमेशा के लिए हमेशा के लिए (always forever) ⤷ yourusername altijd voor altijd (always forever)

user26 HAHAHA Y/N POSTING HER COMMENT IN HINDI AND DUTCH HAS ME ON MY KNEES ⤷ user27 she really said 'enough of this shit talking' lmaoooo ⤷ user28 i love her for that

#max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstappen x y/n #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n

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dotthings · 8 months ago

Text

Congrats to the fans of the wee woo show. I don’t go here but it makes me happy to witness how this arc for Evan Buckley got to bloom and I’m happy because I hope this reflects another shift in the TV industry.

For some media commentary context for you: ABC network is owned by Disney. Fox network was owned by Rupert Murdoch. So I can see how the network change for 911 can easily be a factor on how this got greenlit, after years of creator Tim Minear’s intention to work in hints, on the off chance he could take it there. (I don’t go here, but I did my reading). Oliver Stark who plays Buck also revealed he's been for it and couldn't say anything, until he was sure they could do it, until it aired and was out there. (*steeples fingers*)

For further context, Bob Iger—with George Lucas’ vocal support—just fended off a right wing coup on the Disney board from the kinds of people (like Peltz) who complain “why do we need so many female leads” “why do we need movies with all Black leads.” While it doesn’t mean Disney is no longer an evil megacorp, I’m pointing out that its CEO defended inclusive Disney brand content to the shareholders and the board, as well as dismantling the idea that it can’t be entertainment while being diverse.

The ripple of this goes outside of the wee woo show fandom. I’m seeing the joy on my dash from people who don’t watch the show or don’t watch it regularly, as well as from people who have been watching a long time and noticed things and realized there was a progression and it was there all along, and I know how much this must mean to a lot of people. With the world being how it is, with what people are facing inside the US from the far right, in their real lives.

It’s very hopeful in general for inclusion levels on a major network TV show, owned by a big evil megacorp. Representation matters.

Also I'm aware the wee woo show already had a queer couple, plus it's already an intersectional inclusive series, that’s great.

There shouldn't be limits placed on inclusion though. “But you already have X” shouldn't be weaponized to tell people to shut up. There is no “enough” or “too much” when it comes to inclusion. While I'm not for undermining the inclusion that's there, I've seen that weaponization used with a series that hasn't been great on inclusion, and I've seen that weaponization used for 911, which is. It's a sus argument.

Indirect and unintentional as it is, also bi Buck shut down every concern troll, every gaslight, every denial, every rationale I've ever seen people deploy against bi Dean. Everything from people who don’t understand what bi actual means—“but he likes girls so he can’t be bi”—to “but he wasn’t declared bi from the start of the show so he can’t”—yes he can and the wee woo show just did. On one of the original big three networks. Or people who say it would "ruin the character." Really? “But he’s an action hero”—so what? Evan Buckley is a hero, Dean is a hero, both badass action heroes. “People who see this as canon are delusional”—Evan Buckley went O RLY? Not so delusional now, is it.

Evan Buckley avenged bi Dean.

It’s self-evident. It’s right there. Different show, different network, but the concepts are familiar, the situation has a certain familiarity. This turn of events on an ABC show didn't just make bi Dean fans valid. bi Dean fans were always valid, the bi Dean reading was always valid. But I appreciate how much what happened on the wee woo show bonked people with a truth stick, about self discovery, character arcing, queer readings, queer coding, and the validity of merely noticing things.

#bi Dean #dot trolls the media #dot trolls fandom

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 2 months ago

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I really don't think there's enough fics involving butt stuff with The Ghoul. He defo strikes me as the type who fingers your asshole while fucking you from behind just to watch you squirm. It's like a dominance thing for him when you've been disobedient, but you'll never admit how much you love being his submissive little slut. Are readers and writers just not into it? Or have I just been looking in the wrong places?

To comment: from what I've seen in the years I've been consuming and writing erotic fan content, stuff that involves anal does, in fact, seem to be weirdly polarizing (depending entirely on the writer and the audience you're publishing to, of course). I'm not entirely sure whether that's due to writers' own personal taste, audience preference, stigma...a combination of factors? It's definitely a phenomenon I've noticed. I also wonder if there isn't just a contingent of folks who have no experience with anal and therefore no interest in it.

Personally, I try to incorporate lots of different tastes and "moves" into my work, and I think the people that subscribe to this blog have come to expect that. Butt stuff is nowhere near the most potentially scarring thing I've exposed y'all to, and will continue to not be. :)

However, at the same time, when I feature actual anal sex in any of my stuff, I try to be at least somewhat tactful and depict is as a realistic sex act, which can be kind of a task sometimes when you're trying to be both erotic and not completely impossible. Poorly written anal scenes both aren't hot and kinda ruin the vibe of the entire work, in my opinion. I think there's a difference between "suspension of reality for sexual fantasy" and "spreading bad sex ed information through fiction". There's certainly a place for pain play/painal type stuff, but there's also a place for the complete opposite. It's a bit intimidating for me when I write it sometimes; maybe some others feel the same, so they don't write it as often compared to other things? Complete conjecture.

