#and would loop ahead for most loops

[dilfosaur]

well i haven't spilled my guts on tumblr since i was in college but it's the platform that's felt The Most Mine thru the years, so

let's talk!

i've had a huge chip on my shoulder that i wanted off before the year ends. very bad professional experience to follow

so firstly to get ahead of the speculating, i'm not naming names or anything. some of you will puzzle out who i'm talking about, but please don't bother anyone especially not on my behalf. i've worked hard to distance myself from them the past few months. shit happens, especially when you're a dumb bitch (that's me!)

but also this person was someone i considered a close friend and it makes me uneasy to possibly direct backlash at them. "then why post about it" bc i did intermittent work for them for over a year. this is just about that. so hear me out

basically it started off fine. i initially did some commission work for good pay, then was invited to become more involved with their team. unfortunately as i became more involved with their operation it became more disorganized over time. projects started then forgotten, constantly shifting schedules, lapsing communication between roles, confusing financials, and often inconsistent if not late payments. during mid 2023 i was doing colorist work, sometimes on a one day turnaround (all while also preparing drawfee's summer merch launch). the payroll wasn't set up correctly so i wasn't paid for that work for over a year (more on that later), tho to be fair that was largely my own fault at first as i just didnt realize the payments didn't go thru lol

i always consider myself decently capable of separating friendship and coworker-ship; i run a company with 4 wonderful friends, going strong for almost 5 years. that didn't really work out in this case. by early this year our friendship was on the rocks; work issues fed into personal issues and vice versa. so as the rest of this shit plays out, we had just had our first "big fight" which i felt very bad about and added to all the upcoming tension

a huge point of friction was the fact that i really wanted to work with them to make a music video for one of their songs. i've always wanted a chance to make a music video, was confident in a concept i came up with, and even did some concept art for the idea. everyone insisted they loved the concept and that we should do it, but we kept pushing it back for various reasons. it ended up becoming a huge sticking point for my frustrations, which i tried to express productively. TLDR, we eventually got around to discussing it seriously around april.

i planned to ask for $4000 with negotiable add-on for the whole project, which was my Friend Discount price. i was offered a contract for $1000 flat rate, as they insisted that was the only budget they had for it.

don't ask me why i signed it lol. i didn't even counter offer

there was some girlmath to it: i wanted an extra 1k for a student scholarship i provide every spring and well, there it was. but if i had to guess, i saw it as something i just couldn't back down from any more. i caused these folks- my friends- a lot of problems bc i dug my heels in so deep to chase this project, so fuck it we ball

i had about 4 months to solo a 3 minute music video. they wanted it done in august so they could release it before summer ended, bc "it was a summer song". to be fair i was asked if i needed them to pay for anything extra like assistants (which i would have to find and manage) but i was so immediately overwhelmed that i didn't wanna slow down to wait on that process lol. there was very minimal communication other than brief progress check-ins every few weeks. i did everything for that project myself: the original concept, character designs, storyboards, layouts, backgrounds. i even did the editing/compositing for the final cut of the MV. the only favor i did myself was limiting the amount of it that was actually animated to simple loops and motions. hardly my best work but it was work still done

i did it all in between my full time job. i ended up having to take nearly a month away from most of my drawfee duties (with the support of the others) to make the august deadline. i only ever asked for a 3 day extension (notice given about a week in advance, around the same time i was given the final song file lol). i finished the music video at 6am on the final deadline and recorded drawfee the next day on 2 hours of sleep

but it was done, coolies. the team was very happy with the final product. honestly, without getting into it, those were a very emotionally taxing 4 months. on the professional side, i regretted agreeing to the project and especially for the dogshit rate they offered. i felt like a hypocrite- as someone who always wanted to advocate for younger artists demanding their worth in a world that's getting increasingly hostile toward creatives, i failed myself

so when i met with the manager to discuss the release plan, i told them to do whatever worked best for them as i only had one request: i wanted my credit removed from the project

tbh... like... lmao this dramatic bitch right!! but really, i decided that bad practices only breed worse business. friends or not, it was unprofessional of me to accept such a low paying job so i just didn't want my name used in association. everything felt so muddled to me and i was just really tired at this point

the manager was very understanding and then offered that i could be paid more. they said that their team "was surprised" i accepted their low rate and they would be happy to up the amount. this confused me as the initial budget seemed pretty set and at no point between april and august was i offered a better rate. i knew these guys weren't made of money. so, i declined. i didn't want to put anyone out of their means over work that was already done and agreed upon. but more importantly, i was over the whole thing and didn't want to prolong the project with a contract renegotiation. i just insisted my name be removed

they decided to use a pseudonym (which i was fine with) so they could create a story about a character who made the MV (this sounds really convoluted but i don't know how better to put it without getting specific, sorry). that way if people asked about the credit, they could speak comfortably about it without signaling that something went wrong behind the scenes. ok, kind of a silly narrative imo but whatevs. and maybe this is where i finally went truly wrong but. yolo i guess

i gave the name "D. Smithee", D as in dilfosaur and Smithee as in Alan Smithee. look it up for fun film trivia ig! was it passive aggressive of me to reference that in this context? yeah, honestly. but i thought it was kinda funny and really not that deep. if it was a problem, i have other real, non-cheeky pseudonyms i regularly use. the manager accepted it and all i had to do was wait for them to post the video and i could leave the whole experience behind me

a week later i received a message from the manager that my pseudonym had been denied by the rest of the team bc one of them got the reference. fair enough lol. however, they decided that rather than ask for a different name, the were going to make one up for me that they liked and would "fit the [story]", without asking me

and that! is when i finally snapped!

i was so tired of giving them concessions at this point and having a credit made up for me without any input from me felt genuinely violating and unethical. i started to Panic bc of how stressed i was, and asked for my overdue payments (aka the $500 still owed on the MV, and the colorist rate from a year prior that was never paid even tho i reported it in january) to be scheduled ASAP as i was leaving the work discord immediately

i finally told them off for exploiting me throughout the months while i kept trying to just be nice and finish my contact cleanly. in return i was told that it was unfair to say that as i agreed to everything- i accepted their cheap rate and denied further payment so that was all settled, and it was ok to change my credit without my consent bc i "said they could do whatever with the release". i called bullshit, ended the convo as kindly as i could, and cried lol. they agreed to ditch the pseudonym and just give no credit. that night was the last i heard from anyone on that team

and the real kicker?

august came and went. then september, october... and they never released the music video

and i don't know why, because i was never contacted about it. i've been removed from the picture entirely i guess. 4 months and boatloads of stress. just. up in smoke. i don't know what i expected honestly

it's hard to not take everything that happened personally and as done in bad faith. i really do, honestly. i've had plenty of shitty deals in my almost 10 year art career, but it hits different from people you saw as friends. but to the point of "why not keep it private", i have never felt so disrespected as a professional as i did this past year. i can toy with money and credits and other formalities all i want, but my work- my ideas, my labor, my effort- is still so important to me. i felt like the biggest idiot for doing so much work, pouring so much of myself into a piece for someone's use, for what has amounted to nothing

but more importantly i hated myself for undervaluing my work, even if initially i thought this person was a trusted friend. money is not really an issue for me- drawfee is my main job and i am fine and comfortable. it's so important to pay artists appropriately but i often undersell my own work bc i value the collaboration and passion between creatives more than the reward. i think a lot of artists tend to feel the same, and it often makes us easy to take advantage of. it's so difficult to find the balance between passion and making a fair living, and i think there's some shame within ourselves when artists choose to prioritize that passion

i wanted to finally get all this off my chest bc i was ashamed of every choice i made. things like this happen all the time i'm sure and hiding these mistakes only make it easier for it to happen to other people

tldr always value your work and protect your passion from people who just see it as a product. and don't give cheeky pseudonyms i guess lol

(and again pls don't bother anyone involved about this. a lot of chaos has left my life as i moved past all this, and this is me closing a door without opening new ones hopefully lol)

this shit was truly

so ass.

but i'm moving past it now

but on a nicer note. outside of all of this nonsense, i made lots of good memories this year. i'm truly so grateful to the many wonderful people in my life who keep me going even when i fuck up big time!

and thank you to all of you strangers who, despite everything, give me the time of day. especially if you read this whole thing. you're a real one :')

happy new year!

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ playing dangerous ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x player!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

˚ ༘♡ player 177. your assigned number. the three digits stitched in stark white thread on the coarse forest-green tracksuit now clinging to your body. you didn’t remember putting it on. you didn’t remember anything between falling asleep in your cramped apartment and waking up in this sterile, alabaster void. the tracksuit was loose in some places, tight in others, the fabric rough against your skin, a similar sensation for the discomfort that had settled deep into your bones.

˚ ༘♡ the air here was heavy, oppressive. tension hung over the room like a storm cloud, pressing down on everyone in its path. you sat on the thin mattress of your cot, the iron bars of the bedframe biting into your back as you leaned against them. your throat was dry, your lips chapped, and a faint crust of dried blood clung to the edge of your mouth, an unpleasant reminder of the chaos you’d barely survived. in your lap rested a cold metal bento box, unopened. the thought of eating its contents of rubbery eggs and starchy rice, made your stomach churn. it wasn’t hunger gnawing at you but dread. eating felt like acknowledging the possibility of another day here, in this place where death lingered so close you could almost taste it.

˚ ༘♡ death. it wasn’t something you’d ever had to think about seriously before. you were young, healthy enough, aside from the occasional winter flu. life’s struggles had been mundane, bills, work, nothing quite noteworthy. you’d thought financial trouble was the worst of your problems. how naive that seemed now. the sharp crack of gunfire still rang in your ears, and the memory of bodies crumpling mid-run played in an endless loop in your mind. every scream, every desperate gasp for air as life left someone’s body, was etched into your mind.

˚ ༘♡ this wasn’t life. it was survival, twisted into something grotesque. children’s games weaponized against desperate people for the amusement of others, with the promise of money as bait. one hundred million won for every life taken. your own life, reduced to a figure on a balance sheet. you’d survived the first game, the horrifying version of red light, green light, but at what cost? surely, after witnessing such carnage, the others would have voted to leave. you’d been certain of it. but the desperation was stronger. greed was stronger. most players had chosen to stay, ignoring the horrors of what lay ahead.

˚ ༘♡ “the next game,” player 456 had said, “will be cutting shapes out of dalgona candy. pick the triangle. it’s the easiest.” his voice had carried a strange conviction, and he claimed to know these games intimately, even to have won before. but how could you trust him? maybe he was lying, or maybe it didn’t matter. maybe none of you were meant to leave this place alive.

˚ ༘♡ “hey, 177!” the crude voice shattered your thoughts, dragging you back to the present.

˚ ༘♡ you glanced up to see player 230, “thanos,” as he called himself, sauntering toward you. his garish purple hair stood out like a bruise against the sterile backdrop, and his brightly colored nails flashed as he gestured. he’d painted them to match the infinity stones, leaning fully into the nickname he’d given himself. behind him, player 124 followed, all sharp angles and slicked-back hair, his grin as eager and sly as ever.

˚ ༘♡ “why didn’t you vote for one more game, huh?” thanos sneered, his voice laced with mockery. “you had no problem playing foul last round.”

˚ ༘♡ you frowned, rising slowly to your feet. “you and i both know it was an accident,” you replied steadily. “everyone was running for their lives. i didn’t block your way on purpose. we both finished in time, didn’t we? no harm done.”

˚ ༘♡ he rolled his eyes, his expression exaggerated and spontaneous. “yeah, sure, whatever. typical cold-hearted bitch behavior.”

˚ ༘♡ player 124 cackled at the insult, his laughter harsh and grating. “that’s right. cold, stuck-up bitch,” he echoed, his voice dripping with scorn.

˚ ༘♡ their taunts were designed to provoke you, but you refused to give them the satisfaction. your hands curled into fists, but you forced yourself to relax them, forced yourself to breathe. these two thrived on conflict, and the best thing you could do was walk away. you turned on your heel, ignoring their shouts, and started to move toward the far corner of the room.

˚ ༘♡ “hey! i’m talking to you!” thanos barked, stumbling after you with heavy, uncoordinated steps. he didn’t get far. player 001 stepped into his path, his expression stoic and unyielding.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t you boys have any respect?” player 001 asked, his voice quiet but firm. there was something about him, an emanation of authority that made everyone within earshot pause.

˚ ༘♡ thanos bristled, his arrogance faltering for just a moment. “mind your own damn business, old man,” he snapped, jerking forward.

˚ ༘♡ player 001 didn’t flinch. when thanos lunged at him, the older man moved with startling precision, sidestepping the punch with ease. he grabbed thanos by the wrist mid-swing and twisted sharply, forcing a guttural yelp from the younger man as his knees buckled. with a swift motion, player 001 yanked him forward and drove an elbow into his chest, the dull, cracking impact echoing in the room. thanos collapsed onto the floor, clutching his ribs and coughing violently.

˚ ༘♡ player 124 scrambled forward, his face twisted in fury. “bastard!” he yelled, charging with reckless abandon. player 001 turned just in time, catching the younger man by the collar and using his momentum against him. a sharp twist and a well-placed shove sent player 124 sprawling into the edge of a nearby cot, the metal frame rattling as he hit it with a thud.

˚ ༘♡ the fight wasn’t over. thanos struggled to his feet, his face contorted in pain and rage. “you’re gonna regret that, old man,” he spat, lunging again. this time, player 001’s response was more deliberate. he ducked under thanos’s wild swing, stepped inside his reach, and delivered a devastating blow to his lower torso. the younger man doubled over, gasping, before player 001 swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the floor once more.

˚ ༘♡ not finished, player 124 staggered up again, charging at player 001 with fists raised. the older man sidestepped and grabbed player 124 by the arm, wrenching it behind his back and forcing him to the ground with a hoarse cry of pain. he planted a knee firmly against player 124’s spine, holding him there as the younger man squirmed and cursed.

˚ ༘♡ thanos, blood now trickling from his nose, crawled toward his friend, wheezing apologies and swearing obscenities all at once. player 001 released player 124 with a shove, stepping back as the two younger men lay crumpled together on the floor.

˚ ༘♡ the room was silent, every player watching in stunned awe. then, slowly, the silence broke into cheers and clapping. player 001 straightened his posture, his expression as calm and inscrutable as ever. without a word, he turned and walked back to where player 456 and a few others were gathered, leaving the two troublemakers to nurse their wounds.

˚ ༘♡ you hesitated, then followed him. when you reached his side, you spoke softly. “i wanted to thank you, sir. if you hadn’t stepped in, they wouldn’t have stopped harassing me and disturbing the peace. you’ve done us all a favor.”

˚ ༘♡ player 001 turned to look at you, his dark eyes meeting yours briefly before he nodded. he said nothing, his expression unreadable. there was something deeply weary about him, a weight that seemed to press down on his shoulders. his posture was rigid, his face lined with exhaustion, and though he was relatively handsome, it was the kind of masculine appeal eroded by time and hardship.

˚ ༘♡ you wondered what had brought him here, what had led him to the point where he’d chosen, or been pushed into, to enter this place. you didn’t ask. prying into his past would be an impolite gesture and an indignity for what he had done for you.

a/n: my first squid game fanfiction! i definitely want to write more for hwang in-ho in the future so let me know if you have any requests! 🤍

[nerdygirlramblings]

couldn't stop thinking about omegaverse and my spitfire soldier and got this

Ghost first notices you training rookies. He didn't expect anyone else in the gym this early and is surprised to see a whole squad on the mats. He watches a soldier get taken down in a grapple in under a minute and hears your voice ring out, "That shite is gonna get you hurt in the field. Ya gotta find a way to block 'is scent! You don't think an alpha will use any advantage God gave them in battle? Ya gotta be smart!"

He sticks around a bit longer and notices two other rookies whose stances would lead to injury. He's about to step over and fix it himself - he doesn't want someone hurt because of an easily corrected issue - when you zero in on the two he was watching. You correct them in a similar manner to the first. "Nooooo. Only do it like that if you wanna go home in pieces, yeah? Ya need ta carry your weight like this." You show them both the correct way, reaching over and bodily adjusting them when you need to.

He's impressed with your style, so different from the way others would simply shout and demean. It reminds him of Price. He inches his way around the edge of the room, hoping to smell you and is disappointed to see the scent blockers on your neck as he gets close.

A few days later, Soap runs into you on base. Literally. He's out for an early morning run and sees you through the trees ahead of him. He likes how graceful you look cutting across the trail. He stays behind you for a bit, downwind to try and catch your scent. When he can't smell anything but the natural scents around you, he lengthens his stride to pace you.

He pulls up next to you and sees the scent-blocking patches on your neck and wonders if you're trying not to spook anything in the woods. You flash him a smile and he swears his heart stutters. He hasn't been this quickly smitten with someone since he met Ghost.

You run along with him, and he can tell from the amount of sweat soaking your shirt you've been at this for a while. As the route loops back towards the main part of base, Soap cuts left to his barracks and notices you continuing on. He decides to test a hunch, so he takes the fastest shower and is back out watching the trailhead ten minutes later.

Sure enough he sees you come up the path and take another loop. Your stamina is impressive. He has nothing to do, so he casually leans against the wall and watches you pass by two more times before finally coming his way. "Nice form," he calls as you pass, and you flash him another bright smile and wave as you head to your barracks.

Gaz finds you on the shooting range. It's early, and he thought he'd be the only one practicing. He's checking out his weapon for the morning when he hears three different pop pop pops in quick succession. Looking up, he's surprised to see one soldier - you - making their way back and forth between three different lanes.

He grabs his equipment and starts working over towards an empty stall on your left, passing all three of the lanes you're working. He notes a standard Glock 17, a L129A1 sharpshooter, and an SA80 weapon. He glances at your targets and is a little shocked to see the tight groupings at both the head and center mass of each one. You can handle all three weapons with equal skill, something he hasn't seen in too many people not in SAS. He looks over your uniform and nothing indicates if you're on another task force yet.

It's finally Price who brings you up to the team. He's heard whispers of you across base since you were transferred there a month ago. When he hears about you, it's either with awe or derision. You're an omega.

Omegas have only been cleared to serve in active duty for a few years, and there's still a lot of prejudice against them. Some of the upper-level alphas don't like how good you are. Others are impressed but nervous due to your secondary gender.

Most military packs exist without an omega, or if they have one, it's an omega in a civilian position or not involved with the military at all. The 141 has never had an omega, and until you it wasn't something Price even considered. Price wants you on the 141 for all the things that make you a good soldier. He has no idea what bringing an omega on will do. So he decides to talk to his pack about it.

He calls everyone into his office and starts by showing them your picture. He's a bit surprised to see all three men react. Ghost leans forward, Soap breaks out in a grin, and Gaz sits up straight in his seat. The room starts to smell subtly of woodsmoke and cold ozone; the boys are interested already.

"She's new on base," Price starts, "but she's already made a name for 'erself."

"I can understand why," Gaz says quietly. "Saw her on the range a few days back, and Cap, I haven't seen groupings like that since our last qualifier."

Ghost nods. "Knows 'er stuff, tha one," he tells Price. "Watched 'er handle a green batch, musta bin right after she got 'ere, and she reminded me a' you."

