#Interesting Facts About Ladder
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What You Must Know About Choosing The Right Ladder
Most people, in and out of the trade, use different types of aluminum ladders on a daily basis. For households it can be a step ladder to reach higher shelves, changing the bulb, or even changing smoke detector batteries.
For the DIY projects typically embrace extended reaches. It can be as easy as splitting a panel (I would like my arms were longer) to assembling an elevated deck. Here, the necessity for various ladder types exists, depending on the work on hand.
For the professional, itâs a ladder collection like Step, extension, and multi-purpose ladders are all required. In some cases, scaffolds and pump jacks match the bill. Therefore here may be a primer on the criteria once choosing a ladder.
Types of Ladder
This may seem to be such a basic question, however different ladders are designed to securely guide you through different project types. Finding and choosing the correct ladder is your first step (pun intended) to obtaining the correct tool for the work.
Some basic types embrace household ladder, industrial ladder, multipurpose ladder and scaffolding ladder, telescopic ladder (a must-have specialty item that saves professionals on Occupational Safety and Health Administration fines). The list will prolong with specialty ladders like attic ladders, step stools, rolling ladders as well as accessories that create your ladder do more.
First, letâs take a glance at the four most common ladder types:
Household Ladder
Have you shifted to your new home recently? From cleansing up the spider net on the ceiling, fixing the bulb or changing the curtains, a ladder is required to do some basic work at home. Imagine not having a ladder for home; going to those zones would be such a frightening task. Explore EQUAL household Ladder to search out a perfect ladder to fit your needs.
Many people have a basic step ladder or a ladder reception to induce the essential jobs done, wherever a little bit of extra height would facilitate. Our ladder must be helpful for doing all such ménage work with ease.
Industrial Ladder
The industrial ladder is the strongest sort of ladder that you can buy. These types of ladders are designed for onsite use and are designed to be in use perpetually. An industrial ladder is a superb alternative for the one that has to work on-site constantly.
EQUAL industrial ladders follow the EN131 standard for safety and build with T5 grade aluminum. EN131 is the most important certification for any ladder because it is that the sole way to make sure that the ladder meets the security requirement for trade and domestic use.
Multipurpose Ladder
A multipurpose ladder is a must for any tradesperson â multi-functional, economical and infrequently cost-efficient, theyâre one amongst the top items of kit we suggest. Any ladder than may be accustomed to accomplish the tasks of 2 or more kinds of the ladder is taken into account multi-purpose.
Scaffolding Ladder
Scaffolding Ladder allows you to store the tool more expeditiously while also adding the flexibility of adjusting the peak as required. Different variations of this tool are straight, or hole ladders, which are the only section wherever a collection length is used over and over (think library ladders for the employment of one-height needed)
Extension rung locks take the bulk of the abuse on this ladder-type and may contribute to early failure. Some corporations are using advanced polymers to strengthen this key part. Polymers have replaced steel and aluminium in several applications nowadays, together with cars and trucks.
Telescopic Ladder
This aluminum telescopic ladder has been designed to telescope and retract succinctly, making it easy to store and maintain around the home. The extension is simple to use, and additionally, the retraction is usually created with a lock at the foot, that closes the ladder with a no-pinch system. It has been manufactured to a trade normal which will be used by each industrial contractor and for at-home projects. The Extension & Climb ladder may be a wise and easier-to-use solution to chunky ladders. This ladder is lightweight and durable as a result it has been designed especially for simple transportation.
It features an integrated carrying handle that produces transport and storage even easier. The telescoping ladder has been designed to be time-saving and easy to use. It features applied science designs and lockup tabs for safe and secure use. Thatâs why it's nice for each house or business. Itâs manufactured from aircraft-grade aluminum alloy for strength and sturdiness. This ladder is definite to look at you through every job or task you've got at home or work.
The main advantage of telescopic ladder is the simple fact they can be simply stored. The sleek style means they can be slotted right down to a size smaller than a deck chair, creating them excellent for putting in the rear of a work van, a small storage cupboard or a shed.
We have designed our telescopic ladders to be as compact as doable, we have a tendency to additionally put in Associate in the nursing anti-pinch system to safeguard your fingers. All of our telescopic ladders are created from aluminum which means they are terribly light-weight, this makes them glorious for transporting, domestic use, industrial use, and for a great deal of. The aluminum does not simply make the telescopic ladders durable and lightweight, they additionally mean they need a rust-resistant surface.
Ladder Height
Thatâs right; there are two factors to think about while selecting the correct ladder. However, theyâre calculated depends on the kind of ladder that you are using.
Step ladders would come with the length of the ladder once open likewise as a maximum height you wish to reach, calculated for an average personâs height of 5â9â with a vertical reach of 12â.
So if you recognize how high you wish to reach, letâs say 10â, you would doubtless purchase a 6â step ladder permitting you to safely stand virtually 4â on top of the ground.
Selecting a ladder height is a combination of Step ladder size, approximate highest standing level, and maximum reach.
Extension ladders have a number of different concerns. Here, the utmost operating ladder length and highest standing level come in to play, based on similar physical characteristics of the individual delineate above.
Since there's a user-defined angle of use on a ladder, an overlap of the sections and also the projection of the ladder on top of the lean point, selecting the correct product here could be a bit trickier.
Weight Capacity
Most of the house users do not need a heavy duty ladder. Professionals, in distinction, need to ensure the ladder they use will support them and their tools. This can be all simply resolved by knowing what duty ratings really are.
Duty rating is a class assigned to an aluminium ladder. Itâs a way to simply tell how much total weight a ladder can bear in each of its steps without any risk. Itâs written in Roman Numerals going from lighter loads to heavier ones. They begin at III and head to I, then adding IA and IAA for even heavier loads.
Remember that these ratings include all of the load the ladder can support. Some individuals make the mistake of mounting a ladder because theyâre below the assigned weight limit, not pondering the serious tools theyâre carrying.
Hereâs a duty rating reference chart:
TYPE IAA â 375 lbs. Load Capacity | Professional Use | Extra Heavy Duty | Suitable for MRO and Industrial construction
TYPE IA â 300 lbs. Load Capacity | Professional Use | Heavy Duty Use | Suitable for Roofing, Building Maintenance
TYPE I -Â 250 lbs. Load Capacity | Industrial Use | Heavy Duty Use | Suitable for Building Maintenance, Sheetrock
TYPE II â 225 lbs. Load Capacity | Commercial Use | Medium Duty | Light commercial and General Repair | Painting & Cleaning and Household Usability
TYPE III â 200 lbs. Load Capacity | Household Use | Light Duty | Light Cleaning and Painting
Weight Capacity
EQUALÂ ladders make all types including step, extension, multipurpose, scaffolding, and telescopic using the aluminum material. Here are some features of aluminum:
Lightweight
Long-lasting Construction
Resists Corrosion
Ideal for Painting, Roofing, and Siding
They are not suited to use near electricity, as they are conductive, and doing so may cause accidents
At the end of the day, choosing the correct ladder starts with thinking about what kind of job youâre going to be using it for. Then ensure youâve taken all of the previous steps to confirm your product won't underperform, or, on the opposite hand, youâll purchase a ladder with features that you simply wonât ever be using or plain previous overspending thanks to a lack of knowledge.
Interesting Facts About Ladder
Ladders are one of the oldest and widely used devices that change us to achieve high places and points safely. Despite its presence, though, not many of us apprehend a lot regarding it and sometimes take it and its safe use for granted.
It is assumed that ladders have been in use since the Mesolithic era, about 10,000 years ago.
Falling off a ladder is the most common injury a person can suffer from while climbing a ladder.
There are more than 21 types of rigid ladders available in the market.
John H. Balsley invented the first folding stepladder in 1892.
Aluminum is the most common material used in the manufacturing ladder.
Thanks for reading this. We are the leading manufacturer of aluminum ladders, platform trolleys, and weighing scales. If you have any questions, let us know.Â
#aluminum ladders#platform trolleys#weighing scales#John H. Balsley#folding stepladder#manufacturing ladder#Mesolithic era#10000 years ago#21 types of rigid ladders#Interesting Facts About Ladder#Lightweight#Long-lasting Construction#Resists Corrosion#Ideal for Painting#Roofing#and Siding#Load Capacity#Professional Use#Extra Heavy Duty#Suitable for MRO#Industrial construction#Ladder Height#ladders#Scaffolding Ladder
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let me see you stripped down to the boneâŠ
- stripped by depeche mode
congratulations! youâve been hired as homelanderâs entire glam squad! what an opportunity! now letâs try real hard not to let the fumes get to you, okay?
pairing : homelander/afab reader
word count : 5.6k
warnings : homelander in and of himself, toxic workplace environment, something akin to stockholm syndrome, fingering, smut. 18+, mdni
special thanks to @blindmagdalena @sehtoast @homeb0ys and @clockworkzeppelin for letting me scream at you about this!
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Homelander is an asshole.
That doesnât bother you much. Youâve dealt with plenty in this field, which means youâve learned how to make life easier for all parties. That particular learning curve includes when to stand out and blend in, at times concurrently depending on what variety of asshole they happen to be.
As a whole, the makeup artists and hairstylists at Vought take care of The Seven and go where theyâre needed. And as a cosmetologist, you were hired to provide both services for Homelander and Homelander only, which you consider to be one of the most prestigious stamps one could add to their professional passport.
Before you became official, you were colorfully threatened by a Ms. Ashley Barrett, who, after the fact, had no qualms throwing you into the lionâs den to figure your own shit out.
In no uncertain terms were you told that if you fucked any part of this up, your sparkling resume would look best as something to sit her smooth, bare ass on while getting fucked on top of her desk. No lube or protection. It would then be tossed exactly like her salad.
Not an image you could have ever predicted crossing your mind. Honestly, you should have stopped her right there and walked your happy little ass out of her office toward pastures that might have not been greener (you were being handsomely compensated), but certainly not as toxic. While the red flags were a color you couldnât quite ignore, you were also curious about why they stood out so much more than they did regarding previous employers.
None of this is to say you live under a rock. Anyone who has access to the internet is ambushed daily by these Supesâ personal lives. Homelanderâs track record as far as choice in partners went hadnât been ideal, so you understand that made him less popular at the time. That of course has nothing to do with you or your capabilities.
You opt to wear gray-colored glasses, seeing everything with a neutral blend of black and white. As much as possible anyway.
Nevertheless, curiosity killed the cat. But hopefully not your career.
The first day was awkward to say the least. Immediately, you knew you werenât going to like your coworkers.
Glints of sympathy changed how they perceived you. A target, whether they intended for this to happen or not, was nailed to your forehead, and it made them buzz around you like avid, greedy wasps keen on seeing how rapidly the honeybee will be brutalized. You didnât much care for going cross-eyed while staring at that target whenever you crossed paths. They didnât know you, yet because of who you were working under, deemed you helpless. They didnât give you a chance to establish yourself before branding you a victim.
Why should you respect them?
Small talk wasnât entertained either, as their judgment tarnished any future encounters. They ostracized you once you showed no interest in engaging with them. That didnât disappoint you. You werenât here to make friends.
You do wonder how those before you fared: if they were jaded when they arrived or if they couldnât help but succumb to the pressures of being at the top rung of a very unstable albeit sought after ladder.
Ms. Barrett quickly introduced you to Homelander, her parting gift before leaving the two of you alone.
You werenât completely nervous in his presence. He wasnât any different to you than the other celebrities youâd worked on, except he could rip you in half like a piece of paper if he was so inclined. But heâs the hero of this countryâs story, so really, you should have nothing to worry about.
His demeanor, you noted, suggested arrogance, annoyance, and boredom. All things youâre used to. So you offered your hand to shake, which he eyed with a slightly upturned nose before grabbing, told him it was a pleasure to meet him and got straight to business.
Looking back, he was clearly expecting more out of you. Maybe not a display as excessive as getting on your knees and professing your undying love, but close enough. Somewhere in the middle, perhaps.
Part of you believes he might have also counted on fear. To you, heâs not anything or anyone unknown. Another big name in a fancy suit with impossible demands.
You were given a routine to follow and products to use. You did as you were instructed and found the process to be simple and, as Homelanderâs expression revealed, uninspiring.
While you were utilizing a face brush to apply powder, he must have decided he was done enduring your lack of enthusiasm, because he suddenly asked, âWhat are you wearing?â
You stopped for a split second, no longer than, and continued. âThe name of my clothing designer, you mean?â
He scoffed, waving his gloved hand at you, almost knocking the applicator you held to the ground. âNo, your perfume. What are the top notes?â
You laughed and that seemed to confuse him. âWhy, you want a bottle?â
âI donât like it.â He sniffed sharply and cleared his throat. âSmells like you should be on the corner selling your used body parts.â
Ding ding ding. Alarm bells and red flags galore. You enjoy a challenge, however, and are a bit of a masochist, so you persevere.
âWell, what doesnât smell like a cheap hooker to you? Iâll start wearing that instead.â
He cocked a brow, studying you. Trying to figure out if you were being serious or mocking him.
âItâs your first day.â A warning. âAre you on your best behavior, or can you do better?â He leaned forward in his chair, forcing you backward. âYou should be working harder to prove yourself. Prove your worth.â He sat back again and shrugged. âOr maybe you really are worth as much as that dumpster juice you doused yourself in.â
At this point, he more than likely envisioned your happy little ass getting offended and storming out of the room. Breaking down, sobbing. Questioning why he was being so rude. One of those or, better yet, a nifty combination.
Youâve heard worse, unfortunately for him. Not always directed at you, but that doesnât matter. You can handle it.
âYouâre absolutely right,â you stated calmly, folding your arms across your chest. He looked at you with pretentious, petulant intrigue. âIt is my first day, and I want to make a good impression. Which is why Iâm asking you what you would like me to wear so I can continue to keep that good impression intact and, as our professional relationship develops, stay on top of it.â
Homelanderâs mouth twitched. He sighed deeply and slouched in his seat, staring at the wall to the left of him. Then he deigned to cast his gaze back at you, resting his cheek on his index and middle finger. He tapped the arm rest with his other hand.
âUgh, fine. Whatever.â A pause followed that lasted longer than necessary. Were you meant to guess? âJust wear something, I dunno, less. If you would have done your homework like a good little peon, youâd know I have super senses. Highly developed. Can you even imagine what that entails?â
Finally, he freed the canvas you were nearly finished with, and you flicked the soft bristles across the bridge of his nose. You smiled, more to yourself than him.
Felt rather on the nose, as the saying goes.
He didnât comment on your grin. You didnât give him time to. But he did huff like you were being obtuse on purpose.
âI can try. And my imagination is giving me some less-than-ideal scenarios,â you replied. Another pause. At least he was letting you do your job again.
You donât know what compelled you to keep going, but something about his lack of a real answer made you carry on. âDo you have a favorite flower or baked good? Maybe a spice?â
Homelander almost glared up at you. You say almost because, for whatever reason, it didnât seem like he was directing that harshness at you, though former words and actions proved otherwise. Something inside, perhaps. Or outside of this enclosed space.
âI already told you what to wear. Donât make me repeat myself.â
You took the hint and remained quiet the rest of your session. Soon, you were done.
As you were packing and tidying up your station, he took it upon himself to stand behind you. He lingered over your shoulder, watching the scene play out like he was director and star and you were barely an ant on the sidewalk he acknowledged before squashing.
The heat radiating off of him was impossible to dismiss, a wall of it barricading your backside. He clasped his fingers underneath his cape and inched closer. You thought he was as close to you as he could get without touching you. He was that warm.
When you glanced up, he was staring at you through the mirror. As absurd as it was, you managed to get chills. Goosebumps broke the surface of your skin.
âFresh chocolate chip cookies. Straight out of the oven. Like mom used to make.â He flashed an unnerving smile before turning to exit.
From there on out, even after you bent to his will and found a gourmand scent that matched what he described, Homelander tested you. Your work ethic, clothing choice, eating habits, and most of all, patience.
Your parents would ask how you were liking your job, how it was working alongside the Supes- not to mention the most famous of all- and youâd lie through your teeth. You felt you had no choice, Ashleyâs threat ringing in your ears.
Resume, bare ass, tossed salad...
Oh yeah, itâs going great! Theyâre all super flexible. I couldnât be happier!
At least that pun made you feel a little better about hiding the shame of what youâve allowed yourself to take on.
This was all in the first few weeks. It started to get a little easier after that, which is surprising considering more was added to your to-do list.
You should have moved on before starting. But, for whatever asinine reason, you didnât.
Every time you go back to your apartment and assess your appearance in the bathroom mirror, you wonder whoâs making who up here. Heâs changing your looks more than you are his. Youâre like his human doll.
Youâve put up with a lot over the years, but this takes the cake and shoves it in your face. As fucked as it is, the flavor is growing on you. Like a fungus. Growing, nonetheless.
You canât stop thinking about him.
Itâs innocent enough, you try convincing yourself. Making sure you have the right outfit laid out the night before, the right lunch (no onions or fish or anything âfreakyâ!), etc. He is your superior, after all. You shouldnât be viewing him in any other light.
Heâs the most frustrating aspect of your existence these days, but heâs also the one youâre around the most. His penchant for workplace gossip and how unintentionally funny he is tends to make him palatable, which has regrettably become an understatement.
Months go by. Youâve witnessed how alone he truly is. How he has nothing outside of performing his tricks on Voughtâs all-encompassing stage. And when he begins asking for your input, starts doing things for you that are so blatant itâs perplexing, you find your stress and vexation melting into cumbersome fascination.
Itâs embarrassing. You donât have the courtesy of enough time to dwell on your feelings toward the situation either, from beginning to whatever end you might be met with. You suppose that could be beneficial in the long run.
It also hits you when you least expect it; when you really donât want it to.
Your body doesnât wait until you finally have a moment alone. It decides, while youâre helping Homelander with his skincare routine that he insisted upon because you know more than these vacuous corporate douche-bags, to heat up without warning and slither from your head to your heart until it grasps you unfairly between your legs.
You try not to step into momentary paralysis. You understand to what extent his powers reach. Itâs not like he doesnât go on and on about them. About himself.
Whatever he notices, itâs not right away. A palpable tension fills the air between the two of you eventually. But it takes a more significant amount of time than you would have anticipated to permeate the natural flow of things.
Fuck, you canât even be safe inside here, where your thoughts, whatever they may be, are yours. You canât even have yourself. He has every part of you, and you are willingly relinquishing that control.
Your evening, once you can have it, consists of combing over every decision youâve made leading up to this strange, disorienting space you find yourself occupying. All it does is leave you exasperated in a much different way than before and with an unsettling observation (or hallucination):
Was that the tail end of the American flag outside your window?
You are unacceptably late.