To answer your actual ask:

You're absolutely right. That motherfucker absolutely loves making you squirm by giving you pleasure in ways that gross you out. He sees a sliver of his old self in you, himself when he was new to this ghastly world, when he clung desperately to anything that would give him a sense of normalcy. In this, there's a sick thrill for him; he gets to be the one to show you how things really work, his sheltered little vaultie. The world out here is even meaner and more disgusting than you could ever imagine.

He'll prove it.

You aren't inexperienced, but pretty much all of the experience you do have is vanilla, very straightforward sex. Exploration on this topic isn't exactly at the forefront of your mind, either, what with how much of an adjustment period you're having to go through after leaving home for the first time in your life. The stress of it all is what initially drives you into his arms, seeking any form of real comfort you can find from the only companion you have.

The sex is a good stress reliever when he isn't springing things on you. He is rather good for such a hot-and-cold old prick, and he clearly knows it by his demeanor; the way he preens over your crumpled form after he makes you cum so hard you forget how to speak is infuriating. You like fucking him, but you can't let him know just how much. He'd be genuinely insufferable if he found out.

Whether it's your reserved reactions to his obvious smugness, or something else internal, you're unsure, but he quickly begins to push your buttons for bigger and bigger returns. Most of the tricks he pulls you enjoy the feeling of, but the way he watches you to gauge your reaction makes it feel like he's winning, somehow, and it doesn't sit right with you. Doubling down your efforts, you try your hardest to be unshakable.

Unfortunately, the first time he slides his tongue down to tease at your asshole while he's eating you out makes you fold completely.

"That's disgusting!" you huff, wriggling beneath him. Telling him to stop doesn't follow like you want it to; the words get caught in your throat as he pushes the tip of the wriggling muscle into you, his other hand playing softly with your clit as your aching pussy throbs.

"Had my tongue much worse places, believe me." he replies, his eyes burning up at you from between your legs. It's so embarrassing.

However, the next time he's helping you out, before you even realize it, your hips are moving in a pronounced arc, trying your best to will him to slide his tongue further down without having to suffer the indignity of asking for it, of him knowing he's gotten this over on you. It feels amazing and you refuse to beg. Fortunately, he doesn't make you...this time.

When he's finished with you, he doesn't immediately pull away, both of you lying together in a spent puddle of limbs for a breathless moment.

"It's still gross, you know." you say, flat and halfhearted in exhaustion.

"Oh, shut the fuck up." he grunts back, eyes rolling as he pulls himself into an upright sitting position. "I didn't see you whining when you were tryin' to crush my head with your thighs, princess."

"I can't help it! It tickles when you do that!" you argue, indignant and searing hot in the face.

"Oh yeah, kid. I bet it tickles real good. That why you came so hard?" he smirks, leaning back so he can right his clothing, his eyes never leaving yours. You pull yourself up and storm off to the other side of the room to redress, annoyed.

And yes, probably his favorite overall move is to sneak one of his fingers or his thumb into your ass while he fucks you from behind; the shock in your posture, in your voice, along with the tight, hot feeling of your little hole (holes) around him...it's probably for the best that he can't see your face, no matter how badly he wishes he could. He knows he'd cum instantly.

As for you, the feeling is infuriatingly electrifying, right on the line between pleasure and discomfort. His long, nimble digit isn't even all the way inside you, only sunk to just above the second knuckle, but he's quickly working it further and further in, the rest of his hand curling to cup the roundness of your cheek as he supports your hips. The stretch isn't too intrusive, but his skin is so rough in texture that it makes you squirm as he presses on, spit and your other body fluids the only lubrication you're given.

"Fuck, be careful!" you hiss. His only response is a harsh swat to your bare ass with his unoccupied hand, which draws a yelp from your parched throat as he yanks you back even more firmly by the leverage he now has. Your hands scramble for purchase across the sandy desert floor, unable to hold yourself up properly as he hammers away at you with an almost possessed vigor. Quickly, your head falls further down with the force of his movements, sending you sliding forward a few inches.

He doesn't like that.

"Don't fuckin' run from me." he growls, the hand that isn't spearing you wrapping quickly around your shoulder to yank you back again. His hips snap into yours viciously, the pace increasing as he loses his grip on whatever remaining self-control he has. Your battered cunt clenches hard around him at the feeling, at his words, and soon you're both howling out your release as he digs his nails into your thighs, rutting you so hard you fully face-plant into the ground. When it's over, he at least has the courtesy to make sure you didn't bump your head too hard. He does not, however, apologize for the massive bruise on your ass from where he struck you more than once. Typical.

Eventually, you allow him enough control to restrain you, which you know is almost certainly a mistake. However, by now you're addicted to the feeling he gives you when he takes over, when he pushes your boundaries and uses you to sate whatever passion burns inside him. Besides, he's protected and saved you enough times by now to have earned your trust, even if you know that he'll sometimes use it against you for devious reasons.