Soap is practically bouncing in his seat as he tells them about running with you and how it made his beta feel.

"So it sounds like yu'd all be open to me makin' an overture," Price says. When the others nod, he drops the last bit of information, the one he's sure will send some shockwaves. "She's an unbonded omega."

The shift in the room is palpable. Subtle interest becomes full-blown arousal, the air thickening with the scent of pine and linen. "I dunno what it'd mean if she joins us, but we gotta consider courtin' 'er might be a thing."

He looks at his men, his pack, and closes with, "If we do this, an' do it right, she'd be ours." The avarice in Soap's eye, the interest in Ghost's, the admiration in Gaz's convinces Price this is the right thing to do.

All that's left is to introduce himself and make his intentions known.

next

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Tony Stark’s child

Tony Stark x child!reader

warnings: alcohol ment,

a/n: so i just really think that the concept of tony having the party kid as opposed to nerdy avenger kid would be a really cool idea to explore teehee. most of this does actually take place pre-avengers tho!!

prompt:

you we’re quite the exhausting kid

“is this really how it felt to raise me?” -tony

many of nights he’d find your bed empty, you’d snuck out to go have your fun as teenagers do

“yeah, boss, i imagine it was” -happy

you always showed back up in one piece (like him) and besides a little slap on the wrist you didn’t get much discipline

actually, it usually went like:

“so, where did you go off to last night?” -tony

“a party” -you

“really? didn’t want to loop me in before you snuck out…again?”

“last time i told you about a party you showed up!”

“uh—yeah, but it’s not like i went all dad on you and dragged you away or anything”

“yeah, you joined the party and offered to buy teenagers more booze”

“hey, they all loved you after that! and they couldn’t get enough of my classic dance moves” -tony, jokingly doing the sprinkler with one arm “but seriously, let me know next time”

“we’ll see about that” -you

^the above conversion went about the same every time

sometimes for entertainment purposes you’d try a little harder, throw a few pillows under the covers to make it look like you were still home to put a smile on tony’s face

“aw, y/n reminds me so much of me” -tony

tony was still partying at this point so you’d flip the script on him from time to time

“you were out late” -you

“what are you, a cop? leave me alone. actually, can you get me some aspirin and water?” -tony

“sure, one or two” -you

“make it three” -tony

he would nurse your occasional hangovers (what a great dad!)

okay, he didn’t always know when you were gone. he was busy a lot of the time with his own business and extracurriculars so you guys did just kinda do your own thing for certain stretches of time

honestly you could be a bit of a klepto in the best of ways

but only to tony and only for fun

“oh, great, where’s my car?” -tony

“which one?” -pepper

“the black one!” -tony

“be more specific” -pepper

“the only one missing from my garage!” -tony

“yeah, i know, just wanted to give you some more time to think about it” -pepper

“i changed the code on the lockbox like, five times this week. did they hotwire it?” -tony

“we are talking about your kid, right? pretty sure they just hacked it” -pepper

“i am…so proud” -tony

you MAY have gotten a few close calls with authorities, but nothing tony couldn’t handle

and up until tony’s accident, the phrase “you’re going to give me a heart attack” was silly and endearing

“you might actually give me a heart attack, y/n, give a guy some warning or just say please for god’s sake” -tony, now comes with an arc reactor in his chest

“sorry” -you

“what—huh—didn’t hear ya, wanna say that a little louder?” -tony, very sarcastically

i tell ya when he got that armor u couldn’t tell if u were gonna flip out at him or invite him to a party

or steal it for…you didn’t even know what

but tony was 3 steps ahead of you when all this came to be

and you weren’t very interested in weapons, still just parties and dumb fun for you

“dad, i dont wanna be a nerd, will you just let me go out?” -you

“come on! just help me in the lab a few hours, what’s it gonna hurt?” -tony

“my social status” -you

“might i remind you you’re a stark? i think you’ll live if you miss one party” -tony

“you’d be surprised” -you

“hey, i almost died! give your old man a break” -tony

once tony got involved with SHIELD and the avengers he got even busier really

and in came the parenting advice from fury, clint, nat, steve

“hey, i don’t see you raising a teenager, back off” -tony

*clint side eye*

steve once tried to give you a good talking to, but you reminded him a great bit of your father with your stubbornness

“you done? i dont think you should be giving out any parenting tips fresh off the ice” -you

tony was kind of proud of you for sticking to your guns

especially around such powerful people

but you had a knack for that and could do it to practically anyone

mostly because you felt like an invincible teenager since you were raised by tony, who also thought himself an invincible teenager at one point

u tried to tone down giving tony grief when he started having panic attacks

since u accidentally caused a few by pushing boundaries and staying out for several nights in a row

cuz as tony gained more enemies, he thought you’d be in more danger

which was true

“happy, you’re y/n’s personal bodyguard” -tony

“no!” -you

“uh, cool? any fun parties planned tonight? i’ll be the designated driver. god knows i’ve been tony’s too many times” -happy

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 // @deanzboyfriend //

[lazycranberrydoodles]

I am now opening custom Ace Attorney sprite commissions!

I have 3 open slots.

Depending on how the initial slots go, I may or may not offer more. DMs also welcome.

>> Commission form! <<

Details

What exactly will you receive for $60?

Two 12fps looping .gif files in an Ace Attorney style, one talking and one idle, of the character of your choice from the waist up. They can be in pretty much any still position, but I get final say on whether something is too difficult or too complex. I will work to make the sprite as accurate as possible while adhering to the style.

What will you receive for $20?

Either a short 12fps animation of your character or another two looping gifs (talking and idling) in a different pose/emotion. An animation can be combined with talking. For example, this Wei Wuxian MDZS would be $80: $60 as a base price (standing still and talking) with $20 added for his hand gesture.

This set of Lan Wangji MDZSs would be $100: $60 (base price, neutral animation) + $20 (happy) + $20 (displeased).

What counts as a "slot"?

Art of one character, no matter how many pieces I was commissioned for.

For more examples of my Ace Attorney-style work, here is the masterpost for my MDZS x Ace Attorney crossover series, which I have been adding to for a while now. Here are Kabru, Miku, and Hela Vitrum (my most recent commission). They are a good example of the base commission -- a looped talking gif and a looped idle/blinking gif.

Policies (read this before filling out the form!)

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[spider-stark]

THE BRIDGE

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!Reader

Summary - Your wardship with House Blackwood was meant to bridge the chasm between your families. Years later, you return to Stone Hedge as the whispers of war spread—only for Lord Tully to call for a hunt.

Warnings - fem!reader, complicated sibling relationship, fighting, (probably excessive) mentions of blood, talks about hunting/killing wild animals, !angst!, adult language, reader def suffering from identity crisis, probably deviates from canon some, kieran burton fan cast for benji, all characters 18+

Word Count - 5.6k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

When Grover Tully, the Lord Paramount of the Trident, sent word for each of his bannermen to send forth a handful of their finest House members to a most desolate area of the Whispering Woods, no one thought it wise to object. 

“Lord Grover is an ornery old crow,” your father, Humfrey Bracken huffed as you readied the horses. “But you would do well to earn his respect.” He clamped a hand on your brother’s shoulder, pride gleaming in his eyes as he said, “Whatever he’s planning, I want you to show him that House Bracken stands strong. Understood?” 

Keeping his chin held high, Amos hesitantly mutters, “If you wish to impress Lord Tully, you might think twice about sending her.” 

Even with your back turned, you could feel the weight of your brother’s stare, his eyes boring a hole into the back of your head. 

Your father shrugged, a disinterested gesture. “Grover said to send our best,” he said, “and when it comes to a bow and arrow, no one's a better shot than her.” 

For the next day-and-a-half, you rode at a distance from the group your father selected—your brother, Amos, and two of your male cousins. And while they laughed and jeered and yapped, you remained stuck in your own thoughts, playing your father’s words on a loop. 

It’s the only compliment he’s ever paid you. The closest he’s ever come to acknowledging you as Bracken. 

You hate him sometimes, you think. For agreeing to peace all those years ago—for sending his only daughter to ward with his rival of all people. He must have known it was futile. Must have known that one girl could never bridge such an ancient chasm. 

He must have known—and yet he sent you anyway, only to call you back years later, tearing you away from the only home you had ever known and leaving you to feel like a stranger in your House. 

Grover said to send our best. 

Are you a Bracken, then? Is blood all that determines a House? 

No one’s a better shot than her. 

But your skill is that of a Blackwood, born under their tutelage. 

Deep within the Woods, a steady mist of rain falls from the sky, leaving your skin uncomfortably damp. In the distance, a low hum of chattering voices signal that the four of you are drawing close to Lord Grover’s camp—and that the other House’s have already arrived. 

Your thoughts shift, wondering who Lord Samwell sent to represent House Blackwood—fearing that you might already know the answer. 

A strange tightness floods your chest, coiling around your lungs. 

It’s been months since you last saw the heir to Raventree Hall. Many, many months—and you can’t help but think any reunion might end in bloodshed with Amos by your side. 

As if he heard his name ring through your mind, your brother slows his horse to gentle trot beside yours, cocking a neatly groomed brow at you. “Tell me, sister—were you always this dour?” He asks, feigning intrigue. “Or did half-a-decade with the Blackwoods simply drain the joy from you?” 

You don’t pry your eyes from the path ahead, refusing to look him in the eye as he continues without waiting for an answer. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised—a mere day with those insipid cravens would have me wishing to swallow my own blade.” Removing a hand from the reins, he pantomimed the act—gripping an invisible hilt and shoving it towards his lips, letting a dramatic choke rip from his throat. 

Riding a bit ahead, your cousins chortle at his jest, shooting amused glances over their shoulders. 

“No need,” you answer without thinking, your tone impassive. “Aly would have an arrow in your eye before the day was up.” 

Your cousins fall silent. 

Amos stiffens, jaw clenched tight. “She could try.” 

You know Black Aly would try if given half the chance—and you have no doubt that she would succeed, too. She was the one who taught you how to string a bow and sharpen arrows, how to aim and never miss. 

When you don’t respond, Amos pulls his horse in closer—as close as he can get without spookings yours. “Look,” he utters, low enough that your cousins can’t overhear, “I don’t know how things were done at Raventree—but you’re home now, and you would do well to remember where your true loyalties lie.” 

Again, you don’t speak. Don’t think, either. 

Amos sighs. “Your blood runs gold, sister. You’re a Bracken, through-and-through. Take pride in that—and don’t bring shame upon our name. Understood?” 

Strange. 

You had seen your own blood before—more times than you can count, actually. Scars mottle your skin like stars in the sky, a reminder of the years spent training and the memories of nights spent with friends who were supposed to be enemies. 

Never once had it looked gold to you.

Only red. 

“I understand–” a pause, a breath, a heartbeat– “brother.” 

Nausea twists your stomach. The familial title curdles on your tongue even as Amos grins at you. There’s nothing affectionate about the gesture—how could there be? He doesn’t know you. Not really. 

Blood or no, you’re little more than strangers to each other—and yet, even so, you can see he’s trying. Trying to know you. 

Ahead, the camp comes into view. Banners hang above tents: white for the Mootons, blue for the Pipers, purple for the Mallisters. 

And red—for House Blackwood. 

Amos gives you one last glance, a pall mimicry of what you believe is meant to be love in his eyes. “You’re home now,” he reminds you again, as if you need to hear it,“be glad for it.” 

With the Tully’s guards now in earshot, Amos doesn’t bother with waiting for a response. He snaps the reins, urging his gelding back to the head of your group, already bellowing his greetings. You watch him go, transfixed on the yellow-gold of his tunic—identical to yours. 

Approaching the guards, you tell yourself that your brother is what home is supposed to look like. That if you were to slice your veins, gold would pour from your wrists. 

Not red. 

After checking in with the guards and tying your mare up in the makeshift paddock, there was no time left to freshen up before you were expected to join Amos and your cousins. With all the Houses now gathered, Lord Grover wasted no time in calling you all to the heart of the camp. 

Still, you try to make yourself presentable—using your fingers to comb through tangled, windswept hair and smoothing the wrinkles from your gold tunic, careful not to disturb the ornate brooch pinned above your heart. 

According to the guards, everyone was given one upon arrival. “All Houses are required to wear them,” they explained when Amos pressed them on it, “Lord Tully’s orders.” 

They were all different, it seemed. Yours was a delicate thing, fashioned from silver and pearls in the image of a blooming dahlia, while Amos’s was clunky and shaped like the sun. He’s still fumbling with it when you finally push through the small crowd, taking your place at his side. 

To your left, separated only by a group of five Frey men, you feel the wary glances being cast your way. You almost turn your head—almost glance back at them, if only to see what they might do. What he would do. 

Would he even acknowledge you? Or simply look away? 

The answer, thankfully, is one you don’t have time to learn. A servant garners attention, dragging a simple, plush chair to the group’s center. Following suit, another two servants assist the aged Lord Paramount from his tent, guiding him into his seat. On his right stands his eldest grandson—and your favorite Tully. Tall and dark-haired, Elmo looks more fearsome than he actually is, sparing you a quick, discreet wink when he spots you. 

“You may all be wondering,” Lord Grover wheezes, his lungs fighting for breath, “why I have called upon you all today—the many great Houses of our land.” 

As he speaks, old, gnarled hands punctuate his words, gesturing out to the many men gathered ‘round. His fingers shake with effort, his shoulders bowed beneath the weight of his many, many years. But his chin remains high, and his tone commanding—if a touch quavery. 

“I hear rumblings,” he continues, “from the South-East.” 

Lord Grover’s eyes, milky with cataracts, shift in the direction, staring blindly into the towering trees of the Whispering Woods. Beyond them, even. 

“Whispers of a great danger brewing in the Crownlands—within the King’s own court, if rumors are to be trusted.” 

Your spine turns to steel. 

Those rumors, you know, are as true as they come. Over the past several months, they had moved through the realm like a venomous serpent. Slithering from mouth to ear, hissing tales of the two factions that now divide King Viserys’s council. 

The Blacks and the Greens. 

The rightful heir and the first-born son. 

And the very reason your father had called you home. 

“War is coming,” a deep, foreboding warning, “and should it reach the Riverlands, I wish to know that we might stand united in its wrath. That we will not allow petty rivalries–” a pointed glance at your brother, and then to your left where, without looking, you know the Blackwood heir stands–“to tear us apart from within.” 

A heartbeat passes. Then another. 

The forest holds its breath. Cradles the Lord Paramount’s words in the air, weaving them around the many great Houses of the Riverlands. 

You wonder if this is what strength looks like. What it sounds like. 

You fear you already know which side of the war Lord Grover’s strength might fall—and you pray that you’re wrong. 

Placing a firm hand upon his grandfather’s shoulder, Elmo takes a step forward. “In an effort to promote civility between our Houses,” he announces in a tone that demands respect, “we have arranged for a hunt.” 

Your brow furrows. A hunt? 

“You will be divided into two person teams, working with an individual outside of your own House.” His gaze shifts to you, dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “Teams have already been decided. Upon your arrival, each of you was given a pin—your partner will bear a matching one. And while there will be no winners or losers, you should know that once you leave camp, you will not be permitted to return without a trophy of some kind.” 

Discontent spreads. Low murmurs fill the air. 

Amos voices his frustration louder than the rest.  “And when is this hunt to take place?” 

Elmo grins. “Now.” 

Instantly, murmurs grow to shouts. 

“You cannot be serious, my Lord!” 

“It is already sunset!” 

“Is this a jest?” 

Elmo’s grin never wavers, unphased by the protests—and Lord Grover appears content to let his grandson contend with everyone's bickering, exhausted from what little talking he had already done. 

“Might I suggest you move quickly,” Elmo speaks over the crowd. Glancing upwards, he squints at the black clouds rolling overhead, an amused lilt to his voice as he adds, “Lest you wish to be caught in the coming storm.” 

With no more than a curt nod to the crowd, Elmo turns on his heel, already veering off in the direction of his own tent as servants begin to help Lord Grover rise. 

“This is absurd,” your brother grumbles. 

You ignore him. Storming right past him, you make a beeline for the fleeing Lord. 

“A hunt?!” 

Fond as Elmo is of you, you know better than to shout at the future Lord Paramount of the Trident. Your voice remains no more than a harsh whisper, even as you shoot daggers into the back of his head. 

“At night, no less! In the middle of a gods-damned storm! Have you lost your mind?” 

“What? You think it’s a bad idea?” He chuckles, keeping a steady pace. “Of all people, I thought that you might appreciate the challenge of it all.” 

You stay on his heels. “Who is he?” 

“Who is who?” 

Further from the crowd now, you grow bold. You reach out and snag his arm, forcing him to stop and face you. “Ignorance isn’t a good look on you, Elm.” You grind out, “Swear that you didn’t pick him to be my partner.” 

A wrinkle forms between thick brows, feigning innocence. “What makes you think that I chose your partner?” 

“Because I know you. You’re always scheming—jutting your big nose into places it very well does not belong!” 

Elmo opens his mouth—hesitates—and then frowns. “Am I truly that transparent?” 

“You may as well be made of glass, Elm.” 

His pout deepens, still dancing around your question. “Well, let's say that I did choose your partner—theoretically, of course!” Your eyes roll. “I think you would find my choice to be quite suitable. If anything, you might even thank me-” 

“This isn’t a game, Elmo!” Desperate now, you can’t stop your voice from rising. “If you paired me with him, then Amos will–” 

“Kill him?” Elmo ventures. 

“Yes!’ 

Pursing his lips, Elmo’s gaze falls somewhere over your head. “Well,” he sucks in a breath, “it seems we may be past the point of stopping that from happening.” 

Your mind goes blank, your thoughts scattering like shards of glass. 

You spin on your heel, head whirling around in search of Amos in the throng. Less than a second and you spot him—not because your gaze was drawn to the familiar gold color of your own House, but because of the wall of stark scarlet standing before him. 

Blackwoods. Two of them on either side of the Raventree heir. 

And Benji—his hands pressed to your brother's chest, roughly shoving him back into one of your cousins. 

“Do me a favor,” Elmo's sigh cuts through your panicked haze. “Keep the two of them from plunging a sword in the others’ belly, would you?” 

Any other time and you might have told Elmo off, cursed him for putting you in this position—future Lord Paramount be damned. 

But not now. Not when centuries of rivalry serve as proof that nothing is more dangerous, more unpredictable than this—

A Blackwood and a Bracken—your brother and Benji—standing toe-to-toe. 

Mindless adrenaline is all that thrusts you into motion. Mud splatters up the legs of your trousers as you practically run in their direction, demanding as soon as you’re in ear shot, “What is this?!” 

Amos doesn’t acknowledge you. Neither does Benji. 

Chests-puffed, they remain locked in their foolish staring match, neither of them willing to be the first to back down. 

Finally, one of your cousins sneers, “Seems that Benji-boy here thinks we’re gonna let him take you out into the woods.” 

A sharp, nasty laugh rips from Amos’s throat. “As if I’d let that happen!” 

“We’re partnered for the hunt, you imbecile.” Benji’s tone is that of lethal calm, even as he glares down his nose at your brother. You look to his chest—spotting the silver dahlia pinned at his breast. “If you have a problem with it, take it up with Tully.” 

