#but there's only a few who actually step out of that kind of bullshit and that sort of makes no sense given the means

[doomtrooper77]

I've got a story to accompany this image. You can read it below. It is not a cute romantic story; it is more like my images. So, if that is not your thing, skip the story. If you do, let me know what you think of it.

Wrong Side of the Tracks

I had been in the bar for an hour already. It was one of those places off the beaten track where everyone went from what some would call the wrong side of the tracks. Mind you, this place wasn’t rundown. It just wasn’t fancy. The long wooden bar was polished, and the stools were worn but comfortable. Booths lined the wall opposite the bar. In the back of the bar were some big couches and chairs in an open area. Every seating surface was made of that old-school leather that got patina but never grew thin, never ripped. It was all cushioned just right for sitting and drinking the night away. Behind the bar was bottle after bottle of every liquor you could think of. Cases full of bottles of beer and more than a few on tap. However, don’t come in asking for some fancy new-fangled Microbrew bullshit. This wasn’t that kind of place.

Most people who came here were working-class people who came in for drinks and bar food. People who worked with their hands or on their feet all day. You had some white-collar folks sprinkled in, but mostly people who grew up in the neighborhood who managed to get a job downtown but still came back to visit friends and family in the area. That’s not to say it also didn’t have more seedier visitors. It was also a place where locals on the "wrong" side of the law congregated. Depending on the day of the week and the time, there was little you couldn’t find here if you knew the right person to ask.

You need a loan. There was a table in the back where some gentlemen of Italian persuasion sat most days. They were happy to give you some money for a hefty fee. If you needed something to bring you up or down, there was usually someone you could talk to to provide you with whatever you needed. But they couldn’t sell it in the bar. Business of that sort was not allowed in the bar; discussing it was different. If you needed someone’s leg broken, there was someone who you could talk to about that.

The bar was situated behind several warehouses and buildings in an old light industrial part of the city. You had to know where it was to find it and drive a maze of access roads and streets to find it. The bar had an address but didn’t appear on Waze or Google Maps.  The lot was big enough for everything from Harleys to big rigs.  The lot is dim, with most of the light coming from other businesses outside its perimeter.

I was on my 3rd beer when I heard the Harley outside. It was cold in the Midwest in November, but the hardcore bikers rode in the cold air. I was sitting midway down the bar when the door opened, and the crowd started parting. People quickly moved aside, even to the point where they pressed against others to get out of the way of the approaching figure. I got a glimpse of him just as he passed. I thought, “Jesus, he's gotten even bigger!”  He walked past, and you could feel his aura move with him. Predator. It was the only way to describe it. Some construction workers were drinking a few feet down, and one of the bigger guys either didn’t see him coming or had decided he was the alpha in the room. The biker didn’t change his step; his massive shoulders plowed through the big construction worker, pushing him into his buddies and spilling his beer down his shirt.

“Hey FUCK WAD, watch where you’re going!” The big construction worker said. He was big, about 6’5, and easily 280-290 solid pounds. You can tell he was used to being the big guy in the room. The area around them quieted as the biker turned around and took two steps back. I got a good look at him then. He was about 6’2, so shorter than the construction worker. However, everything else about the biker made the construction worker seem small. He had actual doorway-wide shoulders.  Arms are truly as thick as a healthy man's leg. Massive pecs encased under the leather vest. His lats push his massive arms away from his body at a freaking 45-degree angle. A neck so massive that it seemed like his huge shoulders just met his head somehow.  The part of my brain that was pretty damn good at calculating a man's size and weight told me at least 375 actual pounds.

One of the construction workers whispered “shit” as he pulled on his friend's arm. The bigger construction worker was wiping beer from his shirt and shook his friend's arm off as he looked up. Both men’s eyes met, and something happened. Guys know the feeling when you are in a situation where you quickly find out that you are not the alpha in the room. The biker took another step forward and pushed his chest into that of the construction worker. The biker tilted his head to that angle some guys do when trying to figure out how badly they will hurt someone. Not if, but how much. Everything around them quieted and stopped.

I could only see part of the construction workers' faces, but I could see the anger drain quickly away to be replaced by fear.  The Biker saw it and stepped into him more, pushing him back on his friends. Something like a wave of heat seemed to pass over me, and I could feel the raw dominance coming off that biker. It was like being on the edge of a violent storm. You can feel the air pressure change and smell the lightning as it crashes just feet away. Or it is like being on the edge of a vast forest fire, watching a fire tornado spin feet away and your skin both dry and slick with sweat simultaneously.

I felt my balls shrink up and throb at the same time.  “Sorry. Sorry.. man, I’m sorry,” the Big Construction worker was saying. No longer meeting the biker’s gaze, he said, “Sorry I bumped into ya. My fault. Sorry, sorry.”  The Biker stayed crowded in his space for another 15 seconds, stepped back, and looked at the construction workers' buddies, who all looked away. He turned to walk to the back of the bar to the area where the couches and chairs were. There was a dangerous and knowing smirk on his face.

Within seconds, the bar's sounds returned to normal, and people moved on as if nothing had happened—except for the construction workers. Those guys threw money on the bar, paid their tab, and quickly left.

However, I was now intrigued—no, make that obsessed—with the monster in the back of the bar. Over the next hour, I made my way down the bar toward the back of the room. I could see he was sitting with several other bikers and rough-looking men. I couldn’t hear what they were discussing but could see them on the sly. He filled one of the club chairs, his mass covering it completely. He wore this leather vest, black jeans, and big black harness boots. Out of the group, he talked the least.

A couple in the booth was just on the edge of the sitting area, which had a perfect view.  They left when I almost convinced myself that my little spy game had gone as far as it should. Before they could get two steps away from the booth, I slid into it. The waitress came over, and I got another beer.  I took out my phone and pretended to be scrolling on it while I was sneaking peaks at the monster. My cock was so hard in my pants that I had to squirm around a bit to give it room.  Knowing I might never see this guy again, I discreetly turned on my camera and videoed him. I kept making gestures like I was scrolling and typing, but I was filming his every twitch and flex.

I ended up drinking another two beers while getting more and more footage. The angle I had the camera meant I really couldn’t see my screen. I might have noticed when he started looking at me if I had. Only when I looked up to sneak another peek I saw two pools of steel looking at me.  Eyes so bright and grey that they seemed to glow, and they were looking at me. Not glancing but staring at me. I could feel the weight of his attention. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck” was all I could think.  As nonchalantly as possible, I slowly angled my phone away, and while pretending to be texting, I shut off the camera. It was time to go. I couldn’t dare look up at him to see if he was still looking, but I knew. I could feel it—the heat and pressure of his attention.

I had two problems. My cock was still rock hard, and I needed to piss badly. So badly, I thought that if I tried to make it to my car, I would piss myself. SHIT. I took out my wallet and threw 50 bucks and an OK tip on the table. Every second felt like my bladder was going to burst. SHIIIT. Taking a deep breath, I causually stood up with my hand in my pocket, trying to hold my boner down, and started walking across the bar to the hallway with the bathrooms. My brain screamed don’t look at him, my cock, on the other hand, throbbed under my fingers and said, come on one last look.

Glancing in his direction as I walked past the men who sat in front of him, I saw his head turn and track me. Like some goddamn tiger or something. I got to the bathroom and made it to the urinal, and let out 5 beers worth of piss. My hard cock throbbing in my hand the entire time. When I finished, my cock had gone to semi-hard. Stuffing it back in my pants, I washed my hands, took a deep breath, and told myself to walk out of the bar. Walk out of the bathroom and straight out the bar, not looking at him or anyone. Out the bar and to my car.  Go home. Go home and watch all of the videos you took of that beast. My cock twitched and started to harden again.

I opened the door, turned to go down the hallway, and ran into a wall of beef. He stood there, his massive body filling the dim hallway, waiting. I bounced off him and stumbled back two steps. I looked up at his face and those eyes. My body froze. I can’t explain it. I FROOZE. He looked at me, his head tilted as if he were deciding something. My heart was racing, and my mouth was dry. For seconds, I couldn’t say anything. Then I remembered what happened with the guy up front. I quickly said, “Sorry. Excuse me for bumping into you.”  

He started moving toward me. I backed up a step, thinking he was headed to the bathroom. But he wasn’t. He kept walking past the bathroom, and now he was against me. His massive body pushes me forward, my backward pace struggling to keep up. “Uh wait, hey, umm, excuse me.” Every nonsensical word came out of my mouth, and he kept pushing me back down the hallway. I started to fall backward, and I felt this massive hand grab my shirt and keep me upright. With no effort, he lifted me on my toes and carried me down the darkening hall. I kept mumbling until he said, “Shut up.” He didn’t yell. He gave an order and expected it to be followed.

We turned a corner and went down another short hall. There was an exit door. He pushed me through it into the night. Behind the bar, it was virtually pitch black, only lit by moonlight and his eyes. He walked us 50 feet behind a brick shed and pushed me against the wall.  His beard split into a hard grin, and he said, “Phone.”

Stunned and terrified, I said, “What?”

I have never had anyone grab me by my throat and lift me off the ground before. His massive hand clamped around my neck; his other hand went to my pants pocket and ripped out my phone.  Still holding me up with one hand, his other expertly clicks the button to turn the screen on. It was locked. He looked at me and then at the phone. I expected he would demand the lock code. Instead, he turned my head to face the phone and held it up. Even in the dim moonlight, it recognized my face and unlocked it.

The massive hand that wasn’t throttling me expertly moved over the screen. His big fingers press and swipe my screen. The screen lit up his face. Harsh, rough, brutally handsome. In a few seconds, I heard the sound of the bar playing from my speaker.  His hand tightened on my throat.  I watched his face as he scrubbed through the video. His brutal features were darkening. The aura of potential violence made the air thick.

He turned the phone so I could see the video playing, which showed him staring at me and the camera from minutes ago. He pulled me down and leaned all of his weight into me, crushing me to the shed wall. He leaned in where our faces were touching. His steel grey eye was less than an inch from my own, staring into my eye like a laser beam. His beard rubbed against mine as his mouth was next to my ear. His hot, angry breath blew across my ear and neck.  It was intimate. Fear can be intimate.

“Who the fuck are you, and why are you videoing me.” He said. His voice was deep, and his words were spoken normally, but the power behind them made me shiver.  My brain went blank. Words just tumbled from my mouth. Apologies. Explanations. Gibberish. I could see the rage ignite in his eyes as he pressed himself against me fully and repeated himself more forcefully. He asked again, and the anger and potential violence in his voice made my legs weak.

Then froze.  His eyes stayed locked to mine. His head tilted. He let go of my neck and reached down between us.  My brain may have been terrified and incapable of action; however, my cock was having the time of its life.  It could care less that this 390-pound monster was about to rip us apart. All it cared about was that 390-pound monster crushing and grinding me into the wall behind us. I felt the biker’s massive hand grab my hard cock.