The rope he always carries doesn't hurt against your skin like you'd feared it would, but he's also quite delicate in how he secures your arms and legs, each limb immobilized and leaving you on your back, completely at his mercy. He spends forever teasing you, worshiping every part of you with his mouth and hands until you're begging, begging for release, begging for him to stretch you.

"It's alright. I'll take care of you." he promises, the tone he uses with you now so much softer than when you met. You feel relief at his words, ready to feel your aching cunt wrap around him, but he doesn't move to expose himself. Instead, he produces a small bottle of what you quickly discover is some sort of neutral oil, which he applies liberally. The feeling of the cool, thin substance running down your folds makes you shiver in the best way, but you're tense when his teasing fingers move from your clit, prodding at your taut ass.

Slowly, he works his middle finger inside you, the sensation more pleasant now that you've become accustomed to it. After a minute or two, he's moving it back and forth freely, adding another dribble of oil before setting the bottle aside, placing his free fingers on your clit. The way he rubs at you as he fucks you with his other hand makes your toes curl, and you get lost in the sensation until you feel his index finger start to prod at you, as well.

"You trust me?" he asks. Your eyes dropping closed, you nod silently.

He's incredibly gentle as he works the second finger in alongside the first, stretching you further than ever before and making your mouth fall open in a silent groan. He watches your face, your body language, closely, trying his best to stay calm and steady as he begins to move his hand once more, the other never stilling on your clit.

The sensation is incredibly overwhelming, a fullness you've never felt before, especially when he eventually adds a third finger. Your body is lit up with sensation and twitching eagerly the entire time, both wanting to pull off of his hand and to plunge yourself down further. When he leans down and seals his lips around your clit, you scream out an orgasm that leaves you trembling against your restraints, which he actually lets you out of before fucking you so hard you literally cannot stand immediately afterwards.

"You're so mean to me, you know. I don't want to like this stuff." you sigh, mostly joking.

"Don't worry, I'll have you begging for my cock in your ass soon." he promises, that wicked glint back in his eye that makes you nervous.

You hide your burning face in his throat as he chuckles at you, the sound of him lighting a cigarette snapping through the air, his other arm wrapped around your waist as you lean against him. Biting your tongue, you hold back the urge to snarkily respond to him.

You know he's right. It's only a matter of time.

#filth for sunday #please enjoy #also: very fitting pfp soldier #cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #fallout tv show #fallout prime #submission

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tomahachi12 · 2 months ago

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The good thing about knowing next to nothing about Yeva and her husband (and Nori too, tbh, we know very little about her in the grand scheme of things) is how we as fans can just make up whatever we want. It’s great. Doll’s Father especially is so nonexistent as a character that anyone that makes content of him basically has a semi-canon OC (though I do wish we had an official name for the poor guy 😔)

That being said, I’m super curious, what led you to having Nori be the one to be more nervous about the idea of having a kid, and Yeva encouraging her to do it? I myself always think of the roles being flipped, with Yev being the more unsure one. (This is genuine curiosity from one Nori fan to another, I love your interpretation of it too!!!)

I think that's why I enjoy making up these silly bits for them is because we know so little about them.

I can just do whatever I want >:D

I call Yeva's husband Nickolai :)

As to your question,

(This answer is purely a headcanon btw)

I've always seen Nori as this cocky, overconfident little gremlin, and tropes tend to have characters like that using it as a mask to hide from their insecurities and fears.

Girl is struggling hard to process the trauma she went through and uses humor to do so.

Even if she barely remembers any of it.

I also believe that she is still being heavily influenced by the Solver since she was never fully patched.

Yeva can still have some Solver moments too, but she can keep control of herself, unlike Nori.

Yeva remembers more of what happened to them, and just wants them to move on from it. She doesn't want that part of their past to haunt them.

She pushes Nori to having a kid because she thinks it'll help them move on from their trauma by focusing their attention on something more important.

Which can also be problematic. Don't hide from your trauma, kids, please find help ):

Nori knows something is wrong with them, and she's afraid that it might spread to others. She doesn't want her child to go through what she did.

But that little bit of hope given by Yeva was enough to convince her to try.

Yeva believed they were both fully patched and that it would stop the Solver from speading. She knows that Uzi did end up inherenting it from Nori, but died not knowing that Doll had inherited it as well.

Off topic but, I think Doll finds out about the patch because Yeva was doing reaserch and gathering notes with the plan of finding the patch to save Uzi from the Solver.

That might be what led to Yeva to her husband's death as they left the safety of the Bunker to find it. Doll secretly followed them, and her Solver was activated when she witnessed her parents being murdered by V.