“You think I’m stupid, Blackwood?!” 

Benji’s brow lifts a fraction of an inch, as if silently proclaiming—I just said so, did I not? 

Scowling, Amos juts his finger against Benji’s chest. “I refuse to give a Blackwood an opportunity to defile my sister!” 

Benji’s answering grin is something wicked as he purrs, “Oh, if I wanted to defile your sister, Bracken, I could’ve done so a long time ago.” 

Your pulse pounds—caught somewhere between offense and desire as Benji’s words echo in your head. 

Both feelings fade to fear when Amos reaches for the hilt of his sword, wrenching it from the sheath at his hip. In a blink, more weapons are drawn—your cousins holding swords, the Blackwoods holding daggers. 

Not Benji, though. 

Benji doesn’t flinch, even with your brother's sword poised at his throat, ready to kill. Something flickers in his eyes—a shift that you know all too well, sending ice skittering across your bones. 

“I won’t have this,” Amos seethes. “You will find another partner—or I swear on my House that blood will be shed!” 

Benji leans closer. Let the tip of the blade dig into his flesh, a rivulet of blood rolling down his throat. 

Red. 

“Is that a threat, Bracken?” 

You can hear your brother swallow—feel his panic as if it were your own, as if it was his fear coursing through your veins. Still, his voice remains steady. “Consider it a promise, Blackwood.” 

A blink and steel was glinting before your eyes. A single breath and Amos was out-maneuvered and out-matched—the clash erupting and subsiding in one seamless heartbeat, ending with your brother's sword in Benji’s hand. 

A shuddering breath slips from your brother's lips as Benji presses the steel to his throat, a perfect mirror of the position they were in just moments ago. 

“What’s the matter, Bracken?” Benji croons sarcastically, head hilting. “Do I frighten you?” 

There’s a lull to his voice—an eerie stillness that sends a chill scuttering down your spine. 

Amos was ignorant—to pick a fight with Benji, to think he might actually win it. But he’s your brother, too—and you know that if he were to be slain right now—right here—an even larger chasm will take the place of the one you were once meant to bridge. 

“Stop.” 

The demand is no more than a breath. A soft, terrified sound. 

Yet still, it makes Benji’s focus waver. 

“Leave him.” You force yourself to speak louder. Stronger. “Now.” 

You take a step closer—a hand outstretched, reaching towards Benji. His attention shifts, settling on you. He blinks—his stormy eyes, dark with rage, finally starting to clear. 

Benji’s movements languid as he steps away from your brother. Your cousins rush to Amos’s side as he stumbles back, frantically checking the heir of Stone Hedge for any sign of injury. 

They found none. Not even a scratch upon his throat, where his own sword had just hovered. 

Benji passes you the sword—a silent conversation passing between the two of you. 

You could have killed him, you glare. 

I could have—Benji agrees with a small, self-satisfied smile—but I didn’t. 

One of your cousins, bold and stupid, steps forward. “Is that all it takes to keep you at heel, Blackwood?” He glances between the two of you, his lip curling into a sneer. “A dog and his bitch,” he taunts, “how sweet–” 

A cry rips from his throat, cutting his insult short. You expect it to be Benji, having noticed the way his fists had clenched from the moment your cousin so much as looked at you. And perhaps it would’ve been—if your brother hadn’t grabbed the fool by the scruff of his neck, yanking him backwards and shoving him to the muddy ground. 

“Say what you want of him,” Amos tells your cousin, his voice gruff, “but you will mind how you speak of her.” 

You don’t know what to make of that. Of Amos defending you. Of knowing that if he hadn’t, Benji would have. Or that, even after that, Amos doesn’t quite know how to look you in the eyes, looking to the grass and the sky and anything that isn’t you. 

You’re a Bracken, through-and-through. Take pride in that. 

But did he take pride in you? 

If you wish to impress Lord Tully, you might think twice about sending her. 

“What’s done is done.” With a pointed look towards Lord Grover’s tent off in the distance, you say, “Now is not the time nor the place. If you wish so badly to fight, save it for when the war begins.” 

On one side of you, Benji remains silent, watching you with a curious glint in his eye. On the other, Amos hesitates. 

“I don’t trust him,” he says. 

You wonder if he doesn’t know how to say: I’m worried about you. 

“You heard our father,” you tell him, chin high, “when it comes to a bow and arrow, no one’s a better shot.” 

Perhaps there are things you don’t know how to say, too. Like: But I do. I trust him with my life. Maybe even with yours, too. 

Begrudgingly, Benji meets your brother's gaze, fighting the urge to scowl at him. “For years, no harm befell your sister under my watch—and you have my word that none shall befall her now,” he vows. “I swear it upon the Old Gods.” 

“And the New?” 

You consider stomping on Amos’s foot. 

Ignorant. To continue pushing— 

“Fine.” Benji’s brusque answer takes you by surprise. “Upon your false Gods as well, then.” 

Amos, to his credit, argues no further, only echoing the Raventree heir. “Fine.” 

For a fleeting moment longer, they stand there, eyes locked. Amos is the first to turn—the roaring tension dissipating into a hushed hiss as him and your cousins storm off. Benji stays, even as his own men begin to back off, as if listening to a silent command to go find their own partners. 

You look at him. And he smiles—a shy, awkward thing. 

“I’ll wait for you,” he says, a barely perceptible pause in his speech. “At the edge of camp—you can find me whenever you’ve gathered your things.” 

You open your mouth to speak, to say something—but the words take root in your chest, leaving vines to crawl up your throat. If you speak, you worry about what might come out. Worry it won’t be as delicate as the dahlia pinned above your heart—above his, too. 

So you close your mouth. Say nothing. Nod—and turn, trying to keep your legs from shaking as you walk back to the makeshift paddock to get what you would need for the hunt. 

True to his word, you find the heir of Raventree at the edge of camp, leaning against a towering oak and using the tip of his dagger to idly pick dirt from his nails. 

You brought only what was necessary—your bow, strapped between your shoulders, and a dark-leather quiver slung over your shoulder, stocked with already-sharpened arrows. 

Light rain mists over your face, the sky groaning with a low rumble of thunder. The forest floor squelches beneath your feet as you trudge towards him. Forever on-guard, Benji wastes no time in pushing himself off the tree, adjusting the dagger in his palm so that it can be easily plunged into another's belly if necessary. 

But then he sees you, dressed in Bracken gold with damp hair sticking to your cheeks, and looses a breath. Relaxing at the sight of you—his rival, according to centuries of precedent. Your rival, too, you suppose. 

Benji doesn’t look like your rival, though. 

Sheathing his dagger at his hip, you see no trace of the lethal Lord who, mere moments ago, was willing to go head-to-head with the heir to Stone Hedge. This boy—stuffing his hands in his pockets, a light flush crawling up his throat—is not Benjicot Blackwood, the heir of Raventree Hall. 

He’s just Benji. 

“Ready to go?” He asks when you’re closer, his voice a familiar caress so unlike the eerie lull it held earlier. 

It takes everything in you to erect an icy wall around your heart, colder even than Northern winds. You shove past him, your shoulder knocking into his as you go and earning a perplexed stare. “Let’s get this over with,” you snap, plunging into the depths of the Woods and leaving him to follow behind. 

Ten minutes pass. Twenty. 

Dusk crept swiftly through the Riverlands, casting a pall shadow over the Whispering Woods. Overhead, dark clouds seem to grow thicker, obscuring what little light the moon has to offer. 

A fool’s errand. An impossible task. 

That is what Elmo Tully had arranged—not a hunt. 

With the sun hidden beyond the horizon and a near-constant rumble of thunder, any animal in these Woods would either be asleep or hiding by now, trying to escape the incoming storm. To find a trophy to bring back to camp—even something as simple as a hare—was unlikely. 

Still, knowing the guards won’t let you back in without one, you keep walking. Keep plunging further into the Woods, praying to the Gods that you might find something to take back to camp. 

Twigs snap a few paces behind you, wet foliage squelching beneath purposefully heavy steps. A low, careless whistle tests your patience. 

With your bow hanging from your hand, you grumble, “You’re being too loud.” 

Benji feigns innocence. “Am I?” 

“Yes,” you hiss through gritted teeth, never slowing your pace. “Be quiet—unless you wish to scare off any game and spend the night sleeping on wet soil.” 

He chuckles—loudly. “Have you looked up lately?” Benji asks. “The sky looks as if it’ll crack open any minute now! Any animal with sense is hiding right now, anyway.” 

True. 

“Then we find one without sense, then.” 

Benji snorts. “The only thing without sense in this forest is Amos Bracken.” 

Without warning, you stop dead in your tracks—leaving Benji to nearly stumble into you. You cast a glare over your shoulder, cold enough that a chill seeps right into his bones. “You’d do well to keep quiet, Benjicot.” 

His lip curls, revealing a flash of slightly crooked teeth. “And since when do you call me Benjicot?” He asks, a ribbon of disbelief lacing his own name. 

Your jaw tenses, a muscle feathering there. 

I don’t know, you think, a pang of uncertainty cracking the ice wall around your heart. 

You reinforce ice with steel—turning fully now so that you’re face-to-face, dropping your bow to the ground by your feet. “I won’t let you speak of him that way,” you say, ignoring his question. “My brother is the heir to Stone Hedge–” 

A bemused laugh cuts through your words. “Oh, he’s your brother now, is he?” 

You speak over him, voice rising. “To insult him is to insult the whole of House Bracken–” 

“Fuck House Bracken,” Benji growls. 

He takes a half-step closer, towering over you with no more than a foot between you. You don’t falter—don’t look away. 

“I am a Bracken."

His head tilts. “Are you? Last I checked, you were practically raised on Blackwood soil.” 

“Perhaps,” you admit. “But my wardship is over–” 

Benji cuts you off. “Tell me, where was your brother all these years, then? Your father?” He doesn’t let you answer. “No more than a brisk-fucking-walk separating you and yet neither one of them cared to visit with the forgotten daughter of Stone Hedge!” 

You’re a Bracken—

“You don’t know them,” you protest weakly, your resolve crumbling. 

—through-and-through. 

“And you do?” He challenges. Another step, his chest inches from yours. Warmth radiates from his body, seeping into yours and melting melting melting. “Why did your father call you home?” 

His words are no more than a breath fanning across your cheek. 

Vulnerability permeates your gaze, bearing an unspoken truth. Because war is coming, you convey with no more than a flicker of your lashes, and fate has already decided my role in it. 

Benji’s lips tighten to a thin line—and you would’ve thought him ashamed of you, if not for the pain glimmering in his stormy-eyes, lined with silver. “Your father,” he utters, “he will declare for Aegon Targaryen—won’t he?” 

You’re a Bracken—

You debate the merits of telling him the truth. Of betraying the plans of your house. 

—Take pride in that. 

“Aegon Targaryen is the King’s true-born son.” You speak, though you know the words are not your own. “To sit the Iron Throne is his birthright.” 

The birthright of a drunken craven. 

The betrayal of a beloved princess. 

Benji blinks. Shakes his head, his tongue darting along his lips. “He called you home to fight. Humfrey Bracken’s forgotten daughter—useful at long last.” 

Rage coils in his tone. Instinct makes your muscles tense. 

Nothing is more dangerous than this, your thoughts whisper, a Blackwood and a Bracken, toe-to-toe. 

There’s nothing dangerous about the way Benji’s looking at you, though. His gaze soft and tender, calloused hands clenched at his sides—holding himself back, you realize. Not from fighting, but from reaching out to touch something he’s not certain is his. 

“Will you do it?” Benji asks, hesitant. “Will you fight for the pretender?” 

I don’t want to, you think. 

It’s your brother's words that slip past your lips. “I have no choice. My blood runs gold, Benji—a Bracken, through-and-through.” 

His brow furrows. Then a hand shifts to the sheath at his hip, sliding his dagger free. “Give me your hand,” he orders, nodding to where they hang at your sides. 

You remember his vow to your brother—that he would let no harm befall you. Even without it, you would’ve trusted him. Wholly. Unconditionally. 

You lift your hand and, without hesitation, he grips it on his own, pinning the steel tip of his dagger against your palm. 

You hiss—hand stinging as the blade drags along your flesh, leaving a thin, shallow cut. 

“You’ve always had one foot on either side of the boundary,” Benji starts, his words rushed. Carelessly tossing the dagger to the ground, he grabs your wrist tightly, lifting your palm up towards your own face. “But your blood,” he tells you, his eyes desperate, “has always run red.” 

It drips down your wrist—a rivulet of crimson, spilling between his knuckles as he refuses to let go. Red as the color of his tunic—as the specks of blood dried on his own throat, drawn by your brother's sword. 

Gold on your back. Red in your veins. 

A Bracken by name, but… 

“It’s not too late,” Benji says, his words slow and cautious, still cradling your hand in his. “You can come back to Raventree.” Thunder rumbles. Storm-cloud eyes fall to your lips. “You can come home.” 

You think of Amos. Of your brother. You’re home now, he had said, a shadow of love in his eyes, Be glad for it. 

But home was ancient stone, crawling with moss. Home was the deep, muddy moat that you always threatened to push Benji into when he was getting on your nerves. Home was Black Aly’s voice, scolding you whenever your arms were still too weak to string a bow. 

Home was a dead weirwood tree and a boy with stormy eyes. 

But duty… 

That was something else entirely. 

Closing your hand around Benji’s, your chest fills with water as the last of the ice melts. Hard steel turns impossibly soft, your feet shuffling until your body is flush against his—still-entwined hands pinned between your chest, trapped between fabrics of gold and red. 

Benji leans down, his forehead pressing against yours. There’s nothing dangerous about him. Nothing unpredictable. 

You know him—from the crook in his nose to the scar above his lip. From the lull of his voice to the weight of his steps. His quick temper and his shy smiles. 

High above, the sky cries out. Thunder booms, lightning cracks. Misty rain turns to a violent downpour. 

And he leans in, oh-so carefully. A trembling breath against slick skin, chapped lips hovering over yours. 

“You can come home,” Benji whispers, repeating himself. You can’t think—can’t breathe, as he utters against your mouth, “Let me take you home.” 

And he kisses you. A tender, desperate kiss—the kind that drives your lips apart with the sheer force of it. He tugs his hand from yours, slips it out from between your bodies and brings it to rest on the back of your neck, tangling his fingers in damp, rain-soaked hair. 

Restraint is no more than a breath in the wind. Desire curls in your stomach. Your pulse pounds in your veins, rich with red red red. 

But then there’s your brother’s voice in your head: I don’t trust him. 

And you know what he meant was: You’re my sister—my blood, red or gold—and I’m worried about you. 

You pull away, breathless and broken, one half of your heart lying on either side of the boundary stones resting miles and miles from here. 

Lips still close enough to brush against yours, Benji pants. “Say yes.” The love in his eyes isn’t a shadow. It’s a bright, blinding light. A proud declaration and a howling plea. “Say you’ll come home.” 

You look down—to the sigil embroidered on your tunic, to the still-drying blood on your palm 

An estranged brother and a forbidden lover. 

And you. 

The bridge to a great chasm. 

The futile remedy to centuries of enmity. 

You take a step back—reaching inside of yourself, pulling shriveled vines up your throat, knowing that the words hammering in your chest will be anything but delicate. That they’ll taste of rot in your mouth. 

“I’m not sure I have a home, Benjicot.” Pain echoes across his face, each syllable a rusted dagger in his heart. Another step back, grabbing your bow from where it laid in the mud, abandoned what feels like a millennia ago. “Not anymore.” 

When you turn to leave, thunder crashing overhead and a sob caught in your throat, you go alone.

The heir to Raventree Hall doesn’t dare to follow. 

You walk in silence, your bow hanging at your side. Behind you, there are no snapping twigs and no low, careless whistling. There’s only rain and—

A branch creaks overhead, halting your steps. Your bow is drawn in a single breath, the cut on your palm stinging as you  slide an arrow from the quiver slung over your shoulder, readying to shoot. You look up, drops of rain splattering against your cheeks as you scan the trees. 

There. 

Perched on a wet, mossy limb was a pair of beady eyes staring down at you. A raven, letting out a low, curious croak. 

A single shot and you could go back to camp. 

A single shot, you tell yourself, and your blood might finally run gold. 

A breath—and then the bow string goes slack. 

You slip the arrow back into the quiver.

a/n - does any of this even make sense? idk, you tell me lmao. overall, just wanted to play around with capturing the confusion that might ensue for a reader who has no clue where their loyalties lie anymore, lost in who they are and who they think they're meant to be--anyways, hopefully the ending makes sense to you because it makes sense in my brain

anyways

benji tag list (so sorry if I missed you!) - @jacaerysgf @lenasvoid @valdezthg @xzydra11 @snixx2088 @lianna75 @kennafild @ghostinvenus @heystaystray @but-i-write-so-i-must-count @a-song-for-ages

[meganegatari]

do you think Ellie would be more a strap, tribbing, or fingering girlie?

~🦈🦈

abby version. dina version. SMUTTY, BRAIN MELTING YAP AHEAD: TRIB TRIB TRIB. hands down. okay i mean, all of em have their perks. she likes the convenience of fingering, the way she's able to be discreet with it perchance. she likes strap because it's able to reach spots inside of you no one even knew existed before...fabled clusters of nerves that make your mind go blank as she hits them repeatedly. but tribbing?? oh girl. she loves everything about it. she loves the mutual pleasure it brings—not that she minds being on either end!—she loves the wetness of it all, if we were to get vulgar. but back to mutual pleasure for a sec, i feel like she'd just revel in the sort of domino effect it has. lemme elaborate. you're getting closer to the peak, which eggs her on to get closer to her own peak, because of the motions she's doing for herself (frantic, irregular humps and bounces on top, bucks of her hips upwards if on bottom...), the way you're reacting (whining and moaning as she fucks your brain to mush, or making her brain turn to mush), and most importantly the fact she can feel it all in real time. every twitch, throb, squirt, clench, yeah she feels it righttt where she needs. then it all tumbles in a domino, or snowball effect. positive feedback loop for the bio gals...just more and more and more and more, you get the idea. also wanna add: whatever the activity of choice was, she'd wanna clean you up properly afterwards, with her mouth of course. slurping and sucking to her heart's content, like a starved woman. like you were her death row meal. more for her own pleasure than yours let's be real...DAMN. went on a tangent lol BUT TRIB IS HER CHOICE METHINKS LMFAO.

[ambros1an]

Hsr characters in a Soulmate au

warnings: sunday backstory, implied Gopher Wood being a bad father (Sunday), implied stellaron hunter Sunday, discrimination (aventurine, not said by reader), debt (aventurine), firefly backstory, 2.0-2.2 penacony spoilers

characters: Sunday, Aventurine, Firefly

a/n: it's so obvious who's my #1 fav in this

Sunday: writing

Throughout the world, everyone had the ability to communicate to their soulmates through writing on their own skin.

Sunday doesn't remember much about his childhood. His home-world was entrenched in war. The only constant in his life was his own sister, and the strange symbols on his wrists.