Rushing around, you throw on the first top and bottoms you see from your closet and spritz some perfume on your neck and wrists. You donât check your phone. Youâre afraid of what will pop up on your screen. And, frankly, you donât have the time.
Your only option for transportation is the subway, as youâre sure the special vehicle from Vought is long gone. Why would they wait for someone like you, even if youâre practically Homelanderâs personal assistant? One of his only friends. You doubt he has more than Black Noir, and that isnât as perfect as it appears to the casual viewer.
You dread what kind of explosion youâre without a doubt walking into once you show your miserable ass up. Youâre going to smell like everyone on this train. Heâs going to go ballistic.
The question remains: why are you continuing to put yourself through this? Itâs not your circus, yet somehow, the monkeys have become your liability.
You know, deep down, what keeps you going back. Itâs simply too ridiculous to admit aloud.
Making your way past security, hurriedly presenting your badge, you realize you forgot to brush your teeth, or at the very least, gargle some mouthwash. You thank your lucky stars when you open your purse to a pack of gum tucked away in one of the compartments.
It will have to do.
When you open the door to Homelanderâs dressing room, you see a couple of employees standing near the counter where the bag of supplies has been opened and rifled through, looking like they might soil themselves, a frantic Ashley, and an extremely pissed off Homelander in the middle of it all.
Reflexively, you cringe. You attempt to wipe any trace from your features, but itâs too late. Ashley is glaring daggers at you and Homelander can hardly bring himself to look in your direction. The others donât matter to you. They never did.
âIâm so sorry Iâm late. I know thereâs no excuse-â
âYouâre goddamned right, thereâs no excuse! I donât give a shit if god and his whole fucking choir of angels came down from heaven and divinely called you to give them a makeover! What were you thinking?!â
Youâre about to answer, though you comprehend her query is more or less rhetorical. She interrupts your slightly open mouth while gesturing wildly, proving your point.
âOh, thatâs right! You werenât thinking at all, were you?! But I do believe youâve thought long and hard about whatâs at stake here. And you know damn well we at Vought donât tolerate this kind of sloppy behavior. Not to mention the way youâre dressed! Itâs adding insult to injury!â Her hand swipes at the air, the length of your outfit, and you glance down, recognizing how comically mismatched you are. Her correct observation affects you more than it would have months prior, stinging your ego- one of the many things thatâs been shelved in order to accommodate the person who wonât even grace you with a glance.
A dramatic groan cuts short any further commentary from the redhead, perpetually stretched thin between her absurd duties.
âJesus Christ, Ashley, why are your big fucking horse gums still flapping?â Homelanderâs booming voice slices through your mind like a jarring, dense migraine. He pinches his brow between middle finger and thumb, eyes closed. âI want you and Tweedledee and Tweedledum tâget the fuck out. Now.â
Ashley is plainly dumbfounded, struggling to see where she went wrong (a pattern when it comes to dealing with the volatile leader of The Seven), mouth agape. She shakes her head. âBut sir, are you-?â
âYou donât know what the fuck youâre talking about or doing. Clearly.â
Ms. Barrett turns a shade paler, staring at Homelander and blinking owlishly before snapping herself out of her stupor. She hurries her lackeys out of the room, shooing them along like a pair of misbehaving toddlers. She doesnât give a final look, no further warning. She merely shuts the door behind her.
You also hear it lock.
What the hell does she think is going to happen?
You should have stopped this while you had the chance. You should have never taken this job. You should have stood up for yourself and walked out. You should have you should have you should-
âWho the fuck do you think you are?â
His caustic tone sends shivers down your spine. Itâs unlike anything youâve heard come out of him. And youâve heard enough.
Again, you open your mouth. It fills with blood, thick and metallic and more potent than the mint from your gum. Youâre silenced by it.
He stalks toward you and grabs you hastily by the shoulders, swiveling you around so youâre face-to-face with the choices youâve made. Your mirrored image is reflected back at you, exhausted and searching for any last shred of who you might be beneath his heavy palms.
âLook at yourself! Do you even recognize whoâs staring back at you?â No.
âWhat kind of game are you playing, hmmm? Is this⊠humiliating spectacle youâre putting on for the money? Your pathetic career? Like itâs goddamned rocket science to pick up a can of hairspray and use it. Monkeys have hands.â He makes a noise thatâs akin to a snorting horse, exhaling forcefully past his nostrils. âI mean, did you really think you could pull a fast one on me?â He clutches your jaw, squeezing it between middle and thumb. Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart picking up rhythm.
âSpit that fucking gum out. Donât think I canât hear you grinding it between your molars like a dumb animal. You arenât a mama bird, are you? Yâdonât have cute little baby birds tâforce-feed your regurgitated leftovers, do you? Eugh, gross.â
You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose. It presents you with a false sense of security. You do as youâre told, and it lands on the floor in front of your shoe, saliva dangling on a thread as withered as your sanity.
Suddenly fresh breath seems like the most insignificant issue, when Homelander himself once made it out to be something earth-shattering.
Youâre such a fool.
He leans in and sniffs your throat. Your fingers lengthen and bend.
Youâre so many things at once. Confused, angry, nervous, scared. And, to your dismay, warm. God youâre so fucking warm. Heâs heating you up from the inside out. You clench your jaw, still held in place by a firm bind.
âGet rid of those ugly clothes. I donât care what you have to do. I canât stand the sight or smell of them.â
You shut your eyes. When you open them, all you see is red. The other emotions are smothered in favor of that brand of heat. What happens next is a blur. You temporarily leave yourself.
âFine. Have it your way, Homelander. You always do.â
Breaking free of his fluctuating hold, you start tearing at what youâre wearing, tossing everything- including your bra and underwear- to the ground. Your shirt winds up with the gum sticking to its loose fabric. You even take your shoes and socks off, not paying any heed to where your belongings go. Just that theyâre gone.
You donât process the glaring fact that you made yourself naked in front of your boss. In front of the most powerful man this country, and possibly world, has known. You donât care that things have escalated this far. That they shouldnât have. They shouldnât have. But guess what? They did. And these are the consequences you both have to deal with.
âYou wanna know what game Iâm playing?â You turn around, forcing him backward. âItâs funny, I thought youâd be able to answer that for me, considering all the hoops Iâve had to jump through to not only save my ass, but make sure you had someone to talk to at the end of the day! Who on your team can you say goes above and beyond like that for you?!â He blinks at you now, eyes wide. Features fall to the floor where your clothes reside. You have his full and undivided attention.
An impressively dangerous thing to have.
âWhat more do you want from me, Homelander? I practically live with you without any of the benefits that usually includes! Youâre really going to stand here and berate me like I havenât given you fucking everything youâve ever asked me for? Because I made one mistake? I gave up my entire world, which I know doesnât mean shit to you. But it does to me.â
You fold your arms over your chest. Nothing covers it. You have to know before you lose all dignity. So you ask once more, hoping it wonât get lost in this bizarre mess.
âWhat do you want from me?â
Nothing. He canât stop staring at you. You arenât aware enough to be ashamed, but you are aware enough to be upset.
His infuriating silence compels you to bend down and gather what was a barrier between the two of you. You are no longer needed if he canât do what he does best, which is spout off, leaking bottled words everywhere like a broken faucet. Itâs a pretty simple question, you think.
Thatâs when the glass behind you shatters.
You flinch, pause what youâre doing and slowly stand. Cautious in whatever your next approach will be.
Surveying the aftermath, youâre relieved to find that youâre far enough away from the mirror so no injuries were inflicted.
When you finally lock eyes with the source, you see red. The atmosphere surrounding you heaves like the distended belly of a rotting corpse; hisses like an overflowing tea kettle; pierces you like lightning.
Homelanderâs expression is rigid. His jaw quivers. Irises are a bright, shining scarlet. If you try anything rash, you might be next. But, having been around him for so long, youâre more inclined to believe heâs having trouble processing his own emotions. And that might have been one of the only ways to release them.
You drop the top and pants you managed to reclaim. Your brain hasnât fully recovered from the constant devastating hit itâs taken, so you donât want to put a name to whatâs pushing you forward. You donât stop until youâre directly in his line of vision.
Swallowing, you carefully extend your hand. The ruby color begins to crumble and give way to the vast ocean you might have drowned in one too many times. You lost track, blocking what you could out. Too real and intimate to accept for a realm that thrives off of inauthenticity and misfortune.
Homelander inhales harshly and you retreat, pupils hooking themselves to his. Searching for any sign you shouldnât be right where you are.
Of course there are several; unfortunately, you are currently blind to them. Blind to everything but him.
Thatâs how itâs been for awhile, hasnât it?
He has a habit of not granting you the luxury of time.
Quickly, he snatches your wrist and brings your palm flat against his cheek. He exhales, eyelids fluttering, nuzzling into you.
Itâs so simple, yet it disarms you in ways you arenât accustomed to.
Homelander basks in this chaste display of affection, and so do you, in awe of how enraptured he appears. Soaking you inside of his pores.
In turn, your cognizance reappears. You nearly topple over, realization infiltrating every part of you.
Youâre not wearing a stitch.
A knock at the door startles you both. You glance over in that general direction and hear from the other side, âYouâre on in fifteen, Homelander, sir!â
Gazing back up at him, you witness that same fire expand at a rapid rate. You use your other hand to bring him back down to reality, to ground him. It rests against his chest, delving into and cracking his ribs, flaying him open.
What strikes you is how vigorously his heart is beating. How you can feel it through his uniform.
This is how much you affect him. (Can you fathom that youâre only privy to a fraction?) Having evidence of the tiniest reciprocation drains you of any unwanted discomfort.
His fury subsides. You breathe out. He does, too.
âGo sit in your chair. I came here to do my job, after all.â The tenderness with which you speak seems to ease him further, his shoulders deflating with each word.
That aside, youâre playing with a lit match. Youâre unsure whoâs going to set who ablaze, but youâre willing to go down with this entire building to find out.
He does as heâs told, watching you the whole way like a mutilated mixture of a snarling cornered animal and a man fervently in love. He almost trips into his seat, not an ounce of grace in his gait.
Sacrificing his entire image just to get a glimpse of you.
Whipping his cape to the side, he sinks into the cushion. You get things ready as you typically do, your movements a bit jittery from the adrenaline sending haphazard jolts to your limbs. Despite this, youâre focused. You are more focused than you remember ever being.
You work efficiently, keeping in mind the limit thatâs been put on your time.
Homelander bores holes through you. He doesnât need lasers for that. Youâre exposed and vulnerable and he pries what he fostered apart until itâs distinguishable by no one else but him.
You relearn his perfectly manufactured features. Different lights shape shadows you either havenât seen before or feigned ignorance of. You commit to memory how he looks, smells, feels, the side of your hand grazing his cheek and hanging on.
Heâs invigorating, your excitement building to a crescendo you canât neglect. The heat in your core disperses, most of it congregating low in your belly and behind your expanding rib cage. His pupils drink you in, urgently and violently.
Your arousal is heady. He licks his lips. A hint of a whine caresses your ears and it makes you dizzy.
How could you have ever denied yourself?
You decide to take further control, testing the waters to a greater extent.
Itâs your turn to watch him the whole way down. You straddle him, easing yourself atop his taut thighs.
After a few moments of humoring yourself, of pretending to concentrate on your work, dusting his nose with powder, you straighten. Eye contact has not been severed.
You motion toward his hands, balled into tense, repressed fists at his sides.
âTake off your gloves.â
Initially, it feels like maybe you said the wrong thing, or said it the wrong way. He doesnât budge. Youâre patient, however, so you wait like youâve always done, the warmth from your cunt mingling with the hardness beneath you. Your mouth waters.
At last, Homelander nods and removes his gloves, tugging on the index of each. He places them on the armrests and transfixes himself to you once more.
âDo you want to touch me?â you ask, voice and body staying impossibly still in spite of your nerves.
Immediately, he shakes his head, âYes,â the first time heâs spoken since your outburst, and without hesitation, reaches for your chest. You close your eyes, falling into his snooping lifts and tugs and squeezes, giving yourself permission to become possessed by the inhibited imaginations of how selfish, how rapacious his touches might be. How smooth his bare hands are, how ardent each digit is.
Leaning into you, he sucks one nipple into his mouth and palms the other, moaning and vibrating against your flesh. He digs his fingers into the pliant softness of your hip, steadying you with disciplined pressure. You squirm, attuned to every minuscule shift.
The lit match is tilted toward you now, swift and stunning. Your fingers release the brush youâve been holding. It aligns with the slit of the cushion, forgotten and purposeless.
You wrap your digits around the hand on your curves and guide him toward your throbbing center. He doesnât fight you. Doesnât stop your movements. Doesnât scold or challenge you. Instead, he curls his fingers in a way that makes you unabashedly moan, cupping your folds and pinning his thumb to your clit, adapting to your anatomy.
Your wants.
It seems like breaking away from you is a daunting task, but he does for a moment, brow furrowed, more engrossed and invested than youâve ever witnessed.
âFuck.â The curse sounds downright edible, your new favorite flavor. Your name tumbles from his lips like heâs been practicing, a sweet, rich icing on top. You gasp, his tongue adhering to you again, swirling around your peak before lightly biting it.
Rocking your hips back and forth, side-to-side, you grind hard into his palm. He strokes you like heâs studied what pace you prefer, how much friction you crave. Youâre so wet, even youâre thrown off by it.
Once heâs finished with your chest, heâs back against the seat, unable to peel his gaze from you. Your full, swollen, glistening breasts.
His mouth hangs open, obscene, desperate whimpers slipping from it. Pupils are like whirlpools that drive you under. Drive you mad.
Homelander adeptly slips two, three digits inside your sopping cunt, unrelenting in his intentions to make up for lost time. The voracity of his actions propels you forward, balancing against his chest. He grasps and pulls at your other hip, groaning loudly in your ear, confirming his approval of how close you are to him.
Itâs still not enough.
Pulling you even tighter to his blinding sun of a body, he encloses his free arm around you and desperately bucks his waist. âI want⊠I want⊠I wantâŠâ he chants. Your nails drag up his neck and along his scalp, overwhelmed by his warmth, his scent, him. Your lips ghost the sliver of skin above his collar, making him growl.
You anticipate and dread and yearn for whatâs been building for so long. You clench and release, clench and release, clench and release, body chanting with him.
Youâre intuitively thankful for the chairâs sturdiness; however, if it would have collapsed, youâre honestly not sure you would have noticed. Or cared.
You hear him come first. Feel the temperature rise temporarily. Itâs so sudden and all-consuming that you naturally follow, his name an instinct you canât help but divulge. You havenât come down from the turbulent emotions rushing through you earlier, and that combination catapults you over the edge.
Your orgasm draws more deliberate, vehement grunts and sighs of satisfaction from him, as if your pleasure is inexplicably the same or worth more than his.
You canât crumple into a boneless heap like you want to. You just canât. You have to look at him. Look at his bliss; the glazed, barren-yet-so-full-of-you expression, of what these months of working in close quarters have done to him.
What you uncover is not what you were picturing. Thereâs a mixture of that haze with something almost apologetic below the teeming surface. Clouds of red to skies of blue. Destructive in and of themselves.
Sliding his fingers from your wetness, he wraps his lips around each one that was inside of you and spreads them apart. Your slick sticks to his glossy skin and stretches between digits, a generous amount. You whimper at the loss- the emptying, hollow feeling- and watch, mesmerized and delirious as he savors you.
Swallowing you whole, Homelander sweeps his knuckles across the apple of your cheek and presses his lips hard against yours. He wastes no time inhaling your gasps and moans, licking your mouth and the faint taste of mint, stealing it from you. You ingest what you can of him as well, exploring what was open to you longer than you realized.
He then seizes your wrists. Itâs a rough gesture that evaporates into gentle circles along your pulse points. Still, you know youâre going to bruise where he turned the key and locked you into place: wherever he is.
A visible sheen coats his lips.
âI want you to tell me Iâm good. Great. The best.â
His breathing is labored. So is yours.
He kisses the inside of the wrist smeared with perfume, your fluids, his saliva; ends with your hand and rests his cheek against the slope of it.
âI want you to be mine. All mine. Mine alone.â
Youâre shaking. He moves forward and pets your hair, twirls it; grabs your nape and holds his thumb to the front of your throat. Securing you. Keeping you there.
âYou have to stay. Be mine and stay.â
You thrum with an ache he forced upon you. Heâll claim you were starving and he was the only one who could satiate.
You nod. You were never going to leave to begin with.
Homelander made you his. And you thanked him for it.
#homelander#homelander x reader#the boys#antony starr#my writing#let me see you stripped down to the bone#oneshot#god it feels so good getting this out#iâve been going through a painful writerâs block so đ„č#thank you everyone who helped and anyone who reads#this is my first full-fledged homelander fic so iâm a bit nervous but! very excited đ€#love you all đ„°
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Been seeing a lot of interesting conversations over on Twitter about how class difference is portrayed in Haikyuu, and in contrast, it made me think about those shit ass "hinata would have grown more in another school" tik tok takes and why they make me so mad.
Like no shit, Sherlock, ANYONE would be able to thrive more in a richer school, with a properly funded volleyball club and everthying that comes with it. Schools like Shiratorizawa, Fukurodani, Inarizaki and etc. that are regulars at Nationals.
And that's the whole point of the story. I'm Hinata Shouyou from the concrete. Karasuno is literally portrayed as a garbage dump. Before Takeda takes over and convinces Ukai to coach the team, the vb club was literally in shambles
(And even before, during the glory days of Old Ukai, it seems like the school still didn't make a heavy investment in the club)
Anyway, Karasuno isn't a rich, renowned school. It isn't the best school. It doesn't have the best coaches or a bus or a whole ass cheer squad. And yet it's exactly the school Hinata wanted. He was willing to bike half an hour over a mountain, back and forth, every single day just to be able to attend it.
THE WHOLE POINT is that he still managed to climb his way up to the top despite not having a strong base and not being able to attend one of the best schools in the country. He who would climb the ladder must begin at the bottom. The whole point is that Karasuno- the team as a whole- managed to claw their way to Nationals despite everything.
(Also, I've seen people call Ukai a bad coach, and let me just say: WASH YOUR MOUTH. Ukai is an overworked likely underpaid 20 something dude who probably doesn't have a degree in any sort of teaching position. He agrees to coach the vb team despite having a store to run and helping out at his family's farm. This man is flying by the seat of his pants, working solely with his intuition and the knowledge he gained from watching his grandfather coach - which was almost TEN YEARS ago. The fact that he managed to take the boys to Nationals and get them as far as he did despite being inexperienced actually says a lot about Ukai's intelligence and potential.)
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Bill & Ford & A Book, Oh My!