#ask toma #wordy words #murder drones #murder drones nori #murder drones yeva

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karenandhenwilson · 5 months ago

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I think I figured out, at least for myself, why the 9-1-1 fandom and part of the Buddie-or-Bust side of it feels so much more toxic than ever before when I know for a fact, those demanding Buddie has to become canon and who are looking for any tiny clue to be able to say it will become canon have always been this toxic. (I mean, with the exception of some people who came into the show because with Buck being bi the show was suddenly not queerbaiting anymore--lol, it hurts even just writing this as if it were really true--and then became die-hard Buddie fans or at least pretend to be to garner enough followers and clicks to make money out of fandom. But I'm not talking about them here.)

Before Bucktommy, there was no real opposition for them in the fandom. Buck and Eddie both had other LI and those had their fans (I know for a fact there are still people now shipping Buck with Taylor or Buck with Marisol or Eddie with Shannon). But those were very few fans and they created their own little spaces in fandom places and were barely noticeable. So the Buddie-or-Bust fans were able to mostly ignore them. And there have of course also been some small fanon ships for Eddie and Buck with other people, but those are barely noticed either.

But Bucktommy? That got huge in practically an instant. Because so many people were excited for bi story line with an established character and one in Buck's circumstances (not even Buck himself). And the Bucktommy fans were loud about their support of this new canon ship. So Buddie-or-Bust fans suddenly felt threatened and became much louder in their hate for anything not Buddie. Because now, for some reason, the fans of the other ship seem to be a threat to them. And also, for the first time for any of the LI of Eddie or Buck, they made an honest effort to set up Tommy and the relationship with him as something long-term. Which the Buddie-or-Bust fans recognize just as much as the Bucktommy fans, and so they try even harder to find fault in every single thing.

And that did change something in the behavior of the die-hard Buddie fans. At times, I've been neck-deep in Ana bashing, in Shannon bashing, in Taylor bashing, in Chimney bashing, in Abby bashing, in Maddie bashing. Because I enjoy a good bashing at times. It can be very cathartic. But you know what I've never seen there? I've never seen any of those characters being called derogatory names. Or their fans being called derogatory names and, in most cases, their fans didn't retaliate to the bashing either. (Though, at least for Chimney fans they sometimes very viciously go against people even just mentioning they don't like him and it came up a couple of times that Chimney fans found derogatory names for those bashing Chimney because that group of fans also seems to be unable to avoid content bashing their fav and instead sought it out deliberately to complaint about it.)

I can't even count anymore how many derogatory names I've seen for Tommy or Bucktommy or Bucktommy fans. They seem to come up with a new name every other day. And they enjoy trumping each other in their creations and using those names to get around the boundaries others try to set for themselves by filtering out the already known names.

And I already see people coming at me with "Oh, but Bucktommy fans started it by calling us BoBs." and just: No. Once more, you get an F in reading comprehension. It's always been made very clear that BoBs stood for Buddie-or-Bust and I personally don't see anything derogatory here but also, it's always been made very clear it's a specific subset of Buddie fans who behave poorly to separate them from the Buddie fans who don't care about Bucktommy. Because those people using that term are very well aware that there are really just a couple of very loud bad apples in the Buddie side of fandom and the rest of the Buddie fans don't deserve to be lumped in with them. While, on the other hand, all Bucktommy fans are always called names as a whole.

And I think their biggest problem is not even necessarily the "threat" they perceive Bucktommy to be to their own ship, though that's clearly a big part still. Otherwise, they wouldn't come after authors and artists and other fans who once shipped and created for Buddie and are now creating for Bucktommy. And otherwise, they wouldn't tag so many Buddie fics as Bucktommy, too, in some kind of strange hope to convince Bucktommy fans to ship Buddie again. (Without noticing that all they are accomplishing is to make everyone annoyed at them. And yes, that includes those Buddie fans who don't care for Bucktommy at all because they need to curate the Buddie tag very carefully now, too.)

I think their biggest problem is this belief that their ship is only valid if it's canon.

Which is so strange. Fandom has always mostly been about ships that are very much not canon. And no one ever expected their ships to become canon in the past, as far as I know. (Except if it was promoted and then didn't happen. Looking at Sterek here.) Canon ships barely get any attention. I mean, look at all the 9-1-1 ships that are canon, including Tarlos, and how little content there is for any of them, and also how little engagement there is for this content compared to Buddie. That's always been a trend in fandom, that's not new with 9-1-1.

It's not only strange, I also think it's honestly sad for these fans. Because they have deliberately set themselves up to be disappointed and dig that hole of disappointment ever deeper. Even if Buddie should ever go canon, which I honestly don't think will happen, it won't be at all what they expect. And they'll either leave the fandom or turn on the ship they were so toxically addicted to before.

#911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #911 discourse #fandom discourse

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dark-night-hero · 5 months ago

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Episode one: 'Ex and whys ft. Richard `Dick` Grayson-Wayne and you'

↳ ‘Episode one featuring one of the princes of Gotham, Richard 'Dick' Grayson-Wayne, the eldest among the Wayne sibling and a police officer. And (First name) (Last name) one of the highest paying model and artist with a humble origin. Have come to share us the up and down of their relationship that eventually lead into their parting ways.’

On the screen with a typewriter font appeared the words 'Episode one: 'Ex and whys''. Before it went black once again.