After being taken in by Gopher Wood, he would be taught that those symbols were words, and they came from his Soulmate. Excitedly, he'd take to the books to communicate with the person on the other end. At first it was little doodles, then broken sentences, and then full on conversations.

He wrote about his sister, the charmony dove, music and literature. One day, the writing stopped. You'd jot down messages in concern, so worried to the point your hand writing looked like illegible scribbles. He never did tell you his name after all.

After years, finally you got a response.

'Meet me at Dreamflux Reef, here, at 8 pm.' You couldn't help but notice that your soulmate's penmanship had improved after all these years. The once poor excuse for cursive wasn't just printed letters attached to one another, but font-like in it's neatness with broad loops. Despite the brief words written on your skin, your stomach rolled. Was it nerves or excitement?

There was a little hand-drawn map, taking up a portion of your forearm, with an 'X' on the location. You approached the streetlight ahead of you. It was five minutes before 8 pm, at the exact area he told you to be at.

There was somebody there. In the darkness, it was hard to see. The streetlight offered little brightness. Just a faint glow upon whoever it was. They were clearly halovian, a light bounced off their halo, providing a shine in your line of sight. Contrarily, they stood in dark clothes. And seemed to be fidgeting...as if waiting for someone.

As if on cue, the figure straightens up and turns to look at you. Those grey feathers and yellow eyes were unmistakable.

"Mr. Sunday?" The man hasn't been seen since the Order was chased out of Penacony.

"I didn't expect you to show up early," Sunday gives a halfhearted chuckle, then he calls your name, "you are them, right?"

"Yes, but-" You look towards your arm where the writing is located.

He sighs and shakes his head, "I...I'm the one who's been writing to you all these years." Sunday lifts his sleeve, on it is your reply to him, asking where he's been, and saying you'd be there.

Your soulmate was Sunday. The former head of the Oak Family. An MIA criminal. But also your childhood friend, who you never met.

There was so much to say, but the only thing you could think to ask was, "Why? You've been gone for so long..."

"I'm sorry. My fa-the dream master, prevented me from reaching out to you. He wanted me to be 'the chosen one' for The Order. I'm sorry that it took so long for me to-"

Gently, you put your arms around him.

"I was so worried. Please, talk to me. About everything."

He would, but now, all he wanted to do was rest in your embrace.

Aventurine: eye color

Everyone has one of their eyes the same eye color as their soulmate’s, until they meet.

It’s something that’s so arbitrary and meaningless to most people. There are only so many colors in the universe after all. But not yours.

“Sigonian.” Disdain.

“Poor child.” Pity.

“Whoever your soulmate is, you’re better off not meeting them.” Disgust.

Sigonia. A far off planet somewhere in the galaxy. Lightyears away. Where a people known for their unique eyes resides. Or used to reside.

Looking into the mirror, your right eye looks back at you, it’s a purple tinged with blue. You wonder what your soulmate’s would’ve looked like. You’ve long since accepted that any possible soulmate would’ve died years ago. Not even baseless rumors could settle any feelings of loss.

Knock Knock

Debt collectors.

The gentle knocks turn into bangs. The person standing outside takes a full walk around your house, peering inside any windows in search of you. The IPC was relentless when it came to debt. They'd make constant calls, tell your neighbors, blackmail their debtors, tack on more and more money, all to collect as much money as possible.

Just as your nerves calm down your phone rings. It's from a family member.

"Hello?"

"Hello, I'm calling from the IPC." That's not them. The voice is male with a smoothness to his voice. He disguised his number.

Just when you're about to hang up, "Don't hang up yet, I have a proposition for you." He instructs you to open the door.

You follow his instructions. Each step you make, the pit in your stomach gets wider. The door creeks as you turn the knob.

Two purple eyes, with a blue ring around the pupil. Sigonian. His eyes mirror your right one. But, within his reflection you see your own two regular colored eyes. Wait-

The man's mouth drops in shock, but instantly pulls into a grin. He hangs up the call.

"I see what's going on here. This time, the charge is on me," Aventurine insists. He's covered in designer clothing from head to toe, with golden rings lining each finger. You know right then and there that anything you say will get you nowhere. You're just glad he seems to be on your side.

"...Thank you."

"Mmm, but I never said it was without recompense." Shit. "In return, I'll provide you with a better place to live. This place is a bit...run down," he takes a glance around your home, and you can't help but feel embarrassed.

"Thank you, Aventurine, but that just sounds like I'll be in your debt."

He waves you off. "Debt? No, friend. What kind of partner would I be to let my soulmate fend for themselves?"

Firefly : timer

Every person across the galaxy has a timer leading up to the meeting of their soulmate.

4,000 years. Approximately 35,040,000 hours.

That was what Firefly had.

When she first awoke in her incubation chamber, it felt like she could wait forever. Their purpose was to devote their entire being to Glamoth. She did not dream. Not of the warmth of someone’s hands in theirs. Not of someone telling her that she was more. That was not a right of a weapon.

Yet, under the ashen sky and fields of smoke, not a single light shone through. Glamoth would never see the sun again. That was no place for a firefly.

For the last time she broke all protocol.

They unfurled their wings and chased the light. Finally, Unit AR-26710’s heart fluttered for a purpose that wouldn’t destroy.

24 hours = 1,440 minutes = 86,400 seconds.

They’d be landing in Penacony soon. She looked at her wrist, where the countdown was located. 1 day. She could feel her heart beat in her throat; she was so nervous.

Love. Kafka taught her that emotion. She’d never felt it before. Not that way.

Her eyes never left the window.

5 minutes = 300 seconds.

299, 298, 297, 296… Thinking in seconds was faster than minutes. It made time go faster. Minutes felt like eternity.

120, 119, 118, 117… Were they standing in the same area? Could she be looking at them right now? How far apart were they? Would they be tall or short? Would they be the time to put milk before cereal? Would they even like her?

10, 9, 8, 7… She watched the time tick away. She didn’t dare to look up least she burn up from the inside. It felt like her propulsion accidentally activated.

4, 3, 2, 1—

A figure crashed into her from behind. “I’m so sorry!”

0

She turned to look, and there you were. Yet, there was no celebration like she imagined. No hugging. No holding each other in an embrace. Instead, your face was pulled into grimace. Your arm gently interlocking with hers. Your posture was tight and hunched. All the signs of an uneasy person. Two Bloodhound members trailed after you.

“Did we do something wrong?” Firefly moved to stand in front of you

“That’s classified information,” one of the bloodhound guards say, gaze shifting off to look at you.

“I really didn’t do anything.” You look at Firefly with a pleading look.

The girl looks back at you and nods. She grabs your hand, the one the countdown is located on and charges for the alleys.

You hear the slap of their shoes against the concrete. The hurried pants of the guards. The footsteps behind you get louder and closer. In spite of the danger, all you can think about is the girl whose fingers are intertwined with yours. It brings a rush to your cheeks that only a breeze can soothe.

When your soulmate rounds the corner of the alley, her warm hand laced with yours turn a cold metallic. Her other hand placed around the small of your back in support. The suit of the armor is cold against your skin, but there’s a heat that radiates from the chest of the mech. It soothes your nerves. The lack of heat from her hand interlocked with yours may be replaced, but it was welcome.

When she unwraps her wings from behind her suit, a warm air erupts around you. Suddenly, you’re in the sky. The wind ruffles your hair, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when it dawns on you that you’re in your soulmate’s arms.

‘How would the other hunters react if they knew she blew her cover? Kafka was definitely going to tease her."

a/n #2: aven's was so hard to write. he feels like such a sleazebag in this but its only because he's in work mode I promise !! I want to do more of these bc it was fun.

[songbirdmunson]

Vιԃҽσ Gαɱҽʂ

eddie munson x afab!reader

based off this little idea I had

• wordcount: 1.1K

18+ only or I will break your knees (lovingly) explicit content ahead, if you don’t wish to see don’t read! Steve Harrington is mentioned more than once. voyeurism sex with Eddie. enjoy!

“Can you even hear a word I’m saying right now?” Your boyfriend's silence answers the question for you as you roll your eyes, crossing your arms in front of you. You are all for him getting some time to unwind but lately he’s been glued to his Xbox, playing some new game with Steve that you couldn’t care to remember the name of. He’s oblivious to your frustration as he chats away with Steve, only pausing to take a sip of the Mountain Dew he keeps in his chalice on his desk.

You walk over slowly behind him, looking at the screen as he and Steve fight off zombies, any other day you’d let him play and you’d go do your thing. Today, you wanted attention, and you were going to get it, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind. “Eddie baby?” You whisper, leaning down where your head is next to his, you can hear Steve on the other end cackling about something. You poke your boyfriend in the side but he just shoos you off, not even turning to look at you.

‘He’s turning into an addict.’ You think to yourself as you finally walk yourself around his chair, stopping right in front of him. “Hey!! What are you doing babe?!” He all but shrieks out as you look down at him, smirking evilly. “Getting what I deserve Eddie.” You mumble, running your finger down the side of his face as he lets out a complaint about how you just made him die, poor thing. That will be the farthest thought in his mind in a few seconds.

Your fingers fumble with his belt, pulling it through the loops before you’re throwing it behind you. Eddie looks down at you, his eyebrows shooting up underneath his bangs. “Babe… oh Jesus Christ.” He moans out as you kiss the tip of his cock through his boxers, your fingers grip deliciously into the meat of his thighs as he rips his headset off, slamming it down onto his desk so hard you don’t know how it didn’t break.

“You wanted my attention, hmm? Little brat couldn’t even make it an hour without needing me down their throat, that’s kinda gross baby.” He growls out, his thick fingers winding their way into your hair as he pulls you down closer to where he needs you the most. You go brainless as you pull his dick out of his pants slowly, it’s so pretty, his piercing shimmering on top only makes it better. You spit onto your hand slowly before wrapping it back around the base, twisting slowly before you begin to move it up and down at an agonizingly slow pace.

“You’d rather pay attention to zombies than this baby? Are you crazy?” You ask, pouting up at him as he leans his head back, a loud moan slips its way past his beautiful lips. Nobody is thinking about poor Steve on the other end of the headset, his face is beet red and his pants tight, but that would be a worry for later. “N-No, fuck, would much rather watch you use that sinful mouth of yours baby, all day.” He chokes out, the air leaving his body almost completely as you spit down onto the head, you smile up at him one more time before you dive down like you’re starved and his dick is the best meal on earth.

Shuffling forward you go down as far as you can, choking slightly as Eddie lets out another beautiful noise. You had him exactly how you wanted, he’s like putty as he sinks down into his chair. His hips are soon bucking against your face, incoherent mumbling and praises are tumbling out of his mouth as the coarse hair beneath his cock scratches against your face. It’s all thrilling, the smell of him, how he tastes, the realization that Steve and any of his other friends that are playing with him can hear you pleasuring him right now. It almost has you wanting to cum in your jeans.

You pop off only for a second, catching some air as you lick your lips slowly. “Want me to ride you in your little gaming chair?” You tease mockingly as he nods, his hair is everywhere, tangled up from where he’s been pulling on it, slightly sticking to his face from the sweat beads that are rolling down his forehead. You know they would taste delicious too, everything about Eddie does. You waste no time as soon as he gives you the go to get on him you’re pushing your pants down to your knees, your underwear are only pulled to the side as you turn around facing away from him.

Just having him in your mouth already has you wet enough that you don’t need to prep, you turn your head around over your shoulder, smiling at him wickedly before you sink down onto him. You bite back a moan as his dick stretches you out, you and Eddie had done this so many times but you’d honestly never get used to how thick he is. It’s absolutely perfect, every ridge of the veins rubbing against you in the right way, every time you go back down the head rubs against the spot that has your legs turning into jelly. “Please baby… think I’m gonna cum.. fuck!” His big hands are holding onto your hips loosely, you know his brain is so pussy whipped he can't even think straight right now.

“Next time you even think about ignoring me for your little zombies I want you to remember this baby, you understand?” You scold him, grinding your hips in a circle as you feel him shaking beneath you. “Y-yes! Yes! Promise I’ll remember, I’m sorry, fuck I’m sorry please baby right there oh my fucking go-od.” This man is down bad, you laugh a little as you lift up and down only a few more times before he breaks, you keep yourself still, feeling his cock twitching inside you as he lets out profanities that you weren’t even sure existed. “Fuck… such a good boy, filling me up. I’m so proud of you.” You coo, lifting yourself up slowly, his softening dick falling out of you, you can feel his cum leaking out and sticking to your thighs.

You lean back against Eddie, smiling before turning his face to kiss him a few times. “That was better than any of your games.” You say confidently, grabbing his headset and slipping it on. “Hey Steve, he’s all yours now hun, have fun killing Zombies.” You say, laughing wildly as Eddie’s face heats up. Steve cums in his pants that day, and he’s not even ashamed.

taglist ahead, thanks for reading! 💗

@loserboysandlithium @runningupthatvecna @wolfqueenxxx @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @magicalmysterytour13 @woahlifehitsyahuh @hellfiremunsonn @eddiemunsonfuxks @ali-r3n @guiltyasquinn @beep-beep-sherlock @barnes-bestgirl @edsstrawberryjam @micromoose @3rd-conchord @mamakitty187 @comeonatmebruh @bcmbiquinn @seatnights @scorpiosapphire @berilynzoe @floredaqueen @melodymunson @rafescorpsebride @bloodibambiidoll @gri959 @munsongirly @londonfog-chan @quinnyficsy @hauntedfawnn

[megalony]

They Call Me Hangman

It's been a while, but here is a Jake Seresin (Hangman) imagine, I hope you will all like this request. Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs

Main Masterlist

Summary: When (Y/n)'s ex starts to stalk her and follow her around, she eventually tells Jake. and he becomes protective over her.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So what do you reckon Hangman, you ready to go home?"

A grin spread across Jake's lips as he hung his head down to avoid looking at the rest of the team.

Home. The place he had been fantasising about for the last three months. The place he was desperate to be; the place he had been aching to be since the moment he left.

The only part of the job that Jake didn't like was the fact that he had to be away from home- away from (Y/n)- for weeks and sometimes months at a time. He didn't like being away from her. It had been fine when he used to be someone who had casual flings and hook ups every other week and never had a steady girlfriend. But now he did. Now he had a fiancee waiting at home for him, and Jake hated to be away from her.

"More than ready." Jake lifted his head just a little and grinned over at Bradley as they headed across the base towards the gates.

They were being released. Sometimes leaving like this felt like they were being released from prison when they left the air base and those large metal gates reeled open to let them pass. It felt like they had been locked up rather than out on missions and out of the country most of the times.

The helmet in Jake's hand jostled as he reeled it in closer to his side and looped his bag higher on his right shoulder.

His eyes squinted in the midday sun as he lifted his head and looked around, wishing he hadn't stuffed his sunglasses in his bag earlier in his haste to pack up quickly. Most of the squad would be travelling home together. Bradley was driving Coyote, Bob and Phoenix were getting a taxi home together and the others all had people coming to collect them. Just like Jake.

He didn't have to hitch a ride from someone on the team or get a taxi to an empty home. Sometimes he used to go straight to the bar rather than going home so he wouldn't have to be met with a lonesome home, void and empty. Not anymore. His home was never empty and he now had someone waiting for him at the gates when he left.

A grin suddenly lit up Jake's face when he headed out of the gates and took a look around. He recognised that car parked on the right.

The bag on his shoulder slid down his arm until he could dump it on the dusty path and he tossed his red helmet on top of the bag so he could rush ahead.

His boots padded and thumped against the ground as he set off into a sprint with his eyes locked on that familiar frame that had been haunting his dreams for the last few months.

(Y/n) uncrossed her arms from resting over her chest and pushed up off the bonnet she had been leaning against. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes already the moment she saw Jake aiming her way. He was grinning from ear to ear, so much so that he could barely see a thing from how badly his smile was causing him to squint.

His hair looked perfectly swept over to one side, blond streaks glistening in the sunlight that reflected streaks of orange across each strand. The closer Jake got, the more (Y/n) could feel her heart thumping in her chest, threatening to break out of her ribcage.

He reached her in record time and (Y/n) barely opened her arms before Jake had hold of her.

He bent at the knees, deadlocked his arms around her waist and lifted her up off her feet. She had to loop her arms around his neck to stop herself from wobbling or swaying in his arms when he spun her round in huge circles like he was showing her off to the world and wishing her dress would fan around them in a display.

She laughed and tucked her face down into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent that felt so overpowering when she had him back in her arms like this. Compared to how (Y/n) had been hugging his shirts or lying on his pillow at night to try and feel closer to him when he wasn't there beside her.

It felt so good to have Jake's arms bound around her waist like this and have his hard chest pressing against her own. She could feel his chest rumbling with laughter that tickled her neck and his lips felt feverish and loving against her skin when he pressed hollow, wet kisses all up and down her neck.

"God, I missed you." His voice sounded a lot deeper than usual and had (Y/n) shivering in his arms.

Her hand moved to cup the back of his neck and she scratched her nails through the short hairs at the base of his head. While Jake finally lifted his head and stared up at her with that admiration in his eyes that made (Y/n) want to melt in his arms.

He was looking at her like she was an angel here on Earth, like she was the only person worth looking at. And he still hadn't put her down, his hands were clamped down on her hips and he had his chest tilted back to lean (Y/n) against him and keep her lifted up in the air so he could admire her.

When he finally set her down to her feet, (Y/n) felt like her knees were going to give way beneath her. She moved her hands round to cradle his neck in her hands and she stayed pressed up as close to his chest as she could manage until it felt like they were merging into one person.

Her thumbs traced along Jake's jaw until she had his smile committed to memory and she was sure no extra details had suddenly arisen on his skin while he had been away. He had no more lines around his eyes, no freckles suddenly appearing on his tanned skin. Those ruby red lips were the same as always, those blue eyes were just as intense and it looked like his hair hadn't grown an inch since he'd been gone, it had been cut expertly to match how he looked before he left.

"I missed you too." (Y/n) stumbled on her back foot when Jake swooped down and attached his lips to hers. She felt his nose rubbing against hers and his lips were bruising as he pushed into her like he was trying to flood her with his love and warmth and let her feel how much he'd missed her.

She felt his hand leave her lip so he could angle her head up in his direction and his thumb dragged along her cheekbone while their teeth meshed together and his lips seemed to devour every inch of her mouth.

Whatever breath she tried to take was swallowed up by Jake and the grin that was spreading across his lips when he felt her hand reach out to cradle his wrist that was against her face.

He nudged her back until her back and hips were met with the door of her car and she was sandwiched between Jake and the metal.

When a sudden coughing caught her ears, (Y/n) tried to squeeze Jake's wrist and lean her head back so she could glance to the right. The Dagger Squad were watching with bright eyes and broad smirks spread across their faces.

She felt Jake's lips attach to the corner of her mouth, desperate to steal her back into another kiss but he could see her attention was elsewhere. When Jake craned his eyes to the right, he barely spared the squad a glance before his eyes were back on (Y/n) and his fingers were curling around her chin, tilting her head back in his direction.

He didn't care if they all stood watching and gawping at them. Jake hadn't seen his girl in months, he was having as many kisses as he liked and he was attaching himself to her whether they watched him or not.