The heat in his eyes was still there, in suspension.  Lifting my phone back up, I watched as he expertly tapped, swiped, and scrubbed through my phone. We stood that way for almost 3-4 minutes. I heard numerous videos I had saved to my phone from Leather sites, Raw Fuck Club, videos saved from Twitter and Pornhub. He flicked through them, and all the while, my throbbing cock was crushed by his hand.

Looking back at me, his eyes were still full of heat. “Is that it puppy? You getting some more jerk off material on your phone?” My fear is now joined with shame. SHIT. Shame giving me the power to look away.  His big hand squeezes my cock painfully, and he says, “I asked you a question, boy! You’re videoing me so you can jerk this thing off later?” His hand squeezed and pulled my cock roughly through my jeans. It throbbed and twitched with excitement.

I mumbled, “Yes.”

His face gets close to his mind, and the anger is back in his voice, “Speak up, boy! You got the balls to be filming me for your personal pleasure, be man enough to say it!”

“Yes, that is why I was filming you,” I said.

“Why me?” He said, his voice clearly expecting an answer.

I paused. Thinking of what to say.  Decided on the truth. “I’ve never seen anyone like you. As big as you are.  As tough as you are. As strong as you are.  As mean and scary.“ I stopped myself from going further.

He let go of my cock and pressed himself hard against me, crushing me more than before. “You like’em big and scary, huh?” His face was close to mind. “I’m 400 fucking pounds of the meanest and scariest motherfucker you gonna ever meet, boy.”  He pushed his mouth close to my ear and said, “I do mean and scary shit for fun. Are you sure you want that?” He fucking growled like a beast in my ear.

My cock didn’t give my brain time to think, so I quietly said, “Yes.”

He growled in my ear and crushed me even more against the wall. “Mean and scary it is.” He said.

Spinning me around, he pushed me face-first into the brick wall. He reached around, grabbed the front of my pants, and unbuckled my belt. He slid the belt off. Before I knew what was happening, he had made a loop out of it, put it around my neck, and pulled it tight. “There we go, puppy needs a leash.” He said. I was up on my toes. My skin was hot and cold. Excited and scared.

I felt his other hand grab the back of my jeans and yank. There was a ripping sound, and I tried to grab his hand to keep him from ripping my jeans. “Hey, I can take them down…” I never finished that sentence because I felt a fist hit me in the kidneys. Bright pain lanced up my side, and my legs went weak.

Pressing up against me, he said, “Understand this puppy. You’ve got three jobs right now. One, do what I say and nothing but what I say. Two, do whatever you can to make sure I enjoy using you however I want. Three, Survive. Do one and two well, and three shouldn’t be a problem. You fuck around thinking this is some date, and I can show you a whole other level of mean and scary. Do you understand me, boy?”

“ Yes, Sir.” I said.

He laughed roughly as his hand grabbed my jeans and ripped a big hole in the center. His hand reached through the hole to grab my shorts and grab one of the ass straps of my jock. He chuckled, “You’re a kinky fucker, aren’t you?”

I felt him step back and heard a zipper. He growled deeply again and pressed himself against me. I could feel his hot throbbing cock rub against my ass. He ground his hips back and forth and side to side. Fuck, it was huge. I could feel it throb and twitch as it moved across my skin. He slid it up my back and around my hips so I could feel how big it was.  I whimpered a bit in lust and fear. Leaning in, he growled, “Everything about me is big and scary.”

He slides his now hard cock between my ass cheeks, stretching the cheeks apart with-it’s size. I feel him let out a deep, growling breath as he crushes me between him and the wall.  I felt the big, veiny flesh slide up and down my hole. Yanking on the belt, he growls, “Open up.” He pushes his way in. Fuck its, huge. So damn thick. It just keeps sliding and sliding in. My breath is coming in short gasps. He chuckles as it pushes all the way in. I can feel his pubic hair and zipper teeth on my ass.  I want to yell, but the belt is pulled tight on my neck.

“That’s it, puppy. Take it. Take it all.” He says, grinding his massive body against mine. His cock throbbing deep inside me. Soon, he got a steady stroke going. His strokes are solid and deep. His powerlifting hips alternate from jackhammering into me to crushing me against the wall between him and the shed. He’s growling and breathing behind me like an animal. My legs are weak from the pounding.

I feel him loosen his grip on the belt, grab my hair, and pull my head to the side. I feel his thick beard rub across my neck. I moan as he rubs across that spot. The spot that makes me squirm when the right man finds it. He knows and licks across it. My body shakes. Then I felt his mouth bite down on that spot. Every nerve in my body cuts on and off. His hungry mouth bites and gnaws at my neck. Never breaking the skin. Holding me in place as his massive body goes into overdrive. Powerfucking me against the wall. I feel like a rhino is ramming into me. Time blurs and I don’t know if it has been 5 minutes or 15, but this monster has stamina. His pounding has never stopped.

I’ve never been used like this. I feel his stroke change, and by the 4th stroke, he explodes inside of me. Shot after shot, painting my insides. So much cum. So much I can feel it leaking around his cock and down my legs. He keeps his cock inside me until the absolute last twitch is done. When he pulls it out, I can feel more of it soaking my jeans.

I feel him step back and hear him say, “Turn around, boy.”  My legs are weak and wobbly. I feel like I have just lost a boxing match or been used like a tackling dummy.

He’s looking at me. Fuck he seems even bigger now. A huge fucking shadow in the moonlight.

I can barely see his face, but his eyes shine as he says. “You are not fucking done.” Looking down and then back up, he says. “Clean me up.” I look down, and his cock is still semi-hard and twitching. “You can get on your knees, or I can put you there. Get to work.”

Getting to my knees, I lean forward and take him in my mouth. Just like when he was fucking me against the wall, his hands were soon clamped on the side of my head, and his hips were thrusting his cock deep into my throat. The more I choke, cough, and sputter, the more he likes it. By the time he was done, I was a messy fleshlight. He dumped three more loads down my throat. His big dick was like a firehose. I was so full, weak, and used that I just lay on the ground.

I felt his boot push me over to my back. His huge shadow was standing over me. He puts his boot on my chest, bends down, and shines my phone in my face again. He turns it back around, and I watch as he flicks through it again, stopping a few times.  “You didn’t do lousy tonight, boy. You managed to survive.” Putting real pressure on his boot and my chest, he repeats my home address, work address, and that of my sister. Nothing more, his threat was implicit.  “You better start working out more because next time, tonight will look like foreplay.” Then I watched his massive hand squeeze, and he crushed my phone like it was nothing. It sparked, and smoke started coming out of the cracked sides. I watch him lean back and throw the now burning hunk of glass and metal far further than anyone should be able to. “You need a new phone, puppy.” He says as he walks off into the darkness.  In the next few minutes, I heard a Harley start up and drive away.

Sometime later, I managed to get up and find my way to the parking lot. I smile as I gingerly get in my car, thinking about the cloud backup I have turned on for pictures and video on my phone. I do need a new phone. My dick twitches in anticipation.

[kohakuhibiki]

Imagine being granted best in the tabloids over a cheapass tailoring job. What are even these people?

[mtchee]

An Honour to be in a Harem!? - [Genshin Impact SAGAU] | MDNI | GN AFAB 18+

blurb:

The concept of all these gorgeous people bowing before you is hard to grasp, but it's even worse to think that they'd actually offer themselves to you as a love interest. So obviously, you brush them off and decline, retorting that just because you're their supposed Creator doesn't mean they should feel as though they had to subject themselves to your unwanted affection. After all, who were you really, to compare to them? Unfortunately (or fortunately, actually) they seem quite boggled at your output. Ah! It all makes sense now! Their dearly Beloved is the shy type! Worry not, your Grace! Your dearest acolytes are more than happy to bask in any sort of attention you decide to share! Rest assured, they'll take care of all your needs~

cw: not edited, second-person-pov, kind of a sequel?, afab bodied, you are dearly beloved and longed for <3, realistically if this happened i would rather die of a heart attack, lots of love and affection!!, mdni, spicy content, swearing, smut, overstim, manhandling, voyeurism, squirting, fingering, cunnilingus, sub [name], use of terms cunny cunt pussy tit breasts, help i'm embarassed i wrote this omfg who am i, would u believe me if i said this is my first smut

| masterlist | genshin impact collection |

< prev. - amab! ver. - next. > [afab] [amab]

[3.0k]

What is this bullshit.

You can't help but just blink at the Archon knelt at your feet, his head bowed low. When you emit a shocked squeak he looks up at you, amber eyes latching onto your flustered expression.

Your gaze darts around the few others surrounding your throne--you only really sit in it when the people of teyvat line up for personal prayers and blessings, or when someone tells you to. Otherwise, you avoid sitting in it.

Venti, Ei, Al-haitham, Ayato, Ningguang, Jean, Furina, Neuvillette, and Tartaglia stand past Zhongli who is knelt before you.

You force a polite smile and let out a nervous laugh, "Aha, um... d-dont.. you don't have to do that. Really."

"Do not misunderstand, Beloved," The geo Archon stands to his full height, and you feel small despite the grandness of your seat, "it truly would be my--our, utmost honour." He places a hand over his heart and bows lowly by the waist. The others follow in tandem, and you panic.

"No! Really," Although all your fanfic dreams were coming true, knowing that these are now very much real people and not just characters put you on edge. They all have their own lives to live, their own goals and ambitions, likes and dislikes, preferences and attractions that you certainly didn't and never would attain.

At first, the idea is flustering and the offer makes you feel giddy, but looking into it, you feel bad. They see you as their All-Maker, who are you to make them miserable?

"You don't need to do that. I-I know there's that rumour going around, but really, I'm fine by myself."

"Your Grace," Ei steps forwards with a tiny furrow in her thin brows, "please, it would be our honour--"

"You know what would really be an honour," Your heart stings slightly, but you straighten up on your throne and give your audience a reassuring smile, "is if you went out on your own to seek who you actually love, to find a partner you'll be happy to spend your time with--to love on your own accord. That, would be an honour, I'd say."

You're not oblivious to how everyone reels back at your words, a mixture of shock, fear, and disbelief covering their features sported by prominent frowns.

Al-haitham is the one to break the tense silence that freezes the room.

"Beloved," His eyes flicker over you, thought and theories wiring around his ever working mind, "are we unsatisfactory?"

You blanch, "Gah! No! Oh my--it's nothing like that!" You can't help but feel flushed under the intensity of their eyes.

"It's just, you need to not see me as a duty."

You address them calmly, forcing your fluttering feelings down to school your face passively.

"You need to focus on yourselves, and your own lives. I'm not here to come between that."

Their silent stares are unnerving, and Venti and Furina share a look with hidden smiles while Jean steps forward with a respecful bow.

"Of course, your Grace."

"F-Fuck..!"

Embarassed tears sting your eyeline while you hold your breath, desperately trying to get ahold of yourself.

Plap! Plap! Plap!

Your pretty eyes roll to the back of your head and a loud moan is forced out of you each time Ayato's fat cock plunges in and out of your sloppy cunt.

He sits leant against the finest silken pillows with your naked back pressed against his bare, toned chest, an arm wrapped securely around your waist while the other sweetly fondles with one of your spit laden breasts.