DISCLAIMER: The Book of Bill has Bill Cipher serving as an unreliable narrator. If we go out trying to say something is "definitively a truth" or "definitively a lie", we're going to keep arguing about it until the heat death of the universe. This is just my own personal interpretation of the source material. If you don't agree, that's fine! Also TBOB spoilers abound.
So it's no secret that interest in the dynamic Bill & Ford have (enemies, platonic, romantic, formerly romantic, whichever way) has really skyrocketed since TBOB's release. Of course, there are the 'easy' culprits to point towards, with Mabel referring to Bill as 'being like a needy ex', and the whole O'Sadley's fiasco (Him literally crying over losing Ford and going "one Sixer, please"? Messy. Messy behavior. Still, I think it goes so much deeper than that.
Bill, being the unpredictable chaos entity that he is, also serves as the main antagonist for a show about family and having close bonds with each other. We don't really need to look into his inner psyche that much, because that's just not what he needed to be doing at that point in the cartoon. He's meant to be a way to divide the Pines, really. And a silly little guy. A silly little obstacle. So, naturally, when it came to Bill's arguably "closest" relationship to someone in the show (Ford), it was very easy to interpret it as Ford being tricked by a completely apathetic Bill, who was just using him as a rung on the ladder. And I do want to stress that Ford and Bill's physical actions remain fairly consistent throughout interpretations, and focusing on the fact that Bill badly hurt Ford is important, so if that's how you still see it, then fine by me! No harm no foul!
But I think the relationship, their story, their tragedy just becomes so much more interesting with the lens The Book of Bill has presented. Weâre finally able to see Billâs perspective as a âprotagonistâ of sorts in a medium where heâs not just something to defeat- and thatâs something weâve never gotten before, so itâs shedding light on an area we didnât know about for sure! Again, Bill is lying to the character of "the reader", so we can't trust it as a completely unbiased source. But we can speculate on where the "truth" is between these lies.
First of all, Bill's backstory was that he destroyed his home dimension- we knew that already. But now, with the extra content we have about it, we see something interesting- that Bill's backstory mirrors Ford's to an uncanny degree.
Both of them champion their intelligence, although they highlight how it set them apart from others, as well as highlighting their own 'rare mutation/birth defect'.
Again, with this self-isolation already spurred on from their "weirdness", but also as a little aside, I would also like to highlight that Bill being 'ready to be one', looking up at the stars, striving to 'reach' them, is a shared motif he has with Ford, who is also associated with space, the stars, and reaching them.
Bill's 'trying-really-quick-to-convince-Ford' fantasy sequence even has him in a field of stars as a sort of "ultimate wish fulfilment". Remember, this is Bill showing Ford something he thinks would win Ford over, at least a little.
(And I'll take a quick time out for this train of thought to point out- hey! Bill admits he sought out most of his other victims, but Ford summoned him, and it took him by surprise! That adds a fun little layer of complexity to everything, don't you think? Another little layer of humanity for this whole mess- Bill didn't expertly seek out the 'perfect victim' or anything, it was just... luck. Some twist of fate.)
Anyways.
Obviously, the intro page to the 'Sixer' section has a ton of red flags galore (I mean, poor guy's literally depicted as a hapless puppet. C'mon, Bill. Not to mention the "OH BOY HE'S ALREADY SO ISOLATED, IT'S PERFECT" thing.). This guy is kind of a terrible companion no matter how you slice it. He's terrible to everyone close to him, because he's a deeply traumatized character who refuses to heal. BUT, the wording here is kinda deliciously intriguing to me. All of humanity is Bill's puppets, his future victims, but to me, it's clear that he holds a fondness for Ford. From "This is what a partner looks like", to "Me and Sixer could be the perfect team", to "He had what I always wanted- fingers" (drawn to his strangeness, maybe?), "He was destined for so much more", "I looked at his futures and giggled", and most stand-out to me, "Society calls these people freaks, I call them Henchmaniacs!"
Going back to the pre-Book of Bill era I was talking about, Bill's offers for Ford to join him were always in a sort of murky territory for interpretation. The first offer could definitely be read as mocking, with the line "WITH THAT SIX-FINGERED HAND, YOU'D FIT RIGHT IN WITH MY FREAKS!" in particular making it seem like Bill was only saying that to rub Ford's strangeness in his face, and the second offer to join Bill being under a new circumstance- that now Bill is desperate and believes Ford is the only one who can help him. But the Book of Bill mentions the idea of Ford becoming a Henchmaniac more than once, and also has Bill upset at losing Ford and claiming "he'll be back", as well as Bill seeming to use "freak" more like a badge of honour, and having previously complimented Ford's six fingers (In the Sixer intro page, he highlights Ford's fingers as a quality he likes, and in the pages about bodies, he states that "humans should have more fingers". To me, that first offer reads more now like Bill being genuine about finding Ford a place among his misfits. ...Although, the moment Ford says no, he does zap him into a statue. So. Y'know. He's still got issues.
(Yeah, again, red flag city. "Just hazing"? Bill, none of what you were doing over there was okay! You might have suppressed everything traumatic that happened to you, but that doesn't mean you can go around traumatizing everyone! Good lord.)
Bill has already been imply to like other characters because they remind him of himself. Pointing towards a connection with a character Bill DOESN'T have a weird undefinable ex-partner thing with... Mabel! Alex has says in multiple official media and interviews that Bill sees a lot of himself in Mabel, and essentially, that he thought Mabeland was the perfect prison because if HE liked all that awesome, uncontrolled chaos over any family or friends, why wouldn't SHE? And we see that again in TBOB. So basically, what I'm saying is that we have two characters to back up the fact that Bill seems gravitated towards humans or other living beings that he views as being 'like him'- beings he can relate to! So, y'know, what does that say about Bill and Ford?
There's also Bill's plans for the reader and "Weirdmageddon 2.0", where he portrays the reader as getting to, like, perch on his arm like a little bird and get their own little crown? And specifically calls out Ford for not going through with things?? Okay, Bill??
AND Ford not only being the only human mentioned on the list of people he "definitely doesn't miss so stop asking", but also having his own category? Alright, man.
Of course, another point to the 'Hey, maybe Bill can actually feel emotions towards humans besides complete and total apathy' club is this page here, which has ALSO been hotly debated! Certainly, we know he's telling the truth about his home dimension being destroyed, and we know that he's lying about the 'monster', but some interpret this scene as Bill not being remorseful at all and playing his reaction up to earn Ford's sympathy. And me, personally, I dunno if I agree. I feel like the specific inclusion of Bill "looking distant, more distant than I'd ever seen him" (Mirroring the fact that he keeps blacking out when thinking about all his large-scale massacres) and him "laughing joylessly", I think this sequence is meant to tell us that Bill actually is being vulnerable with Ford here, it's just hidden under layers and layers of deceit, whether towards himself or Ford or both.
And finally for my Book of Bill collection stuff, there's the stuff that could be read as more romantic in nature. In the 'love' section, Bill claims he doesn't love anyone, but, like-
Come on. You can disagree with me that it's Ford, but he does have exes. And he's clearly not over them. Shrimpy little liar. And then there's the fact that a lot of his hokey 'advice' is stuff he ends up directly doing to Ford.
These rats.
The Love Cage.
The Book of Bill really outlined all that in bold, but in my opinion, it was never an entirely new revelation! Bill seems to hold a preference for Ford over other humans in the show. He shows up in Ford's dreams just to say hi, tease him, and gloat (Mabelcorn) unlike the other two dream appearances he's made (Dreamscaperers, Sock Opera) which were exclusively for business purposes. Unlike every other character that gets exclusively one nickname for their zodiac sign, Ford gets multiple (Fordsy, IQ, Sixer, smart guy, brainiac, the list goes on). Bill asks Ford to join him TWICE, whereas anyone else who tries gets their face rearranged, put in a cage and made to dance, frozen in stone, etc etc. And finally, I think, the most emblematic of Bill's weird, specific relationship with Ford, is that whereas everybody else gets turned into stone, Ford got turned into gold.
Which kinda sums up their whole thing up pretty well? Bill gave him special treatment by turning him into a golden statue (similar to yellow ha ha), always holding him close, but, like... Dude. You still kidnapped a man and turned him into a statue and then threatened to kill his niece and nephew. I don't think it will change his opinion on you if he's the Most Pampered Hostage, Actually. I just don't think that we need to explore the relationships between characters as simply "Well, this character hurt the other one, so we shouldn't really think about why or what they feel personally, because what they did was bad, so there".
Bill & Ford interest me because they're a tragedy in motion. We can see that Bill and Ford mirror each other in a multitude of ways, and we can see that they both do have positive feelings towards each other at the time they meet, and we see that Bill very desperately wants Ford to be just like him in the unhealthy ways; the ways that make Bill destroy entire universes and compartmentalize it all, because maybe then, he can finally have the companionship he so deeply aches for. Bill and Ford both had tough, lonely upbringings, but Ford moved on from that "I don't need you" mentality. That's what saved him. Bill didn't, and that's what got him where he was in the end. I feel like that's just so much more interesting than Bill just being a flat entity that makes abuse Happen to Ford, just as another Event in his life. I mean, isn't it just SO much more interesting that Ford humanizes Bill, in a way? That Ford makes him- in Bill's own words- "sentimental"? That a chaotic dream demon has regrets and loves and favourites and connections? It's the same thing with Fiddleford & Ford, although, obviously, to a MUCH lesser extent than Bill & Ford. But you get what I mean, right? You know that Fiddleford and Ford are going to undo each other in the end, and the path to that downfall is... it's telling a story! I like the story of it all! I think that's what I've been invested in and intrigued by all these years- the story, the tragedy of Bill and Ford. No matter what form it takes.
(Plus, as tumblr user fordtato pointed out in their own essay (not tagging because this post is messy enough as is oh god), hey, Ford now has two incredibly queer-coded narratives, with one of them being about how he recovered and was able to heal from an abusive relationship. And, well, I think that's just neat.)
Anyways, that's the end of the post. Thanks for reading this long!
#gravity falls#the book of bill#bill cipher#billford#analysis#book of bill spoilers#gravity falls spoilers
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the hardest part abt writing SNK fic is that every character is more interesting than all the other characters
#x#like objectively speaking#Historia is more interesting than Falco#AND Falco is more interesting than Historia#and Annie and Levi are each more interesting than the other#SNK#in one sense EMA is like whatever but in another very real sense they are like Everything Youâve Ever Been Or Will Be#itâs because heâs blended high concepts with universal experiences#(I donât mean universal as in âevery person experiences thisâ I mean it as in âevery kind of human has heard this storyâ)#thatâs what makes a character Interestingâą isnât it#and thatâs how he conveys message too. he takes a high concept so far removed from reality that nobody reading could say#âIâve experienced thisâ#and you climb down the ladder until you get to the ground and find humanity#itâs like comedy that unites a polarized audience with a mutually enjoyed absurdity#this is why I get frustrated when people say SNK is about war.#yes it *concerns* war but war is just one part of the exposition of the story heâs been telling since chapter 1.#yes heâs talking about the consequences of isolationism but heâs ALSO talking about the consequences of globalism#the simple fact of the matter is#youâre trying too hard to pigeon-hole the themes into your bite-sized first-world Western understanding#if he wanted you to do that he wouldâve introduced Marley from the start instead of at the end#attack on titan is not about war itâs about What is mankind and what are we doing here and why are we doing it like this?#the manâs read Paradise Lost for crying out loud and you should know my phone autocorrected that to Paradis Lost#mobile#analysis#and Fullmetal Alchemist does this too btw. ppl loooovw to say Fullmetal Alchemist is about war. again it *concerns* war#but war is NOT what itâs about#war is a vehicle to show what itâs about#anyways Iâm going to bed âdonât yâall dare tell anyone i know that iâm writing anime fan fiction i will slay you where you stand
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soft Toji dog-sitting for a generous!reader
pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - pt. 5 - pt. 6
synopsis: Toji was quite accustomed to objectifying himself for a check. And to be frank, far worse actions as well. Now heâs not sure what to do with himself after meeting the kind and generous owner of the dog he pet-sits for.
read along as Toji grows more comfortable around you despite his past.
ă°ă»âĄă»ă°ă°ă»âĄă»ă°ă°ă»âĄă»ă°ă°ă»âĄă»ă°ă°ă»âĄă»ă°
Toji had stayed the night at many women's houses. At some point down the line, he started requesting they order him an Uber or something, but in the beginning, he was hardly at his own place. And for a brief period, when he was in a real desperate situation, he stayed with the women because he didn't have a place of his own.
That's why it's so strange to Toji, to feel apprehensive at staying the night in your home.
You won't even be there, what's it matter? He thought.
But then again, that might be why he's a bit uneasy about the whole thing. You were to be gone three days for a work event. And you had entrusted him with your entire place. He had showered and napped in your house, eaten your food and brought in the mail. He was comfortable to the point it felt like a second (much nicer) home. What he had never done, was stay the night. He certainly hadn't slept in your bed...
You had seemed overwhelmed and uneasy about the situation while walking him through everything. You had been on the opposite side of the kitchen island when you had said,
"I know this is so short notice, I'm terribly sorry, I wasn't even supposed to be on this trip, I asked not to go, but the other official called out sick." Your hands made grand and elaborate gestures and your dogs head wobbled as he followed your theatrical hands. "So now, I'm stuck, I have to go." You sounded upset.
"'S not a problem. So, what day does the trash go out, again?" He held back a grin as your shoulders drooped.
"Toji, you're my hero. Thank you. And Wednesday, don't worry if you forget to take it out though."
You had informed him that the dog would probably like it best if he stayed downstairs with him while you were away. Meaning-sleeping in the master bedroom. In your bedroom. On your bed.
Oh...kay...
He shrugged it off as you muttered some, "of course, I'll clean the sheets so don't worry about that..." And explained about the difficult relationship between the dog and the mailman. But he was too caught up in the fact that you were so trusting of him.
There didn't seem to be any uncomfortable air around you, other than your work-related stress around the trip, but you didn't seem to have a problem with this big-ass man spending a few days in at your place.
Toji had lots of appeal, and he had grown to know, the majority of it was sex appeal. And the fact that you clearly had no interest in that aspect of his abilities... made him feel odd. Any time he would throw a compliment at you, you would smile politely, and say something nice about him. Except it was always,
"You're so good at you're job!"
"I'm so glad I can trust you to look after my puppy!"
"I appreciate how efficient you are!"
it made his ears feel hot.
So did the smell of your bedsheets. In fact, your pillowcases had such an effect on him, on that first night you were gone, he found himself rummaging through your things to distract himself.
He meandered through your room, pulling books and sticky notes off dressers and walking through your closet nook. He intentionally did not open any drawers but when he stumbled upon a pair of pajamas lying on a bookcase ladder, he quickly turned around and went to examine the fascinating blanket collection at the foot of your bed.
Staying at your place meant he could sleep in if he wanted to, but that morning he got out of bed earlier than usual. He wasn't going to let his mind wander while lying in the same spot you lay.
He found himself pretending he actually lived in the space. Getting dressed. Feeding the dog. Making breakfast. All in the luxurious home he did not belong in. After some time he realized all of these fantasies included you. He imagined making coffee as you sat across the island, he imagined talking with you, as a normal person, over pancakes, or whatever the hell rich people ate.
Eventually, he had to shake the thoughts from his head as they began to seem too domestic.
One thing that carried throughout the days of your leave, was the photos. You had repeatedly told him to never hesitate to contact you, "And please feel free to send pictures!" So send pictures- he did.
On walks, in the back yard, while booping the dog's nose, after giving the beast a treat. He sent most to you but kept some for himself. You acted as if he was spoiling you with these images of your own canine, the hearted messages and polite, "This really made my day!" stuck with him, when in reality, you were the one spoiling him with how much you had given him for his stay.
Once upon a time, the money he had in his wallet would have already been gone. A real likelihood being that he took the cash and left the dog to fend for itself. Only naive people paid before the service was completed. But he was a different man now. Or so he told himself as he pondered how you must think of him.
You must think highly. To pay so much upfront. You must trust him.
That evening, after walking the dog one last time, he flipped his phone around in his hand while lying down, legs hanging off your mattress. It was late, he was wondering what you were doing and what he should spend his money on when he felt the vibrations of his phone.
He saw your contact pop up and was quick to open the messaging app. What he saw, however, confused him a great deal.
"I would like for you to not involve the police with this. If possible, do keep this event and its handlings between us, I would be unhappy if my colleagues heard about this."
He sprang up in the bed, his feet planted on the floor as he read and reread your message over and over. Confusion filled him, was this message intended for him? If so, had you discovered something about Toji's past? Or had you mistakenly sent the message to him?
What was this about?
He began to write back, only to stop. He wanted to see if you would alter your text, or confirm your mistake. When you didn't and he could not take it any longer. He responded.
"What event are we discussing?"
Immediately he saw that you had read his reply, and quickly he saw an ellipses appear. It faded quickly. He waited for what seemed like forever, unsure of what to say. "I would be unhappy if my colleagues heard about this" he knew you had discussed his working for you before with your co-workers before he distinctly told you he wasn't looking for more work.
Sick of all the waiting, he decided to call you. And as soon as the phone rang, it immediately went to voice mail.
Clearly, you had been in a hurry to avoid his call. Unsure of how to proceed, he texted again.
"???"
He had a sick feeling in his stomach as he rose to pace the bedroom. Finally a message arrived.
"Terribly sorry, that message was intded for my boss. I texted your ontact by mistake."
Toji tried to digest exactly what this meant. He saw the typos in your message and quickly wondered if you had ever been so careless before. He scrolled up to scan previous conversations but decided it was unimportant.
"I see" he began, he wanted to ask what was happening but he knew he wouldn't want anyone prying into him, especially if it involved anything incriminating. He tried to relax himself. Perhaps the comment had nothing to do with him, even so, he decided to call you again to clarify what had just happened.
In a harsh contrast to before, the phone barely had a chance to ring before you picked up. Toji knew he hadn't been thinking straight. But when he saw the call start he realized then that he hadn't planned what he was going to say. It wasn't but a moment later that he discovered that all of his unanswered questions were irrelevant.
He held the phone up to his ear and heard quick breaths from the other end of the call. What he assumed was a frantic exhale, came out more like a sob as he heard pained whimpers.
"Didn't mean to...sorry about tonight. It was my mistake." You were speaking very slowly, in a calculated sort of way. Still, your voice shook.
Toji was impossibly still as he listened to your voice. "What's going on, y/n?"
That night he would lay in bed, trying to sleep, and realize that this particular moment might have been the first time he used your name intentionally. In the moment, however, he was all too occupied to care. He wanted to come off as gentle and friendly, something he was completely unaccustomed to.