"Ignore 'em. I've waited long enough to have you back in my arms." He murmured against her lips with a gritty edge to his voice while he motioned one hand towards the team, silently telling them to move. They didn't have to stand and watch. They could all make their own way home and he would message them tomorrow.

Right now he was busy.

A groan tumbled past Jake's lips and his brows furrowed in his half-asleep state, wondering why he was awake. He was a deep sleeper at the best of times, he had to be when he had to share bunkers with others on the squad when they were away on deployment. If he didn't adapt he would never sleep with the sound of others moving about the room and snoring and making a general racket in the dead of night.

It took some effort to wake him, especially when he was home in the comfort of his own bed with no distractions or noises to focus on and keep him awake.

His eyes remained closed and he tried to burrow his face back down into the pillow and let himself drift back to sleep.

His mind was halfway back to shutting down when a sudden voice behind him caught him off guard.

"No!"

A shudder tore down his back and he hurriedly lifted his head from the pillow and cracked his eyes open, trying to adjust and see through the darkness in case there was an intruder in the room. It wasn't very likely. They'd never had a break-in before and they weren't in the kind of neighbourhood where that was a big worry.

The room was empty. Jake twisted around with a huff so he was no longer laid on his right side. He flopped onto his back and cracked his eyes open, trying to look around the room again find out what was going on. He could feel dread creeping through his system as he tilted his head to the left and looked over at (Y/n).

He narrowed his tired eyes and tried to look (Y/n) up and down, but he could tell instantly that she wasn't awake. That was somewhat of a relief, she wasn't panicking about someone breaking in or something happening in their home.

She was laid on her back with her head slightly turned towards the left so she was facing away from him. Her elbows were pinned into her waist and her lower back had arched up from the bed just a little making her spine curve, but every part of her was shaking.

It almost looked like Jake had woken up in the middle of an exorcism with how (Y/n) was pushing up from the bed and how badly she was shaking. When he dared to stretch his hand out in her direction, he realised she was beginning to sweat too.

His spine clicked into place as he pushed up into a sitting position and turned to lean over (Y/n).

It had been a while since she'd had a nightmare, at least from what Jake could remember.

"Baby?" His voice was flooded with caution and he tested the waters by reaching out for her. His thumb brushed across her jaw and his fingers pressed into the side of her neck to feel her pulse which was fluctuating but steadily rising higher. He could feel how her chest was rising and falling and the shallow, panicked breaths wheezing past her lips.

A guttural scream gurgled at the back of (Y/n)'s throat and sent Jake reeling back in shock while her body tremored and her arms jerked into her waist with her elbows jabbing into her sides.

Jake moved to flop onto his left side, resting his weight on his arm and his elbow which pressed down into the bed just beneath the pillow. And he reached his hand back out towards her, skimming his fingertips up and down her shoulder and down her arm to try and carefully bring her out of whatever nightmare she was trapped in.

He leaned across her with his chest lightly pressing down onto hers and he pecked her forehead when he noticed tears glistening in the corner of her eyes that finally started to flutter and her body seemed to break loose from her locked state.

Jake couldn't remember the last nightmare (Y/n) had, or why she had one. They used to be a common occurrence when they first got together, curtesy of her ex who hadn't been the nicest of people, far from it. But (Y/n) was comfortable and happy and flooded with love now she was with Jake and she barely suffered from nightmares or bad dreams anymore.

"It's okay, I've got you." Jake's voice was comforting and the feeling of his lips against her neck was like sparks igniting under (Y/n)'s skin and lighting up throughout her body.

(Y/n)'s eyes flickered but she could barely open them without seeing the remnants of her dream flashing before her eyes. She screwed them shut as tightly as she could, grumbling and gasping through clenched teeth as she continued to writhe and tremble against the mattress.

She wasn't sure whatever Jake said next over the blood pounding through her ears, but (Y/n) suddenly felt her right hand twitch against her thigh. It was enough to make her relieved and she tried to move it again, glad she wasn't becoming locked-in. She had suffered with sleep paralysis before and she didn't want to experience that again.

(Y/n) shifted her trembling hands and locked them around her waist as she tried to bring her knees up and curl in on herself. She could still feel herself trembling and the rest of her body felt stiff as if she had been covered in clay that had now dried and locked her in a plaster cast form. Even the tears rolling down her face felt like they were starting to dry out and make her face crack and tense up.

She was sure she was still shaking and she didn't dare open her eyes, but a deep warmth spread through her system when she felt a strong arm suddenly drape across her chest.

Jake's arm settled on her lower chest and when his hand reached up and cupped the side of her face, (Y/n) felt like bursting into another fit of tears. She leaned into the touch and managed a shaky kiss against his wrist while his thumb stroked along her chin.

He shuffled closer and flopped his head down on the very edge of his pillow so he was practically laid in the middle of the bed to be as close to her as possible. His chest moulded up against (Y/n)'s arm and he tilted his head down until his lips attached to her shoulder. He could feel the heat radiating off of her like she was a roaring fire and he inched closer, desperate to be embraced by the flames.

"Shh, you're okay." He murmured against her skin while he moved his right leg and gently hooked it over (Y/n)'s thigh so he was thoroughly enveloped around her like a weighted security blanket.

He felt the way (Y/n) turned her head down towards him and burrowed her nose and mouth against his hair and it made his arm tighten around her.

And the way her hands grabbed his arm and clutched him tighter made him sure that whatever nightmare she'd had was clearly a bad one. Her nails were scratching into his arm and when she kept tightening her hand on his arm, he sighed into her shoulder.

Without opening his eyes, Jake wriggled his arm out of her hold and removed his hand from her face so he could curl his fingers around the back of her hand. He squeezed tight and moved her arm down to her chest so he could keep hold of her hand and still have his arm hooked over her waist. His thumb stroked along the side of her palm and he started tracing his foot up and down her lower leg to give her something to focus on and distract herself with.

"Just a dream, you're alright now."

He pressed another flurry of kisses against her shoulder before he craned his head to smother his lips against the crook of her neck. Each breath softly fanned against her skin and warmed her up, not that (Y/n) needed to be any warmer, but it was still comforting.

Jake was wrapped around her. She was okay. She was safe.

***

"Baby, are you okay?"

Leaning to the right, Jake pressed his palm down on the kitchen counter while his other hand clamped down on his hip. He crossed one leg in front of the other and tilted his head to one side as he looked over at (Y/n).

He watched her carefully as she turned around so she was facing him. She had a light frown etched into her features as she set down the kettle and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Of course, why?" She gave him a funny look and shook her head as if asking why he would think something was wrong.

She was fine. She wasn't sick or feeling run down, she wasn't having a bad day and (Y/n) didn't think she had done anything to give Jake the impression that something was wrong. Her head ticked to one side and she waited for Jake to explain why he was under the impression that she wasn't okay or something was playing on her mind.

Her lips curved into a small, tender smile when Jake took a few steps forward so he was stood in front of her, but he didn't reach out for her like she thought he would. His arms moved to fold over his chest and he rose one brow as he stared down at her with worry in his eyes and his lips set into a frown.

"Last night… you haven't had nightmares like that in a while. What's going on?" Jake knew she usually told him if she was having nightmares and since he'd been back home, she'd had two in the space of one week.

That wasn't normal.

That was a sign that something was wrong and Jake wanted to know if this was something he needed to be worried about too. He hadn't seen (Y/n) scream from a nightmare like that in over a year, possibly longer.

Before he went on his last deployment (Y/n) had barely had any dreams or nights like that. And now he was home, she was suffering with them again. It made Jake wonder just how long the bad nights had been happening for and if she'd had a few while he'd been away and she neglected to tell him.

(Y/n) tilted her head down and reached her hands behind her to grip the counter so she had something to hold and focus on.

"It's silly." She shook her head as she spoke, but her heart started to double its pace when Jake's hand was suddenly beneath her chin.

He tilted her head back so she had no choice but to look up at him and see the way he was staring down at her. He had his chin aimed down near his chest, his brows raised and his eyes wide and trained in on her. And the way his lips formed such a tender little smile made (Y/n)'s knees threaten to give way. He didn't look like he was about to laugh at her or tell her she was being stupid or that she needed to explain herself now.

He looked like he would wait until the world ended if that was how long it would take for (Y/n) to feel comfortable and want to explain what was going through her head right now. Whatever it was, Jake knew it was something upsetting because she was clearly distressed and worried about something.

"I guarantee it's not. Tell me." He coaxed gently and brushed his thumb across the middle of her chin.

(Y/n) leaned her head into his hand, brushing against his touch while she tried to fathom how to find the words and tell Jake without feeling so stupid and paranoid.

"I just… I feel like I'm being followed, when I go out, you know? I got nervous. Must have triggered the dreams again."

(Y/n) brought her hand up to cup Jake's wrist while she focused on his fuchsia pink lips rather than daring to risk looking up into those ocean blue eyes. She didn't want to look up and lose her train of thought or dare see if he was smirking or rolling those lovely eyes if he thought she was being silly.

"And… and I've been getting strange calls," Her fingers curled tighter around Jake's wrist when he nudged her head back again and stared down at her with furrowed brows and a firm frown set in his features.

"What calls? What did they say?"

"Nothing. They either hang up, or I just- I hear this heavy breathing."

(Y/n) let go of Jake's wrist so she could loop both her arms around his waist and she gently pulled her head from his hand so she could push into his chest. She meshed her cheek up against his sternum and listened to the sound of his heartbeat that was thundering and picking up speed like he was halfway through a marathon.

She felt his arm bind around her waist with his fingers digging into her hip and his other hand moved to cup the back of her neck. He tilted his head down and sighed into her hair before he began kissing the top of her head.

"Do you think it's him?" The dark, gritty tone to Jake's voice made (Y/n) shiver and cling to him tighter.

"I don't know."

She wasn't one hundred percent sure if it was her ex that was making the calls and following her around or if she was just being silly. But (Y/n) wasn't stupid. She was so sure she kept seeing a man hovering around. When she walked to the shops, when she was leaving work or going for a drink with friends.

Whatever she seemed to be doing, she could see that shadow in the distance. Always with his hands in his pockets and a dark shirt and jeans. It was the same colour hair as John. The same height and roughly the same build. Whoever it was always hung back, never got too close, but almost every time (Y/n) went out she found that shadow following her around at some point during her day.

The phone calls were new. Most of them were hang up calls, she said hello, asked who was there and then the line went dead. Then they changed. She got no reply when she demanded to know who was calling, but (Y/n) started to hear heavy breathing or sometimes a light, shallow pattern huffing into the receiver.

She had stopped answering the phone. If she didn't know the number, (Y/n) didn't answer. It was too risky when the phone calls were just making her paranoid and upsetting her.

"When did this start?" Jake leaned his cheek on top of (Y/n)'s head while he leaned back into the counter and tugged her with him so she was leaning up against him. He dreaded to hear that this had been happening for weeks while he had been away. If that was the case, (Y/n) should have told him when they had their video calls and long phone calls during the night.

"Maybe, three weeks ago?" She cringed when she felt the deep breath Jake sucked in and how he practically growled into her hair.

"You should have told me sooner. If it's him, I'll find him, I won't let him do this to you. I promise."

If this was her ex, then Jake would make sure John backed away. He wouldn't let anyone do this to (Y/n), but especially not him. Not after what he had put her through.

(Y/n) had left John when he became controlling and boardering on cruel rather than kind. She walked away from him and left without regrets, but John didn't take that so well. He had called her, constantly followed her, turned up at her home, her work. He caused a scene every time, especially when (Y/n) had to start involving the police.

Thankfully that had frightened him and when (Y/n) got a restraining order against him, he backed away altogether.

Jake had only seen her ex a few times and he had always made sure to steer (Y/n) away from him and stop any confrontation. But they had never had this kind of worry with him before. He hadn't been around (Y/n) in years, she hadn't worried about him since she and Jake started steadily dating.

He shouldn't know where they live, he shouldn't really know (Y/n)'s new place of work but she was sure he did, if indeed it was John who was starting to follow her around.

"It'll be okay." Jake wasn't going to let this continue. He would do whatever he could to stop this.

He would protect her.

***

"Is (Y/n) coming?"

A smile flooded Jake's face and he glanced over to the left where Bradley was leaning back against the pool table in the corner of the bar. His arms were folded over his chest and his lips were curved into a smirk.

"She should be here soon." Jake peered at the watch strapped to his wrist before he threw the last dart in his hand with a satisfied smirk when he hit a triple twenty.

(Y/n) said she would come down to the bar once she finished work and she should be here anytime around now. It took about ten minutes to walk from her work down here near the beach. Jake had offered to go pick her up once she finished, but (Y/n) said it was easier to walk than have Jake mess around to come pick her up.

Jake retrieved all three darts from the board, jotted down his total on the scoreboard and backed up to let Bradley have his turn. In two more goes, Jake would win this round and the drinks would be on Bradley.

He leaned back against the wall and waited patiently for his opponent to take his go. And he let his eyes cast over to the pool table where Coyote and Bob were trying to have a game. Neither of them were very good, Jake would be surprised by whichever one of them won.

He began tapping the end of a dart against his thigh, tapping out a rhythm that was stuck in the back of his head. But he looked up when he heard a low whistle and he watched Bradley nod his head in the direction of the main entrance to the bar.

Jake spun and craned his head round to the left and his eyes creased when he locked onto (Y/n) walking into the bar.

He pushed up off the wall and took his first throw at the dartboard before he moved his left arm out and reached for (Y/n) when she aimed his way. She weaved expertly through the crowd of people clustering around the bar counter, waiting to be served. And she moved rather quickly until she was right next to Jake.

Her hands curled around his arm that was stretched out in her direction and she pulled it into her chest, gluing herself up into his side.

"Just in time to see me win, baby." Jake threw his next two darts and leaned his weight forward onto his right foot.

But when he glanced his eyes down at (Y/n) who was still attached to his left arm, his winning smirk faded into a look of concern. His head angled to one side and his lips faded into a thin line when (Y/n) didn't pull away from him. Her nose and lips were pressing against his shoulder through his beige uniform but he could feel her shaking against him. Added with the fact that she hadn't spoken to him yet, Jake got the sudden unsettling feeling that something was wrong.

Jake waved his hand towards the board and gave Bradley a certain look. Their game would have to be put on hold for a few minutes.

He moved his right hand to hold (Y/n)'s arm and his lips pressed down to her temple as he gently nudged her back and backed up towards the windows at the end that looked out onto the beach. He carefully reeled his arm out of (Y/n)'s grip so both hands could hold her hips but he shuddered when her hands instantly clutched at his shirt like she was about to rip it right off him.

"What's up?"

"He- he was following me. I saw him."

(Y/n) dared to lean her head around Jake's shoulder to try and look behind him, but she knew he hadn't followed her in here.

She smothered her face into Jake's shirt when his hands clenched down on her hips and he twisted to look over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed and a look of panic spread across his face as he tried to scout through the familiar faces in the bar, desperately searching for the one that shouldn't be here. But he couldn't see him.

Jake moved his hand around to cradle the back of (Y/n)'s neck and he leaned down to attach his lips to the top of her head again. His other arm looped around the back of her waist and he tucked her closer into his chest until they were practically merging into one person.

"Did he say anything- he didn't grab you, did he?" His voice came out gritty and dark but he found himself narrowing his eyes and focusing on the beach through the bay windows in front of them.

Would that creep hang around? If he hadn't followed (Y/n) inside the bar, would be wait around out there to try and get to her when she came out? Maybe he would walk around to the back at the back of the bar and wait there or try and peer through the windows to find her.

Jake wouldn't put anything past her ex.

He couldn't see anyone. There were a few couples wandering the beach right down the other end where the tide was starting to drift out. But there didn't seem to be any lonesome people wandering nearby or hanging particularly close to the bar. That was good. That implied he wasn't hanging around..

(Y/n) shook her head and leaned back just enough to look up at Jake. "I think- I think the bar put him off, b-but he was definitely following me."

She wasn't going insane and she wasn't imagining anything. (Y/n) saw John. She saw her ex as clear as day and this time, he was closer. He wasn't ten or fifteen feet behind her, he wasn't hanging back around a corner like he had been when she first noticed someone following her around.

He was six feet behind her, and he kept getting closer. He ended up being almost within arms reach of her and (Y/n) didn't know what to do. She couldn't stop and confront him, she didn't know if he would grab her or run away or try and hurt her, she had no idea what he might do. And if she started to run down the street people would think she was insane and if John started running too, he would most likely catch her.

She had started to jog when she saw the bar was within reach and when she reached the doors, she blundered inside and stood in the doorway. She didn't see where John went.

He wouldn't follow her into a crowded place like this, it was too risky and there were too many people about who could help and shield (Y/n). But it had definitely been her ex who had been following her.

"Okay, it's okay. You're with us now, he won't get anywhere near you."

The whole squad was her within the bar tonight. If John tried to get in, he wouldn't get within ten feet of (Y/n). The squad would form a ring around her and shield her from him.

They wouldn't let him get close to her.

***

A soft hum vibrated at the back of Jake's throat and his head started to nod along to the music playing quietly through the speakers in the store. Both arms rested on the trolley handlebar and his upper body arched over so his lower back was sticking out while he slowly nudged the trolley down the aisle.

His head moved from side to side, peering on the shelves but he wasn't really paying much attention.

His eyes kept moving back towards (Y/n). He watched the way her hips swayed from left to right as she walked and how she started to shimmy her upper body and shoulders when the beat changed in the music. He loved to see her quietly whispering the lyrics, trying her best not to be too loud and start singing in the middle of the shop.

The list in her hand was becoming crinkled while her fingers tapped into the paper and she peered at the shelves, trying to find what they needed.

Neither of them were a fan of shopping. Whenever they came out, they stuck to the list, grabbed just what they needed and left. They never wasted a minute.

He followed along behind (Y/n) with a smile tracing his lips and a softness growing in his heart. When they headed down the next aisle, Jake pushed up from the trolley to stand straight and he reached out to take a few things from the shelves. The quicker they got what they needed, the sooner they could head back home.

He picked up a few sauce packets and placed them in the trolley before he moved to stand beside (Y/n). He reached his arm out and gently cupped (Y/n)'s hip and attached his lips to the back of her head.

"You good?" He peered over her shoulder to look down at the list in her hand, most of which was now in the trolley.

But when he looked back up at her, he realised (Y/n) wasn't looking at the list, nor was she looking at anything at the end of the aisle either. He felt her hand move to grab his wrist that was on the trolley and she leaned into his side, but she wouldn't turn her head in his direction.

"Jake…" (Y/n) nodded her head towards the other aisle in front of them as her body turned rigid and her blood ran cold.

John.

He was here. He was in the same shop as them. There was no trolley in front of him, no basket in his hand and it didn't look like he had picked anything up from the shelves at all. Both hands were tucked into his jacket pockets with his shoulders hunched up high and he was leaning against one of the shelves.

But it was the way his head was inclined to the side and how his eyes were focused in on them that made (Y/n) want to be sick.

He was staring directly at them.

Had he followed them to the shop? Did he know (Y/n) would be here with Jake, or did he think she would be alone Why follow them here? Why come to a public place where he couldn't exactly approach (Y/n) without making a scene or making a fool of himself?