Thoma lay stomach down on the soft doona, face buried dutifully between your quivering thighs which he holds apart with surprising strength. He tongues at your swollen clit fervently, and you cry out in humiliation when your slick gushes from your slit and onto the expensive fabric below.

"G-nngh!" You clench your eyes shut at the embarassingly loud noise of skin slapping against skin and the lewd sucks of Thoma's mouth and the squelching of your pussy, "a-ah..! Ah! Ah!"

The Kamisato Commisioner lets out a low moan by your ear, feeling your hot and gummy walls squeeze down on his cock deliciously.

"Remember-- hng! R-Remember to breathe, my beloved."

He gently squishes the enticing softness of your tit, bucking up into you abruptly when you let out a squeal as he pinches your nipple.

"M-Mm~ my dearest," Thoma moans onto your slickened pearl, and you just about explode at the burst of electric pleasure that shoots up your spine, "you taste.. divine..~!"

Your heart thrums at the messy sight of him, his lips, chin and cheeks covered in your honey thick slick with half lidded eyes locked onto your expressions. You let out a needy moan when you notice him desperately grinding his naked hips into the bedding for release.

A now all too familiar searing pleasure suddenly coils in the utmost depth of your body, and you scream at the sheer ferocity of it.

"C-Can't! I can't!"

You buck your hips away from Ayato's throbbing length and bump into Thoma's chin, but they only follow you--the commisioner's arm moving from your waist to your hips, locking you in place while Thoma's grip moves from your thighs to the underside of your knees, opening you up and forcibly holding you still.

You dig your nails into Ayato's arm, your other hand fruitlessly shoving at the housekeeper's head to push him away.

The pleasure becomes piercing, and you choke on a sob as your gushing cunny just goes squelch, squelch, squelch with every thrust you have to take. His cock feels so dangerously good, and you fear your clit might bleed from its continuous onslaught of pleasure.

Thoma's tongue licks at the opening of your slit and the base of his lord's cock, and Ayato curses lowly, his grip tightening.

You feel something thick and heavy and hot spurt inside you, though the pounding doesn't let up and the near painful coil violently pops inside you, and you shriek in tandem with the burst of watery clear fluid that squirts from your throbbing cunny.

Your face burns hot with humiliation, and you can only muffle your embarassed moans into the fabric of the couch.

Naked and vulnerable, you're bent ass up and face down over Al-haitham's lap with his dominant hand knuckle deep in your wet pussy.

Maybe, just maybe you might've been able to handle this amicably, but not with Kaveh walking in and berating the Akademia Scribe turned Grand Sage on his pleasure skills.

With your ass held high and knees spread, your leaking cunt is on display for the genius architect while his roommate fingers you ruthlessly, constantly prodding and rubbing that special squishy spot inside you that renders you immobile.

"H-Hah.. mmngh! Ah..."

You can do nothing but take it and drool on the couch while they squabble above you as though you're not there.

"--Y-You brute! That's our beloved and you're treating them like that!?"

"I'd say our Creator quite likes it."

You stifle a screech when Al-haitham takes his other hand and spreads your ass open to prove his argument to Kaveh.

"See?" He takes out his fingers and spreads them apart, watching your hot slick string apart, "and here too." You sob loudly as he gently prods your pussy lips apart to stare down your red, throbbing clit.

Kaveh's face flushes at the lewd display, and he gulps while setting his suitcase down off to the side before approaching.

"A-And?"

"[name] has cum thrice already."

Kaveh's brow twitches, "Were you not going to clean them up?!"

Al-haitham huffs indifferently despite the miniscule tint of pink arousal across his cheeks, "I'll leave that to you."

The blond hmphs at him before cooing at you softly, praising you with your title and demeanour.

"Our beloved," He caresses your back, and you shiver pleasantly at the tingle it stimulates, "you've been so good, haven't you? Done so well..."

He hushes you gently as he moves closer behind you, kneeling at the couch's edge, face level with your puffy cunny. Al-haitham remains quiet this time around, his non-slick covered hand patting your head lovingly.

"It's okay~ I'll take good care of you now, I'll clean you up all nice, alright?"

You only whine when he sinks his tongue into your pussy, lapping up your spilled juices and nipping at your reddened bud. Your body trembles with an absentminded moan when he sucks on your sore little clit, and he emits a noise of suprise as a new abundance of syrup leaks from your opening.

Al-haitham quirks up a brow, "Four times, now."

"Mercy! M-Mercy..!" You cry out.

"Oh," Lisa tuts demeaningly, "no, no, no dear one~ You see, you didn't quite seem to believe our intentions true when we offered ourselves to you. So it only seems right that we prove it, yes?"

You can't squirm away from Eula's mouth, her strength baffling as she keeps you stood still against the Grand Master's desk with ease. Amber mouths at the mounds of your breasts, obessed with how soft the fat of them are.

You whimper loudly when Eula curls her two fingers into your front wall, clenching down on her and nearly screaming when she thrusts them into you punishingly.

Jean can't help but watch in stunned silence of you, your voice and body ethereal. She can't wait to get a taste of her own as you shudder and gasp.

It was bad enough when Venti had his way with you earlier under Vanessa's tree, simultaneously teasing you and giving you everything you wanted.

He ran his mouth with words that were both endearingly sweet and pure debauchery, controlling the winds to graze at your hardened nipples with ghost like touches that left you spasming and breathless.

He'd shown you his choice of belonging to you through the intimate thrusts of his hips and sloppy, loving kisses across your body--he'd then guided you back to the gates of Mondstadt with the help of the wind to keep you balanced.

You cry when a thin zap of purple shocks your pulsing clit, cumming instantly while Eula's tongue soothes over it with the help of her cryo ability. Your lewd honey drips down your leg and onto the floor, and the blue haired girl sneers at the waste of it.

A whimper escapes you when Amber nips at your soft tit a little too harshly, and she murmurs a timid apology, looking up at you reverently before continuing.

"P-Please..!" You hate how they've all been able to make you cry with pleasure, as though they always knew just what they were doing to you, "it..-it hurts now..! A-Aaahhh..."

You let out a long, breathy whine as you cum again, tears steaming down your cheeks as the gentle wave of bliss washes over you. You almost miss Acting Grand Master Jean calling for someone to enter after a knock on the door.

Humiliation of your state causes you to flush and shut your teary eyes as Kaeya walks in, gaze latching onto you immediately.

He closes the door behind him, humming lowly at the sight.

His eye glints in dirty interest, a grin creeping up his lips at the sound of your whimpers and sloppy cunt.

"Oh? It's our turn already?"

"Kaeya! You're just in time," Lisa grins mischieviously, "I believe our dearly beloved is ready for something... thicker, now." She smiles as though her filthy implication were a casual statement of time.

You hate being the centre of attention, but fuck does it feel good. You hate feeling so vulnerable, but good god do they take care of you.

Maybe, just maybe you could allow yourself to indulge in their affections...

Nope.

Hate. You hate, hate, hate, hate hate it.

You whimper quietly, head bowed to hide your face from the prying eyes of the others seated around you.

You're back in the lands of Inazuma, in the very same place you were last time the picnic was set up. It was much more lavish this time around, based in the early evening with a gorgeous ocean view, lights strung up in the trees and scattered atop a few stable rocks.

The blankets laid down were much thicker this time, and the pillows larger and fluffier. The sunset paints the horizon gold and pink which fades into a rich purple and, eventually, the glimmering darkness of night.

You sit in Zhongli's lap, a spare blanket covering your bare lower half as you squirm on his throbbing cock. You could feel his other drooling pre-cum against your lower back.

The others had been coaxing you to eat your share of the platter, Navia and Wriothesly feeding you small portions since you were too shy to do so yourself.

Though ashamed and bashful, you can't help but clench and throb, and you fluster when Zhongli lets out a small groan from behind you.

Navia places a comforting hand on your covered knee.

"Beloved Creator, are you alright?" Her voice is soft, loving.

You swallow sharply, shoulders hunched and tense nervously from those watching.

"Your Grace?" You glance over at Diluc who huffs with a small blush of his own, "we'll take care of you."

Your cunt throbs, and Zhongli thrusts into you.

You yelp at the sudden motion, straightening up instinctively to balance yourself only for your most devoted to thrust into you again, and again, and again. His arm wraps around your waist to keep you seated, and the blanket slowly slips from your lap from the movement.

"A-Ah! Zhon--aahhh!"

Squelch, plap, slap, his fat cock hits the textured roof of your squishy insides and sends an overwhelming shock of pleasure through you. Throwing your head back with a lewd moan, both your embarassment and arousal increase tenfold at the sight of your most shameless worshippers touching themselves at the sight of you.

Others swallow roughly, barely holding themselves back with a single thread of dignity. Those of them watch with eyes that burn your body into memory, and the intensity both frightens and arouses you.

The better of them murmur and coo praises at you, causing your stomach to flutter and your pussy to gush.

You pant loudly when Ayato softly intructs you to breathe, and you squeal when Tartaglia reachs out to play with your pretty clit while rubbing his neglected cock.

"Pl..ease..! Hah..!"

You feel a pair of lips on your neck and whine, whimpering shamefully when Neuvillette starts whispering sweet praise into your ear, sucking on your skin softly. You white knuckle the thick blanket by your forcefully opened legs and clench your eyes shut in humiliation.

Your cunny starts to tingle with sparks of pleasure that strike your overstimulated bundle of nerves, and you flush at the feeling of your sex juices trailing from your slit to your ass, soiling Zhongli's clothed lap and the pillows and fabric below.

"Hng! Cumming! AH!" You shriek, thrashing in their hold, "c-cumming! H-Help, 'm cumming-- oohhh~ Ohh~"

That weird prickly feeling coils in your tummy again, and you let out a lewd and bratty whine when they don't let up on their touching.

"S-Slow! PLEASE! F-Fuck! Feels funn-y~!"

When you slap at Childe's hand, your own are quickly restrained by Kazuha who simply smiles with red cheeks and mutters to you flowery reassurances.

The sound of your pussy is loud, it's noisy, and filthy. You emit a desperate, pleading wail, not knowing if your subconscious is trying to beg them to stop or to stay.

Saliva pools in your mouth then begins to hang open as your starry eyes roll into the back of your head, chest heaving.

Your thighs tremble and your fingers twitch--Kazuha intertwines them with his own, and you lock onto the comforting hold.

"G-Good!" You can't stop yourself from babbling, "m-makes me feel soOo goood~!"

"Oh, sweet one~" Yae Miko giggles.

"You understand that we choose you now, yes?" Ningguang hums with a teasing quip. Her eyes torn between your adorably lewd features and your swollen, glistening cunt.

"Relax, beloved. It's only us, your most faithful~"

"Mm, don't hold back, dearest."

"Can you moan for us, beloved? You sound just delicious when you moan!"

"Are you gonna cum for us?"

"It's not fair how they got a taste of you first~!"

"Hng..! A-ah, hah!"