The line went quiet. There was a long pause before a throaty squeak came and a warbled, "...sorry" was heard. Just before the call ended.
Toji began to pace again, he called you once more before he decided that it might be best to not pressure you. He ran a hand down his face as he tried to write a text. But he had nothing to say, he was experiencing confusion and confusion alone.
Turns out, he didn't need to start the conversation again, in your never-ending kindness, you sent, "I'm sorry for all of this, this is a small matter with work at the moment and I did not mean to startle you. I see how it might have come off as concerning. I promise this will not effect you. I'm sorry. Please forget this occurred."
Relief flooded Toji faster than he could question it. So this didn't involve him. But what exactly was happening? He gave your message a thumbs up... but something was still stuck eating at his brain.
"Were you crying just now?" He sent.
He expected a long wait before you responded but, to his surprise you reply was prompt.
"Sorry about that."
And a moment later, "I didn't mean to involve you."
That feeling in his stomach sunk further as he stared at his phone. Unsure of what to say, your dog whimpered at his feet and Toji took a deep breath.
"I wasn't asking for you to apologize" he typed, trying to put his intentions into words. "Are you okay?"
He couldn't remember the last time he had asked someone about their wellbeing. So when you responded,
"Yes. I think so." He found himself slowly walking back to your bed. Staring at the floor as he sat on your comforter. He decided he wouldn't press.
He liked your message.
He laid in your bed.
And he tried to get the sound of your shaky breaths out of his mind.
ă°ă»âĄă»ă°ă°ă»âĄă»ă°ă°ă»âĄă»ă°ă°ă»âĄă»ă°ă°ă»âĄă»ă°
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Astarion teaching Tav embroidery/sewing. Preferably with him dragging them onto his lap for a close-up demonstration.
Why do I make everything so long? Do I have a problem? There is always so much introspective nonsense idk man. Anyway adorable idea actualized below!
Also mentions of sex but this is totally sfw. I went with the timeline of when your sleeping together but he hasn't quite admitted his feelings to himself, as a side!
~
Astarion had no idea how he became your camp's designated seamstress. How was it possible that a team of eight adults were all incapable of knowing the basics of such a fundamental skill?
Then again, Karlach seemed to be perfectly fine with wearing her clothes to tatters. Wyll was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Lae'zel, for some gods forsaken reason, was only capable of fixing up heavy armor. Gale seemed to prefer eating magical clothing items versus being able to salvage them and the rest were mediocre at best.
The look of confusion on Shadowheart's, who was the second most skilled by far, face when Astarion tried to explain a ladder stitch was enough for him to give up entirely. It was quicker to fix the tears then to explain simple concepts to simpletons.
Brats. All of you. With one who was significantly more brazen than the rest when it came to using Astarion as their personal tailor.
Tav, the lovely thorn in his side. Who could handle wielding a glaive with startingly accuracy, but somehow managed to consistently stab themselves every time they picked up a sewing needle. It was impressive, how useless someone who was otherwise extremely competent could be.
Impressive as it was frustrating. Because somehow you managed to destroy your clothes more often than anyone else. Always bashfully handing him over torn trousers and ripped shirts every other night. Anyone else he would have told to fuck off by now. Even the rest of the camp knew better than to test their luck with anything more than once a fortnight. But you lacked the very basic level of self-control.
It was his own fault for giving you special treatment in the first place. But sleeping together did warrant a few extra benefits. He got your protection and you got to experience the pleasure of being with him. Simple. Or it would have been if you didn't insist on making things complicated.
Because Astarion was starting to feel things. Things that he hadn't anticipated. Because your company was... oddly pleasant. You were an interesting little thing, he had to give you that. Well-read and talkative, but not boringly so. No, Astarion sometimes found himself losing track of time when he was with you. A simple question could easily turn into a two-hour conversation about the silliest things. It was... nice. New. And oh so different from what he was used to.
Cazador didn't even allow him or his brethren to speak in his home, let alone speak to each other unless it was strictly necessary. But here he was free to do whatever he pleased. And he was finding that included being near you, despite how differently you both saw the world.
He couldn't quite blame you for your delusional optimistic views. As a Tymora worshipper you were basically doomed from the start to believe inane concepts like good fortune, luck, and gods, the good that could be found in "anyone".
You were as sweet as you were aggravating and Astarion truly, honestly, had no idea how your insane trusting nature hadn't managed to get you killed yet. But then again he... kind of liked that about you. He liked that you trusted him. It made his life more convienet and... it was nice to be seen as a person worth confiding in. Instead of the blood-sucking monster he really was.
He... liked that. He liked you. A fact that he didn't enjoy thinking about. He didn't really know what to do with it, and the implications of where his feelings could lead were starting to become unsettling. So he pushed it out of his mind. It was an easy thing to do when doom was always looming in the background. He had plenty of things to think about that didn't include his fondness for you.
Like the inner-rage you caused when you managed to somehow rip the same shirt twice in one day.
"That's it," Astarion announced when you bashfully asked for his help yet again, "Come here. I'm teaching you how to sew."
"But you always get mad when you try," You whined. But despite the hesitancy you still obediently sat next to him as he got out the sewing kit, "Do you promise not to snap this time?"
"That depends," Astarion said with a roll of the eyes, "Do you intend on not maiming yourself with a sewing needle?"
Astarion smirked at the way that made a blush crawl up your neck, "That was one time!"
"Actually darling it was closer to seven," Astarion corrected as he snatched the shirt from your hands, "Now pay attention. Look at where the tear starts. Notice how it's on the seam?"
You nodded along as Astarion explained the basics to you. He could tell that you were trying your damndest to pay attention, but when it was your turn to hold the needle your hands couldn't stop shaking. Astarion frowned as he tried to watch you work, his view obfuscated by the angle and the flow of your hair.
Well that wouldn't do.
Before he could think better of it he was hauling you into his lap, ignoring your surprised squeak as he situated you just right.
That was better. At least now he could see what you were doing. It was a sloppy stich, sloppy enough for him to undo it before putting the needle back in your hand.
"Now do it again," Astarion ordered, "Let me see what your doing wrong."
Astarion watched as you tried again, frowning when he realized your shaking was even worse than before. In fact, you seemed more nervous than ever, your face red as you kept your eyes down.
It made Astarion torn between watching your hands and looking at your face. You really were adorable, getting all worked up from simply being in his lap, all while trying to stay dutifully undistracted. He could almost hear your heart racing, obvious through the tension coursing through you.
Silly little thing, acting all shy like he hadn't already literally been inside of you. But at least you were doing better, your stitching straighter than Astarion had ever seen it. Maybe he'd have to make the lap-sitting mandatory from now on, for the good of your learning.
"See," Astarion said softly, his breath tickling your ear as he leaned in closer, "You're perfectly capable of learning this."
"So it looks good?" You asked, taking a chance to glance at him. Astarion hadn't realized just how close the two of you really were. He had never... seen you like this before. So closely. Even when you slept together, he had been a bit distracted by other parts of your body. He never noticed just how many light freckles were hiding across the bridge of your nose, how your eyes looked almost golden in candlelight. You smelled nice too, sweet. Like you had been rolling around in a field of lilies. Considering your personality, Astarion had to wonder if that's exactly what you did.
It would take almost nothing to press your lips together. Barely a turn on the head.
"Astarion, are you listening?"
The sound of his voice snapped him out of his revelry. He straightened, clearing his throat as he looked over your work again, embarrassed in a way that he couldn't quite describe.
Maybe you weren't the only one being affected after all.
"It looks better," Astarion said honestly, "But still needs work. You'll almost certainly be needing more lessons."
Preferably like this. Astarion wasn't quite ready to let you go yet, not when you felt so pleasantly warm in his lap. But luckily enough for him, you didn't seem quite so keen to leave.
Astarion tightened his hold on you laughing at the way it made you gasp, "But that's enough for today. I think you've earned a reward. Don't you?"
"I-yes?" You said back, your eyes flitting from Astarion's mouth and back, "Please?"
You really were too precious. How could he possibly say no to that?
Astarion grinned as he tilted your chin up, finally pressing your lips together. It was an odd feeling, kissing someone when he couldn't stop smiling, but he supposed you just had that effect on him.
Maybe being the camp seamstress wasn't so bad after all.
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The political stances of The Raven Cycle characters are so fascinating to me. You got Blue over here who is very much a progressive activist in the making. She recognizes things like misogyny and is not afraid to call those things out even when it concerns her closest friends. Because of that, I definitely see her as the type of activist who would be in the front lines at protests whether that be at the Capitol, college campuses, at the border, or as is the case in the dreamer trilogy, tied to a tree. She is the type of person who demands change in our current system and would demand it loudly and through acts of protest or civil disobedience.
Then you have Adam who displays no strong desire to change the system and whose only desire is to rise up in that system. He wants to climb the social ladder and assimilate to those of higher social status which is partially why he envies Gansey so much in the beginning because Gansey was born into it. Adam still tries to do this in the dreamer trilogy by essentially pretending to be a Gansey-like figure while at Harvard despite hating it. Eventually, Adam gives up on trying to belong within this higher social class and "climbing the ladder" but then strangely enough becomes a fed, which means just integrating into another form of hierarchy and power structure. And I feel like a more interesting arc would've been rejecting being a part of these societal systems altogether.
Which I suppose now leads us to Ronan who is a literal anarchist. He actually rejects all societal systems and rules and it permeates every aspect of his life. But actually, I shouldn't say all because there is one societal institution which he does enjoy partaking in: religion. With the exception of his catholicism, he does not engage in any other societal institution: education, law, politics. He hates it, in fact, It is antithetical to his being which is what makes his characterization so perfect because of course a gay farmer god would hate oppressive rules and structures (except for religion). That's not even mentioning that he is a canonical ecoterrorist that cost the US government a billion dollars. But what is really interesting about his character (and where his and Blue's political stances differ) is that because he rejects these systems he has no interest or stake in changing them. He'd sooner tear down the system than try to reform it.
And then thereâs Gansey who doesn't seem to engage in politics and would rather spend his days reading his little Welsh books and going on his fun adventures. Of course, he is able to do this largely because he has the privilege to not worry about politics or social class. It seems that Blue's influence changes this as they are both chaining themselves to trees in protest during the dreamer trilogy. Other than that, I don't really have a lot to say about Gansey and his politics. But I find it very interesting that Maggie has created this close-knit group of characters with such varying relationships to how they view politics and social structures. I tried to draw out a 2-axis grid to show their differences, but I don't know if it really works because I feel like Gansey kinda screws it up but nevertheless I like how they each represent different ends of a spectrum sort of.
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Drowning
Summary: When your worst fear becomes a reality and all you have on the other side is a brown eyed boy.
Pairing: Wally Clark x Reader
Warnings: Death, Drowning, Bullying
Edit: I am terrible at editing, and I tried my best so I'm sorry if you find any mistakes. This is my first full story I am releasing out into the world.
Word Count: 3330
Iâve never liked swimming.
People say it makes them feel free, but I felt anything but free. Every chance I got I avoided water at all costs. It's suffocating. Something about floating in a body of endless water and possibilities always made my skin crawl. One major problem that contributes to my fear is the fact that I canât swim. I donât blame anyone for this setback because I've never asked how to or showed interest. My inability to swim didnât become a problem for me until my senior year of high school. Iâve gotten out of swimming class every year up until now and I had no choice but to take it. I tried to tell the swimming coach and counselors privately that I couldnât take the class. All they said was I could stay in the shallow end. That Iâll be fine. I believed them.Â
Word spread quickly throughout my class that I couldnât swim once they started noticing I wouldnât leave the 4ft mark. I didnât really care, all I cared about was getting through the year. I was never really popular which didnât matter much to me but being in this class never made it more obvious how much I hated it here. I felt eyes on me at all times which only made being in the water worse.Â
It was March 12, 2015. Only a couple months left of school and then Iâd be off to NYU living my dream of being a writer. First I had to get through 4th period swim class of course. I walked into the girls changing room preparing for the next 50 minutes of anxiety as I put my swimsuit on. I folded my dark blue jeans, my gray sweater, and a white tank top with lace on the trim that I wore under the sweater. Making my way to the pool I started putting my hair up in place of a hair cap I seem to have forgotten. Staring at the water I can see the bottom but it doesnât stop the feeling of wanting to crawl up from my throat. Half the girls were already in the water preparing for a game of volleyball. Step by step down the ladder my hands begin to shake and my mouth becomes dry like I just ate pancakes. I make my way to the back to avoid any confrontation or any chance of being involved in the game. The one thing good about this class is it has a perfect view of the sky. I always get lost staring out at it wondering whoâs also looking back. It makes me forget the situation Iâm in and my environment. That's until a ball lands in front of me and about 15 girls are looking back at me waiting for my next move. I pick it up with my now calmer hands from before and spike it. Thankfully I made it over to the other side and the girls immediately turned back to the game. Not without some dirty looks but quite frankly I donât really care. I watch as Mrs. Withers gets a call which seems to be serious as she tells us that she needs to step outside and when the bell rings to just go ahead. Itâs only 10 minutes later when the shower bell rings and I feel the crushing weight lift off my shoulders. The other girls split based on which ladder they are closest to heading to the locker room and I help one of the girls get the volleyballs together. Making my way back to solid ground I rush to put the balls away not wanting to be one of the last to leave. I grab a towel on the rack near the other end of the pool as I make my way back seeing the last of everyone leaving. At least thatâs what I thought until I heard someone behind me scream âWait upâ before running past me tripping me in the process. Losing my balance I watch as the one who screamed leaves the room leaving me alone. I hit the water with a loud splash waiting to hit the bottom to kick back up only to never feel my feet hit the concrete. I try to reach for the surface but everything I try seems to pull me down further. I panic, feeling my lungs on fire from filling with water. I tried to scream but no one could hear me and no one ever would. Everything was starting to go black and everything was becoming numb. All I could think about was how much I would miss out on. Finally, everything goes dark and I feel like Iâm floating but Iâm not, Iâm being pulled up. I grab onto whoeverâs pulling me up as if my life depended on it. Once I reach the surface my lungs fill with air as I begin to cough unbearably with my eyes screwed shut. I feel myself being hoisted up on the ground and out of the water. Iâm pulled into the person who saved me as I am unable to move from exhaustion. When the person holds my face to center it I finally open my eyes as I am met with wide brown ones.Â
âAre you okayâ, heâs breathing heavily as I study him blocking out his yell to someone to bring his jacket.Â
I feel a warm weight on my shoulders seeing its a blue and white letterman jacket out of the corner of my eye.Â
âThank you for saving meâ I give him a weak smile but all I get in return is an expression filled with nothing but sorrow and guilt.Â
Still seated on the floor I hear a horrified scream from beside me causing me to whip my head towards the chaos. Suddenly time stops and everything goes silent as I choked out a sob watching as a student and Mrs. Withers pull my body out of the water. The whole class comes to watch as they try to resuscitate me but nothing is happening. I feel the stranger push my head into his chest and I begin to cry harder than before. He repeats âI knowâsâ and âIâm sorryâsâ as my world comes crashing down on me.Â
Hours later we are still in the same position my hair and clothes dry now along with a tear-dried face. Itâs dark outside with only the poolside fluorescent lights to illuminate our two figures. I begin to shiver more and more as the stranger who pulled me out of the water rubs my back and arms.Â
âWe need to get up, you're getting too coldâ he whispers, pulling his body to get a better look at me.Â
I lift myself up getting a better look at him as well as I memorize his long structured face, beauty marks, and brown eyes. After a minute I nod and try to stand up realizing that Iâm still exhausted, the position not helping adding to the pain. He helps me steady myself and fully extend as he holds my hands making sure Iâm okay.Â
âYou should take a shower and change into your regular clothes, Iâll probably do the same and I will explain everything once we're done. Okay?â, he says softly with an uneasy half-smile waiting for my response.
âOkay,â I whisper back at him not wanting to raise my voice feeling itâll be too much to handle.Â
His smile fills out more as he nods and begins to turn away to do the same tasks as me. I begin to turn away as well before I realize I never got the guy's name who pulled me out of the pool and stayed with me for hours.Â
âWhatâs your name?,â I said, grabbing his arm to stop him from walking away.Â
He looks down at my hand holding his arm which makes me see Iâm still holding onto him causing me to let go.Â
âWally, Wally Clarkâ, he said with a wide smile that made me feel alive again for just a split second.Â
After warming up from the shower I changed into my clothes from before that were neatly folded. As I begin to walk out of the locker room I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look back at the girl staring at me feeling disconnected from who she was or what she couldâve been. I take a heavy breath before opening the door to leave and face the reality of my situation. Stepping into the hall, the school looked unnatural to me with the lights off. I look over and see a less wet and cold Wally approach me with the same smile as before.Â
âHow was the shower? Do you feel better?â, he asked one right after the other.Â
âThe shower was good and Iâm doing the best I can with the fact that I am already dead,â I said, peering up at him only noticing now how tall he really is.Â
âI know it's hard and Iâm sorry it happened this way but I will try to explain everything the best I can.â, he said, extending his elbow out for me to take it as we began to walk further down the halls.
And Just like he said Wally kept his word and explained everything to me that he could. Like how weâll never be able to leave school grounds unless we pass on. He also showed me all the other kids stuck here just like us and told me how some passed. As well as the weird support group that the kids attend in the gym. Even though heâd joke he never sugar-coated anything, which I couldn't help but appreciate. I wonât lie, the first couple of weeks were rough. I was plagued by the memory of what happened as well as the thoughts of the future Iâll never get. It definitely didnât help that everyone at school was mentioning it and not in a sorrowful way. During those few weeks, Wally helped a lot with trying to be a distraction so I wouldnât focus on others. I guess one of the perks of being dead is being able to duplicate belongings so I was able to get my phone and journal. I found the perfect spot on the football field to just listen to music and lie down. Iâd close my eyes and imagine what life couldâve been but I knew I couldnât do that forever, so I started to write more. It was easier to put my wishes and fantasies on pages without having to dwell on them. I usually kept my writing to myself so around 7:30 every day Iâd go to my little bubble of solitude on the field and write. It was May now so the sun would start to set around 8 giving me enough light and a view.Â
âWhat are you writing?'' I suddenly hear Wally's voice right next to my ear.Â
âJesus Christ Wally you scared me to deathâ, I said, jumping in reaction to the sudden deep voice, placing my hand on my heart and dropping my journal.Â
âI mean it's a little too late for that someone mustâve beat me to it.â, he said smiling at me as he sat down next to me grabbing my journal to open it.Â
I glare at him and snatch my journal back.Â
âWhat too soon?â, he said with a stupid grin trying to get my journal back.