"We're leaving." The affirmation in Jake's tone was definite and the stern, cold expression on his face made (Y/n) shiver.

She went limp, letting him reach out for her and manoevure her so he could guide them both out. Jake's hands moved to her waist and he gently tugged her to the left until she was stood in front of the trolley and her numb, trembling hands curled around the handle to keep herself upright so her knees didn't cave in beneath her and she let the list flutter down into the trolley.

She felt Jake move behind her so his chest was pressing down comfortingly into her waist and his lips attached to the back of her head. While his hands moved down and curled around hers on the handle. His elbows pressed into her arms and his frame completely engulfed around her, keeping (Y/n) safely tucked between him and the trolley so she was hidden and protected.

He steered the trolley towards the checkout but Jake kept twisting his head to peer over his shoulder. So far, John hadn't followed right behind them like a shadow. Jake couldn't see him, but that didn't make him feel much better.

He could feel exactly how (Y/n) was trembling in his arms and she could barely grasp the items from the trolley with how badly her hands were shaking and how numb her fingers felt.

Her eyes kept looking up at Jake and he hated to see the fear pooling within them. It made him dread to think what might have happened if (Y/n) had been out shopping on her own. John might have approached her. He might have tried to grab her or make a scene or frighten her.

Jake's jaw locked tight and his face set into a permanent disgruntled look while he tossed the items from the trolley onto the checkout.

His chest was heaving and his arms were tensing and tightening. How did that idiot know they were here? Why had he followed them? If he didn't and this was a coincidence then Jake liked that idea even less. He didn't like the thought of bumping into John like this. He didn't want to see him hanging around at all.

(Y/n) stayed close into Jake's side when they went through the checkout and her hand curled around his upper arm while the lady on the checkout began scanning everything through.

She perched her chin on Jake's shoulder while his fingers danced up and down her waist but she couldn't stop looking around. Trying to see where John was, wondering which aisle he was hiding out in and how close to them he was going to try and get. Every time a person came close to their checkout line, (Y/n) pushed herself into Jake until she was almost forcing him back into the counter. Each person passing by made her shudder and wince and coil in on herself.

She wanted to go home. She wanted to go home and lock the door and feel safe because right now, all she felt was vulnerable and observed.

She couldn't have been more relieved when they were done and the trolley was packed up again. She felt Jake's arm bind tightly around her waist while his left hand held the trolley and they headed out the shop.

Her cheek leaned against Jake's arm and she stayed tucked up into his side, but as they headed into the car park, (Y/n) couldn't help it. She had to look around. She had to glance behind them to reassure herself that John wasn't following after them. That he wasn't about to come out here and try to follow them home or make some kind of scene.

She wasn't sure what he was trying to achieve by following and calling her like this. If he was trying to frighten her then it was working wonders, but he wasn't going to get much out of this by following her around. (Y/n) would end up needing to call the police on him again and he might get a jail sentence this time. That wouldn't do him much good.

A whimper flooded past her lips and her steps faltered when she glanced towards the shop entrance.

John had followed them out.

(Y/n) stopped walking, feeling rooted to the spot as her hands fisted around the trolley and she leaned forward until the handlebar was pressing down into her abdomen.

She felt sick. She wanted to go home. She wanted security to somehow understand the situation and drag John back inside the shop for a talk. She just wanted him to go away and leave her alone. Why was that so much to ask?

"Go get in the car."

(Y/n)'s hands barely worked when Jake pulled one hand free from the trolley and dumped the car keys into her palm.

Her eyes flooded with worry and she looked up at him with a panic-stricken expression and her jaw hanging loose. She fisted the keys into her palm until they started to cut against her skin and she looped both arms around Jake's tense bicep, trying to pull him into her because she had no idea what he was going to do.

"Jake-"

"Go to the car; I don't want him anywhere near you." His free hand cupped the back of her neck and he pressed his lips to her flushed temple. Jake stayed there for a few seconds, breathing in her scent to try and calm himself down and stop (Y/n) from going into a panic attack. He could feel each shallow breath she took fanning against his throat and her trembling body was swaying and leaning more and more into him.

"W-what are you going to do?" (Y/n) almost dreaded to ask and she didn't dare look up at Jake as she spoke.

"I don't know yet."

His fingers brushed across the base of her neck but when his eyes glanced to the right, he felt like a fire was burning within his chest and setting his heart ablaze. John was aiming their way, much faster than he had been a minute ago.

Unravelling from (Y/n), Jake gave her and the trolley a nudge to get her behind him and more towards the car. If she got in the car and put the lock on then she would be completely safe and that was what Jake wanted. He didn't want John to get within five feet of (Y/n); he didn't know what he would do.

When she shakily hurried towards the car, Jake turned on his heels and aimed for the other man heading their way. His hands clenched into fists at his sides and his eyes squinted, zooming in on John like he was back up in his plane, locking onto a target to drop a bomb onto.

Once they were face to face, Jake uncurled his hands and planted his palms down on John's chest to give him a rough shove backwards. He revelled in how the other man stumbled and his feet skidded against the concrete to regain his balance again.

"Alright, what do you think you're doing?"

"What?"

The way John scrunched his nose and sneered over at Jake made Jake grunt and raise his shoulders high. This wasn't a game and Jake wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what John had been doing, but he wanted to know why and he wanted him to stop. Now.

"Following her around. I know what you've been doing, the silent calls, following her around town, all of it. And it stops now. Fuck off and leave her alone."

Leaning back, Jake folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head to one side as he watched the emotions wash over John's face in waves. Surprise, realisation, shock, panic. Everything flooded his eyes and caused his expression to momentairely slacken before he regained his posture again.

His arms tensed, his hands curled into fists and he took a step closer and leaned his face towards Jake with a menacing look in his eyes. That look might have frightened others, but not Jake. He wasn't intimidated by someone who thought scaring and stalking his ex was a power trip.

Jake would show him what actual power was, and how very little of it John truly possessed.

"Or what?" John rose a brow and managed a small smile that dampened when a cocky grin plastered across Jake's face.

He watched the way Jake's arms dropped from his chest and in less than five seconds, Jake reached out and grabbed him. His hands fisted in John's shirt just over his collar bone and he yanked him forward, tugging him off balance until the toes of his shoes were scraping the floor and his knees bent forward to try and stabilise himself.

Both his hands curled around Jake's wrists to try and make him relent, but Jake didn't feel the touch. He didn't care about the few people starting to murmur and pause packing their cars in favour of watching, anticipating whether or not a fight was going to break out in the car park.

All he cared about was the look of panic lighting up John's eyes and making sure that his message got through to this creep.

"Or I'll have to break you." Jake's smile turned sickly sweet and he yanked on John's collar to pull him that much closer until their noses were almost touching. "Stop calling her, stop following her and hanging around her work. You back the Hell away from (Y/n) or it'll be me following you around and believe me, if you piss me off I'll render you useless."

When he received no response, Jake let go of John's shirt and gave him a shove. He dropped his hands down to his sides but kept them curled into tense fists, just in case he had to throw a punch to show this idiot that he was being deadly serious.

"There's a reason they call me Hangman. Wanna find out why?"

[kquil]

PERFECT MATCH PART 2

PAIR. : poly!marauders x female slytherin reader

SUM. : despite being from Slytherin, as a fellow prankster, you give the marauders a helping hand

LENGTH : 1.2k

PART 1 | NAVI.

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

Peter had blown their cover, and now the boys were running from Slughorn, who had caught them red-handed, switching the necessary ingredients for the next potion class. They should have known that Peter wasn’t the best choice for a lookout, considering he was the first to get caught and promptly given detention with Filch. As they were running away, however, their camaraderie lingered when Peter called out to them, hoping they wouldn’t be caught. 

The remaining three marauders make a valiant effort to run away as fast as possible. Remus stays a good few metres ahead of James and Sirius, his hidden athleticism sparking in only the most dire straits. Despite the potential threat of detention, the three grin widely through the chase; Sirius has the gall to laugh at the sheer amount of fun he’s experiencing. The freedom to break the rules and run freely from the consequences – only light penalisation in his eyes – was invigorating. None of them believe they would ever willingly stop their practical jokes, even Remus, no matter how much he denies it.

Racing through the halls with their youth pumping through their veins, Remus, James and Sirius make it so that Slughorn is considerably far behind them before slowing down. Between laboured breaths, they try to sort out their next move but quickly run out of time. Slughorn was quickly approaching according to their map and they resorted to hiding in a darkened hallway they don’t normally walk down. Consumed by the rush, they had managed to make it down to the dungeons just as you stepped out of the hallway they had barely hidden in.

They weren’t very good hiders but it was amusing so you kept your lips sealed despite your mischievous nature urging you to press them with questions. Your answer came swiftly in the form of Professor Slughorn, out of breath and keeling over with sweat drenching his brows. 

So that’s what’s happening~ 

Immediately understanding the situation, you step out of the hallway to face your gasping head of house and restrain a devious giggle at the sight of the marauders’ widened eyes. They’ve seen you, see them hiding. They’re also familiar with your artfully scheming ways likened to their marauder group’s mischief; the fact that you’re a Slytherin, however, doesn’t bode well. Fuck…were you gonna out them? 

You don’t need any prompting, already directing the professor before he’s managed to catch his breath, “Oh Professor~ by the way, if you’d really like to know…” Slughorn eyes you after finally catching his breath. Through the fog of his exhausted mind, he finds himself eagerly awaiting your direction, almost having forgotten why he was in his current state in the first place, “they went that way,” you point to the right, the opposite direction of the three tricksters. James, Remus and Sirius release a collective breath of relief but remain eager to see how the interaction may unfold further. 

“Who did?” Slughorn asks, trying to navigate the smog of fatigue clogging up his brain. 

“The marauders,”

“They did?” your potions professor brightens at the revelation. You guess he’s finally rediscovered his initial intentions. But woe is me~ can he trust you so easily? 

“They did what?” you tilt your head innocently, casually continuing the conversation as if you hadn’t just thrown him for a loop with that curveball of a question. 

“Went that way?” he points right, perplexed at your sudden change. It seems Professor Slughorn was still foggy in the head from his sapped stamina and the boys had to bite their lips from bursting out laughing – you’re a menace. 

“Who did?” you ask, pulling the most innocuous expression the boys have ever seen a Slytherin muster. Have you grown more beautiful since their last interaction? They can’t help but keep staring at your sweet face and pretty, pouty lips…

“The marauders!” Slughorn insists but you continue your oblivious stance. 

“What marauder?”

“But didn’t you just say?-- Oh never mind,” Slughorn gives up the chase and turns with a dull swish of his robes. For now, he’s satisfied that he, at least, managed to get Pettigrew. As soon as Slughorn was far enough away, you turn back to the crouching marauders and give them a wink, signalling that the coast was clear. 

“My fair lady!” Sirius dramatically bows down and kisses your knuckles, “How may I ever repay your kind gesture?”

“Hmmm…” you seem to seriously contemplate his playful words for a moment, though Sirius doesn’t mind, he’s more than eager to pay you back for saving his hide. “Let’s see…” You press your hand flat against his chest and slowly move down. The sultry overtones of your gesture make Sirius’ heart pound as he, Remus and James stare wide-eyed and gaping at your soft hands fondling their close friend’s chest. Suddenly your hand becomes a blur as you pull back his robe and steal a licorice wand from his inner breast pocket. “This’ll do~” you chirp innocently and begin to nibble on your newly acquired snack. “I can always count on you to be generous, Siri,” your wink sends a dangerous heat crawling up Sirius’ neck and exploding across his pale cheeks. This has never happened to him with a girl before! He’s supposed to make you flustered! 

Turning to Remus, you make a gesture with your hand as if to say ‘pay up’. However, when the tall brunette merely stares at you in wonder with a small, amused quirk on his lips, you raise a brow, “I know you’re loaded, Lupin. Gimme the goods,” and just like that, you also have Remus turning bright pink. How can you be so nonchalant and not realise the embarrassingly sexual innuendos underpinning your words?! Remus surrenders a peppermint toad. 

James was the last one of the three you turn to as you pocket Remus’ liberal offer. “You don’t have to ask me, for anything,” James chuckles and easily provides you with a handful of Fizzing Whizzbees. With a victorious smile, like a cute little squirrel who’s happy with her hoard, you pocket James’ addition and lean forward to brush a kiss along his sharp jaw. 

“I knew I could count on you, Potter,” 

James was floored. Sirius had to lean against the wall and Remus was limp against the large window sill. All three stare with a mix of surging admiration and boyish wonder as you walk away with a skip in your step. You’re so happy, you even begin to hum a soft little tune to yourself. 

“...wait… how come only James gets a kiss?” Remus asks, bringing Sirius back from his dazed state. James merely smirks in triumph – he’ll remember the softness of your pretty lips against his skin forever~

“Dearest!” Sirius calls, already jogging after you. “I think you’ve forgotten something!” 

“Yeah,” Remus adds with a cheeky grin, leisurely making his way over with James at his side, drawling in his Welsh accent, “gives us a cusan,” 

“What’s that?” you’ve stopped, curious as to what he may mean. From his tall height, Remus leans forward, bending at his hips and whispers in your ear. 

“That’s a kiss, sweetheart,” he steals one anyway at the base of your ear, where your neck and jaw meet. The high sensitivity of the area makes you squeal in surprise, only to be kissed by Sirius too, who aims innocently for your cheek. 

NAVI.

A/N : because of @urmomw4ntsme 's recent ask of wanting to see a Slytherin reader, it got me thinking about this request that i wrote last year for my 1k milestone. I couldn’t sleep until i finished writing this so it may not have the best grammar so please excuse me for that. this was also inspired by this interaction between Alice and the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Hands down one of my worst experiences in high school was when the seniors decided to extort the entire school by using tactics that were banned by the UN to get them to pay for the senior party! If that sounds like a wild sentiment stay tuned because this shit got crazy.

I was living in Arizona at the time and I was a freshman. Our campus was largely open air, with walks between class room buildings and some covered outdoor tables. Our event began with a morning announcement. The seniors were collecting donations for the senior party, and when they reached their goal, their fundraising method would stop.

Their fundraising method:

To pipe the entire schools speakers with "If You're Happy and You Know It" on loop. To this day, I cannot hear this song without experiencing a degree of rage and madness that is frankly alarming. One of the worst parts of the entire thing was that the recording they chose had the female singer do a little clap and say "Yay-ha-hey," at the end. So it wasn't just the song, it was this awful little cooldown stinger at the end.

If this sounds a lot like psychological torture you'd be extremely correct! This practice has been banned in some countries, but the good old US hasn't ruled it a human rights violation, and what a fun silly way to raise money, that definitely wasn't damaging to adolescent psyches!

Every morning for 15 minutes before school began, every passing period, every lunch, and after school for another 15 minutes they blasted that fucking song on unceasing repeat through every speaker in the school. Everyone found different ways of coping with this and mine was to observe my classmates descent into madness and categorize the stages.

The first stage was almost completely consistent, and it was a smug almost exasperated eye rolling phase. Often accompanied by derisive comments about the song or the tactic, this phase was extremely mildly annoyed. Most people figured it would blow over soon, and no one anticipated this continuing for a week and a half, creating a miasma of fraught tension.

The second phase was elevated annoyance, starting to snap and be less amused characterized this level of irritation. People would try to cover their ears or put on headphones, humming aggressively to block out the syrupy repulsive children's performer with her loathsome little clap. This phase had people picking their absolute least favorite part of the song. Her inflection on certain words, her timing between verses. I think it's pretty clear already which part I hated most.

The next phase was a bounce back out to absurdity. It became funny how annoying it was and people would sing along as if to challenge the song's authority over their psyche. This paired exceptionally poorly with people in phase two as they'd often lash out at the people giving more voice to their hell.

The fourth phase was a dead-eyed madness. People would stare straight ahead and their lips would silently mouth the familiar words. The song had pounded its way into their very soul and was inextricably linked to auditory output. They often didn't even realize if they began chanting along.

The fifth and final phase was pure uncut pubescent rage. Kids would scream, attack each other, and in a truly epic end to the event hurl a cafeteria chair with such force at the speaker in the cafeteria to irreparably damage the sound system.

The seniors got funding for a party, but some of it had to go to repair the damages, which were substantial.

[wandasaura]

GODDAMN BLAZE IN THE DARK

summary — when the ultimate arises of being allowed to orgasm or being allowed to relieve your bladder, the only thing you can do is hope to god that you can be the good girl she expects you to be

warning(s) — established relationship, dom/sub dynamics, alcohol consumption, piss kink, holding/control kink, fingering, teasing, begging, orgasm delay, degradation, praise kink, eventual orgasm, condescending tones/elements, domestic banter, men/minors dni

kinktober

The weather was finally beginning to turn as October earned its keep in the festive beach town you resided within the borders of, no longer blisteringly hot, but rather soft and quaint as a breeze ruffled leaves and blew discarded litter down the streets of Westview. The aesthetic of the world had begun to shift with the incoming breeze of cool air as well, replacing vibrant pinks and muted blues with burnt orange shades and deep charcoal hues. Wanda herself had fallen into the fall frenzy, adding decorative pillows to the couch and styrofoam pumpkins to the mantle despite her mentality that decorating for single day holidays was pointless and a waste of hard earned money. You knew she adored the whimsical magic of Halloween, even if she rolled her eyes each time you suggested watching a film inspired by the spookiest month of the year. That’s just how she was. Pointedly difficult merely to get a rise out of you, and it worked each time you begged to watch Hocus Pocus only to receive an eye roll and an exaggerated huff of faux exasperation. She always caved, always cuddled up on the couch or in bed, but it was never easy to get her there, nor was it easy to keep her interest as her hands began to wander down your tantalizing body and mark its claim on your most sensitive areas. 

Tonight, as you cuddled up close, beneath a thin throw blanket printed with jack-o-lanterns and the silhouettes of cartoon bats, it had been painfully easy. She hadn’t protested when you suggested a movie night, hadn’t rolled her eyes when you turned on a film from your childhood that was admittedly horrible at best and downright insulting at worst, and she hadn’t even huffed in overdramatic defeat when you’d turned the subtitles on because that made any viewing experience ten times better. In fact, she’d been nothing but pleasant and willing. She’d collected your drinks from the kitchen, gathered your chosen snacks from the pantry, and lit a candle on the coffee table that had the entire house smelling like sweet notes of subtle maple and addictive vanilla. 

Cautiously, you peaked over your shoulder at her side profile illuminated by flickering auburn light from the three wick candle providing a gentle ambience of mood lighting around you, the dancing flame with the slightest twinges of blue and yellow embedded within its fiery existence reflected off of her emerald stare so peacefully that you nearly accepted the gentle nature of the night ahead of you without question, but you knew better. You’d been with Wanda for years, seen her through some of the most trying and difficult periods of her life, and subsequently some of the best and softest. You knew that whenever something was easy with her, then there was something else up her sleeve just waiting to be pulled. She kept things interesting, always had and always would, but you’d become rather perceptive to her motives after such a long game of cat and mouse. 