Then comes the on set footage, Fake was shown first, fidgeting on her seat with a nervous smile on her lips. Suddenly her eyes lit up as noise, footsteps could be heard from the background before it got cut off.

Just like on the other side of the story, Slacker could be seen. He sat there looking all relax and flamboyant as much as to his oblivion. Suddenly, his eyes widen as a figure creep up on the corner then it got cut off.

[Going back to where they are]

"Hi, hello, how are you?" An unknown voice came forward as Fake shows them a smile. "Hiiii! It was so nice to finally meet you in person! I was a huge fan of your speciallly on the last season runway!" "Oh dear! What a coincidence, I was a fan of yours too, I love your travel vlogs with Slacker, it makes me want to travel too." Emerging from the corner of the screen was a figure dressed up in all good fashion, hair styled neat, not looking all fancy, just casual. But that did not take away the amount of aura and appeal that they have. Goddamn they are gorgeous. "Oh." Fake blinked in awe and looked st the camera for a second before she snapped back into reality. "Sit. Please take a seat, a one hell of a conversation is about to come."

"Woah, it's been a while since I made an interview." Richard Grayson-Wayne, or more commonly known as Dick Grayson for his close friends walked into the room with a flamboyant smile on his lips. /s: such a pretty boy T-T/ "Hello Sir." Slacker stood up and offered in a somehow stiff posture a handshake. This causes Dick to laugh as he walk close. "Oh please don't be too nervous. I don't bite." Dick spoke and went in for a handshake before gently pullin the other man into a bro hug. "I've seen some of your vlog. It's wonderful." "Thank you sir." "Just call me Richard, or Dick. My family and friends calls me that." "Sure si- Dick." Slacker snicker.

[10 minutes later...]

Both were a quick scene of the two sets where it seems like the duos were now looking comfortable around each other. Fake and (First name) looking rather invested on their current conversion as Dick and Slacker seemed to be having a story telling in which could be seen with Slackers wide eyes and Dick's excessive hand movement.

Suddenly the two sets appeared on the screen with only a black divider on the screen, this time it seems like the camera got their attention before everything went black.

"I guess it's time for the main course a.k.a the question and answer." With the screen still black, all that can be heard was the voices of Fake followed by Slacker with a chuckle. "It's time for the hot seat."

[What makes you come forward and go on in this talk?]

"Now this is good." Fake laughs as she put the card on the back of the deck. "I'm actually curious about this one. Coming on a show with your ex, knowing that you're jut rooms away from your ex, and talking about stuff... Not everyones choice." She added. And then you laugh. You laughed enough to make someone around them smile without even knowing. "True, that's not the wisest choice for everyone. But the truth is. Dickieb-Dick weren't just an ex. He was a friend, still even after all those times. Even if we did have such history. He was a good friend of mine to this day and it wouldn't hurt to go into this talk." You explained with a sigh. "When I first seen Leanne's email, I found it funny and interesting. Ex and whys... it's such a funny content. So as soon as I read the contexts and the stuffs. I immediately talked to Dicki-Grayson about it."

"The first time I have heard about it is via (First name) and not Leanne... Come to think of it. Leanne reach out to my father and not for me..." There was a momentarily pause after that. "Anyway I was on duty that time to be honest. I was reluctant to go at first. Don't get me wrong. I love attention. It comes natural for me. But we- (First name) and I never really got to talk about it. We just kind of went back into being friend and never really talked about it. So I assumed our break up is a no go conversation for us. So I was kind of taken a back when she told me if it was okay for me- for us to go on a show that would talk about the 'Ex and whys' of your relationship." Dick Grayson explained. "Then again, since it seems alright for (First name). I just decided to go alongside it. I was told there would be a joint interview at the end. I haven't seen them for like a year now so..." Dick added, giving the camera a wink when it suddenly focuses on Slacker on the other seat. "Sounds like one of the main reason why you decided to go for the talk." All that could be heard after that was laughter and the screen went black again.

[Describe the first time you two met.]

"A (radicated) ungrateful (radicated)." This causes Slacker to cough out an incoming laugh. "What?" He eventually let out a laugh, "Why?" Dick rolled his eyes and sigh dramatically, leaning back on the chair. "So I was on duty, okay? At night. I happened to come across them- thankfully as they were in the middle of trying to rob- threatening to kill'em so I did what any cops would do, I apprehended them. Because that's what I do, right?" Dick reasoned out with a frown. "So by the time I was finished dealing with the goons, I was trying to approach them for some sort of assistance because who knew what was happening before I arrived? Anyway..." This time were was a pout on his face as he seemed to be recalling back that very same night. "(First name) snapped at me." He spoke with what it seemed was a very shocked and hurt expression, there was a hint of laughter before it got cut off.