âJust a little,â I said, scrunching my nose.Â
âNo but seriously what are you writing? You come out here every day and write in that little journal.â He said leaning back on his arms a bit more to get my full face into view.Â
I try to hide the blush that has crept up on my face when I realize that heâs been watching me come out here. After a moment I brush my hair out of my face and am met with those famous brown eyes. I take a deep breath before explaining to him my reasons.Â
âI donât want to stay stuck in the living because all itâll do is bring harm. All I thought about for the past couple of months was what Iâll miss but I never stopped and processed my death. Iâve been hurting for all the things I couldnât change and it caused me to push anything away, even you. So I thought why not write my wishes and wants down so they donât stay on my mind. At least this way I can close the journal.â I said with a tiny smile looking up at him as he was staring back intently listening.Â
âBefore I died I wanted to be a writer and I had my whole life planned out, I was going to attendââÂ
âNYU, I know,â he said, finishing my sentence before I could.Â
I watch as Wally sits up straighter and scooches closer to me before tilting his head. I can tell heâs trying to figure out what to say because heâs fidgeting with his necklace. I wait for him because thereâs no point in rushing, I have all the time in the world.Â
âIâve been watching you for a long time,â he says with a breath held in waiting for my response.Â
One of my eyebrows lifts as I tilt my head in response to the slightly weird statement.Â
âOh god, that came out creepier than I meant it to. What I meant to say was even when you were alive I knew who you were.â He said laying back fully down in the grass.Â
I watched as he covered his eyes with his hands with a frustrated grunt like he was trying to revert into a hole.Â
âWhat do you mean?â, I said moving towards his laid position to where Iâm now bent over leaning towards him leaving my crisscross position to now on my knees.Â
I grab his hands that are covering his eyes and pull them down to his chest as I hold them to keep him from covering his eyes again. How heâs looking at me I can tell heâs debating with himself. I wait and listen before I watch as he closes his eyes.Â
âThe first time I saw you was during your freshman year in the library. I was looking for something to watch for group movie night. I had Rhonda yelling at me in one ear and Charlie telling me something in the other. I was getting a little annoyed but then I looked between the bookshelves and there you were.â He takes a pause to look at me and I squeeze his hand in return to continue.Â
âYou were tucked into the corner where the bookshelves meet, where no one could see you. In your hands was The Devilâs Highway by Luis Alberto Urrea. I watched as you cried the further you got into the book. After that day I came back to the library every day to see you. I even started picking up some of the books you read, but I couldn't finish half of them though.â He said with a small smile on his face and in his voice. Â
He sat up which caused him to become closer to me while he took my hands instead of me holding his. He was looking at the grass for a minute while rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles. When he looked up I could see that he was tearing up making my heart ache.Â
âI knew you had anxiety when it came to swim class because you couldnât swim so Iâd go to try and help. Even though you couldnât see or feel me, I was always there.â He said lifting his hand up to tuck a loose strand of my hair that fell.Â
His hand stayed in place as he cupped my cheek and I went to ask why he was tearing up because of this before he spoke.Â
âI watched you die. I was there and I couldnât do anything until it was too late, thatâs why I was there. I had to watch you struggle knowing I couldnât grab you or even scream for help.â He said with his voice croaking with the struggle of what heâs had to go through.Â
My eyebrows furrowed as I watched the walls I built up crumble down with one look at him. I never knew heâd been holding in something like this for so long. If I had known I wouldâve never tried to shut him out. I was scared of what had happened and how my life had ended but I never thought about him. He was always there and whenever I needed help he was right by my side. I moved from my position pulling him into a soul-crushing hug. It took him a second to respond to the sudden gesture but after a couple seconds, I felt his arms wrap around me.
âWally my death wasnât your fault, I need you to know that.â, I softly spoke while hugging him harder, feeling him return it.Â
We continued hugging for what felt like years but could never be enough for me to be satisfied. One of my arms is coming up from under his arm grappling his shoulder while the other is around his waist. His arms are wrapped around my waist and I can feel his hands rubbing small circles on my back. Looking up from being tucked away in his shoulder I notice the sun is beginning to set. I begin to pull away and when I make eye contact with him again heâs only a mere few inches away from my face. I raise my hand to brush his hair away from his face as it has flattened from the hug. My hand slips down as it trails from the side of his head to where it now rests on his neck. Heâs staring at me the whole time while I do this and when I look up to meet his eyes my heart quickens. Well, I imagined it quickened. Thereâs something about those brown eyes Iâve grown fond of that makes me feel alive again. His eyes flash down to my lips and back up to my eyes like heâs silently pleading. I give into his wants that now become a need for me and all I can do is nod. His hand comes up to my face pulling me towards him as our lips meet. The kiss felt like everything in my little life led up to this moment. Nothing else seemed to matter to me but the boy in front of me right now who just confessed that heâd been watching me for years. Wallyâs the one to pull away first. I slowly opened my eyes to look at him wanting to capture this moment forever. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek and giving me a quick peck. I canât restrain my gleaming smile as he pulls away for the second time.Â
âWell Iâm glad we got that cleared upâ, he laughed as he spoke.Â
I glared at him while punching him in the arm causing him to fall back but not before dragging me down with him. I land on his chest relaxing in his touch like itâs something I've been craving but have been deprived of. We lay in comfortable silence as I felt Wally rub circles with his thumb on my hip.Â
âIâm glad it was you who found me. I don't know what I wouldâve doneâ I said, being the first one to disturb the still air.Â
âI am too,â Wally said into my hair as he kissed the top of my head.Â
We lay there all night even when the stadium lights came on we just talked about everything and anything. Maybe the afterlife wonât completely suck.Â
#fanfic#wally clark#wally clark x reader#school spirits#television#x yn#Wally Clark fluff#milo manheim#wally clark imagines
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Glittering Scales | Rafayel/Reader
About: You didn't know what to expected when Rafayel texted you to get him bags of ice near midnight. You thought it was for some art piece he was working on and didn't question it. Turns out, it was for something you did not expect. At all.
Pairing: Rafayel/Reader
Notes: Based on that mermen having 2.... you know.... tweet.
AO3: Read here!
Warnings: Mating, Monster(?)fucking, Tentacle, No protection, Hints of breeding. Please tell me if I missed something! Also 18+ only please. Enjoy :)
âRafayel?â
Your voice echoed throughout the empty studio. Normally Rafayel would be here to greet you, be it from the floor or on the ladder he sat on while painting. But today he was nowhere to be found.
A faint splash of water down the hallway alerted you to his presence. With a sigh, you followed the sound, your bare feet breaking the quiet that descended upon the studio.Â
âIs he painting while in the bathtub again?â You thought as you carried bags of ice under your arms and in your hands. After going radio silent for a week, he texted you out of nowhere, asking you to get him enough ice to last him for a few days. And while you had half a mind to ask him why and where he had been, curiosity got the best of you and you agreed readily.
Another splash brought you out of your thoughts, and you sighed at what sounded to be impatient flicks of his tail against the water.
âComing! Coming, jeezââ
The sight of Rafayel sitting in the bathtub, his tail hanging out the edge of it, greeted you. Small puddles of water dotted the tiled floor, his phone lay haphazardly on top of the pile of clothes next to the bathtub. Oddly enough, his painting equipment was nowhere to be found.Â
Despite having seen his merman formâ his original form, you should say, multiple times before, the shimmering blue scales that were on his tail and his skin always enthralled you. And under soft moonlight shining through the full length windows, it looked as though they glowed, drawing you in.
Before you could lift a hand to touch the scales on his tail however, he flicked it, smacking your thigh and dousing your pants with water.
âWhat took you so long? I am on the verge of death!â
âI had to go around and buy these for you! Why do you need them anyway?â You huffed as you set the bags of ice you bought down to the side. It was almost midnight when his text came and you had to scramble to get at least a few bags for him, lest it wasnât enough for⊠whatever heâs doing. The nerve. Pinning him with a stern look, to which he innocently blinked in response, you continued.
âAnd you donât get to talk! What took you so long to text me back? You were unreachable for the entire week!â
If it werenât for the fact that you arrived back in Linkon city mere hours ago, you wouldâve gone and visited him as soon as he dropped off the face of the Earth. Rafayel would never go a day without calling you at least once, so when he suddenly did not reply to any of your texts or answer any calls, you knew something was deeply wrong.
Noticing that you were eyeing him critically, he turned away from your gaze, hoping you wouldnât pick up on anything irregular. But unfortunately for him, you did.
âAre you sick? Why does your face look so red?â Your eyebrows furrowed as you leaned closer to inspect him. You thought it would be impossible for the blush that stained his cheeks to intensify even further, but it did. If anything, it looked like it spread to his ears too.
âYesâ Well, not really but IâŠâ He stuttered, his usual nonchalant demeanor nowhere to be found. To you, it seemed like he was avoiding any sort of eye and skin contact. Interesting.
With a long suffering sigh, he looked towards you again, his eyes pleading. âPlease just give me the ice. Itâs too hot.â
âOnly if you tell me whatâs wrong.â You countered, but still tore open the bags anyway. He sighed in contentment the moment the ice came contact with his higher than what should be normal skin temperature. The ice that settled on his skin and his scales would soon melt and you idly wondered if you had to buy more when morning came.
âThereâs a store about 15 minutes away, maybe I shouldââ A soft mumble from him interrupted your train of thought. âWhat did you say?â
Despite you prompting him, it took him another minute before he repeated his words.
âItâs⊠mating season.â
It took a few more moments before his words registered in your mind. Mating season, he said. What does that have to do withâ Oh.
âOh. And youâreâŠâ Your eyes darted down, not so subtly wondering where his cock would be when in his original form. Nothing out of the ordinaryâ and was that ironic, saying that there was a merman in front of you ordinaryâ caught your eye.
To you, anyway. To him, howeverâŠÂ
Rafayel drew in a stuttered breath, desperately grasping at the shards of sanity that were slipping away from him. You being unaware of the details pertaining to merman physiology and mating rituals was making him antsy. He shouldâve explained the differences between his original form and his human form a long time ago, yet couldnât as the otherworldliness of it might scare you off. He knew you wouldnât run away so easily but that apprehensiveness stayed because what ifâŠ?
Despite all of this, he couldnât help but preen under your appreciation for his scales. Merpeople took great care maintaining their scales, and mermen in particular would show off theirs during mating season to attract attention from their intended.
You, being his intended, who was now perched on the edge of the bathtub, touching and admiring his scales, would be interpreted as acceptance to the mating ritual. But there was no ritual, nor request from him, so it was all null and void. He pointedly ignored the disappointment that seeped into his gut. This was for the best and for your own good, he thought, and yetâ
âDo you⊠want me to help you?â You asked as you traced the edges of his scales, not catching the hitch in his breath when your fingers trailed further and further up his tail.
âIâd rather not. My physiology is not what youâd expect.âÂ
âAnd let you sit here for days on end?âÂ
â...â Rafayel bit his lip. You had a point. The constant neediness brought by his biology made it difficult for him to focus on anything of note. But what if you rejected him once you saw what was in store for you? It would feel like that day all those years ago all over again, when you didnât remember him despite him spending so much time looking for you.
He shook his head at that. No, he should have more faith in you. And so with much trepidation, he relented. âIf you are that determined, I wonât stop you. ButâŠâ He trailed off, grabbing your arm and yanked you towards him, causing water to splash out of the bathtub and onto the floor. âDonât say I didnât warn you.â
âAt least let me take my clothes offââ
âNo need.â With a snap of his fingers, his flame Evol materialized and he brought the gentle flame to your clothes. And within seconds, every piece of clothing on you burned away, leaving you exposed to the warm summerâs night air.Â
âRafayel!â It always tickled whenever he did that, a fancy trick he liked to use whenever he felt particularly impatient. âHow long were youâŠ?â
âLong enough.â He replied, leaning back against the bathtub to let you get used to your new position. You were straddling him, your hips sat upon the upper half of his tail. While the water both of you were submerged in was cold, icy almost, the heat from his body warmed you.
A spot on Rafayelâs tail piqued your curiosity. It was warm and softer to the touch, unlike other places. You reached down to lightly poke at said spot, only for him to hiss in warning.Â
Oh. Was that whereâ Then howâ
You prodded that spot for a bit, carefully watching Rafayelâs face while figuring out how his merman form worked. He stared right back at you, his pupils dilated and his lips parted as he watched you with interest.
âRafayel? Can you give me that ability to breathe underwater for a moment? I want to try somethingâŠâ
He arched his eyebrow at your sudden request, but didnât comment. Wordlessly, he pulled you closer and into a kiss, wrapping an arm around your torso while tucking a few stray strands of hair that fell on your face.
A simple, chaste kiss was more than enough to give you the ability needed to breath underwater for an hour. And yet he cannot bring himself to pull away from you. If anything, he cannot stop kissing you, cannot stop his tongue from prying your lips open and pushing against yours.Â
It was only when you needed air that you parted from him, albeit reluctantly. Like his, your face was flushed from the heat and the intensity of the kiss, fueling the growing fire that was threatening to take over within him.
Now equipped with the ability you needed, you shuffled away from him and dived under the cold water both of you sat in. Faintly, you could hear him ask what your goal was, but you only grinned in response.
Over water, his scales looked as though they were shimmering, glinting softly under the lights. But seeing them underwater was another story. They looked iridescent, the water around them making them almost dreamlike in its shine. But as pretty as they were, you were on a mission. A mission to see what Rafayel was hiding from you.
You poked the same soft spot that was on the front of his tail, and with a bit of prodding, you found a well hidden slit between his scales.
âThis must be it then.â You thought as you brushed over the slit, missing the shuddered breath Rafayel had let out. You dipped a finger into the slit, and found something roundâ the tip, perhapsâ poking at your fingertip.
You circled your fingertip around the head, coaxing it to come forward. And slowly, you feel it inch closer and closer to the opening, with warm slick coating your fingertips before dissipating into the water.
Rafayel sighed as you teased the tip of his cock, if he was in his human form he wouldâve been fully hard by now. But he was in his original form, his apprehension to your eventual surprise eating at him, causing him to be slower to react. That didnât stop his neediness to take over though, as he could feel himself getting closer and closer to revealing himself by the minute.
He was about to ask if you were doing alright, until he felt your lips on his slit. He tossed his head back, groaning at your tongue teasing his opening and his tip. He could feel his cock pushing through his slit, widening it and protruding into your more than eager mouth.
You gasped when you tasted his salty, tangy tip in your mouth. While it tasted the same as his human form, the tip was smoother and coated with more precome than you expected.
The similarities between his human formâs cock and his original form ended there, you quickly realized. As soon as more of his cock emerged from his sheath and into your waiting mouth, you felt there were ridges on the side of it. Fleetingly, you wondered as you dragged your tongue across the ribbed sides, whether there were more surprises waiting for you. This cannot be it, right? There had to be more which would explain his visible apprehension.
As soon as that thought ended though, Rafayel suddenly cradled your chin, and coaxed you to resurface.Â
Unlike earlier, when he still looked like he had some semblance of control, his stormy purple eyes were now focused, pinning you in place as though you were his prey. The nervousness that was evident before was now gone, replaced with a growing hunger. Hunger that could be only satisfied by havingâ
âYou.â He panted, pulling you closer and closing the too wide gap between you and him. âAre you sure this is what you want?â
âMerpeople⊠My people mate for life. There will be no going back after this.â He stated, doing his best to ignore his growing cock poking at your inner thigh. He had to warn you before you walk into uncharted territory, clueless to the repercussions again. While this was not life threatening, like the things you usually run head into first, it was severe enough wherein if you had denied the bond that formed afterwards, it would tear him apart.
âI think we are past that point of no return, no? With all the vows Iâve made to you.â You replied as you tucked away the damp strands of hair that clung to his forehead, pressing a reassuring kiss on his temple. And that was true. The promise you made when you two were children, the vow you made next to the hospital fountain late at night. You promised you would never leave his side, so why would you leave now?
Rafayel laughed in relief, burying his face between your breasts as he clung to you. With the emotional hurdle out of the way, what was left was the more physical hurdle. Unlike before, however, he felt less worried about this one now.
âI hope you are prepared then.â He smiled as he littered quick kisses all over your decollete, inching closer to your neck and then your lips. âBecause after thisâŠâ
âI will never let you go.â
Rafayel captured your lips with his once more, the kiss slow but all the more passionate. With his worries soothed, he slotted his emerging cock against your mound, wanting you to feel the effect you had on him as you kissed.
It wasnât long before the kisses turned less than chaste. You gasped as he left open mouthed kisses down your neck, suckling on the skin beneath his lips as he thrusted his cock against you. The bumps on the underside of his shaft rubbed and teased your clit perfectly, and you couldnât help but return the favor by shifting your hips to his rhythm, making him grow thicker and thicker by the moment.
You had a feeling that his cock wasnât just ribbed while you grinded against him. You canât exactly explain why, other than there were parts of his shaft that felt⊠softer to the touch, despite knowing that heâs turned on beyond relief.
âRafayelââÂ
âMmh?â He hummed as his mouth left another love bite on your neck, pausing to admire his handiwork.
âCan I⊠Will you let me see it?â You asked, reaching down to drag a finger across his tip. He shuddered at your touch, and you felt his cock twitch in interest. It seemed that his drive to mate was slowly taking over, as all he could muster was a nod.
With his permission, you tore away from him, giggling when he whined at the loss of contact. You reassured him with a quick kiss to his cheek, and dodge his clingy hands when you retreated. Inhaling one deep, steadying breath, you steeled yourself, and looked down.
Oh. Oh.Â
Was that a sight to behold.
Through the clear water, you saw his cock in its full glory. His tip was round, like humans, but that was where the similarities ended. It was flushed dark blue, his cock the same color as his scales.Â
You dived underwater again to take a closer look, your curiosity getting the best of you. Immediately, you spot that there were bumps and ridges down the shaft and all the way to the base. His cock both intimidated you, and made your walls clench.
But that wasnât all.
Curled around his cock was a tentacle shaped like a smaller shaft. Like what it was wrapped around, the tentacle flushed blue and had small lumps on the sides. It was slimmer in comparison, but still as thick as his finger. With avid interest, you reached out to touch it, and was surprised when it unfurled itself and curled around your finger, coaxing you to come closer.
Like a creature under a sea witchâs spell, you inched closer, fascinated by the cock in front you. And before you knew it, you curled your fingers around his base, testing how the bumps felt under your skin by stroking it.
Above the surface, Rafayel gasped as you touched both of his cocks, and groaned when you brought both of them to your lips. He was relieved you accepted the otherworldly nature of them without any hesitation, and were even eager to pleasure him.