She had you pinned against her chest as you lounged on the couch she’d affectionately decorated with throw blankets and decorative pillows, one arm looped around your waist while the other held onto her glass of chilled white wine, the stem carefully weaved between her fingers in intricate delicacy that you hadn’t quite mastered no matter the years you spent attempting to copy her mannerisms. She dripped with class and exquisite wealth, despite being brought up in a country suffering with poverty. There was an intoxicating energy to her, one that compelled even her most passionate haters to surrender to her spell and seek to know her personally. You’d never quite gotten over that alluring charm about her, but she’d made it painfully obvious that you were the only one she wanted to bring home and into bed each time you left the house, so you didn’t dwell much on the simple fact that Wanda Maximoff could have any man or woman she desired without so much as lifting a finger to flirtatiously wave. 

As you reached for your glass of wine that had been thoughtlessly left abandoned on the coffee table besides the slowly burning candle, her arm pressed against your bladder just enough to make an uncomfortable feeling travel through your nerves. Willing to ignore it for a while longer, not wanting to leave her soothing company or risk your film being turning off due to her unrelenting boredom, you stayed against her chest, now gripping your own glass with delicacy, although you didn’t quite have the placement of your fingers right enough to have replicated her eloquence. You’d thought that Wanda was unaware of your subtle wince, however, she’d so easily detected the shift in your body language and the way you maneuvered within her hold to alleviate some of the pressure she was intentionally pressing into your bladder. 

When her hand fell to your thigh, her wine glass set to the side as she had only a couple of sips left and didn’t particularly enjoy being drunk without your lighthearted energy to match her pace, you shivered with anticipation, knowing all too well where her soft touch would lead if you played your cards right. Well, you had thought you knew all the moves she was going to make, but when she dug her fingertips into the crevice of your thigh without warning or prior teasing, tickling the sensitive skin that she knew was a no-go zone on your best day, let alone your worst, you truly began to realize what you were in for. A soft whine slipped off of your lips as you wriggled against her, but all she did was tighten her hold on you and coax your whines with sweet kisses against the shell of your ear, her fingers still teasing and tickling your sensitive skin with passion. 

“Wanda.” You gasped when one hand splayed firmly against your sensitive belly, and the other moved beneath your soft gingham print sleep shorts to cup your core beneath the frilly underwear you’d picked out that morning. Your attire was nothing special, nothing sexy nor new, but that’s what Wanda preferred. There were times when lingerie worked, where it brought a level of excitement and newness to your already exhilarating sexcapades, but Wanda was sweet, she preferred you as you were, with no reason to constantly be trying to change your comfortability and appearance. Her boldness had always been a turn on, and as you sat trapped between her chest and her possessive arms, you felt merely like a toy at her disposal. 

“What’s wrong, my angel?” She cooed against your earlobe, teeth taking claim over that sensitive inch of skin that always provoked your desire to rise to uncontrollable levels. She knows what’s wrong though, it’s not the first time you’ve walked into this trap, but it’s been months since she’s laid it out, months since she’s been so cruel and condescending that you don’t know whether to plead for leniency or for her fingers to claim the sweetest softest spaces of your intimacy. “Hm, be a good girl and tell me.”

“I have to pee.” The words burned your pride as they slipped into the air, your cheeks twinging a flush shade of pink more aligned for the pallet of summertime than fresh autumn. You wriggled in her grasp, attempting to set yourself free, but all you accomplished was adding more pressure against your already sensitive bladder, intensifying the sensation of urgency within your nerves. “Wands, I have to pee.” 

Your desperation did nothing to quell her cruelty, rather it feebly landed in the near silent room apart from the voices slipping out of the speakers in the ceiling. “Well that’s too bad, sweetheart. I like having you here. Surely you can wait a little while longer, can’t you? I’m not ready to let you go just yet.” 

Her fingers slid through your folds, collecting warm, sticky arousal that pooled at your entrance. You whimpered in need, desperate need that turned your nerves cold with pleasure but warmed your skin deliciously to the touch. You writhed in her lap, torn between staying still, ignoring the pressure being applied to your belly, and squirming against her hold until you could sink onto those tantalizing digits and claim your pleasure. You didn’t have the luxury of choosing, she was already deciding your fate before you could strategize a game plan to secure dominance. You never won when you attempted to overpower her, but it was fun to have those unrefined moments of vicious pleasure while they lasted. 

You gasped a broken whine of pleasure when her fingers dug themselves into your core with one finite movement, buried to the hilt if the chill of her rings laying heavily against your pulsating clit pebbled with anticipation was any indication. The pads of her fingers pressed against the softest section of your walls, sparkling sharp sparks of pleasure to shoot up your spine and reverberate off the lining of your sensitive bladder. You gasped again, a breathy, whiney sound that was entirely pathetic but lewdly sweet, as Wanda prodded and pressed against that spongy spot continuously, her fingers curling and scissoring apart within your slick velvety walls. 

You writhed in intense pleasure, squirming against her tight, near clinical hold as she kept you confined and at her mercy, only able to take whatever she gave you when she felt like it. The sensations sparking to life in your bladder and core were unimaginable fireworks of pleasure that drowned you in their intensity, covering you in pleasure derived from her; her touch, her words, her eloquently dominant energy. She covered you in her effortlessly, and you surrendered to the flames of passion without hesitation. 

“I can’t hold it! I can’t hold it! Wanda! I have to pee! Please let me cum!” As torn as your body was between remaining still and writhing in passionate movements, your mind was an even playing field of indecision. You had to pee, that was undeniable, it was steadily beneath the surface of pleasure, tethered to your orgasm in a terrifying way, but you need to cum, as her fingers scissors your pussy apart, massaged that spongy area within your walls, as her rings nudged and thumped against your clit, you were being driven closer and closer to that beautiful edge of vulnerability and pleasure. 

“One or the other.” Wanda’s voice was level, calculated. She wasn’t bothered by your desperation, nor was she feeling generous. Your bones grew cold with anticipation as you shook your head, but it did nothing to win you sympathy. Her fingers that had already been hammering into you at an unforgiving pace took an even harsher approach, and the squelching sounds of pleasure and arousal filled the room and joined the existing symphony of a crackling flame and animated characters. “You can either cum on my fingers like a good girl, or you can go pee and not receive anything. And, I know this slutty cunt never misses an opportunity to cum, so stop acting like you can’t handle what I decide to do to your body, and sit still.” 

Your body couldn’t help but oblige by her demand, and with muffled whimpers, your body stopped fighting against her hold. She laughed tauntingly, pressing harder against your bladder. You knew the moment you leaked even the slightest bit against her fingers, her touch would be withdrawn, whether you were in the middle of a blissful orgasm or just on the cusp of falling over the edge. She wouldn’t care. She wouldn’t show you even the slightest bit of moisture. She had made her ultimatum clear, there would be nothing that could change that. 

“I’m close! I’m close!” As your orgasm built, so did that pressure in your bladder that was slowly becoming unbearable. You could only will your body to allow you control, but before you could slip off the edge, fall into a sea of butterflies and pleasure, her fingers were slowing down, her palm pressing harder against your bladder in return for the loss of pleasure. 

“Hold it.” She demanded cruelly, voice level and dominating, only luring you further beneath her captivating spell that had you submitting unregretfully. You did as best as you could, your eyes pinched shut as you fought to fight off your orgasm, but eventually it all caught up to you, and your mindless babbling became indistinguishable pleas and desperate begging. “So pretty when you squirm for me.” 

“I-I can’t! Please! Please! I need to cum! I need to pee! Let me cum! Please, Wanda! Please!” Finally forcing the words off of your tongue, you only hoped they were enough to convince her to be kind. Minutes passed until they became a blur of sensations that ripped you apart from the inside, and when you thought you were going to break, just as you were on the cusp of deteriorating, everything started up again and instead of being denied, instead of loitering on the edge of bliss, Wanda granted you permission. You came with a high pitched moan, squirming and writhing against her hold and the second she worked you down from that blissful edge, you were bolting toward the bathroom, followed by her footsteps and taunting laughter. “Three glasses of wine and you decide to pull this shit! Wanda, I am going to kill you one day!” 

“That’s how you repay someone who just gave you the best orgasm of your life?! You threaten them?!” Wanda laughed menacingly, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom as she watched you attempt to relieve your bladder, although that was slightly difficult in your post-orgasm state, which only made your frustration double. 

“Second best! Nothing will beat last Christmas.” You threw her a nasty glare, finally able to pee as your muscles began to loosen and return to normal, although every nerve in your body was still alight with blissful pleasure. 

“You’re only making me want to compete with myself here, darling.” She smirked, licking her fingers clean of your arousal in a tantalizing power move that had your cheeks flushing but your eyes rolling. 

“You’re impossible.”

[lazycats-stuff]

Hiiii! I was wondering if u could so a batfam x deaf male reader? Where everyone in the family knows sign language and all that. But during one of Bruce's galas the reader gets kidnapped and no one's knows until Damian notices that his younger brothers not there anymore? U can decide how u wanna finish it and its completely if Ur not comfortable writing it. Also I love Ur writing 😙

Oh hell yeah. Thank you for loving my questionable writing though.

Summary: (Y/N) is deaf. That doesn't help him when he gets kidnapped.

Warnings: kidnapping, protective family, fluff I guess...

Bruce was protective of all of his children. But he was more protective of (Y/N), his youngest child. Why? The reason is very simple. (Y/N) has been deaf since birth and that made Bruce beyond protective. (Y/N)'s brothers were no better than Bruce. Of course, they knew that deaf people could function normally in society. They knew that very well.

However, problem lies in two points.

First one being that they live in Gotham City. Crime is rampant, criminals are absolutely everywhere and the fact is that you get mugged at any point during the day or night. Although most of criminal life in Gotham operates during the night, no one wants to take any chances.

And even though (Y/N) doesn't go on patrol, Bruce still worried about his youngest son. Always has and always been.

The four birds shared the same sentiment. Everyone made sure to learn sign language and how to live with a deaf person. Rules were determined, such as, if entering (Y/N)'s room, just push your hand in and then flicker the lights on and off to signalize that you are entering. Don't approach (Y/N) from behind because he would often get spooked.

(Y/N)'s own words.

The second problem lies in the last name Wayne. Bruce Wayne is a well known businessman in the world. And the world of business is like a sea full of sharks. Bruce knew that very well. One drop of blood and they would be out for you and your weaknesses. And one of those is your public image.

Bruce was a proud father, attending anything that his children might have. Anything there is. He wants to be there for his kids, sue him. He would never allow work to take him away from his children. And the way he presents himself in the public is the way he is. More often than not, he hates how many people can be ignorant about deafness.

Sure, some may be genuinely curious about it and the questions come from a genuine place of interest. Unfortunately, such people are far few in between. Bruce can sniff them out rather quickly. More often then not, they often look condescending. Which is a rather judgmental way of looking at people, yes, but it's obvious.

Whenever they had a gall, one of the boys would be with (Y/N) to translate. And despite the fact that (Y/N) can read lips, he's not a fan of that. If someone turns their head and he can't see their lips, it gets more complicated.

Even now, as they are at the gala full of people, (Y/N) stuck close to his brothers, needing a translator. Bruce and others often rotated, to make sure that (Y/N) knows what's going on and that he's in the loop. (Y/N) was happy with that he wasn't out of the loop. It's not a good feeling to be out of the loop. Hearing or not.

He signed to Jason that he was going to go to the bathroom, who nodded, sipping his drink.

Jason signed back. " Sure, go ahead. I'll be moving around so don't expect to find me here. "

(Y/N) nodded and started walking to the bathroom. Jason glanced at him for the last time before moving to the table with food, ready for a snack. He was hungry and the catering at galas is just great since rich people pay for it. AKA Bruce Wayne pays for it and he also loves good food.

As Jason went to the food table, (Y/N) was on his way to the bathroom. He was about to enter when someone grabbed him from behind, putting a cloth over his mouth. (Y/N) panicked and tried to remember the self defense that he was taught. He tried to break free from the person, but the smell of the cloth made him go out cold.

Something was off. Damian glanced around the room, trying to spot what that something could have been bothering him so much. His eyes moved around the room, trained to find anything out of the normal. Then it hit him.

Where is (Y/N)?

Damian moved around the room discreetly, trying to figure out where he went. He talked to Jason about it and Jason told him about (Y/N) going to the bathroom. But that was far too long ago... Damian now became more suspicious and worried. He was on edge. He could feel himself getting more and more restless, his mind screaming at him that something is wrong.

He quickly walked over to his family as they all took a chance to breathe on the balcony. Damian made sure that they had some sort of privacy.

" Are you alright Damian? " Bruce asked, glancing over Damian. He could feel that something is wrong with Damian.

" I'm not alright father. I can't seem to find (Y/N) anywhere. " He crossed his arms as he leaned on the railing of the balcony. Everyone tensed up at that.

" Hold on, he went to the bathroom the last time I talked to him, " Jason declared and Damian nodded.

" But it's been far too long though, " Damian countered the point.

" Did he come to anyone, at all? " Bruce asked and everyone shook their heads.

" Okay, maybe he went to his room, " Tim said, trying to provide a logical explanation. " But he would have told one of us where he would go. He would find one of us and he would tell us... " Tim muttered, now worried himself.

" Should we check the security cameras? " Dick asked, worried, but trying not to show it.

" I'll check the cameras near the bathroom. " Bruce took his phone out of his pocket and going into his security feed.

Jason remained silent, feeling guilty that he didn't notice sooner. Bruce noticed and put his hand on his shoulder. " Do not blame yourself Jason. Please. You couldn't have known. This is our home and none of us should be on guard in our own home, " Bruce murmured and Jason sighed.

Bruce brought Jason into a hug. " (Y/N)'s going to be fine. We are going to find him quickly. "

Dick and Tim furrowed their brows. " What do you mean? " Dick asked.

" You 4 have to swear to me that you won't tell (Y/N), " Bruce stepped away from Jason and everyone muttered that they won't tell.

" I put a tracker on his suit. It's a small one, " Bruce admitted and everyone was shocked by it. They knew that their suits that they wear for their vigilante activities have trackers on them, but a normal suit, for galas and other events...

" It's only when we are at galas and such. There's no tracker on him 24/7, " Bruce elaborated before his sons could accuse him of something.

" Well, we can't tell (Y/N). But lets go get (Y/N) please, " Tim said and everyone nodded.

" I'll have Alfred make something up and we'll make a story so it doesn't seem suspicious about why we didn't know (Y/N) was taken. "

And that's what happened. They concocted a story about it and once Batman dropped him off at GCPD, Bruce came in as a worried father. Media had a field day with the story, a father and son reuniting after a such traumatic event. Bruce couldn't care less about them, his sons are his priority. Screw the media.

Understandably, (Y/N) was shaken up by the entire ordeal. Anyone would be shaken up after being kidnapped in their own home, but with (Y/N) being deaf, he couldn't hear anyone walking up to him. Not to mention, they put a bag over his head. Being in the dark, not being able to hear...

It tugged at Bruce's heartstrings. The other 4 weren't immune either. Damian, the normally stoic one, was affected by that aspect. Even he saw how scary it was. Not being able to see due to the bag over your head and not being able to hear because you are deaf sounds like hell. Damian saw it as a form of torture. And in a way it is. Sensory depravation. Only being able to feel with your touch or feel vibrations, but still...

Damian still shuddered as he tried to envision it.

The other 3 shared the very same sentiment.

And even now, as (Y/N) was with them, on the couch, bundled up in blankets, sipping some herbal tea that Alfred made to calm him down. Both Bruce and Alfred were trying to calm him down too. Bruce was going to find a therapist for (Y/N), that much is sure. It would have to be someone who can sign though...

Well, he'll make sure to find one. For now, he'll focus on making sure that (Y/N) is calm enough to try and sleep. Buce knew that adrenaline was still pumping, but that it will stop soon and (Y/N) would essentially crash.

Everyone sat around (Y/N), trying to calm him and make him feel safe again. Bruce and Tim were going to see how in God's name they managed to get into the manor. This place is more safer than Pentagon, designed to keep any intruder out. And he was going to find out why they wanted to kidnap him.

The best bet was probably money, but then again, you never know. And Bruce was going to make sure that he knew why. You have to nip the problem in the bud.

[skinnybritishdudes]

In the Devlin house, after Charles gets stuck in the loop - particularly after Crystal makes Edwin see how deep the trauma Charles has been hiding from him is - Edwin changes toward Crystal, and I find it so moving.

When they find the VCR and he stops her from smashing the tape, he so swiftly and sweetly switches from "I could lose Charles" to "we could lose Charles" in a way that you would not have expected from him even at the beginning of that same episode. It's not begrudging. He doesn't wince saying it. It's a simple acknowledgement that she cares about Charles too, that they're both scared, and that they're in this together. And it's such a huge shift for Edwin.

And then David shows up, and the misery wraith, and Edwin just goes ahead and saves the day on his own and then saves Crystal too. He barely flusters. The first time David turned up Edwin yelled at Crystal for it without giving a fraction of a shit about the terrifying experience she'd just had. He actually berated her two separate times for "her demon" creating a distraction and interfering with a case. But then when it happens right in the middle of trying to save Charles(!), he doesn't even snap or say anything remotely cutting. He saves Charles while keeping an eye on her too, and then makes sure she's safe.

For some reason the moment that gets me most is this: he's just carried her out of the AV room and they're being chased by a monster. He sets her down and tries to close the door behind himself just as she snaps out of her David-situation. Edwin is desperate for help and he goes, "quickly, please."

So gentle and polite in the middle of a terrifying situation, when previously he'd been hostile toward her as a matter of course. I think seeing that she could understand Charles in a way he couldn't - and how necessary her insight was - really changed the way Edwin saw Crystal. And I really feel like every bit of bickering and sniping that happens after this is playful and sibling-like. They are actually closely bonded.

Because later, when Charles breaks down, Crystal backs off and lets Edwin take the lead. He would not have understood what was going on with Charles at all if it hadn't been for her, and she supports him in learning to be there for his friend better. Like they're a loving-Charles team.

Anyway, Edwin + Crystal forever, basically.

[fairlyang]

Rookie II 🕷️

you find yourself back at your new job

w/c: 4.7K

pairing: miguel x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. gloryhole, voyeurism, blanking out, delulu af, lack of food & dehydration (drink water!!!!), room 1, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (do not do this), creampie

previous part ~ next part

You still had to be there for another three hours after Miguel left. Your mind was out of the loop and your brain was foggy.

At some point between the halfway mark you switched from blowjobs to messy handjobs but luckily none of the men complained.

Finally it was 4am and you slipped the final dick of the night out of your mouth. You sighed and stood up, fixing your clothes before looking down at the poor rug that was now filled with endless amounts of cum.

You'd also given up on swallowing it all and didn't wanna stain your shirt so you started spitting it out. Momma apparently did raise a quitter.

But only because your mind was filled with the terror of Miguel knowing it was you the whole time. Or even worse, he doesn't know and if you were to reveal it'd all go to shit.

He would most likely fire you and you'd no longer be a part of the spider society which would be so fucked because you rightfully earned your spot there and you absolutely loved being there.