"I snapped at him." You admitted. Then frown and ran a hand through their hair. "(Radicated) he's gonna be so (radicated) dramatic about this I bet." To their side was Fake looking at you with anticipation. "What? Whywhy?" She bounce in her seat causing the other to laugh. "Well, it was a long story that eventually lead to that faithful encounter." You sigh. "Richard John Grayson was my first crush. The truth is that he is my childhood crush. I'm guessing you have heard of the 'Flying Grayson' no? If not then ask Leanne about it." Then there was a small smile on their lips. "I've known Dick for a long time, more than he have ever known me." You laugh. "I was a fan of him and his parents. He was then kept by Bruce Wayne- Hello Uncle Bruce by the way. Those were the topics back in the days and well, I was kind of updated. Anyways, that crush kind of went away as time passed by, there was not much of a news about him after that and well, he just kind of linger in the back of my mind? I kind of forgotten about him to be honest." You admitted with a smirk, as if know a certain individual would be watching this upon released. "And how does that take you snap upon finally seeing him for the first time in person?" Fake asked in anticipation but there was only a moment of silence before a deep sigh can be heard followed by mumble. "What was that?" Fake asked. "...rrassed" "Huh? What was that?" "I said I was embarrassed." Despite the sudden calm demeanor, your ears were hot red. "I mean, he was literally my first, greatest crush. How come our first meeting was me getting almost kidnapped my some goons? Do you know how embarrassing that was on my part? I (radicated) hate it to death. God knows how much I prayed to be swallowed up by the ground back them." You groan. "Oh my goodness, looking back. That was really. Really embarrassing. I don't even remember what I did after getting approached by him. I was so embarrassed my mind functioned on it's own and decided to just forget that ever happened." "Oh my go-" the screen went black.

[Do you think the two of you would last forever?]

"Actually, I did." Dick chuckled forward and Slacker did not missed the sadness that linger in those blue eyes before it went away with a blink. "It may not seemed that way but I really did think we would last forever."

"Can I be honest in here?" You look around before your (eye color) iris eventually fall back to Fake's violet ones. "I mean, honestly, you could lie right here and now and we would not even realise it was a lie." "Good point." You chuckle before taking a deep breath and saying. "No, I did not think about it." Eventually, you looked away and stared far away. "The thing is, I never think that we would last forever. Was it some kind of instinctual sense? In the end I was correct, we did not last forever at all."

[Who broke up with who?]

"It was a mutual decision." You and Dick spoke as the scene switch back and forth between the two of them until Dick's frame stayed. "At some point to our relationship, we, not them, not I, we came up with the decision that it would be the best for us to partways." Dick explained and the screen was swallowed up with darkness.

[What do you like about the other?]

"I can be myself when I am with him/them." Once again, the frame switch back between the two of them.

"Does it make sense if I told you I don't know?" Frustrated, (First name) run a hand through their hair. "I feel like a simp for saying this but back then, everything he does drives me crazy, in both good and bad way." You laugh.

"I've been in a different relationship before, but with (First name). It was different." Dick looked longing while saying that, as if he was looking back into yesterday. "I was myself, my true seld when I'm with them. No expectations, no questions, no responsibilities. It was as if I was enough. Not Richard Grayson of the flying grayson, not Richard Grayson-Wayne. Just Dick Grayson."

[What do you dislike about the other?]

"How little he cares about himself." You roll your eyes on the camera. "Even now, he should take a better care of himself, I am no longer around to take care of him so too bad for him." You spoke in a teasing manner before looking all serious on the camera. "Seriously Dick, take care of yourself before Alfred- Hello Alfie, I miss you- drag your sorry ass into bed." You wink into the camera.

"How hard it is for them to admit they needed help." Dick sounds frustrated when he said that. "I wish they could just lessen their burden, you know? That I could help, that I am willing to help. Just like how they always hold up a hand when I needed it. I want to be there for them too." He then looked at Slacker who then opened his mouth. "Do you-"

[Why did you two break up?]

"I/They want to settle down." The frame switched between the two, "He/I wasn't ready."

"I really wanted to settle down, you know." It was you who was on the screen. "We're not getting any younger and we were dating for like, two years. So I thought it was about time." There was a moment of silence after that. "Looking back, I thought I wasn't enough I mean, before he dated me, he was had a long history of dating someone else, one he actually proposed marriage to, so I thought.." You zone out for a moment before snapping out of it "Anyway now that I think about it. Maybe I was really asking for too much." You smile gently at the direction of the camera.

"It was around the third time (First name) proposed and well... I told them still, I wasn't ready that everything about us started to go south." There was a pause. "Not really south, everything was well and still even after that. But I could tell something was shifting, something was changing." Dick chuckled painfully. "I was busy, patrol and cases. The distance between us, the different schedule. Before I knew it they were already slipping off my finger. And by the time realise it. We made the decision to take a break and then we part ways." "Wait, so are you saying the two of you never really called it quits?" Slacker deadpan at Dick and he laugh, "I don't know, I don't know man. Think of it the way you want."

[Did you cheat on the other at some point within the relationship?]

"Can I ask a question?" You hold up a hand. "That's suspicious." Fake narrowed her eyes at you. "Spill." "Is it considered cheating if I have a crush on Nightwing too all throughout our relationship once?"