"Oh-oh! Beloved, calm down, you're alright. Just let it happen.."

"Do you feel good, your Grace?"

"--c-cumming- cumming! Cumming..!"

A white hot blaze of heat crashes over you, and your ears ring as your body trembles in utter bliss. Your slick pussy squeezes and gushes with your lewd honey, and as your abused little pearl sears with an almost painful pleasure, your body squirts out your most powerful orgasm that soaks the blankets and the people surrounding.

Pleasure caused tears leave hot stains on your face, and your head lulls to the side tiredly. Your chest heaves for breath as you come down from your high, and it takes a few moments before the ringing finally stops and you can hear again.

Doting whispers and coos are the first thing you process, followed by something thick and hot leaking out of your stretched and now empty hole.

A hand caresses your head as many others touch on you innocently, checking in on you and taking care of you.

Someone holds a glass to your lips, and someone else helps you lean forwards to sip.

You startle at the feeling of a soft mouth coming to gingerly lick and suck at your sore pussy, and you let out a delirious whine.

Another acolyte hushes you gently, kissing you softly before another joins in peppering kisses all over your tired face to distract you from the one cleaning you up between your legs.

You still feel light headed from the embarassment of it all, but you've latched onto the pleasant tingling you feel when they look at you so adoringly--more lovingly than just in reverence.

No, actually.

You don't hate this at all.

[unknownmads]

i’m so obsessed with the idea of Frat guy/popular Gojo and Weird girl Y/n.

Y/n who’s a little rough around the edges but actually really kind.

Y/n who has dyed hair and eccentric style,

Y/n who doesn’t take bullshit

Y/n whose music is a bit out there or odd.

And Frat Boy gojo who is absolutely Smitten by her. falling in love with her style and attitude alike.

Frat Boy gojo who saw her getting harassed at one of his Fraternity’s parties and was about to step in when she was already was a step ahead of him. The guy bothering her having tried to grab her ass under her skirt y/n quickly turning around slapping him so hard it Gojo winced at the sight. Then she cussed the man out about manners before storming off. He never got her name but he knew how badly he wanted her since that night.

Frat Boy Gojo who spent the rest of the night trying to find Y/n only to find out she left not long after the incident. Sighing as he spends the rest of the night trying to find out her name.

Frat Boy Gojo who now sees her everywhere, always managing to spot her around campus on her way to class she’s all he can see. Who spends half his time stalking her socials shamelessly following her impatiently waiting for her follow back.

Frat Boy Gojo who asks everyone he can about Y/n needing to know all he can about her.

Frat Boy Gojo whose heart starts to race when he gets the notification that she followed him back. Liking a few of his posts along the way.

Frat Boy Gojo who feels as if the universe is on his side when he spots Y/n in the campus cafe on her computer mindlessly sipping her drink. The big Window she’s seated in giving him a full view of her outfit that day. Quickly making his way to the Cafe and ordering a drink of his and walking to your table and speaking sweetly with his signature charming smile.

“Hey is this seat taken?”

Frat Boy Gojo who swears he’s going to faint when you finally look up at him a sweet smile on your face as you speak to him in a quiet voice. Who almost bursts out laughing as he remembers the night he first saw you mentally laughing at the switch.

“oh no it’s not. go ahead”

Frat Boy Gojo who spends the rest of his time in the cafe chatting with you trying to make you smile and laugh.

Frat Boy Gojo who mentally signs away his old life as he hears you laugh at his cheesy flirting and puns. His heart racing out of his chest the entire time he speaks to you. You’re sarcastic come backs matching his puns. He’s already married and has two kids with you in his mind at this point.

Weird Girl Y/n who is a little shocked when Satoru gojo follows her but deciding to just brush it off and follow him back. Looking through his posts mindlessly liking a few.

Weird Girl Y/n who’s even more shocked to see that same man at the cafe she was studying in now asking for a seat at her table.

Weird Girl Y/n who can’t help but laugh at his silly attempts of flirting and cheesy puns. She know his reputation but it’s not as if she’s doesn’t also have one of her own.

✮❀✮

this was just racking in my brain i love when those popular guys date weird emo chicks and i just feel gojo would be absolutely SMITTEN by a Y/n who dressed very eccentric and stood out by her style. After like so many sorority girls i think y/n would seem like a breath of fresh air to him.

i also fully believe this same situation would happen with Atsumu Miya, or Yuji.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 6

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: Today is the day! You are riding with Tyler and Boone directly into a tornado. Get ready for an experience you'll never forget. Word Count: 3303 TW: Flirting, Kissing, Developing Feelings, Storm Danger, Scott Sucks, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

After breakfast, you helped Dexter and Lily clean up and prepare to leave for the first chase of the day. You gathered up the trash bags, jogged the short distance to the dumpsters, and tossed them in. When you turned around, you jumped as you found Tyler standing in front of you.

Clutching your chest, you swore, “Damn it! Why does everyone have to keep popping up and scaring me!”

He grinned, swaggering forward as he said, “I saw that little show you put on with Boone. It seems like you might not be over that revengeful streak of yours after all.” He stopped a few feet from you.

You lifted one shoulder as you tilted your head down so you could look up at him from under your lashes. “What can I say, some habits are hard to break.” Stepping closer until your chest almost grazed his, you lifted your head and stared unwaveringly into his eyes. “And sometimes people need to be reminded they aren’t the only ones who can tease or play games. Or that maybe they aren’t as smooth as they think they are and others can see through their bullshit deflections.”

Tilting his head, almost in a sign of deference, he murmured, “Good to know. Maybe you should take your own advice.” 

He leaned his head closer to yours…then pivoted and walked back towards his truck, once again leaving you flustered and your cheeks burning. As you silently cursed him, he yelled over his shoulder, “Oh, you might wanna have a talk with Boone about that little act before he shows up at your room with flowers and a box of chocolates.” 

You rolled your eyes and trudged after him.

It turned out, Tyler may not have been exaggerating. When you made it back to the camper van, Boone was there waiting for you, asking if you needed any help or if he could carry something for you or if you wanted something to drink or—

You couldn’t see Tyler, but you swore you heard him snickering somewhere nearby. 

As politely as possible, you explained to Boone that while you appreciated his offers, you were fine and that you hoped he didn’t get the wrong impression from your hug earlier. Boone’s face flushed as he stammered out a few “‘course not”s and “we’re cool”s before excusing himself and slinking away. You felt really bad at essentially using him, especially after he had been nothing but kind to you. Once again, you kicked yourself for allowing the old you to come to the surface and not having the self-control to stop playing games. 

Luckily, everything seemed to be forgotten by the time you joined Tyler and Boone at the red pickup a few minutes later. Boone was back to his usual excitable self as he prepared his camera and showed you how everything worked. Between his handheld with the live stream and the several other cameras mounted in the truck capturing video to be edited later, it was actually more complex than you had imagined. It seemed as if you really had underestimated Boone, and that made you feel even worse for involving him in your scheme earlier.

Then suddenly, it was time to roll out. You had been so focused on your behavior that morning that you hadn’t thought about what was about to happen next. As the last of the bags were stowed away in one of the vans and Dexter did one last run down of the current weather patterns, a knot began to form in the pit of your stomach. Telling yourself you would be driving into the middle of a tornado today had been one thing. Now facing the very real fact it was about to happen, you wondered if you should have skipped breakfast. 

On trembling legs, you walked over to Tyler’s truck and reached to open the back door. But just as your fingers closed around the handle, an arm draped itself across your shoulders. “Nuh uh, sweetheart. You’ve got shotgun.” 

You turned to face Tyler, the knot that had been forming in your stomach tightening. “But I thought Boone—”

“Boone can get plenty of footage from the back. But this being your first time wrangling a storm, we want to make sure you have a front-row seat to the action.” Tyler opened the passenger door for you. When you hesitated, he raised an eyebrow. “Unless you’re having second thoughts about riding with us? There’s always room for you in one of the other vans.”

Swallowing hard, you said, “No. I-I can do this.” 

You started to climb in, but Tyler grabbed your arm. Positioning himself so no one else could see you between his body and his truck, he softly murmured, “Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to. You don’t have to do this to try and prove something to anyone, even to yourself. Just coming with us after the storm like you did yesterday already puts you on the list of the bravest people I’ve ever met. And no one—not me, not your brother—no one can ever take that away from you. But—” he leaned over so the brim of his hat brushed against the top of your head and his thumb caressed your arm “—if you do want to go, I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. It’s your choice.”

The sincerity in his tone left no doubt that he meant what he said. If you decided to ride with Lily or Dani and Dexter instead, there would be no judgment. Tyler wouldn’t look down on you or think less of you for it, and that was all you needed to make up your mind.

Shooting him a grateful smile, you said, “Thanks, but I really do want to do this. And I always feel safe with you, Tyler, so I know this time won’t be any different.”

He grinned. “Alright then. Let’s go wrangle us a tornado.” 

He squeezed your arm one last time before helping you climb into the truck. Then he shut your door and hurried over to the driver’s side. Boone hopped in the back seat with an excited whoop just as Tyler’s door slammed shut.

You quickly buckled your seatbelt—trying to not think about the thick harness you hadn’t noticed the last time you rode up here—and settled back into your seat. But you froze as you looked out the windshield and saw Javi and Scott standing the Storm PAR vehicles still parked next to the main office. They were both staring right at you: Javi’s expression somewhat concerned yet accepting while Scott’s was nothing but pure apathy. 

You wondered if Javi told Scott the two of you had talked last night, though you hoped he kept it to himself. Not for your sake (you doubted it would have changed Scott’s opinion of you) but you didn’t want Javi to put himself into an uncomfortable position playing mediator for his business partner and said business partner’s sister. 

Tyler noticed who you were staring at and asked, “We good to go?”

You sighed. “Let’s do this.”

He nodded and started the engine. Easing the truck forward slowly, he rolled down his window and when he pulled alongside the group from Storm PAR, Tyler shouted, “Hey, Scotty! Make sure you watch the stream today so you don’t miss out on your sister’s first time driving headfirst into a tornado!”

You maintained eye contact with Scott, waiting for him to demand you get out of the truck or refuse to let you do something this dangerous. But instead, he just scoffed as he folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it. She was scared of thunder until she was a teenager. Trust me, she’ll be begging you to turn the truck around before you get a hundred feet from a storm.”

Lowering your eyes, you sunk further into your seat. Not only had he shaken the little confidence Tyler had helped build up in you, but Scott had just revealed something utterly embarrassing to your new friends. It was true that you had cowered under your covers or hidden from all windows in the middle of bad thunderstorms well into your teenage years, but you had gotten past it. However, you didn’t want the people who faced some of nature’s most dangerous weather on a daily basis to know that!

For a long moment, Tyler just stared at your brother. Then, shaking his head, he asked, “What is wrong with you?” before pulling out onto the road. 

Once the motel had disappeared in the rearview mirror, Tyler reached over and rested his hand on your knee. “Hey, don’t listen to him, okay? He’s just trying to get under your skin. You got this.”