With both of his cocks in your mouth, you quickly realized that they, especially the smaller one, leaked more precome than expected, perhaps to make up for the lack of lubrication underwater. The salty taste filled your mouth as you circled your tongue around the larger tip, the smaller one pushing against your tongue and stimulating itself. Its movements made your heat clench at nothing again, and you wondered. How would this feel like if he fucked you now?
Rafayel gathered all your hair that was floating underwater, and held it behind your head. He wanted a clear picture of you sucking on his cocks and by God did he want to thrust himself deep into your mouth at the sight. But he relented. You were still new to this and he rather not risk you choking while underwater.
Pulling away from his cocks, you resurfaced one more to admire them from afar, only to be assaulted by another kiss.Â
Rafayel had enough of his mate being so far from his embrace, he needed you in his arms and on his cock, now. Tugging you towards him again, he maneuvered you so that you would be flush against his cocks, making sure you knew what was in store for you moments later.
Unlike last time where he would grind against you however, he reached down to prod your entrance, spreading your folds with his fingers. You expected him to slip his fingers in but instead, a familiar, yet not, sensation crept in, massaging your soft walls.
âYou can control it.â You gasped once realization kicked in, staring at him in bewilderment. He merely blinked in response, and nuzzled the crook of your neck. Â
âDoes that disgust you?â He asked. While you couldnât see his face, you could feel him tense up, his grip on you unrelenting.
âNo! Nothing like that. I was just wondering⊠What else can it do?âÂ
At your reassurance, he relaxed and continued to nuzzle your neck, nipping at your skin. âYou will have to find out.â
âWhatââ
He pulled the smaller cock away from your heat, and had it latch onto your clit. You whimpered as he teased your clit, its smooth tip and small bumps running along its side sending pleasurable shivers down your spine.
Rafayel ran a finger up your entrance while you were distracted, and clicked his tongue in annoyance. Right. He needed to drain the water around the both of you before he tried anything. The water would wash all of your juices away otherwise and make this experience entirely uncomfortable for you.
He tugged at the stopper and let the water drain away, leaving just enough water for part of his tail to be soaked in water. As the water level dropped, more and more of your skin was exposed to him; the water droplets that clung onto your skin and slid down your body taunted him.Â
With the water gone and out of the way, you could finally see clearly what his cocks looked like above water. And they did not disappoint.Â
The amount of precome that dripped out and down his smaller cock was staggering, coating and smearing your clit with every twitch of it. His larger cock was the same as well, precome beaded on the round tip of it before sliding down the ribbed sides, his shaft glistening under the low light.Â
âDo you like them?â He asked, parting your dripping folds and slipping a finger inside as his smaller cock busied itself with your clit. Your sweet whimpers made both of his cocks throb, and he couldnât wait to hear your moans when he pushed both of them inside you.
He added another finger, burying it deeper within you as you rode his fingers, your hips having a mind of its own. You were starting to get used to the two different cocks when suddenly, his smaller cock shifted, resting your clit against a dimpled surface andâ
âMmhâ!â You whimpered, the realization of him not only having ridges along his cocks, but also having suckers of all things, hit you with full force. It felt similar to having his mouth sucking on your clit, and you fleetingly wondered what if his smaller cock slipped in and sucked on your walls as well.
As though reading your mind, he stopped teasing your clit with it, and slid it inside you, adding what effectively was another finger into the mix, stretching you and satiating that growing ache to have something inside you.
You moaned as his fingers slipped in and out of you, the juices from your heat and his precome mixing together and dripping out of your core. While his smaller cock wasnât as sensitive as his bigger one, the sensations of your walls dragging against his bumpy shaft made his cocks twitch.Â
The primal drive to mate, to fuck and to breed coursed through his veins. His instincts screamed at him, demanding him to push his neglected cock in you and breed you properly. It was tempting, too tempting, with you bouncing oh so wantonly on his fingers, your hands holding on to the edges of the bathtub to steady yourself. But he held back.Â
As much as he wanted you to ride him while he thrusts his hips in sync to your paceâ and God did that thought made another bout of precome drip from both of his cocksâ he was afraid of what was in store for you. He knew once he was in, those instincts would take over and you would not be able to reason with him until it was over.
He could feel his control slipping with every heartbeat, the lustful haze that was clouding the edges of his mind seeping into the forefront. It was a challenge, a manageable one, until you curled your fingers around his larger cock.
âNnhââ He groaned, his cock pulsing in your hand as you stroked the underside of it and traced all the bumps it had. It took him a few steadying breaths not to thrust up and rut against your palm.Â
Through a clouded haze, you fixated upon the cock in your hands as you rode the other. It was bulging and pulsing at different places, with some parts flushed deeper blue than the others. You didnât fully comprehend it yet, the question of whether you can take it all plagued your mind. All you knew that whatever this was, you wanted in you. Now.
â...Are you sure?â Rafayel asked breathlessly as you pulled his fingers and his smaller cock out of you and teased the larger cock with your heat. You drawing circles on his tip with your entrance made him pulsate, staining you with more precome. His hands were now on your hips and he had half a mind to just push you down his shaft in one go.
âI wonât stop until Iâm done, you know.â He cautioned again, one final warning before those little slivers of sanity that he had disappeared like foam. His smaller cock caressed your dripping folds and held them to the side, allowing him better access when he inevitably sank you down his eager cock.
âI know.â You responded as you lowered yourself down, slowly taking his cock in inch by inch. It was hot and the throbbing ridges rubbed against your soft walls, forcing more juices to flow out of you. You paused midway to let yourself get used to the foreign feeling, and watched him as he tried to keep his face in check.
Your tight warm walls made it increasingly difficult for him to hold back, especially when you clenched tentatively around him. He understood why you stopped halfway, as his larger cock grew thicker at the lower half until flaring out at the base. But he felt like you were teasing him at this point, with you dragging the upper half of his cock out and pushing it back in over and over again.
âDarlingâŠâ He hissed as you rode him, his grip on your hips vice like. Following your lead, he shallowly pumped his larger cock in and out of you, in tune to the pace youâve set.
The bumps on the side of his cock grazed your clit with every thrust, and before you knew it, you began to take more and more of him in, your folds spread further and further apart with the help of his smaller cock.
The urge to pull back and slam his hips into you the moment you finally, finally, took the entirety of his larger cock in was overwhelming. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling a sharp, stuttering breath.
He was fighting a losing battle against his primal instincts, but he had to hold back orâ
âDo it.â
Your voice broke through the lust ridden fog that clouded his mind. Did you just give him permissionâ
âDonât worry, I can handle it.â You said again, nuzzling the top of his head and patting it. He was tense against you this entire time, strained and a heartbeat away from snapping. You knew he had been waiting for you to be ready, and you couldnât help but smile at that.Â
Coaxing him to finally let go of whatever inhibitions he had, you clenched your walls around him once more, forcing a quiet moan out of him. âPlease Rafayel⊠Please fuck me.â
And like a light switch flipping, he dragged his larger cock out without warning, only giving you a second to process before slamming back into you. Every thrust filled you to the brim, and you could feel his hot precome leaking and spreading all over your walls as he thrusted.
âRafayelâ Mmhââ You moaned between open mouthed kisses, his lips capturing yours every time you managed to slip away. One of his hands held you in place as he fucked upwards into you, while the other palmed at your breast, tweaking and brushing over your nipple as your breasts bounced to the pace he had set. You had to wrap your arms around his shoulders then, or else you wouldâve toppled at the sheer intensity of his thrusts.
At some point, when you cannot pinpoint exactly anymore, his smaller cock pulled away from your folds and prodded your entrance, slipping inside and pushing against your tight heat. The sudden intrusion forced your half lidded eyes open, and before you could mention it, the suckers dotted on the underside of his smaller cock grazed your walls, gently sucking on you from the inside.
Rafayel listened attentively to your moans as he sucked on the skin of your neck, leaving numerous bites and markings on you. His rational mind was now gone, replaced by his need to pleasure and breed his beautiful mate. He nuzzled your neck once more, your lovely moans encouraging him to keep going, spurring him on.
The steady tension that was building within your abdomen threatened to snap with every heartbeat, and you could feel yourself being close, so close, to that high that Rafayel was pushing you towards. You couldnât help but move your hips along to his erratic rhythm, anything to get yourself closer to that point.
As though sensing your desperation, which was not difficult considering your walls fluttered more and more around him, clenching and squeezing him oh so sinfully, he pulled his smaller cock out of your heat and grinded the underside of it against your clit.
âRafayelâ!â The sensation of his suckers pulling at your clit drove you over the edge. Like a coil snapping under pressure, your heat tightened around his cock as you reached that high, clenching and spasming around it.
âMy mateâŠâ He breathed out, not once stopping to give you a break as you navigated through the pleasure he brought to you. The way your walls clasped around him as you were pushed over the edge brought his own high forward, forcing a growl past his lips as he suddenly pushed both of his cocks as deep as he could within you before letting his come spill over, releasing as much as he could inside you.Â
He didnât stop there however, he continued to pump his cocks deep into you, hoping to push his essence deeper inside with a few more unsteady thrusts.
As you paused to regain your breath, he pulled away from your neck and brushed the hair that fell messily on your face away, and kissed you as tenderly as possible.Â
He looked calmer now, content even, compared to how he was before. The tension that was present on his shoulders and eyebrows was gone, dissipated along with the apprehension that he had about showing you the entirety of his original form.
A sudden glint in the corner caught your eye. It was your phone, its screen turning on most likely because of someone texting you. Next to it was your belongings andâ
Oh. You forgot about the ice.
âYou shouldâve told me this was going to happen instead of making me buy ice for you.â You laughed, seeing that the bags of ice had now turned into bags of water with ice chips in it. They werenât that expensive so you didnât really mind, but the time you spent scouring shops that were still open close to midnight was now rendered unnecessary.
Rafayel kissed your cheek and nuzzled you, still basking in the afterglow under the moonlight. â...I was scared you would reject me.â He confessed, still clinging onto you like a lifeline. âWill you let me make it up to you?â
You were about to ask how he would do that when you were acutely reminded of his cocks still being inside you, still stiff and ready for another round.
âHowââ
âIt is mating season after all.â He simply replied, and you noted that his eyes suddenly had a predatory glint to them, making your heat clench again and your heart race.Â
âYou, my darling mate⊠are going nowhere.â
#love and deepspace#love and deep space#love and deepspace rafayel x reader#love and deep space rafayel x reader#uh. yeah. theres tentacle#i dont even main this guy and YET#this idea was living in my brain rent free so i had to write it out
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Hiiii sugarplum. I would absolutely adore some stripper reader x Hotch maybe like some of him comforting her or just coming to visit like outside of the case and some fluff đ„°đ„°
ty for requesting!! fem
Youâre texting on the wall outside of work when a shadow cuts across the streetlight illuminating your lap. Your head flinches up, phone to your chest, but the man standing in front of you isnât one youâve ever been scared of. âFuck, Aaron, you scared me,â you say with a nervous laugh.Â
He smiles at you in his gentle, unassuming way. âSorry. I took care to scuff my shoes as I walked.â
âOh, you took care,â you say. Your smile is far less gentle than his; your cheeks apple, your words coloured with it. âI was in my own world.âÂ
âI thought we talked about you coming outside alone.â
âDid we?â you ask, the short wall youâre sitting on biting into your hands and thighs as you tip back to grin at him teasingly. âGosh, Iâm sorry, Mr. Hotchner, I canât seem to remember any such talk.âÂ
âMm.â He rolls his eyes. âYou donât remember that?âÂ
âDonât recall, no.â
âSo you also wonât remember the conversation we had about flowers.âÂ
Your first date, your only date, and your first bouquet. Heâd given you flowers and read the embarrassment on your face immediately. You arenât the kind of girl who gets flowers.Â
Whatâs wrong? heâd asked.Â
Youâd held the flowers to your chest, something in you worried heâd take them away, though youâre almost positive heâs incapable of being cruel like that. Do I look stupid?Â
Of course you donât.Â
There hadnât been much else to say about the flowers, until after the evening had gone well, and heâd asked you for another date. High with the delight of knowing Spencerâs nice, handsome boss doesnât just think youâre pretty, he likes you, youâd said Sure, if you bring me another lovely bouquet, we can go on as many dates as you like.Â
Aaron pulls the bouquet from behind his back. Petals bounce off of his tie, pinks and whites and baby blues against his black blazer and pristine white shirt as he taps his chest. Theyâre beautiful, and far too many.Â
âAre they really for me?â you ask. Youâve never seen such a big bouquet in your life. Itâs a wonder they fit behind his back.Â
The strangest thing about dating him has been his sudden propensity for moments of shyness. âThat depends,â he says, the slightest hint of nerves in his otherwise dulcet tone, âare they nice enough?âÂ
âTheyâre the prettiest flowers Iâve ever seen.â You stand up and hold out your hands, pull them back to your chest, and then hold them back out again. You canât not want them.Â
He hands them off to you.Â
It must be weird for him to meet you like this. Heâs very high up the ladder of his career, and it doesnât make much sense for him to fall for you. Youâre younger, less educated, less prestigiously employed. You hadnât understood what it was about you that pulled him in, but you can remember how clearly he told you he was interested in you. No shame. Not a hint of reluctance. Heâs bringing you flowers outside of the stripclub, ignoring the fact that youâre in sweatpants and a tight corset-type bra, and he hasnât looked at your body once.Â
âI was just texting you,â you say, opening your phone to press send on the text waiting in the hot bar.Â
Aaronâs phone immediately pings.Â
He reads it quickly. It isnât a long message. Hi, handsome. Want to pick me up tonight?Â
If heâd said yes or no didnât matter, because youâd just wanted to talk to him, and here he is.Â
He finally ducks in. A half side step into your reach, his face angled down, he kisses you chastely on the lips and everything fades away. The neon pink at your feet, the buzzing streetlights and the passing cars, the steady thump of music from three different buildings, it all disappears under his warm hand. He kisses you, and he hugs you to his chest, careful not to crush your flowers. You could glow from the inside out.Â
Heâs still smiling as he pulls away. âAre you hungry?â he asks softly.Â
âSo hungry.âÂ
âWe can get anything you want.âÂ
âReally? What if I want the same as last time?âÂ
It had been expensive and youâd felt vaguely underdressed. Aaron doesnât baulk. âAnything you want⊠You may need to wear my jacket, though. I donât think your current outfit adheres to their dress code.âÂ
You push the flowers just under his nose. âFunny.â
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble
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Having it-girl nakshatras (Mars, Mercury, sometimes Moon) is not enough to have thee aura and fashion style to make one stand outâ of course. I wondered what other placements back up the effect. Definitely Mercury influence which can make one have a keen eye for details and be crafty with their style / brand... curating something unique and outstanding. The trendsetting and popularity aspect definitely goes to Mars as this planet is dominant and daring to take risks as it is provocative. Mars is very strategic, so climbing up the ladder can only be natural. And then Venus is very important. Very obvious why, as beauty and quality plays a role in the whole it-girl factor. Venus can make one know how to appeal to the masses through art and aesthetics that are distinctly high quality. Along with Mars, Venus influenced natives can master in appealing to the masses by satisfying their senses.
I believe that having these specific planets aspecting each other is very impactful when talking about being an it-girlâfashion icon. (Prominent aspects such as conjunction, opposition, squaring and maybe even trining to a lesser extent).
For example, Sabrina Carpenter doesn't have an outstanding it-girl nakshatra in her top placements. But she does have a strong Mercury-Mars aspect (opposition).
Similarly, Megan Thee Stallion, although she does have Dhanistha Sun, also has a strong Mercury-Mars aspect (opposition).
And then you have Bella Hadid. She not only has Moon conjunct Venus, but also Venus in the 1H which magnifies Venus even more. And even better, she has Mercury in the 2H. With exalted Mercury in Virgo. The 2H is ruled by Venus, and it literally supports the themes of the 1H. In the context of this post; it is associated with one's face, self esteem, and aesthetic. And that is where her Mercury sits. Not only that, she has Rahu conjunct Mercury which amplifies her Mercurial influence and 2nd house tenfold.
Her sister, Gigi Hadid â although not particularly known for her fashion sense â also has Mercurial influence. I still think she's worth mentioning because she knew how to tap into a specific image of herself during her peak. She has Mercury in the 1H, with a strong Mercury-Mars aspect (square). She also has exalted Venus in Pisces in the 12H.
Now Rihanna is a known fashion icon. She has exalted Venus in Pisces, and more importantly she has it in the 1H. AND with Moon conjunct Venus. Already, intense Venus energy much like Bella Hadid. More importantly, she has a strong Mars-Venus aspect (square). We see that in how she's authentically herself and very bold.
Tyla is an up and coming fashion icon already! And she has Mercury conjunct Venus! We can already tell that most of her visuals are meant to be memorable and influential just from this conjunction alone.
Kylie Jenner, who literally has Mercury conjunct Venus! And also Moon conjunct Mars, which amplifies her Mars influence. The fact that Rahu is conjunct Mercury-Venus exaggerates these aspects even more.
Sofia Richie, who started the clean-girl aesthetic trend, also has her Mercury conjunct Venus. Actually she has a full on Mercury-Venus-Mars conjunction! Of course she was a trendsetter in her peak.
Anya Taylor-Joy is one of the few actresses I can name that are very distinct about their looks and it's been so interesting to watch her transform her red carpet looks. An absolutely ethereal being and I know for a fact she's intentional about her visuals. Since she said she's a Taurus Ascendant in an interview, that means she's likely a sidereal Aries Ascendant. Which would put her Mercury in the 1H! And if she turns out to be a sidereal Taurus Ascendant, her Mercury would be in the 2H. And again, 2H is related to the aesthetics as it supports the 1H. Now more importantly she also has Moon conjunct Mars!
And then you have Zendaya, another fashion icon who happens to be an actress. And of course, she has a strong Mercury-Venus aspect (square)! AND RAHU CONJUNCT MERCURY. Whatever planet Rahu is conjunct with, the themes of that planet are exaggerated. Zendaya has a very keen eye and you can see her passion for fashion in her Mercury-Venus aspect. She may never want to not serve ever again.
Justine Skye has Mercury conjunct Mars.
Dua Lipa, she's another one who has Mercury conjunct Venus!
Kim Kardashian has Mars in the 1H. And a strong Venus-Mars aspect (square).
Doja Cat has her Venus in the 1H. And exalted Mercury in Virgo.
Jennie Kim (Blackpink), gotta be the most well known kpop it-girl. She literally has Mars conjunct Mercury! While her member, Lisa, who is also deemed an icon I believe, has her Mercury conjunct Venus!
Okay these placements are getting predictable at this point. Because then it's Jang Wonyoung from IVE, who has Mercury conjunct Mars.