But you were getting too ahead of yourself. Maybe, just maybe he wouldn't care? After all he was the one that paid you and even left you such a generous tip.

And technically any side jobs shouldn't be any of his concern, but given this was not any ordinary side job and it is now fully his concern, you didn't know how to go about it.

You rolled up the rug and carried it, you opened the door and walked out putting the rug against the wall so they can wash or burn it, you didn't know which they did.

You closed your door and walked along the slim hallway as the other girls were also getting out and fixing themselves off. You turned to the left and opened up the employees only door, and left it open for the girl that was behind you.

She gives you a quiet thank you as you nod and walk out of the room. You turn to the right now heading towards the entrance that also happened to be the main exit.

You turned your head to the right as you walked past a few of the rooms that were still available. You couldn't help but watch again, it was all so intriguing.

But considering you'd been sucking dick the past four hours this wasn't so amusing for the time being so you kept walking.

You were nearing the entrance but first had to walk past the first set of gloryholes. The one that after tonight you oh so desperately wanted to be in.

You couldn't imagine just how tired the girls are and just how much cum they could take. Luckily the girls in that specific room get breaks and switch off every two hours but that still sounds exhausting.

Especially after seeing just how many big cocks came in, it was an exceptional amount. There were a select few you wanted to fill you but you'd have to wait a few days at least until you could.

You watch the girl that has her ass stuck out of the hole and two different men were fingering her as they slapped their cocks onto her ass. Her moans were so sweet and she sounded so pretty.

But you then put your attention to a girl getting ate out by two men on the middle wall. Her legs were tied up and they were really getting in there. Nice to see they don't care if they touch each others tongues and only focus on the girl's pleasure.

On the right side of the wall were three girls getting pounded, all three men looked like big gym guys, broad shoulders and pure muscle. All of them had a lot of stamina and fully focused on fucking their girl right.

You got closer and leaned against the wall watching in admiration and a twinge of jealousy. You didn't know if you could handle only sucking endless amount of dick every night, you already wanted to move to this room but patience was key and unfortunately you didn't have any of it.

You sighed and walked off, looking at the cracked walls and the lights that were flickering on and off. Finally you made it to the booth with the lady and she chuckles upon seeing you, "seems you were a grand hit for your first night Rosie."

You shrugged and grabbed the sign out sheet, quickly signing it before facing her, "felt like a piece of cake."

She laughs and waved you off, "go on, see ya tomorrow."

You wave her goodbye and give her a smile before walking away. You push open the door, instantly feeling the cold breeze hit your skin. Note for the future: definitely bring some kind of sweater.

You took a left upon walking out and walked straight to the alley. It was empty of course so you quickly dug out your bag and swung up to the roof.

You open your bag and quickly find your watch, carefully put it on before opening a portal straight to your apartment, too lazy to swing.

You enter it with haste and are in your bedroom, you place your bag on the floor before slipping out of your clothes.

You threw them in your bin then walk over to your dresser opening up your drawer with shirts and choose the first one you see. You take your bra off and leave it on top of the dresser then put on the shirt.

You then plop down on to your bed and luckily drift off to sleep, not having to think for another second about what went down earlier.

Your body woke you up around midday, about to be 1pm when you get a call from Lyla.

Her hologram appears in front of you as you wiped your eyes and let out a yawn, "oh you look like a mess."

You groan and roll your eyes, "what do you need Lyla?"

"Miguel wants you in his office asap." She chirps and you jump up, eye wide and a wave of anxiety surges through your body.

"Uh did he say why?" You asked and she shrugs.

You sigh and nod, "I'll be there soon."

She nods and quickly disappears as fast as she appeared leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Does he know?

Are you about to get the ultimate lecture of your entire lifetime?

You took a quick shower and put your suit and mask on before opening up a portal to HQ.

As you stepped inside and were in the lobby your nerves only grew and you really hoped that he didn't know. Not only would you die of embarrassment and just die on the spot but you would not be able to speak. Just pure silence.

What the hell would you even say or how could you possibly defend yourself from something like this?

You were overthinking on your entire walk to his office space when you accidentally bumped into someone. "Sorry." You said under your breath and walked around the person to continue walking but they grabbed you and made you face them.

"'Sup with you?"

You sigh and give a weak smile, "Hey Hobie, my bad I'm just all over the place today."

He narrows an eye at you, not believing you but then shrugs and gives you a pat on the shoulder, "Lemme know if you need help with anything, y'know I got you with distractions."

He nudged you and you just playfully roll your eyes, "yeah yeah thanks a lot Hobes, I gotta run."

"Meetin' with the annoying prick today huh?" He says crossing his arms against his chest and you simply nod.

"Good luck, hope ya aren't eaten alive." He says making you sigh and finally walk away from him after giving him a wave.

Now you were even more nervous. What if everyone knew?

Maybe you could’ve found a different job to start with, maybe McDonald's or whatever the fuck they had here. Maybe then you wouldn't be in this mess.

But then again you wouldn't have made almost a grand in just a few hours...

So maybe this wasn't the end of the world...

Just then you walked up to Miguel's office and looked at him up on his platform looking at his screens like he always does.

You walk up and stop when he sighs, you clear your throat and he turns around, looking right into your eyes. "Lyla said you wanted to see me?"

More anxiety filled your stomach as he nodded and cleared his throat, "I need you to be honest with me."

Oh fuck.

You gulped and nodded, twiddling with your thumbs as your eyes were growing wide. You were doomed.

He steps down from his platform and walks up to you, looking at you carefully. As if he was inspecting your face. His eyes scanned down to your lips which you felt involuntarily twitch.

Oh shit.

"Call me crazy..." he starts and takes another step forward, then stops, standing directly in front of you. Awfully close. "But I feel like I know something I definitely shouldn't..."

Death.

You needed that so desperately, an emergency, all the anomalies in the facility have been let out, fucking anything to not be there.

You stood frozen, horror in your eyes and just completely dumbfounded unsure of how to respond.

He snaps his fingers in front of your face and suddenly he's looking at you worried, "you okay? You kinda blanked out on me."

You blink and stare at him blankly, what?

"Fine you don't wanna do those reports I assigned you yesterday, it's fine. I'll just ask Jess to do 'em but you really could’ve just been honest with me." He says and backs away from you and back to his platform.

What the fuck-

Apparently your imagination decided to run wild today and not having any food or water in your system since before you went on the mission yesterday, no wonder your brain was playing tricks on you.

You ended up helping Miguel with the reports and took them to the cafeteria to get as far away from him as humanly possible. And to get something to eat.

You ultimately decided on eating some pizza and drinking plain icy cold water. You couldn't believe your mind made that shit up because of the pure anxiety you had since you made the realization twelve hours before.

You ended up doing the reports and making Hobie give them to him because you couldn't dare face Miguel again after embarrassing yourself like that.

The rest of the day flew by as you patrolled back on your earth not wanting to think of Miguel and distract yourself as much as you could.

Which helped a lot.

You ended up helping your friends who were getting jumped by some members of the Maggia. After scolding them for not carrying any type of protective weapon you went back to Earth-928 for your shift at the brothel.

You had forgotten about Miguel until you reminded yourself of last nights events and you couldn't fathom the fact that you could suck him off again tonight.

You were back at your apartment and you grab your bag of the fresh packed clothes and instead of swinging you made a portal straight to the roof of the building.

You do the same routine as you did yesterday, taking off everything spider related then change this time into a pair of leggings and another baby tee.

Some type of progress.

You also grab a zip up hoodie out of your bag before closing it up then swing down the alleyway. You hide your bag in its new designated spot then walk over to the front of the brothel.

Pulling open the door you're greeted with the smell of cigarettes and you notice there's men in line to pay. You walk in and face the wall, keeping your head down so they don't see your face.

Apparently the men are respectful to the women who decide to keep their identities a secret, which was good. You didn't need assholes here having the urge to look at your face and expose you.

And according to Lola the men were overall not asshats and were respectful to all the girls. If they weren't, Estelle, the lady from the booth, had their head security guy rough 'em up or completely scare them off.

A real one at heart and you couldn't help but feel relieved.

You heard the men walk off and go directly to the stairs to the right instead of straight down the hallway. They were going for the one on ones.

You turned around and walked over to Estelle who gave you a grin before passing you the sign in sheet and another masquerade mask. You quickly signed then put on the mask and waved her off then walked down the hallway already hearing loud screams and cries.

Taking notice of the paintings on the walls as you walked through, making a left turn, finally near the first set of glory holes.

Every single man in there was going feral, the whole room was loud and there were all kinds of noises from all over the place.

You shook your head and continued walking. You can't keep getting distracted every time you walk past this specific room.

It'll be your turn eventually.

Finally you got to your designated room and you walked to the employees door and walked the little hallway of doors before finally reaching yours.

You closed the door behind you and immediately walked over to the new rug and sat down on it. You turned your head and threw your sweater on the little table there was before turning back and there was a cock already waiting for you.

Time to work.

The whole night you were waiting on Miguel to show up, to hear his voice, hear him give you sweet words but nothing.

He didn't show up the following day either or the day after after that.

And he wasn't acting abnormal to you during missions so maybe he really doesn't know and you're in the clear.

Maybe you wouldn't have to see him at your second job and everything would be alright.

Your test results finally came in and you immediately sent them over to Estelle who asked if you wanted to switch rooms and with all the eagerness in the world you said yes.

It had been a solid week since you started and every time you were on edge if Miguel would come in.

But now that time has passed and it seemed like he wouldn't come in, you could work in peace and actually enjoy yourself like the first day before hell broke loose.

And of fucking course you were going to ask for a room change after a week of sucking dick. It was great, sure, but it was also repetitive and at least with the first room you'd be able to feel all kinds of cock inside you.

So when Estelle asked you which side of the wall you wanted, you immediately asked for the left side of the wall. You wanted your ass out and figured maybe after your break you could switch with another girl if it was too tiring for your legs.

So without a second thought you packed your bag as fast as possible before going through a portal and quickly run to it as you walk out to the roof of the building.

It was already starting to feel like a routine.

You changed out of your suit and put on a skirt along with a baby tee. None of it mattered since you were going to be butt ass naked anyway.

You hopped off the roof and landed gracefully since you've been carefully practicing your landing skills. Some from a certain widow from back home helped.

You hid your bag then quickly ran to the entrance, not wanting to wait any longer.

You pulled the door open and grinned at Estelle, she sighed handing you the sign in sheet and mask before shaking her head, "you're too excited Rosie, ya gotta ease yourself into it."

You sign and shrug, slipping the mask on and giving her a wide smile, "It feels like I've waited ages, I may as well be excited!!"

She chuckles and shrugs, "that excitement will run out quick hun."

You groan as you put the mask on, and wave her off, running the long halfway and hearing the moans of the first room.

Finally.

Everyone who was in this room whether employee or customer was tested, regularly. And condoms were available.

A lot of men didn't like them and not all the girls required them. But you thought since you were on birth control and you trusted the testing process and that everyone was clean you figured you'd leave it optional, so the man chooses whether or not to use a condom.

You walked into the room and went to the second slot that was empty. The guy that was in there to make sure everything was in order stepped in front of you and lifted your door up for you.

You just had to kind of lay your upper body on the massage like table then he'd close the door by your hips. You took off your skirt and put it in the little room you would be in. It was a massage table for you to lay on but then wood surrounding everything else like a box.

You got into position, laying down when you realized your feet weren't straight on the floor, you were somewhat on your tippy toes. Suddenly the massage table is brought down until they reach the floor and you realized the mechanics of it was to purposely move depending on the girl's height.

Suddenly the little trap door closes and you turn your head looking behind you and sure enough your lower half was the only thing exposed to the rest of the room.

You had left your tiny thong on and figured the first man could just use that to his advantage and have fun with you by first getting you wet.

And suddenly you feel a hard smack against your ass making you moan as the sting faded. The man then smacks the other making you moan again.

You could then feel the man's hands grazing your ass before they slowly made their way down to your already needy cunt.

You assumed he might've been on his knees as you felt his breath against your panties. But then again it could be more than just one man which sent a shiver down your spine.

You felt a hand right on your pussy, giving you light smacks, earning himself a whimper from you. He groaned and began rubbing you through your panties which made you spread your legs apart.

You realized this was going to be super trippy and the slightest bit isolating because you were going to receive immeasurable pleasure but couldn't see who was giving it to you or watch it be done.

You'd never know who was fucking you or even see the cocks that would be fucking you. But you still had one of the best senses: touch.

You'd easily be able to cum with just how much every cock would stretch you out and how deep they'd be able to reach.

Not so bad.

You're brought back to reality when you feel a tongue lick down your slit and to your clit. You moan and fold your arms in front you then lay your head on them like a pillow.

You then felt something hit your back and you realized he threw your thong at you. At least he didn't keep it.

You move your hips against his face and he smacks your ass then starts devouring your pussy. You let out a cry and close your eyes trying to imagine what the man looks like.

And already anticipating his cock inside you.

But then you do, you feel the tip of a cock rub against your wet folds when you realize there was still a mouth sucking on your clit.

You gasp as the cock slides in then slams into you. You whimper and feel yourself clench against the new man as the first man continued sucking on your clit ever so gently.

Just then the new guy starts fucking you, at first slowly to let you get use to the girth of his cock but then speeds up, suddenly not caring.

"Fuck!"

You try to keep your upper half from moving so much but it felt damn near impossible as he rammed into you.

He was now full on pounding your poor pussy to oblivion as you cried out feeling so fucking full.

He was groaning and smacking your ass occasionally as he thrusted his hips into yours but suddenly stops and you feel him cum?

What the fuck?

That fucking fast?!?

You were very disappointed and you feft the mouth that was on you disappear but all of a sudden there was a new dick inside you.

Ah perfect timing.

This dick felt smaller and less thick, this one was going to be short and sweet.

At that point you didn't even expect to cum, these men were using you as their very own fleshlight. Which did sadden you considering you just wanted to cum and thinking you would get to with all the guys you'd make cum. But nope.

A whole hour had passed and not a singular man was able to make you cum. Literally every single one edged the hell out of you and you had no choice but to take it. You thought you were bound to cum but apparently tonight didn't have that in store for you.

At least you thought before hearing the familiar sound of heels. You held your breath as another man was rutting into you, slamming into you hard and deep making you cry out in pleasure.

"Mmm fuck!!"

You closed your eyes and fuck yourself back on him which only made him go harder.

You finally felt your orgasm approaching, finally after an hour of straight of edging, you couldn't take it anymore and you were just so fucking close.

And then the expected happened and he came inside you but didn't keep going.

Just pulled out, leaving you pouting for more. You needed to release so badly. You almost thought this was because of Lola's presence in the room.

You heard whispers by your hole when your stomach drops, "here's our Rookie! She just got moved up front today actually!" Lola says and you bite your lip only praying to whoever was listening that it wouldn't be him.

Unfortunately no prayers were answered.

"Dropped in at the perfect time then huh?" Miguel's familiar voice says and you couldn't help the tingle it brought to your body.

You felt your heart beat fast and sure enough, there was the spidey sense. Where was that before?!?

"As if this isn't your usual time Miguel." Lola teases and you could hear a belt unbuckle.

Oh fuck-

Oh god-

He was about to-

Were you suppose to stop this?!?

You could technically go on your break now but what would be the point? The guy would help open the door for you and then what? You'd come out and let Miguel visually confirm it's you?

Hell no.

Then you feel the tip of his cock rubbing against your folds then slide down to your clit. You bit your lip really wanting to fight back letting out any noises that could help him recognize you.

Then he moved his tip to tease your entrance, dipping it in slightly then sliding it out.

What if you accidentally moaned out his name-

He then slams into you making you let out a loud moan. Shit.

"Good girl." He moans and places his hands on your hips, moving it back into him.

You whimper and cover your mouth, until he starts pounding into you that you have no choice but to moan. He filled you up perfectly and it felt like heaven.

But it had to be your fucking boss of all people?

He just had to have a cock sculpted by gods and that fit literally perfectly into you? It wasn't fair.

And it also wasn't fair how fucking sexy his moans were.

You hadn't realized how sexually attracted you were to him but after this you'd have no choice but to only have that in mind.

Especially with how good he was fucking into you, making sure to hit his hips against yours with every thrust. He was fucking you deeper and deeper and yet again you felt another orgasm approach you.

But maybe this time will be different.

And it was.

He was fucking you so good your moans were coming out even though you were covering your mouth. You squeezed him perfectly and everything about this was perfect.

You should've tried to hook up with him before this but at least it was happening now.

And for the time being you had no regrets.

Purely focused on wanting to cum and really hoping he'd be the one to make you cum. He was kind enough last time and gave you so much praise so maybe this time he can repay you and make you cum.

He started smacking your ass and alternating between both cheeks, leaving them both feeling so warm and most likely red. "Fuck baby- you feel so good wrapped around my cock like that." Miguel moaned out and started fucking you harder, leaving you a whimpering mess as your legs shook. 

"Fuckkk-" you slurred and tried to catch your breath.

He then started slowing down slightly and started hitting deeper, now hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. "Mmm fuck yes- please!" You cried out and move your ass up against him.

He smacked it and continued his pace letting out grunts and moans as you felt your orgasm build up in your belly. "Oh god yes- just like that. Please don't stop-" You murmured and tried to stay still but it was getting harder to.

Your legs were already growing weak and you felt you were finally close to actually having an orgasm all night.

He then switched his pace now going faster again and fucking you harder again, leaving you a whimpering mess for him.

You closed your eyes and all of a sudden forgot where you were and just imagined he was fucking you anywhere else but there.

Maybe in his office on top of one of his desks.

That thought alone was nearly enough for you to throw you over the edge, and it was especially when he started your clit and wouldn't stop his pace after hearing your desperate little cries for him.

You felt him twitch inside you as you gripped his cock making you both moan at the same time. You were already feeling lightheaded and him pounding into you senselessly wasn't helping.

"Fucking cum for me pretty girl- fuck- please cum for me baby." He groans and you cry out, that being enough for you as your orgasm hits you hard and your whole body starts shaking.

You felt your legs shake and you thought you could've somehow fallen if not for the fact he was holding you tightly and steady as he was filling you with all his cum.

You laid your head on the table and breathed out, your walls entrapping him still as he completely slowed down, riding his climax.

"I fucking knew you'd feel so good angel." He murmurs and slowly pulls out.

You whine as soon as you didn't feel him inside you, now feeling completely empty.

You felt his cum leak out of you and you felt your fucked out pussy clench around nothing but air. You heard him chuckle and you just close your eyes on the verge of passing out but you stayed awake considering it wouldn't be best to fall asleep.

This time around you didn't even wanna think of the problems this would cause.

You had finally gotten your well deserved orgasm and that's all you really cared about it, even if it was your boss who gave it to you. At least you got to cum once during this whole thing.

You heard the clink of heels come in and you hear both voices talk but you couldn’t be bothered to decipher what they were saying. So instead you calm your breathing knowing damn well another man could end up slipping inside you any second now and you wouldn't be able to catch your breath.

But lucky enough for you, no one did that and instead you were left there able to catch your breath, unbeknownst to you was because Miguel was paying every man in there to leave you be for the next half hour.