You nodded and tried to smile at him, but you could tell it didn’t look as confident as you hoped. 

From behind you, Boone let out a low whistle. “That dude’s really your brother?” You nodded. “Dang, no wonder you decided to hang out with us instead. He sucks.”

The unexpectedness of that assessment caused a burst of laughter to escape your lips. Tyler glanced over, grinning and squeezing your knee. Your smile widened, feeling less forced and more genuine. Looking at the other storm chaser in the visor mirror, you chuckled. “Yeah, Boone. He really does suck.”

Tyler had mentioned he was looking for a smaller EF1 or EF2 for your first time out. However, the storm the Wranglers ame across looked much bigger than that. It was at least twice as wide as the tornado you saw yesterday, yet Tyler and Boone didn’t seem the least bit concerned. If anything, they seemed more excited than you had ever seen them before.

As the sky grew darker and the truck began to sway slightly in the increasing winds, you dug your fingers into the interior of the truck so tightly that your knuckles cracked. Scott was right. You weren’t brave enough for this. What the hell were you thinking wanting to go on a chase? It wasn’t a game. Thousands of people were injured or killed in tornados every year and now you were going to just drive up next to one? Possibly even into one? This was insane!

Seemingly sensing your mounting fear, Boone leaned forward, his head poking between you and Tyler, as he looked at his friend. “You sure she’s ready for this, T? I mean, no offense, but this one might be a little much for someone who's never done this before.”

But Tyler just grinned. “Nah, she’ll be fine. Won’t you, sweetheart?”

You nodded, your eyes wide in terror as you stared at the approaching storm. “Y-yeah. I’ll be fine.” 

Your voice betrayed the anxiety that was flooding every cell of your body, but Tyler reached over and took your hand, prying it carefully off the center console and giving it a tight squeeze. The small gesture instantly caused the panic rising within you to mellow slightly. The idea of what you were about to do still terrified you, but knowing Tyler was behind the wheel made it somewhat bearable. 

He nodded to the harness hanging limply on the sides of the seat. “We won’t need those for a bit, but you might feel a little more comfortable if you strap in now. You know, just in case.”

Immediately, you slipped your hand from his and began fumbling with the harness. It seemed pretty straightforward but seeing how your hands were shaking, it’s more difficult than you initially thought. Without taking his eyes off the road, Tyler reached over and straightened the strap that was twisted across your chest. Then he helped you click it into place before taking your hand once more. However, this time, he raised it to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back. It was more demure than the kiss he had placed there last night, but it still sent the same thrill through you all the way down to your toes. You quickly glanced in the visor mirror, but luckily it seemed Boone was too preoccupied with getting his camera set up to see what had just occurred. 

Tyler continued holding your hand until rain began pelting the windshield, the storm now looming so large in front of the truck that it seemed to block out everything else. You heard Boone starting his video introduction in the backseat but you didn’t register anything he said as you sat frozen in your seat staring at the approaching storm. It wasn’t until Boone nudged your shoulder rather forcefully that you realized he had been speaking to you. 

Shaking your head, you asked, “What?”

Boone chuckled nervously, glancing from the camera to you. “I said introduce yourself to the chat.”

“Oh, sorry.” You quickly said your name then continued to stare into the lens like a deer caught in the headlights as Boone left it focused on you, unsure of what else he wanted.

Luckily, Tyler came to your rescue. Grabbing Boone’s hand and swinging the camera to focus on him, he said, “Y’all probably remember me mentioning our newest Wrangler in yesterday’s stream. Well, she handled that storm like the pro she is so we thought we’d give her a shot at the main attraction today. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?” 

Tyler winked at you before turning the lens back in your direction. You smiled and nodded. “Yep! We’re gonna…wrangle us a tornado!”

It felt a bit stilted, but the pride and warmth radiating from Tyler as he looked at you made you feel like you had just given an Oscar Award-winning performance. You bit your lip and looked away as you felt the heat rushing to your cheeks. But then you remember what Tyler had said about you hiding your face when someone compliments you so you turn back and look him dead in the eye. The warm look on his face only intensified before he turned his attention back to the road ahead.

A few minutes later as he pulled the truck into the path of the storm, Tyler slowed to a stop. He flipped a few switches on the center console and pressed the red button on top of the joystick positioned there. You heard a whirring sound and the truck seemed to sink into the ground slightly. Tyler must have deployed the augers to lock the truck in place. Dani mentioned yesterday that they had never failed since they were installed and you prayed today wasn’t the day that changed.

But as the edge of the storm grew closer and closer, you felt a fresh wave of terror grip you. Placing both of your feet on your seat, you wrapped your arms around your knees, curling into yourself as much as the safety harness would allow. You focused all of your energy on your breathing, trying your hardest not to start hyperventilating. But as the tornado finally hit the front of the truck, you let out a small squeal and buried your head in your knees.

However…nothing happened. The truck didn’t flip wildly out of control. The windows didn’t shatter into a million pieces. The augers didn’t give out. 

Slowly, you raised your head. The entire truck shook and vibrated around you, the sensation sending tremors throughout your body. Outside, random bits of debris struck the truck but nothing seemed to be able to break through its upgraded structure. As the initial wall of wind passed by the truck and you found yourself deeper into the storm, you actually found yourself relaxing slightly, unfurling yourself where you had tucked into a tight ball. If something bad was going to happen, it would have been when the tornado first hit the truck. Right?

Tyler leaned over until his lips brushed the curve of your ear and he whispered. “Look up.”

You could just make out the words over the howl of the storm but you did what he said. Tilting forward, trembling as your face neared the windshield, you squinted up into the wind. For a moment, all you saw was dirt and debris swirling around. But then you noticed a smaller, tighter vortex dancing through the center almost as if there was a tornado within the tornado. And as you followed this swirl up, you gasped as you caught just a glimpse of the sky peaking through the opening of the funnel. It was one of the brightest blues you had ever seen and it was utterly magical. 

You looked over at Tyler. His face was beaming as he watched you and, in that moment, he was even more breathtaking than the storm. Time seemed to stop and nothing else existed besides the two of you. Not the storm, not Boone, not the camera, nothing.

Your eyes met…then so did your lips. You weren't even really sure who initiated it and you didn’t care. His lips molded against yours perfectly, his tongue dancing across the entrance of your mouth as he tested his boundaries. But when you parted your lips further, he slipped inside as he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and drew you closer. He tasted like coffee with just the hint of peppermint. And as his stubble scraped across your skin, you hummed at the shiver it sent racing down your spine. 

The kiss was everything you had been imagining and so much more. 

Needing more, you tried crawling across the center console to straddle his lap but something hugging you tightly across your chest stopped you. It was only then that you remembered the harness holding you into your seat. Your fingers scrambled against the buckle, finally unhooking it—

“And they say there ain’t no love in Oklahoma! Well, if that ain’t love, I don’t know what is!”

You and Tyler both jumped apart, startled by Boone’s joyful exclamation from the backseat. Horrified, you realized he had just filmed your kiss and broadcasted it live on the Wranglers’ YouTube channel. You buried your face in your hands, only peeking through the smallest crack to see Tyler’s reaction. 

He ran his fingers through his hair, brushing the fallen strands off his face as he muttered, “Boone–”

But his fellow storm chaser paid him no mind. “You saw it here first! The tornado wrangler himself has been wrangled by a new beau.”

“Boone.”

“And if any of you out there has ever wondered if two people could kiss in the middle of a tornado, I guess we have our answer!”

“Boone!” Tyler shot you an exasperated look and you lowered your hands, chuckling softly at the silliness of the whole situation. It was only then that you also noticed the storm had passed and everything outside the truck was now calm. Too bad the same couldn’t be said for inside the truck.

Tyler reached into the backseat and wrestled the camera out of Boone’s hands. Then, he took a breath and aimed the camera at himself as he plastered on a smile. “Well, I guess that’s it for today, folks. Things took a bit of an unexpected turn but in the middle of a storm, you never know what might happen! Thanks for watching and as always, if you feel it—” he leaned across the center console until his face was next to yours in the shot “—chase it.” And he pressed his lips against yours once again.

You could feel Tyler grinning against your mouth as you returned his kiss. Without pulling away, you reached out and covered the lens of the camera with your hand. The world had seen enough of you and Tyler for one day. However, if you had your way, the two of you were just getting started. 

Part 7 coming 9/23!

Tag list: @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @blue-aconite, @hederasgarden, @writercole,

@ryebecca, @heart-0n-fire, @nerdysuperchick, @ohtobeleah, @slightly-psycho-multifan,

@sunlightmurdock, @xoxabs88xox, @superchatnoir07, @love2write2626, @smoothdogsgirl,

@rebecca0may, @hereiamhereigo, @nerdalicios, @28cnn, @obsessed-fan-alert,

@ddarling-ddearest-ddead, @sehnsuchts-trunken, @taorislover94, @sweetdayme4427, @marisha-3,

@hopeurokays, @lonelysoul50, @bobfloydssunnies, @rebra1863, @mirrorball-6,

@phoenixhalliwell, @mysticalfuncollectorus, @hellkaisersangel, @stoneyggirl2

@how-what-why-huh, @axolotllover225, @holybatflapexpert, @princesssterek, @autumnleaves1991-blog

@cevansbaby-dove, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @fandomprincess1994, @wpdarlingpan, @maverick-wingman

@unknowntoyou2205, @child-of-of-the-sunshine, @dream03, @djs8891, @puttyly

@loserbaby66, @mylovelykelsifer, @onlyangel-444, @omgbrianab, @allonzigiga

@lonelyghosts-stuff, @lindsayjoy444, @clairewritesandrambles, @lukeevangelista, @hookslove1592

[voxsmistress]

Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo - Part FIVE!

Well seems like Y/n is in the middle of two of the Vee's and there seems to be a bit of a competition going on here ...

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen

“That unfortunate soul would be me” you smile nervously at him, watching as his screen glitched slightly. That was weird. His bored expression disappeared with the glitch and in its place was his usual charming smile.

“Ah Miss Y/n what a pleasure to see you! What was that you just said?” Velvette appeared at your side, wrapping an arm through yours you watched his screen glitch a little again.

“She’s mine now Voxxie” she smirked at the glitching demon.

“She’s WHAT?!”  

“Vox don’t sound so hostile – me and Y/n here have just made a very lucrative deal together, you should be congratulating us” she flashed you a wink while Vox started stuttering.

“What? What Deal?”

“Oh, now that would be telling, wouldn’t it Y/n? After all, some things are just better kept between girls,” the double entendre was not lost on you as she carried on teasing Vox, squeezing your arm as she did. Amused at her behaviour you had to try and hide the smile that tugged at your lips.

“Cut the bullshit Vel!” His smooth voice deepened and started crackling with static – okay. Hot. His one blue eye started to warp into that weird mind control thing that Angel Dust had warned you about, quickly adverting your gaze to avoid eye contact you chose to watch the other sinners running around sorting out different jobs while ignoring the two Vee’s. No one was really batting an eyelid at this mini show down, must be a regular occurrence.