Alexa Demie is the last fashion icon actress I can think of right now. Predicably, she has Mercury conjunct Venus. (Her dark, alluring aesthetic is very much due to her Ketu in the 1H.)
Last, but certainly NOT least, you have Aaliyah! Whose fashion statements continue to be influential till this day! She had Mars in the 1H.
I might continue this in a thread (check the reblogs of this post for more đ§”) when I find more. I simply started this out of curiosity because I was wondering how those who didn't have it-girl nakshatras could still dominate the trends and how some of those who had such nakshatras weren't able to utilize their potential. So of course it's all about the chart, not everything is drawn up to the top 3 placements.
#vedic astrology#mars#venus#mercury#sidereal astrology#astrology#astro observations#astrology observations#pisces#virgo
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The Bat Boys X Bookworm!Reader
Summary: What the Bat Boys (and Eris & Lucien) are like with their bookworm partners
Warnings: Lil smutty and nsfw (not too much just want to cover myself) so 18+ MDNI
Notes: Just a bit of fun really, it's different to what I usually write but I hope you guys like it!
Rhysand
Rhysand loves you
And if loving you means that he has to feed your obsession with buying books?
Then he would happily clear out all the bookshops in Velaris if it meant getting to see you smile.
Rhysand is rich-rich.
Which means if there's something you want? He'll buy it for you without question.
You once mentioned about how much you'd love your own library one day.
So of course by the end of the week you had your own little haven inside Rhysand's house with more books than you could ever dream of reading and your own little ladder to reach them all.
But he didn't stop there.
For your mating gift he purchased you your very own library in Velaris
In which Rhys may or may not have enacted his fantasies of sleeping with a Librarian.
Whilst Rhysand does like to read, his taste in books is very different to your own.
But even though he doesn't read the books you do, he's more than happy to sit and listen to you talk about your favourite ones for hours if that meant being able to see your eyes light up as you talked about something you loved.
But no books nor libraries could top the best gift he had ever given you.
A hand-written book containing the story of your relationionship.
Complete with crude little comments and drawings the High Lord had scribbled down in the margins.
Rhysand loved history.
So what better way to preserve his undying love for you than in-between the pages of a book which would last forever.
Cassian
Cassian had never been very interested in books.
He'd much rather experience the thrill of real fighting and action in person than spend his time reading about it on some dusty old pages.
In fact the only time Cassian had been in a library he had the terrifying encounter with Bryaxis.
Safe to say that the trauma he experienced was the perfect excuse for never stepping in one again.
Until he met you.
Cassian has always been the type of guy who's all in or nothing.
He discovers the person he has a crush on likes reading?
You know he's going to be walking around with books he's never even opened pretending like he is a well-read Illyrian.
Citing quotes he doesn't even understand just to try and impress you.
And once you're together?
You show Cassian exactly what he's missed out on when it comes to reading.
Especially when it comes to getting tips for your bedroom activities.
For months after you revealed to him the wonders that are smut books, Cassian would spend his free time delving through the pages looking for new ideas on how to spice up your sex life.
Claiming his increased interest in reading was due to 'research purposes'
Cassian is 100% down to roleplay characters from your novels
He loves being the big strong hero to your damsel.
Whenever Cassian catches you reading, happily curled into the comfort of your sofa, he'll approach with a smirk on his lips
"Any new tricks you'd like to try out? I think page 69 is worth a shot."
Azriel
Azriel's a busy guy.
He's always away on missions for Rhysand or working in the dungeons of the Court of Nightmare's
So he can be forgiven if when he comes home, reading is the last thing on his mind.
But what he does enjoy though, is when you read to him.
He can lay with his head in your lap for hours.
Humming along to whatever tale you tell whether it's fantasy, romance or a good thriller
Sometimes he'll even offer his input. Laugh when something especially funny happens or shed a tear whenever a character he likes died.
Azriel loves the sound of your voice
Enjoying the way you put on voices whenever a character is speaking.
He's grown to like the sense of domesticity that he feels whenever you read to him. Allowing himself to imagine you doing this to two little Illyrian babies of your own.
Reading to your wide eyed children as they are gripped by the tales you're telling
Azriel is also a gentleman.
Need a hand with carrying the books you're choosing whilst you shop?
He's there
Hands willingly taking everything you stack on top of him, trailing after you with your selections like a lost puppy.
And when you get to the till?
Azriel had already spoken to the shopkeeper upon entry and added anything you chose to his account. Claiming the books were just as much his as they were yours if you were going to read them to him.
Azriel is definitely the type of male who likes you to read your smut to him as he pleasures you, acting out the words on the page until you're unable to speak anymore, leaving the rest of the chapter to your own imagination.
Eris
Eris is a reader.
He loves nothing more than to settle down after a long day with a good book in hand and a steaming tea.
You can't tell me he doesn't find it the hottest thing ever when he discovers you like to read too
The two of you have your own little book club
You'll each read the same book and then have a little meeting when it's over to discuss what you thought of it.
He can also get really emotional and intense about them.
God knows the amount of times you've had to calm him down when a character has made a choice he didn't like.
I think Eris definitely likes to write too
Not seriously, but it's a good way for him to get his thoughts out and to escape from the day to day of his reality.
And he loves to have you read his work
To see the way your face lights with joy as your eyes flick through his beautiful prose.
A small smile upon his lips at the knowledge that the muse for his writings was you.
Lucien
Lucien also likes to read.
But the way you read?
It terrifies him.
The way you obsess over the characters from your stories.
Your passionate opinions on their decisions and the plots.
God forbid Lucien says something about them that you don't agree with.
Lucien finds you positively feral when it comes to the stories you like.
But that doesn't stop him from wanting to show interest in them too.
Lucien likes to read all your favorite books and leave annotations of his thoughts in the margins.
This was exactly how the two of you had gotten together, the male having gifted you with a copy of a book he had noticed you reading.
The pages filled with scratchy comments and opinions on everything that happened.
Lucien pours his soul into his annotations and you love that.
Lucien is also a poetry man.
He loves to recite verses to you which stick out to him
Sometimes they were romantic, making your heart stop in your chest and breath catch in your throat.
But Lucien was also a fan of satirical poetry
The most ridiculous, corny things you have ever heard.
He'll come find you as you're going about your day and recite his latest read to you - your eyes rolling to the back as you did so, yet you fail to hide the smile which crosses your face every time he does so.
He has also tried to write you poetry before, express the depth of his feelings towards you. Safe to say his lame attempt of a limerick earnt him a scoff and had you hiding all his poetry books from him for the next month.
#acotar#fanfic#acotar imagine#sarah j maas#a court of thorns and roses#azriel x reader#azriel imagine#cassian x reader#eris vanserra x reader#cassian#eris vanserra#rhysand x reader#rhysand#lucien vanserra#lucien vanserra x reader
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đđđđđđđ. every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision.
despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart. đđđđđđđ. jungkook x reader đđđđđđđđ. swearing đđđđ đđđđđ. 5k đđđđđ.  inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up.
part one: the storm, the envelope and the granddaughter ă
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€Â next. masterlist
i. the storm
 for the first time in a long time, your eyes flutter open to the golden curtains of the sun and not the blaring noise of a royalty-free iphone alarm. the rays are harsh and welcoming all at once, as you blink away the stinging sensation and adjust to the muddy path ahead. there was no mistake about it, the town withstood an unforgiving storm last night. however, mud coating the wheels of your bus seemed to be the only indication, as you became distracted with the kiss of summer from the skies above and the clear cerulean painted across cotton candy clouds.Â
 memories of amber valley became bygone over the years, as memories always do. but, amber valley seemed to be a long lost chase you havenât won in years and the older you became, the town disappeared entirely. it was like the smell of your favourite scented markers and the feeling rumbling at the pit of your stomach on the first day of school - nothing but faint ideas from your childhood.Â
 âweâre not going to visit grandpa this summer?â
 at age twelve, you couldnât fathom missing out on the midsummer festival or being away from your horse, marshmallow. for that age, absolutely everything felt like the end of the world, whether it was missing an episode of your favourite show or not getting an invite to a classmateâs sleepover. it was a little different for you, though, as you looked at your dadâs dull eyes. theyâd been dull since the divorce went through that february. they never shone since and thatâs how you knew things werenât going to be the same.
 he shook his head at you, but never met your eyes. âno, iâm sorry. heâs coming up for to the city at the end of july, though - â it would be later in life, precisely at age 25 and months removed from your grandfatherâs funeral, when you would learn that he only began coming up to the city to regularly see a hepatologist, â - so you can see him on your birthday.â
 you did, in fact, see grandpa for your birthday and for the rest of the years to come. he laughed with his whole body and his smile never failed to reach his eyes when he gave you updates on the farm and amber valley. grandpa did his best, but time passing came with you losing your bright eyes whenever he spoke fondly of his town. it was inevitable, when the big city enveloped your teenage self and you became more concerned with interests that come with the turn of youth - clothes, parties and boys.
 now, there was absolutely nothing wrong with any of those ideas. you stood by this at heart, embracing femininity and defending it alongside your love for science and life. you grew up and began wearing high heels to dates, to university lectures and finally, to your 9-5 on the busiest corner of your cityâs financial district. you had long outgrown your riding boots, likely tucked away at the back of your closet in your studio apartment. you began just politely smiling and nodding when your grandfather shared local amber valley gossip about individuals who were just names to you now, also tucked away at the back of your mind.
 even though you eventually grew past the age where you needed your parentsâ permission to make the trek over to amber valley, past the period of time where your mother refused to speak to your father to coordinate your trip to see your grandfather, the idea of returning to the valley never crossed your mind. like summer camp, it was something you thought you didnât need anymore and preferred spending your school-less months with your friends in your hometown, working away at your first part-time job and getting your first ever driversâ license. a seventeen year old city girl wouldnât want to waste her summer at her grandfatherâs old farm.
 âmrs. ohâs husband just left the valley for his deployment overseas. may god watch over that family.â it was one of the last times you saw grandpa, late on christmas eve when everyone else went to bed. your mom, her new husband and your little sister had bade their goodnightâs by 10pm and left the two of you sipping honey lemon tea by the fireplace.Â
 your momâs new husband made a lot of money. that was one of the first things you noticed about him and it was so different from the two bedroom inner city apartment you were raised in. it was certainly different from your grandpaâs farmhouse, where the television only got three channels and all of the windows never fully opened because they would fall apart entirely if you pulled too far. you and your grandpa mused these thoughts on their white leather couch, when the conversation slowly moved back to how the old farm was going.
 you tried to sound interested. âoh really?â the reality was you couldnât remember if the oh family was the one that ran the general store or the one couple who seemed to be constantly fighting, on the verge of divorce.
 grandpa grunted in response. âmhm. thankfully, they have jungkook helping out around the store. ah, the wasted potential with that boy, but such a kind heart.â
 âjungkook..?â
 âoh, you remember him! the two of you would always bike by the beach,â he said. âiâll never forget, you two would always come back and show me the seashells you collected that day. always made a competition out of everything.â
 he chuckled and you joined in, hiding the despondence for being unable to recall. grandpa didnât seem to notice, though, continuing to discuss amber valley. cranberries and pumpkins were the strongest crops of the fall, mayor kim was re-elected for a third time and something about the town soon getting their first chain convenience store since amber valleyâs founding. then, grandpaâs face lost his smile and a serious expression formed on his ageing features. he asked you about your job and how life was for you.
 by now, youâre 22 and working an entry-level position with nothing but a bachelorâs in your pocket and a hunger to climb the corporate ranks. like any fresh college graduate, there was no meaning to life if it werenât for paying overpriced rent, mimosa sundays, dating apps, and maybe remembering to go to the gym every now and then. the life you lived was loud from city traffic and heavy from looming student debt.Â
 âmy job is..okay. iâm just starting out and iâm really just trying to do my best,â you replied.
 grandpa, still with a serious look, placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. âit gets stressful, doesnât it?â
 you opened your mouth to respond again, but failed to find your voice this time. your stress was found in a growing caffeine addiction and getting too tired to give your parents a call on the weekends. adulthood was everything you expected and nothing you expected. you secured a job that you dedicated four years of studies to and just like that, was pushed into a world of hustle and bustle and nothing in between. once this realization settled, you tried to hide it by cracking a faint smile. grandpa saw through it, though - he always did.Â
 âwell, darling, if it ever does get too stressful..â you became confused when grandpa reached into his back pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope. he handed it to you and you turned it over, finding no writing other than your name in your grandfatherâs decorative penmanship.
 you asked, âwhat is this, grandpa?â
 he finally smiled again, but shook his head. âa gift. itâs yours for when you find that you need a break from the challenges of life.â
 grandpa only gave gifts from the heart. only, this time, you wouldnât know that he was giving you his entire heart and soul. you had taken this envelope and slid it in the drawer of your desk at home, where you tirelessly worked after hours, even after returning from the office. it was hidden away, but always poked your curiosity at the back of your mind. however, you restrained from opening it, even when it eventually became one of the last things you had from grandpa.Â
 ii. the envelope
the only time you took the pristine envelope out of your desk was on the day of his funeral.Â
 it was no surprise that grandpa wanted to be buried in amber valley, his home for over fifty years and his birthplace. it was once your heartâs home, too, once upon a time when you were a child skipping rocks by the town river and rode your horse through mustard-hued sunflower fields. for that, you were nervous to return and confront the realities of your coming of age in the face of a town that only lived in your memories, sickeningly reminding you of the years that have gone past.
 wedged between your mother and father who had only began speaking to one another as of three years ago, you stared blankly at the onyx coffin that, in about 20 seconds, was gone from your sight and lowered into the ground. it happened all too quick. you clenched your arm tighter, squeezing the envelope tucked underneath and protecting it from the rain. your very last summer in the valley was marked by constant rain and wind and once again, you greet the town amidst storms.
 the drive was quick, having gone directly to service after the three hour drive from the city. you couldnât make much of the town through the gloom and suddenly, the valley was so much colder than you remember. like your being since your grandfatherâs passing, it lost its colour. it was unwelcoming and felt like a punishment for your neglect over the years. amber valley was unforgiving as much as it was perfection.Â
 you couldnât make out much of the attendees through the gloom, either. many of them appeared absolutely devastated, sobbing and cold-faced at the goodbye of a beloved neighbour. your grandfather was always well-liked amongst the townspeople, helping out his friends with mundane tasks whenever he had free time away from the farm and shared his warm personality at community events. this was affirmed through the stories that were shared about him at the service, recognizable for his distinct good heart, but seemed so far away for you, having detached yourself from amber valley.
 âoh, an unfamiliar face! whatâs your name, dear?â a man around your fatherâs age with salt and pepper hair was handing out hor d'oeuvres at the post-service gathering in the church basement. he seemed to be the most upbeat one in the room - though, it wasnât saying much, considering the occasion.
 you told him your name, while looking around for either one of your parents. being in a room of strangers wasnât your favourite activity, especially following a funeral. the last thing you wanted to do was socialize, feeling like you werenât even in your own body all day. while you were saddened and to an extent, numb, you knew your grandfatherâs passing was coming up. his illness was going to catch up to him and you spent months mentally preparing yourself for the day you would have to say goodbye. despite not being surprised, your grief was accompanied by the painful nostalgia of the town that raised you in the summertime.
 the man looked at you, appearing to search your face for something. âyouâre the old manâs granddaughter? bunny?â
 the nickname almost made you flinch, having not heard it in so long that you were surprised you recognized it. you began searching the manâs face, too, also looking for some signs of familiarity. for so many years of your childhood, you were almost exclusively called this nickname by adults and friends alike.
 there wasnât room for a response when the man pulled over another individual by his sleeve, merely attempting to walk by in peace. this one was a man closer to your age and you were too distracted by the glisten of his facial piercings to scan for recognition. the second thing you noticed the adornment of tattoos peeked from below his sleeve and trailed onto his hands. the third and final thing you noticed about him was how gentle his hands were. this was realized because the sight of this man made you drop whatever was in your own hands in surprise.
 the only thing you were holding was your grandfatherâs envelope, no longer pristine and stained with a few raindrops. you noticed that you had been clutching onto this keepsake the entire service. you bent down to reach for it, when he also attempted to make the save for you. your hands brushed and you looked up at his eyes, suddenly taken away by confusion.
 âjungkook, you remember bunny?âÂ
 you forgot the older man was in your presence, as he was the one who pulled jungkook over in the first place. jungkook. this was the little boy you spent hours running around with all those years ago. although you seemed to forget when your grandfather had last brought him up, those moments began to rain down on you upon taking sight of him for the first time in years. you had barely looked, but it hit you.
 jungkook handed the envelope over to you and you cleared your throat, standing up properly and trying not to wobble on your favourite high heels. he also stood up and seemed to mirror your confusion, not understanding who was the person in front of him. you muttered a thank you and fixed an imaginary snag on your cardigan.
 âi just go by my first name now,â you said through a tight smile to both men, still feeling like your gut was punched in after hearing the nickname that your grandpa coined,
 âoh, of course. youâre all grown up now!â the man exclaimed. âdo you remember me? mr. kim?â
 the truth was that you didnât remember him by face, but instead remembered that your father mentioned a man of this name being the mayor. if he was the same person, mr. kimâs father was the previous town mayor, as well, and was your grandfatherâs best friend before his own untimely passing. given his larger than life presence, it was same to assume that the man in front of you was the tiny valleyâs politician.
 âmayor kim, of course.â you hoped you sounded convincing.
 jungkook was still standing to the side, the same confused look etched on his face. âyouâre the girl that tricked me into eating mud that one time?â he blurted, as if an imaginary lightblub flashed above his head
 that took you by surprise and you almost snorted. âi didnât trick you, you just went for it.â the quick snap back also took you by surprise, having left behind a bit of your normal self in the city before coming down to the valley for the funeral, as well as your instant recollection.
 somehow, this memory was clear as day and you could remember jungkook as a seven year old with a horrible bowl cut and missing teeth. you wore light-up sneakers and candy bracelets that day, sitting on the porch of your grandfatherâs farmhouse with him and were exchanging dares to see who would give up first. maybe that was why your grandpa said you two were -Â
 â - always competitive,â jungkook said.
 although the two of you surely shared countless more memories, it was this one that stood against the test of time and it showed when it immediately hit you with a laugh. it took jungkook a second, too, but he eventually gave in and joined with his own. you hadnât realized it until his swollen eyes became crescents in his giggles, but he seemed to be having his own trouble of a day.