"No." Dick reply without any second thoughts causing to Slacker to nod.

[Rumours says that Miss. Barbara Gordon is the reason why the two fo you broke up, is that true?]

"100 percent a lie. Babs have nothing to do with ot break up. She was just a friend-" Dick got cut off follwing a similar sentence from you, "She was just a friend. And even if she was Dick's ex. Well damn girl, she's gorgeous, if it wasn't for Dick being the first one to caught my interest, I would definitely fall for her. Take note of his official ex too, she's one hell of a hotie, 100/10. Kori, darling, whenever you are, I miss you, hangout with you soon!" You spoke with a flying kiss before the camera switches back to Dick. "What I'm saying is that, if there is someone who would cheat on me with my ex, that would be 34 percent be (First name) and not me." He pouted, "What the fu-"

[What happened after the break up?]

"Day went on like it normally does, you know?" Dick started. "We never really move into each others house so there was no moving out of anything." This time there was a bitter smile on his face. "Were you lonely?" Suddenly asked by Slacker. Dick then looked at him, "We... we never really break up didn't we?" He asked back as if hoping, looking for something. "We just took a break and then parted ways... While I remained in Bludhaven, (First name) went away."

"I left the states." You admitted with a serious look on your face. "I want some time for myself and being near to Grayson, I wouldn't be able to do that. The truth is that Grayson being friends with his ex, being around so many gorgeous woman back then was one of the sources of my insecurity. But then looking back, maybe I was just trying to find a reason- someone to blame. Nevertheless, I left." You sigh, a deep yet somehow a kind of relieved sigh. "I flew and wander around Europe and trust me, it was so un I almost never want to go back." You chuckle then look down into your lap. "I was in there for months, focusing on myself, working on my insecurities, my dreams- other dreams and then one day I looked back on the things that I felt behind, thinking I was finally okay, I went back after a year and yeah, I came back and continue what we should have remained to be. Friends." You conclude but then almost laugh when you look into your side and Fake was looking at you jaw dropped. "What?" "Nothing. Does that mean you're jealous of his ex and girl friends?" "Jealous? Nah. I knew Dick loved only me and only me when the two of us were together, there has never been a doubt about that. It was kind of my fault that even after all of that, I felt so damn insecure. So yeah, there was no other to blame but myself. But then again." You look back at the camera with a genuine smile. "I'm okay now."

[Do you regret it?]

"Regret what?" Both asked.

[Everything, the relationship, how things ended, something like that.]

Dick laugh, like for real laugh, throwing his head back with his shoulders shaking up and down before he eventually calm down after a good minute. With a smile on his face, he answered. "The relationship? No. Never." He said softly. "How things ended?" There was a momentarily pause. "A few, I do regret." He sigh.

You blink "Well, the relationship? I do regret it sometimes. I think we were better of as friend after all, but after a while, I would often think that being in a relationship with him was also a good thing, I get to see the side that only a lover would see and not a friend." You smirk at the camera. "But with how things ended, I think there was none, I give myself, my everything in the relationship, so no. I don't regret everything, not with how things ended, nor the overall relationship that we have." You smile at Fake who gives you a smirk. "I think you're the only one who thinks that." "Nah, I bet Dick would agree with me." After all, he did nothing even before you left.

[What is one thing you could have done differently?]

"I wouldn't ask him for marriage." "I would have accepted the proposal." With one black line separating then at the screen, seriousness could be seen from their side frame as they answered.

"Things started going south after that." You laugh. "Looking back, it's not that I want to tie him up to me, it was just a proposal- we could engage now and well, get married in years to come. Back then, I was just really looking for some sort of-"

"(First name) was just looking for some sort of clarity." Dick lean back on his seat. "It took me a while after we parted way that that was what they wanted." He sigh. "When I couldn't give them that, they started doubting themselves. And it was already too late by the time I realised that." He looked at Slacker. "As much as I want to say that not going after them after our break up was the thing I could have done differently. I bet with whatever is going on on their mind at that time, even if I were to chase after them, they would have still left."

[Second phase: Joint talk]

This time, it was a different segment, within the left side of the room was a long and wide looking couch where five people could easily fit. Right next tk it on the right side was another couch but a rather small looking one, one were two to three people would fit. On the background was cream wallpaper, painting and plants as well as lamo that is currently on.

It did not take too long for two figures emerged in both corner of the room followed by series of gasp and laughed on the opposite corner of the room. "Grayson! Its been a while hasn't it!" You laugh, sounding so excited as you walked towards him on the opposite side of the room looking as excited as you. As soon as the two of you were within ech others reach, Dick was quick to reach out an arm and hug you. "It's been a while. I missed you." He whispered on your neck causing you to giggle. It tickles. "You big baby, We saw each other on the gala two months ago." You pat him in the back and eventually pull away.