“Chill out Vox! All Y/n is going to do is show off some of my clothes and sing at my Catwalk next month to help boost her public image. That’s all. No need to get your wires all twisted babe,” leaning against you she smirked at the now bemused Demon.

“You sold your soul for some clothes?” Velvette twitched in what you assumed was agitation at Vox’s dismissal.

“Do I look like the kinda girl that would sell the only valuable thing I have for clothes? Uh no. I don’t give up my soul quite that easily, no matter how gorgeous the clothes might be” you tell Vox, feeling a little braver with Velvette at your side, who was currently giving him a victorious smirk. Why do you feel like you have entered some kind of pissing match?

“Yeah Vox, do you really think she would just give it up just like that”, closing your eyes in bewilderment you really start to question the deal that you have gotten into with Velvette.

“Of course not! No, our y/n is much to clever and classy to do that. She showed that the other day when she refused Valentino twice about a job”, and there was you thinking he might have forgotten that little bit of information. Giving Vox your attention his charismatic smile grew. “Ah, Val hasn’t stopped going on about it. You are really going to have to make it up to him, especially when he hears you’ve taken up a job with Vel and not him” he points a blue clawlike finger at you. Shit. Peeking down at Velvette for confirmation, she gives you a naughty smirk and a shrug. Well. She was a lot of help.

“I’m sure Mr Valentino will understand the difference of doing porn OR showing off designer clothes plus I’ll be using my singing talents for Velvette which is my forte. I can assure you that I would not do well as a porn star” you chuckle at the thought. Someone filming you when you are at one of your most vulnerable states was not a fun idea – plus the fact you knew you pulled weird faces at the best of times.

“Now I can’t actually take your word on that my dear”, he had taken a few steps forwards. Velvette’s arm was now anchoring you to the spot and you weren’t feeling quite as brave as you were before. Tilting your chin up to face him head on as he came to a stop in front of you, a blue finger twirled a piece of your hair around it. “In fact, I’d love to see you prove yourself wrong” his voice deepened again making your cheeks flush. Jeez what is with all the blushing and touching?

Clearing your throat, you try to move back but Vel wasn’t moving and kept you there. Throwing her a quick annoyed glance you look back into Vox’s eyes. His smile was creeping more towards a smirk at my movements. “I guess we will never know” keeping my voice steady even with my nerves.

“Hmm … never say never kiddo”. He murmurs, breath brushing a few hairs away from your face. Why was he getting so close.

As you go to say something else Velvette’s phone started ringing breaking you all out of this little spell you were in. Vox who looked a bit displeased at Vel stayed where he was, the small piece of your hair still wrapped around his fingers as he played with it, but Velvette moved away from us both answering her phone with a sharp tone.

“I feel a little felt out I will be honest”, at Vox’s soft voice you give him your full attention once more. Raising your eyebrows as a question as he pulled on the piece of hair. “I am the only one who hasn’t offered you a job yet, perhaps I should find something for you?” You weren’t expecting that. These Vee’s are full of surprises.

“I think my schedule might be full up at the moment what with my singing jobs and now Velvette and her catwalk” you chuckle lowly at his pout.

“Even if it was to be on one of my shows showcasing that lovely voice of yours?” Pretty sure you have lost your eyebrows in your hair.

“You are offering me a part on one of your shows to sing? You haven’t even heard me sing?” You ask dumbfounded. Tugging you closer by your hair he gives you a winning smile.

“Then sing me a song, songbird?” Blinking up at his screen you question your life. Was this real? Are you dreaming?

“Uh…” right that was intelligent wasn’t it y/n! At your stuttering he chuckled, letting go of your hair and instead running a finger down your cheek leaving little tingles in its wake.

“The offer will be there if you want it Y/n, now I’m sure it’s time for you to get yourself off home. You must be exhausted after the long day you’ve had, that last show you did looked tiring, but I did love your last song – you have such a soulful voice” he tapped your chin playfully.

“Wait what how did you kn-“

“Sweetheart, I own numerous cameras in Pentagram City so I know many things, you can trust me on that” he smirks down at you. His gaze flickered over your face before letting out a little sigh when a buzzing noise starts from his jacket pocket.

“Duty calls?” you joke, ready to take a step back but not before his hand suddenly reaches up and cradles the side of your face. You freeze in place. Pretty sure you look like a deer in headlights at the moment.

“Mhmm, I will be seeing you soon our little Songbird, get home safely” he squeezes your cheek softly before striding away, his phone to his ear.

That could have gone a lot worse. Giving yourself a good shake to get moving you look around and see Velvette still on her phone gesturing wildly. Now seems like a good time to escape before any other Vee’s appear. Picking up your purse, that had managed to slip back onto the chaise lounge during your short conversation with the Vee’s you wave to Velvette making your way to the elevator. Holding the phone away from her face she gives you a mischievous grin:

“Bye darling, see you tomorrow, kisses!” Blowing you a cheeky air kiss she carries on with her phone call, while her eyes stayed on you as you got in the elevator. Waving goodbye as the doors shut you let out a breath. Mindful of the small little threat that Vox had said about owning lots of the cameras you kept your expression blank the entire ride and all the way out of the building. Hailing another taxi you give them your address.

Trying to go through everything that happened tonight you completely miss the entire journey until the taxi driver snarled at you to get out. Rude.

Stumbling up the flight of stairs to your door you were in a bit of a daze. Catching sight of a few cameras in the corner of the hallway you huff. Letting yourself into your flat you slam the door behind you.

Where the fuck was that bottle of whiskey?

Taglist @tasha-1994 @azullynxx @reath-solia

[nuka]

Call me delulu, but I woke up with hope in my heart today.

It's only been 2 months since the show was cancelled. WBD is run by an incompetent fool. WBD previously said they'd sell Coyote vs. Acme, but then made it impossible for anyone to buy it. All streaming services are struggling financially at the moment.

Daddy Jenkins had to tell us we've reached the end of the road, because that's the reality right now. Either WBD made it impossible for anyone to buy the show, or the actual realistic price was just too high for other streamers at the moment even if they wanted to buy it. “Many complimentary meetings, conversations, etc” sounds like someone was interested.

DJ and everyone else who worked on the show need to be able to move on, so they can make a living from other projects. They’ve all been holding their breath just in case they can start filming after all. The fans need to move on in the sense that we can't expect a renewal "any day now", like we did for 2 months. We can still hope that we'll see season 3 one day, but now we can be realistic about the chances of it happening in the immediate future.

Everyone who worked on this show has loved it so dearly that I'm certain that if season 3 gets greenlit in the future, they'll all want to work on it again. As long as DJ is in, the others are too. The Revenge can be rebuilt. The time that has passed can be explained in the story, if it needs explaining at all. If some actors won't be able to return, we'll get new characters added to our family, and we'll embrace them just like we embraced all the new characters in season 2.

Depending on what the problem for the pick up was, things might change very quickly, or they might take a few years. Who knows, if we continue being loud, a streaming service that quickly passed on the show in January might take interest in it later. A streaming service that offered too little might make a better offer, and WBD might accept just to get rid of us (because we're back to calling Max out on this bullshit and it's not a good look for them). Or, once the industry recovers a bit, a streaming service might be willing to reconsider spending a big amount of money on this show. And if WBD set an impossible price for the show this time, they might shop it around for a more reasonable price once Zaslav is out (or even greenlight season 3 themselves, but that’s delulu level 200). Even if we don't get a season 3, we might still get a movie, or a comic book, or a script book, or a blu-ray release, or the Jenkins Cut. And honestly, if someone was to announce they've picked up the show in a year or two... that's not a long time at all.

Pirate Daddy said that our campaign was noticed across the industry. They hear and see our love for this show. They know we're here for the show if it's ever to return. They know this show has potential.

So let’s keep having fun in the fandom. Keep being loud about Our Flag Means Death. Keep using the hashtags. Keep making fanart. Keep shouting about how unfair this cancellation was. We don’t have to do it with the same intensity as during the campaign (I know we’re all tired and it’s completely okay to step away if you need/want to), but as long as we as a fandom are consistent, they’ll see there’s a demand that just won’t go away.

There is always hope. It’s not the same kind of hope we had before January 9th, and it’s not the kind we had until March 7th. But there are so many variables, and so little time has passed. Who knows what the industry will look like in a year or two. I’d rather believe in a future that might just hold a pleasant surprise for us than throw in the towel completely.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 6

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: Today is the day! You are riding with Tyler and Boone directly into a tornado. Get ready for an experience you'll never forget. Word Count: 3303 TW: Flirting, Kissing, Developing Feelings, Storm Danger, Scott Sucks, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Series Masterlist

After breakfast, you helped Dexter and Lily clean up and prepare to leave for the first chase of the day. You gathered up the trash bags, jogged the short distance to the dumpsters, and tossed them in. When you turned around, you jumped as you found Tyler standing in front of you.

Clutching your chest, you swore, “Damn it! Why does everyone have to keep popping up and scaring me!”

He grinned, swaggering forward as he said, “I saw that little show you put on with Boone. It seems like you might not be over that revengeful streak of yours after all.” He stopped a few feet from you.

You lifted one shoulder as you tilted your head down so you could look up at him from under your lashes. “What can I say, some habits are hard to break.” Stepping closer until your chest almost grazed his, you lifted your head and stared unwaveringly into his eyes. “And sometimes people need to be reminded they aren’t the only ones who can tease or play games. Or that maybe they aren’t as smooth as they think they are and others can see through their bullshit deflections.”

Tilting his head, almost in a sign of deference, he murmured, “Good to know. Maybe you should take your own advice.” 

He leaned his head closer to yours…then pivoted and walked back towards his truck, once again leaving you flustered and your cheeks burning. As you silently cursed him, he yelled over his shoulder, “Oh, you might wanna have a talk with Boone about that little act before he shows up at your room with flowers and a box of chocolates.” 

You rolled your eyes and trudged after him.

It turned out, Tyler may not have been exaggerating. When you made it back to the camper van, Boone was there waiting for you, asking if you needed any help or if he could carry something for you or if you wanted something to drink or—

You couldn’t see Tyler, but you swore you heard him snickering somewhere nearby. 

As politely as possible, you explained to Boone that while you appreciated his offers, you were fine and that you hoped he didn’t get the wrong impression from your hug earlier. Boone’s face flushed as he stammered out a few “‘course not”s and “we’re cool”s before excusing himself and slinking away. You felt really bad at essentially using him, especially after he had been nothing but kind to you. Once again, you kicked yourself for allowing the old you to come to the surface and not having the self-control to stop playing games. 

Luckily, everything seemed to be forgotten by the time you joined Tyler and Boone at the red pickup a few minutes later. Boone was back to his usual excitable self as he prepared his camera and showed you how everything worked. Between his handheld with the live stream and the several other cameras mounted in the truck capturing video to be edited later, it was actually more complex than you had imagined. It seemed as if you really had underestimated Boone, and that made you feel even worse for involving him in your scheme earlier.