 âthere it is, jungkook! nice to see you finally cheer up a bit,â mayor kim encouraged and jungkookâs chuckle immediately fell back to a straight face, almost intentionally. you suspected that this was not the first time today that mayor kim was on his case.
 before mayor kim could add on, his attention gravitated towards something at the other end of the room. he sighed and set down the hor d'oeuvres, checking the time on his wrist dressed with gold.Â
 âoh, iâm being called over,â he sighed and turned back to you. âit was a pleasure seeing you again, i hope to see you around town before you have to go back to the city.â
 swiftly, mayor kim weaved his way through the crowd and just like that, it was just you and jungkook.
 you took this opportunity to give jungkook an actual once over, comparing it to the faint image you had of this man from when you were children. undeniably, he was handsome, but you were more concerned with the fact that this was still the little boy you spent your summers with. he grew into his face and you didnât realize that you accidentally said this out loud.
 jungkook looked as much taken aback as he was amused. âoh, you got jokes, huh? thatâs what you learned growing up in the city?â he teased.
 âi didnât mean it like that - â you started, but he waved you off with a laugh.
 the conversation was a bit overwhelming, considering you were still stuck in a church basement following your grandfatherâs funeral service and could not locate your parents anywhere. jungkook recognized this in your face and eased into a sympathetic smile. somehow, you felt okay enough around him to drop your tense shoulders for the first time that day.
 âiâm sorry, i should be giving my condolences. your grandpa was a loved man by everyone here.â
 looking around the room, it was clear. everyone had shared fond stories and were making toasts in his honour. you felt out of place, but more so because you felt like you should have been joining in with the attendees. instead of being a kind of extended family that once saw you grow up, these people were strangers. you werenât sure if anyone recognized you, having tried to lay low and not draw any attention to yourself. the only times you seemed to have caught anyoneâs eye was when you were sat beside your parents at the burial, but no one dared approach you then.
 âyou were like a son to him, too,â you offered. it was true, given the amount of time you spent with jungkook as a child, maybe even going so far to call him your best friend at one point.Â
 he let out a long breath, eyes moving to the enlarged portrait of your grandfather propped up on the wall. âthatâs nice of you to say. i miss him already. iâm sure you feel the same.â
 you learned quickly that, in light of your disappearance from your grandfatherâs farm over the years, jungkook was the one who began helping out and taking over what were your old chores. your grandfather was physically able, but he kept the young boy around for company and made feeding the chickens an excuse to have his presence. hearing this made your heart drop, feeling an unknown sense of regret that you didnât know existed when it came to the farm.
 âitâs not like that!â jungkook cut in, seeing the tears well up in your eyes. âhe would always talk about the two of you going on adventures in the city and how he loved spending time with you whenever he came up to visit. he knew thatâs where your heart was.â
 you sniffled a bit, having already promised yourself to limit your breakdowns to two that day, and took a second to reel it in. âsorryâŠi donât mean to - â you sighed.Â
 âitâs okay. itâs weird being back here, huh?âÂ
 it was weird. it was so damn weird that the air of amber valley stuck with you for the months following, like bubblegum in your hair and a melody on loop in your head. you couldnât shake it. not when you were working an extra 20 hours overtime in a week, not when you became stuck in traffic everyday, and especially not when your boyfriend of three years dumped you because you âchangedâ so much since the start of the year.
 and, it was true. you changed a lot since your conversation with your grandfather on christmas eve, with his words echoing about the stressors of life everyday. it opened your eyes to how much you were really struggling and it wasnât simply you who had changed, but your outlook on life. ever since you were twelve years old, everything shifted to the fastlane and years breezed by you in the blink of an eye. everything moved so fast and you never got a chance to catch your breath. one moment, you were 15, sneaking a sip of your first ever drink, and the next, you were 24 and drinking straight out of the wine bottle on a tuesday evening. you wondered how you suddenly found yourself jaded at a 9-5 black hole of a job that sucked out your energy and passions.Â
 these days made you think about what truly deserved your energy and what truly were your passions. did you like your everyday routine of gluing on false lashes and slipping on pantyhose? were you happy, alone in your apartment with not even a cat to talk to? your parents had their own worlds and new lives to deal with and long stopped asking why you never call. your friends were co-workers, having no time to meet anyone new. you didnât even have time for hobbies, given how tired you were every time you finished work and the amount of overtime you did.
 one thursday night, you arrived home from work at 10:13pm and decided you had enough. it was constraining, nearly strangling you with exhaustion everyday. you spent the entire day wondering was âitâ was and when you kicked off your loafers by your doorstep, it hit you. this was what your grandfather was talking about.
 almost walking with fear of what was to come, you creeped over to your desk. after your grandpaâs funeral, his envelope no longer lived underneath manila folders in your drawer, but found a place on the surface. you kept it there, as it mocked you every time you opened up your work laptop after hours. you didnât realize why you left it in plain sight, until this moment when you came to terms with the fact that you were reminding yourself of him.
 âif youâre reading this, you must be in dire need of change. the same thing happened to me, long ago. iâd lost sight of what mattered most in life. . . real connections with other people and nature. so i dropped everything and moved to the place where i truly belong.â
 it took you precisely two weeks to pack up your things after opening the envelope. nobody could convince you not to. your mother complained that you were wasting your degree and your father had concerns about the massive role you were about to take on all by yourself. it didnât matter.
 two weeks later, you met amber valley and its sunlight for the first time in years, pretending that the storm ceased and the sun shone to welcome you back.Â
 iii. the granddaughter
the sun faded quickly when you realized the bus dropped you off on a plain dirt road in the middle of nowhere. the movers took the rest of your belongings separately, so you were left with nothing but a duffel bag and a cell phone that couldnât find any signal.
 âoops,â was all you could say. you didnât think it was a crazy idea, that there would be service at the very least.
 it took you a few moments to let the situation settle in and for you to realize that you were abandoned in a place that was unfamiliar to you. was it unfamiliar? you looked around, seeing nothing but fields on fields and accepted that there was no way you could even try to remember where you were, even with the help of the maps app. you knew you made it to town, but you were certainly left at the farthest point of the borders.Â
 and then, you heard it.
 it was over at least ten years since you last rode, but your ears perked up at the sound of a horseâs gallop naturally. you had to squint, but it was unmistakable.
 they were going in the other direction and they were going fast, so you had to think fast. you tried yelling and waving your arms, but quickly saw that it was useless. so, you dropped your bg and brought your hands to your mouth, releasing the loudest whistle that your vocal chords could handle. Â
 the horse and its rider kept going and for a few seconds, you thought you lost hope. but, then, as you were about to pick up your bag in shame, you watched them take a wide turn back around. they were headed to you.
 you waved your arms back and forth again, affirming that you needed their attention. as they came closer, you could make out a figure of a man with chestnut brown hair peeking out underneath his cowboy hat. he wore medium wash, stained jeans and a plain white t-shirt.Â
 âthat was the loudest whistle iâve ever heard,â he hollered, drawing closer to you.
 you shook your head bashfully. âdidnât even know i remembered how to do that.â
 âpretty sure the whole town heard. my name is namjoon, are you visiting someone here?â
 likely a few years older than you, you tried to recall someone named namjoon from your memories. his appearance didnât ring a bell, so you were searching your brain for his name or if you heard it from somewhere.
 you told him your name and then squinted at him, pausing for several moments before speaking again. âare you. . .joonie?â Â
his eyebrows shot up immediately, looking at you like he couldnât understand what language you were speaking. âpardon me?â
 joonie. he was mayor kimâs eldest son, who was sent to a fancy arts camp every summer when you were younger. you only met him a few times throughout the years, as he often arrived back the same week you were due to leave your grandpa to go back to your parents, but one feature stuck in your mind always. his dimples. you thought you recognized namjoonâs polite smile and piecing it together with his name seemed to be the key.Â
 âiâm pretty sure youâre mayor kimâs kid. iâm bad with faces, but youâre joonie, arenât you?â the confidence in your voice was fuelled by the fact that no one really left amber valley. it was the kind of place where families would raise their children with the kids they grew up with themselves.Â
 namjoon seemed to still be calculating your appearance in his head when you heard the faint noise of galloping once again. the two of you looked over to see another person on a horse who was looking around the field, likely looking for namjoon. the man in question brought his hand to his mouth and released a whistle similar to yours - though, you did gloat silently because yours was, in fact, louder.
 still, it was enough to get the personâs attention and they finally made eye contact with the two of you. they began approaching and you could make out that it was a manâs figure. still, even with how small of a town amber valley was, you were surprised to see who it was.
 âjungkook!â
 ânamjoon, i just spent fucking 15 minutes looking for you - â
 you tried to keep your expression neutral when you saw that it was actually jungkook on the horse. he wore an all-black outfit of cargo pants and a wife beater tank that exposed his tattooed arms. it made it hard to keep your expression the same.
âoh, hey. did you come to collect something from your grandpaâs property?â jungkook suddenly ignored his previous frustration at namjoon, cleared his throat and dropped his voice by an octave, in addition to cutting his voiceâs volume by a cool half. he swiftly hopped off his horse, too cleanly to be casual.
 namjoonâs confusion only doubled, darting eyes between the two of you. âsorry, have you guys met?â he didnât miss the way that jungkook straightened his shoulders without even trying to be subtle.
 you missed it, though, having cut away your stare to double check if your phone managed to get any signal. none. sighing, you shook your head at jungkook, as he began explaining to namjoon.
 â - we called her bunny. remember bunny?â he nudged towards you.
 namjoon looked back at you again and concern formed. âyouâre the granddaughter. oh, you were at the funeral - iâm sorry about your loss. your grandpa was such a great person.â
 you put on the same tight smile every time someone mentioned him. the worst of the grief came back on some days, but you learned how to manage it day by day as time went on. jungkook watched you do so and cleared his throat.
 âthe old bus stop is the worst,â he interrupted, gesturing towards the tiny sign that indicated that it was in service. âpeople get lost all the time when they arrive. well, we donât really have a lot of people visiting by bus - â
 you couldnât help but cut in. âiâm not visiting.â
 the two men gave you and your single chanel duffel bag a blank stare and wondered if the idea was so hard to believe. it was for your parents, who both thought you caught them on some sort of prank show when you told them about grandpaâs envelope. you were wearing platform mary janes and a leather skirt in the dead of the june sun, so maybe they had a reason to be confused.
 there was a moment of silence, so you decided to speak again. âyeah, iâm not visiting. um, iâve decided to take over my grandfatherâs farm. iâm moving to amber valley permanently.â
#jungkook au#jungkook fanfic#jungkook scenarios#jungkook x reader#jungkook imagines#bts fanfic#kpop fanfic#bts imagines#jungkook x you#bts scenarios#jungkook series#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#bts series#jungkook reaction#*** / the farmhouse.
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one of my favorite things about mdzs is that for how heavily its plot involves politics of classism and misogyny... even the characters most directly impacted by it can't and don't free themselves from it. literally the closest exception is mianmian.
meng yao being the "son of a whore" wasn't some sort of commie awakening for him that led him to wanting everyone to be socially equal. he played the political game, climbed the ladders, sucked up to and backstabbed and murdered people, including other prostitutes who actually had nothing to do with how he and his mother were treated at the brothel he grew up in.
he put in so much extra excessive effort for even a fraction of the same respect that members of gentry cultivation clans got. and he did deserve to be treated more humanely! but he feeds into the exact same system that created him, leading to his own undoing.
his efforts were for a fragile upward mobility that was never going to hold up. he never surpassed his origins nor did he empower others in similar stations, because the society he lives in is not one that would accept that.
the second he got caught and all those crimes exposed, he was scapegoated to hell and back, replacing wei wuxian as society's terrible one-sidedly evil boogeyman overnight.
speaking of not-quite male gentry, i think it's interesting that wei wuxian explicitly doesn't try to climb the ladders in BOTH lives, knowing full well that anything he does will be punished just for the sheer fact that he is wei wuxian.
wei wuxian is scolded for giving intelligent and correct answers in school. lan wangji does the same and is praised.
wei wuxian occasionally lounges around with fellow disciples and is punished. jiang cheng does the same and mostly escapes.
wei wuxian refuses to carry his sword around in public (after losing his golden core, which nobody knows) and is scorned as an arrogant upstart. nie huaisang has been doing the EXACT SAME THING for YEARS and nobody bats an eye.
unlike jin guangyao, wei wuxian knew subconsciously from the start that his acceptance was superficial and that he could be cast out any time. when he was 10 and recently taken in by the jiangs, he canonically would not eat or use "too much" food and water because he thought they'd find him a nuisance for "wasting their things" and kick him back out.
now away from just the classism, yu ziyuan is a proud and strong noblewoman in a society that belittles and derides women for everything they do. her strong cultivation doesn't matter. she's victim to the vicious rumors of her husband loving another woman who is strong like her but apparently had a more likeable personality.
it doesn't matter even if jiang fengmian didn't cheat or that wei wuxian is wei changze's son with cangse sanren; yu ziyuan can't bear with the humiliation of herself (and by extension her children) not being "good enough". she's ridiculed for "failing" in that one duty as a wife, mother, and woman.
she lashes out and takes out that anger on everyone present for years, giving her children lasting trauma and also being a key element in how the jiang family and yunmeng jiang sect are effectively wiped out at the hands of the wen clan.
madam jin doesn't even have a name outside of the fact that she's married to jin guangshan. i don't even remember reading anything that indicates if she's a strong or weak cultivator, or what, which in itself proves that to most people, it doesn't matter. she's "just" a woman.
of course she's angry at her husband's affairs and all the bastard children they bring in. but she also can't do anything about them, so she lashes out at the few people she can: servants. non-cultivators, probably. those very same bastard children.
shoutout to meng yao getting shoved down a flight of stairs at age fourteen, because if madam jin tried that move against her husband instead, it would make her lose even more face, which as a noblewoman she'd never do.
and that's not getting into how jiang yanli is consistently sidelined for being physically weak.
that's not getting into how mianmian was actually a good cultivator, but was mocked by everyone around her for trying to stand up for wei wuxian when everyone was turning on him. how everyone scoffed at luo qingyang's words as "just some lovesick woman" who "obviously wants to marry or bed him since he saved her".
luo qingyang is the only one of these characters who HASN'T died. she didn't play society's games like jin guangyao. she didn't dig her heels in confidence of her own abilities like wei wuxian.
she didn't bitterly lash out like yu ziyuan and madam jin. she didn't gently accept it like jiang yanli.
she just LEFT.
she married an ordinary merchant and cultivates separately from mainstream cultivation society, and therein found her own peace and happiness.
mxtx doesn't bother with particularly class conscious or feminist vocabulary to hand-hold readers into understanding these disparities, but that choice highlights them & the deeply entrenched politics of their society even more. i really love it.
#keri chats#mdzs#mo dao zu shi#long post#mdzs spoilers#im novel only but still tagging.#the untamed#cql#yeah yeah everyone's written meta addressing this aspect of the story BUT I THINK ABOUT IT ALL THE TIMEEEEE#maybe i just don't get to read a ton of books often; esp not ones that mirror my own culture. but it's just so. soooooo. augh#the fact that the setting itself enables so much of the tragedy in mdzs... which is true of all tragedies but STILL...#this isn't even getting into qin su and the power imbalance w her and jgy post-reveal... man.#man. so much going on here. man#THIS POST IS MESSY AND BARELY EDITED BUT IF U READ IT. ILU
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â đ đ„đđŹđŹđšđ§ đšđ« đđ°đš âź!! eng.
fratboy!wally west x fem!reader
đđźđżđ»đ¶đ»đŽđ⊠drabble, porn with plot. smut. dirty talk, multiple orgasms, oral sex, fingering.
đ°đŒđœđđżđ¶đŽđ”đ. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.
đčđźđ»đŽđđźđŽđČ. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.
đ»đŒđđČ. . . A friend of mine gave me the idea for this, so I said, 'Okay, this sounds good,' and decided to write it. I hope you like it.
Since you started university, youâve always been part of the crowd. You never cared about being popular or standing out in class; you just wanted to get by like everyone else. You made an effort to fit in without drawing attention, avoiding conflict and focusing on passing with just enough.
Being part of the university meant interacting with certain people, even those you weren't particularly interested in but had to tolerate. Like the popular guys from a fraternity whose name you couldnât quite remember, led by Richard Grayson and Wallace Westâbetter known to their friends as Dick and Wallyâor those slightly higher on the social ladder than you.
Dick Grayson was friendly, and his appearance clearly explained why he was so popular. He was also sweet and kind, so much so that if one of your friends asked you directly, you'd probably admit to having a crush on him. Wally, on the other hand, was a different story. Although he was funny and somewhat charming, and also popular because he was Dick's best friend, he didn't appeal to you as much. In fact, there were times when he would shamelessly try to flirt with you, but you would just respond with a gesture before completely ignoring him.
Conveniently, no matter how hard you tried to stay away from Wally, he always found a way to cross your path. Like the day you were sitting with Timothy Drake in the cafeteria when Dick Grayson came over to say hello to his brother. Wally seized the opportunity, walked up, grabbed Dick by the shoulders, and wasted no time flirting with you.
â Don't worry, babe. If you don't understand anatomy, I can give you a lesson or two.
You don't know what part of you thought it was a good idea to have Wally help you study. But you didn't realize how bad it was until the books fell off the bed where you were supposed to be studying and his face literally ended up between your legs.
You had never been with someone with such fast skills, so to speak. It was like being with The Flash himself. His tongue moved quickly over your wet pussy, causing your eyes to roll back in pleasure.
His tongue glided over your lips, tracing them from top to bottom, while his greenish gaze was fixed on yours. With one hand he helped you to spread your legs wider and with the other he filled your tight hole completely with two of his fingers. Then, growing restless, he moved to your clit, where he began to give you sweet, teasing licks. His mouth moved so quickly between your clit and your lips that it seemed he was caressing both at the same time.
And when you arched your back, with moans so intense that Wally was sure they could be heard in the hallway, he knew you would climax any moment, for the third time that night, with minimal effort on his part. It hadnât even taken him more than five minutes.
Sweat trickled down your forehead as you reached your climax, and a wave of pleasure swept through your entire body. As you gasped, you watched as Wally pulled away from between your legs, a mischievous smile on his face. He looked beautiful, his mouth smeared with your fluids, and maybe that's why you didn't ask him to clean up.
â Damn, babe, that was so good. After what comes next, you'll be so dazed that the only name you'll remember from these books will be "Wallyâ.
You looked at him with wide eyes, confused by what he meant by 'after what comes next.' Hadnât it ended? You wondered if you could handle more, given that you had already had more than you could bear.
â Oh, what? Did you think that was it? Unfortunately for you, we're not done yet. And I have enough stamina to fuck you for hours.
#dc comics#dc universe#smut#kid flash#the flash#wally west#wally west smut#wally west x reader#wally west x you#wally west x fem!reader
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