"Wow, the two of you look more comfortable than we thought." Fake spoke as Slacker walked behind her. "Is there room for two more people?" She joked but then halted when she saw the two invited individuals sitting on the smaller couch- the one that was supposed to be their seat- not this huge one. "Aren't we supposed to seat in there?" Whispered by Slacker. "Yeah." Fake nodded but upon looking at the duo siting comfortable with Dick leaning into you as you sat there cross legs looking comfortable. "But let it be."

[Two truths and one lie]

"What was that supposed to mean?" Asked by you, raising a brow at the twin sitting opposite to you two. "Well here is the mechanics." Slacker straighten on his seat. "Each of you get to ask the other three questions while the other get to answer with two truths and one lie." Slacker explained. "At the end of the game, the other would try to guest which one is the truth and which is the lie." He added. "And it is up to you who answered whether to admit their guess was wrong or right."

"What do you think Dickhead? You think you can do this?" "Why ask me? You should ask that yourself." Dick laugh and snuggle close to you whom almost push him away out of annoyance of moving too much. "How about this. Let's have a fast talk instead of prolonged ones. No complicated answer, just the truth and well, I guess one lie." You suggested with a laugh and he said, "Alright let's do that."

[Richard Grayson to (First name)]

Dick: Did I ever do anything that hurts your feelings?

You: After all that happened? No. Never once did you ever hurt me.

Dick: Did you ever lie to me?

You: Yes.

Dick: Do you still have feelings for me?

You: laughs* what do you think Richard? Yes Dick. I do, aren’t we friends?

[What are your thoughts about it?]

"It's a tricky answer." Fake chuckles, right behind her was her twin nodding at her words. On the background not too far from the two was you and Dick. "It's tricky indeed. I mean at some point it was kind of obvious which one is the truth and the lie but you cannot help but to think twice and overthink." This time it was Slacker voicing out his opinion.

[(First name) to Richard Grayson]

You: Were you happy with me?

Dick: laughs* Of course. I was the happiest when I was with you.

You: Did you ever lie to me?

Dick: No.

You: laughs* That's what I thought, last question. What made you fall out of love with me?

Dick: Nothing.

[What are your thoughts about it?]

"I could not even tell what was the lie and what was the truth." Fake laughs in frustration. "The effff. They're so meticulous! I couldn't get a read on them!" This time, it was Slacker holding his head as a distant laughter could be heard in the distance before the camera zoomed in and focuses on the two figures laughing on the couch. "They're enjoying this." "This is driving me insane. They look so good together, I have never seen such exes looking like that-"

[Moment of truth.]

"I'm guessing you lied at the second question?" "Why do you sound so unsure about that?" You scoff and roll your eyes at him. "Also, wrong." That was not your lie. "Then was it-" "Nope, not revealing it." You laugh when he pouts and attempt to tickle you by your side. "Hey! Stop. Sooooo I'm guessing you lied the third question." You almost hate how you sounded to confident by your answered and he frown. Mouth went open and shut before it draws into a thin line. "Why would you think that?" "Huh?" Your smile almost dropped by the seriousness of his look and tone. "I mean- we broke up and-" "We did not broke up." He emphasizes and your jaw dropped. What the hell? "What do you mean we never- what?"

"We agreed to take a break, not break up." "Didn't I left? What do you mean we never break up. Me leaving was clearly the end of our relationship." "Sure you left, but that doesn't really means the end of it." "Dick" You called him out gently "If me leaving does not end the relationship, then you letting me go and not going after me was clearly the end of it." There was a painful, awkward silence after that. "Nothing made me fall out of love with you." "Yeah I know, what a great lie-" "What makes you think that was a lie?" The way he sit up to properly look and face you suddenly made your heart skip a beat out of nervousness. Why are you nervous? You are so sure about this.

"Because it was a lie?" You smiled but eventually dropped as he looks frustrated than ever. "I said nothing because I never stopped loving you." What? "It wasn't a lie. That was the truth." He said. "I lied about the second question okay?" He admitted while you remained there seated in silence. "Because I lied. I lied okay?" Then he looked away. "I lied back then about not being able to settle down." That sent an ache within your heart. "I lied about a lot of things and that was one of them."

"We were so young back then, it's not that I don't want it to be you. But I got pressured, I saw future for us but I got pressured, when I turned you down for the third one. I started doubting myself, will I be able to make you happy? After all that shit I gave you? Was I stil worthy for you? Will I be able to really give you want you wanted? Looking back I got pressured thinking I needed to give you everything when all you ever wanted was me and only me." There was a bitter smile on his face. "I want to settle down with you but I was scared, so I turn you down and started lying to myself." He chuckles, unable to look at you. "Do you really think I am okay with this? Just being friends with you?" He let out a scoff. "It kills me to be just a friend to you knowing fully well I could have been more than that."

"Well... I lied too." "The second question?" "No, the third one Dick. I lied when I told you I still have feeling for you, as a friend, of course I still have feeling- romantic feelings for you, wond-" Dick grabbed you by the back of your neck and pull you for a k- the screen went black.

["A lie for a lie' End of Episode one]