Then suddenly, it was time to roll out. You had been so focused on your behavior that morning that you hadn’t thought about what was about to happen next. As the last of the bags were stowed away in one of the vans and Dexter did one last run down of the current weather patterns, a knot began to form in the pit of your stomach. Telling yourself you would be driving into the middle of a tornado today had been one thing. Now facing the very real fact it was about to happen, you wondered if you should have skipped breakfast. 

On trembling legs, you walked over to Tyler’s truck and reached to open the back door. But just as your fingers closed around the handle, an arm draped itself across your shoulders. “Nuh uh, sweetheart. You’ve got shotgun.” 

You turned to face Tyler, the knot that had been forming in your stomach tightening. “But I thought Boone—”

“Boone can get plenty of footage from the back. But this being your first time wrangling a storm, we want to make sure you have a front-row seat to the action.” Tyler opened the passenger door for you. When you hesitated, he raised an eyebrow. “Unless you’re having second thoughts about riding with us? There’s always room for you in one of the other vans.”

Swallowing hard, you said, “No. I-I can do this.” 

You started to climb in, but Tyler grabbed your arm. Positioning himself so no one else could see you between his body and his truck, he softly murmured, “Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to. You don’t have to do this to try and prove something to anyone, even to yourself. Just coming with us after the storm like you did yesterday already puts you on the list of the bravest people I’ve ever met. And no one—not me, not your brother—no one can ever take that away from you. But—” he leaned over so the brim of his hat brushed against the top of your head and his thumb caressed your arm “—if you do want to go, I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. It’s your choice.”

The sincerity in his tone left no doubt that he meant what he said. If you decided to ride with Lily or Dani and Dexter instead, there would be no judgment. Tyler wouldn’t look down on you or think less of you for it, and that was all you needed to make up your mind.

Shooting him a grateful smile, you said, “Thanks, but I really do want to do this. And I always feel safe with you, Tyler, so I know this time won’t be any different.”

He grinned. “Alright then. Let’s go wrangle us a tornado.” 

He squeezed your arm one last time before helping you climb into the truck. Then he shut your door and hurried over to the driver’s side. Boone hopped in the back seat with an excited whoop just as Tyler’s door slammed shut.

You quickly buckled your seatbelt—trying to not think about the thick harness you hadn’t noticed the last time you rode up here—and settled back into your seat. But you froze as you looked out the windshield and saw Javi and Scott standing the Storm PAR vehicles still parked next to the main office. They were both staring right at you: Javi’s expression somewhat concerned yet accepting while Scott’s was nothing but pure apathy. 

You wondered if Javi told Scott the two of you had talked last night, though you hoped he kept it to himself. Not for your sake (you doubted it would have changed Scott’s opinion of you) but you didn’t want Javi to put himself into an uncomfortable position playing mediator for his business partner and said business partner’s sister. 

Tyler noticed who you were staring at and asked, “We good to go?”

You sighed. “Let’s do this.”

He nodded and started the engine. Easing the truck forward slowly, he rolled down his window and when he pulled alongside the group from Storm PAR, Tyler shouted, “Hey, Scotty! Make sure you watch the stream today so you don’t miss out on your sister’s first time driving headfirst into a tornado!”

You maintained eye contact with Scott, waiting for him to demand you get out of the truck or refuse to let you do something this dangerous. But instead, he just scoffed as he folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it. She was scared of thunder until she was a teenager. Trust me, she’ll be begging you to turn the truck around before you get a hundred feet from a storm.”

Lowering your eyes, you sunk further into your seat. Not only had he shaken the little confidence Tyler had helped build up in you, but Scott had just revealed something utterly embarrassing to your new friends. It was true that you had cowered under your covers or hidden from all windows in the middle of bad thunderstorms well into your teenage years, but you had gotten past it. However, you didn’t want the people who faced some of nature’s most dangerous weather on a daily basis to know that!

For a long moment, Tyler just stared at your brother. Then, shaking his head, he asked, “What is wrong with you?” before pulling out onto the road. 

Once the motel had disappeared in the rearview mirror, Tyler reached over and rested his hand on your knee. “Hey, don’t listen to him, okay? He’s just trying to get under your skin. You got this.”

You nodded and tried to smile at him, but you could tell it didn’t look as confident as you hoped. 

From behind you, Boone let out a low whistle. “That dude’s really your brother?” You nodded. “Dang, no wonder you decided to hang out with us instead. He sucks.”

The unexpectedness of that assessment caused a burst of laughter to escape your lips. Tyler glanced over, grinning and squeezing your knee. Your smile widened, feeling less forced and more genuine. Looking at the other storm chaser in the visor mirror, you chuckled. “Yeah, Boone. He really does suck.”

Tyler had mentioned he was looking for a smaller EF1 or EF2 for your first time out. However, the storm the Wranglers ame across looked much bigger than that. It was at least twice as wide as the tornado you saw yesterday, yet Tyler and Boone didn’t seem the least bit concerned. If anything, they seemed more excited than you had ever seen them before.

As the sky grew darker and the truck began to sway slightly in the increasing winds, you dug your fingers into the interior of the truck so tightly that your knuckles cracked. Scott was right. You weren’t brave enough for this. What the hell were you thinking wanting to go on a chase? It wasn’t a game. Thousands of people were injured or killed in tornados every year and now you were going to just drive up next to one? Possibly even into one? This was insane!

Seemingly sensing your mounting fear, Boone leaned forward, his head poking between you and Tyler, as he looked at his friend. “You sure she’s ready for this, T? I mean, no offense, but this one might be a little much for someone who's never done this before.”

But Tyler just grinned. “Nah, she’ll be fine. Won’t you, sweetheart?”

You nodded, your eyes wide in terror as you stared at the approaching storm. “Y-yeah. I’ll be fine.” 

Your voice betrayed the anxiety that was flooding every cell of your body, but Tyler reached over and took your hand, prying it carefully off the center console and giving it a tight squeeze. The small gesture instantly caused the panic rising within you to mellow slightly. The idea of what you were about to do still terrified you, but knowing Tyler was behind the wheel made it somewhat bearable. 

He nodded to the harness hanging limply on the sides of the seat. “We won’t need those for a bit, but you might feel a little more comfortable if you strap in now. You know, just in case.”

Immediately, you slipped your hand from his and began fumbling with the harness. It seemed pretty straightforward but seeing how your hands were shaking, it’s more difficult than you initially thought. Without taking his eyes off the road, Tyler reached over and straightened the strap that was twisted across your chest. Then he helped you click it into place before taking your hand once more. However, this time, he raised it to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back. It was more demure than the kiss he had placed there last night, but it still sent the same thrill through you all the way down to your toes. You quickly glanced in the visor mirror, but luckily it seemed Boone was too preoccupied with getting his camera set up to see what had just occurred. 

Tyler continued holding your hand until rain began pelting the windshield, the storm now looming so large in front of the truck that it seemed to block out everything else. You heard Boone starting his video introduction in the backseat but you didn’t register anything he said as you sat frozen in your seat staring at the approaching storm. It wasn’t until Boone nudged your shoulder rather forcefully that you realized he had been speaking to you. 

Shaking your head, you asked, “What?”

Boone chuckled nervously, glancing from the camera to you. “I said introduce yourself to the chat.”

“Oh, sorry.” You quickly said your name then continued to stare into the lens like a deer caught in the headlights as Boone left it focused on you, unsure of what else he wanted.

Luckily, Tyler came to your rescue. Grabbing Boone’s hand and swinging the camera to focus on him, he said, “Y’all probably remember me mentioning our newest Wrangler in yesterday’s stream. Well, she handled that storm like the pro she is so we thought we’d give her a shot at the main attraction today. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?” 

Tyler winked at you before turning the lens back in your direction. You smiled and nodded. “Yep! We’re gonna…wrangle us a tornado!”

It felt a bit stilted, but the pride and warmth radiating from Tyler as he looked at you made you feel like you had just given an Oscar Award-winning performance. You bit your lip and looked away as you felt the heat rushing to your cheeks. But then you remember what Tyler had said about you hiding your face when someone compliments you so you turn back and look him dead in the eye. The warm look on his face only intensified before he turned his attention back to the road ahead.

A few minutes later as he pulled the truck into the path of the storm, Tyler slowed to a stop. He flipped a few switches on the center console and pressed the red button on top of the joystick positioned there. You heard a whirring sound and the truck seemed to sink into the ground slightly. Tyler must have deployed the augers to lock the truck in place. Dani mentioned yesterday that they had never failed since they were installed and you prayed today wasn’t the day that changed.

But as the edge of the storm grew closer and closer, you felt a fresh wave of terror grip you. Placing both of your feet on your seat, you wrapped your arms around your knees, curling into yourself as much as the safety harness would allow. You focused all of your energy on your breathing, trying your hardest not to start hyperventilating. But as the tornado finally hit the front of the truck, you let out a small squeal and buried your head in your knees.

However…nothing happened. The truck didn’t flip wildly out of control. The windows didn’t shatter into a million pieces. The augers didn’t give out. 

Slowly, you raised your head. The entire truck shook and vibrated around you, the sensation sending tremors throughout your body. Outside, random bits of debris struck the truck but nothing seemed to be able to break through its upgraded structure. As the initial wall of wind passed by the truck and you found yourself deeper into the storm, you actually found yourself relaxing slightly, unfurling yourself where you had tucked into a tight ball. If something bad was going to happen, it would have been when the tornado first hit the truck. Right?

Tyler leaned over until his lips brushed the curve of your ear and he whispered. “Look up.”

You could just make out the words over the howl of the storm but you did what he said. Tilting forward, trembling as your face neared the windshield, you squinted up into the wind. For a moment, all you saw was dirt and debris swirling around. But then you noticed a smaller, tighter vortex dancing through the center almost as if there was a tornado within the tornado. And as you followed this swirl up, you gasped as you caught just a glimpse of the sky peaking through the opening of the funnel. It was one of the brightest blues you had ever seen and it was utterly magical. 

You looked over at Tyler. His face was beaming as he watched you and, in that moment, he was even more breathtaking than the storm. Time seemed to stop and nothing else existed besides the two of you. Not the storm, not Boone, not the camera, nothing.

Your eyes met…then so did your lips. You weren't even really sure who initiated it and you didn’t care. His lips molded against yours perfectly, his tongue dancing across the entrance of your mouth as he tested his boundaries. But when you parted your lips further, he slipped inside as he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and drew you closer. He tasted like coffee with just the hint of peppermint. And as his stubble scraped across your skin, you hummed at the shiver it sent racing down your spine. 

The kiss was everything you had been imagining and so much more. 

Needing more, you tried crawling across the center console to straddle his lap but something hugging you tightly across your chest stopped you. It was only then that you remembered the harness holding you into your seat. Your fingers scrambled against the buckle, finally unhooking it—

“And they say there ain’t no love in Oklahoma! Well, if that ain’t love, I don’t know what is!”

You and Tyler both jumped apart, startled by Boone’s joyful exclamation from the backseat. Horrified, you realized he had just filmed your kiss and broadcasted it live on the Wranglers’ YouTube channel. You buried your face in your hands, only peeking through the smallest crack to see Tyler’s reaction. 

He ran his fingers through his hair, brushing the fallen strands off his face as he muttered, “Boone–”

But his fellow storm chaser paid him no mind. “You saw it here first! The tornado wrangler himself has been wrangled by a new beau.”

“Boone.”

“And if any of you out there has ever wondered if two people could kiss in the middle of a tornado, I guess we have our answer!”

“Boone!” Tyler shot you an exasperated look and you lowered your hands, chuckling softly at the silliness of the whole situation. It was only then that you also noticed the storm had passed and everything outside the truck was now calm. Too bad the same couldn’t be said for inside the truck.

Tyler reached into the backseat and wrestled the camera out of Boone’s hands. Then, he took a breath and aimed the camera at himself as he plastered on a smile. “Well, I guess that’s it for today, folks. Things took a bit of an unexpected turn but in the middle of a storm, you never know what might happen! Thanks for watching and as always, if you feel it—” he leaned across the center console until his face was next to yours in the shot “—chase it.” And he pressed his lips against yours once again.

You could feel Tyler grinning against your mouth as you returned his kiss. Without pulling away, you reached out and covered the lens of the camera with your hand. The world had seen enough of you and Tyler for one day. However, if you had your way, the two of you were just getting started. 

Part 7 coming 9/23!

[escapedaudios]

God I need to bullshit another reason to get Scythe Audio to do heavy metal screams and growls in one of my audios again. If he wasn't already playing the Grimest Reaper in My True Love is Dead I'd invent a metal-themed slasher for him to play. Slash's gallery of rivals is already full of quirky villains with themes and gimmicks. A heavy metal slasher would actually rule.

Maybe I could just ressurect the lead singer of Bruderhof Death Machine as a ghoul and upgrade him from a side character that died after two minutes to a full character.

Uhhh ok I'm entering a stream of consciousness now. I'm gonna yap about My True Love is Dead. So far I have a few official character estsblishesd.

Killer Ride (aka the Route 66 Killer)

Motorcycle themed villain. She rides a ghoulish motorbike with a frame of bones called The Murdercycle. It's gas tank is filled with the tormented souls of her victims, and it's powered by their eternal screams. When the revs up her engine, you hear them wailing alongside the roaring sound of the engine. Her main weapon is a whip made from an oversized motorcycle chain with a dagger at the end, when she cracks her whip it moves faster than a bullet and makes sonic booms as it strikes. Her biker jscket has shoulder pads made from human skulls. She's campy and outrageous and larger than life cool and I love her even though she only exists in my outlines right now.

The Ace of Blades (aka the Great Plains Killer)

A rebellious slasher that defies the mandates of the Grimest Reaper. He's unspeakably evil. He spent 100 years in hell before his first ressurection as a ghoul. He spent so long in hell that hell itself follows him wherever he goes. Cracks bursting with flames and magma open in the ground where he steps. His weapons are two flaming sabers and his deceased victims follow him around as possesed skeletons and zombies bound to his vile will. They rise from the ground where his feet split the earth, and beg for death as they carry out his orders. He's the final boss and so unbelievably evil that even slashers find him despicable. Killer of virgins, killer of killers, and killer of all witnesses. There are no legends about him among mortals, because no one has ever survived him.

Demon Candy Undead (aka the Underground Killer)

Demon Candy, returned to life as a ghoul and servant of the Reaper. Enthusiastically obedient to the mandates of the Grimest Reaper, even more deranged and cruel than she was in life. Enamored by spectacle and flair, she records and disseminates her murders through VHS tapes that she leaves around for people to find. Dazzling and darkly glamorous, she's a charismatic showman that turns her cruelty into entertainment for the sick and twisted. Believers in her legend idolize her in a cult-like fashion, and capture living victims that they leave as offerings for her to collect and trap in her cruel games.

The Grimest Reaper

The master of Slash and The Basher. He never breaks a promise or a deal, but always makes sure that deals are in his favor. One of the only characters that is aware of worlds outside of his own. All universes have a Reaper. Some are kind ferrymen between life and death, others are cruel forces of terror. He is the most cruel one of them all. All who serve him must obey his mandates, or else be hunted down by his other servants with their souls devoured by him.

Some other reapers exist in my other universes! You've already seen one. Father Ernst from Der Wolfsjäger is an Angel of Death, though he'll never admit it to a mortal. It's only ever implied shortly before he appears, when Jäger explains that you can hear a holy choir of the dead singing when Death is near. Swan Song from Neon Memoriam is also a Reaper. She hasn't appeared directly yet, but she's been around. When Raven was dying in Neon Wings, she was there. The only reason Raven didn't die was because Crow was keeping her from taking Raven's soul, even though he didn't know it yet.

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 8 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: this one is a bit on the shorter side, but I promise next chapter will be juicy! 😉

W/C: 3.086

part seven

"Wait- why am I actually kind of bitter about this?"

I mumble, looking up at Luis. He turns around, moving his camera away to look at me.

"Bitter about what?" He asks, fidgeting with the settings of the device.

"They literally crap out money- but get a free BMW?" I question, folding my arms.

"Oh, please. Will you stop being such a negative person?"

He gives me a nasty look, his hand coming to grab my arm.

"Or go sit in the car..?" He adds, pointing behind me.

"No, it's too hot to sit in the car.." I complain, adjusting my sleeve.

"Why did you even follow me here in the first place?" He asks, raising his brows.

"I was done with my to-do list and didn't want to stay cooped up in the office.."

Not to mention to avoid the insanely annoying looks I had been receiving ever since those stupid rumors and photos had been out.

"Okay, just stay back and watch then.."

I watch him make cinematic shots of each individual model and car. My patience begins to thin when he's still busy with it twenty minutes later.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to keep myself busy. I carefully scroll through my Instagram explore page, ignoring the thousands of follower requests to my account.

The internet was very quick, so within hours of my face being online, people had found both my full name and social media accounts.

"y/n!"

I freeze, holding my phone against my chest, and turn in the direction the noise came from.

I make immediate eye contact with Valeria, her obnoxiously fake smile burning my eyes instantly.

"Yeah? Anything wrong with the shoot?" I ask, shoving my phone into my pocket.

"No, the players have just arrived- and it's a better look if you're off your phone and look interested."

I fight the urge to snort at her ridiculous comment, and just nod before I lose it.

"Sure, any reason you're here today? It's only for some short clips..”

I watch her take a step forward, a hand reaching up to her hip. She moves her neck in a weird way, staring at me for a moment.

"It's always good to see how my juniors work, and how close they are to the players is really something I like keeping an eye on.."

Oh- surprise, she was here for something stupid!

I was already over her snarky remarks, especially those insinuating a romantic relationship between Jude and me.

The thought only makes me want to gag.

I shiver at the cursed idea, noticing a few players already walking over to check out the new car they chose, and look back at Valeria.

"Well, I'm sure some of the guys really need your presence and knowledge. Please, go and join them.."

I instigate, hoping and wishing she goes to bother Toni instead.

For some reason, he could handle her bullshit really well.

"Oh, don't mind if I do.." She chuckles, immediately turning her back to me and walking away.

I sigh in relief, rubbing my nape to try to release some tension from my body.

I begin walking up to the cars myself, reading off every license plate to see which player got what model.

I stop at the car chosen by Aurélien, observing the details of the 'i4 eDrive35'.

« Très belle, non? » I hear him say. I nod, pursing my lips.

« Le couleur- noir est parfait.. » I compliment, stepping back to get a better view.

I open my mouth to say something else- but I'm startled by a loud car horn, it almost makes my eardrums explode. I shut my eyes tightly, not reacting fast enough to cover my ears properly.

"What the fuck.." I mumble, looking to my left. An obviously aggravated expression on my face, because who the hell thought that was a good idea?

“Jude! Get out of your mom’s car, please!” I exclaim, seeing him stand at the driver’s door.

The man couldn’t even drive, but got to choose a car for himself?

Not even that- he also chose the most expensive model worth more than a hundred thousand euros?

Life is so unfair.

“You’re standing in the way!” He exclaims, walking around to sit in the passenger seat. Another staff member comes over to drive him around the parking lot.

I give him a nasty look, stepping aside and looking back at Aurélien.

“Why don’t you join him?” He suggests, an obvious smirk on his face.

“What? Why would I do that?” I ask, raising my brows and folding my arms defensively.

“You know- nice car and fun drive..” He trails off, glancing at the moving car.

“I would feel like I’m in danger without him even being the driver..” I state, shielding my eyes from the sun with my hand.

He chuckles, as if to mock the fear for my safety. I shrug it off, looking behind me to see where Luis is.

“Come on- get in the car and I’ll get Luis to do a little video..” I usher, walking away to get Luis.

The entire shoot takes us about an hour before we’re finally done. I quickly bid farewell and thank fellow staff members for their hard work before jumping into my car.

I go to start my car, looking up to see where Luis is. I roll my windows down, letting some fresh air into the car, hoping he’ll be here quickly.

“No- it’s just annoying because I’m trying to do my job properly and I’m getting the craziest stares. Like, does having a conversation with someone mean we’re married with three kids and a chihuahua?!” I exclaim, looking at Amira on FaceTime.

“And you attended his match, and you wore his name on your shirt and spoke to his family and-"

I cut her off with a loud groan, rubbing my eyes in irritation.

“You’re the one who set me up!”

“I thought you already knew it was his shirt! Should I have worn Jude’s while you wore Trent’s?” She defends herself, a smirk forming on her lips.

I shake my head, dropping my pencil on the table.

I had been studying all day and had stopped the instant Amira called me.

“The way I can’t even get mad at anyone about this- ugh..” I complain, shifting in my chair.

“And those follow requests are so annoying..”

I grumble, totally aware of the fact that I had been complaining about literally every single thing and then some.

“Girl, if you set your account on public again and accept those followers..”

“What? I’m going to clout chase being that douche's fake girlfriend?”

“Obviously?”

“I have to take over my dad’s firm one day, and you want me to be known for dating my coworker?”

“Too late-"

I stop paying attention to what she’s saying when the front door opens, my gaze moving to see my dad walking in.

“I’m going to call you back later.” I mutter to Amira, waving at her until she hangs up.

I close my laptop, standing up to walk over to the door.

“Hey, dad- you’re late.” I say, grabbing his laptop bag off of him.

“I had a lot of work to review. Did you have dinner?” He asks, hanging his coat up on the coat rack.

“I had some of the food auntie Carmen made. You?”

“We all had dinner in the office. Everyone has been going home late these days.” He says, washing his hands in the kitchen sink before loosening his tie.

“With what?” I ask, setting his laptop bag on the table, prying into his business.

“Can’t say, but- don’t you think you need to tell me something?” He suddenly asks, turning to me.

I freeze, looking at him with wide eyes.

What the hell would I be hiding from him?

“Uh- no? I’m not sure what you’re talking about?” I state, scratching my nape in confusion.

“Are you sure?” He presses on, coming to hold onto my shoulders.

“I’m sure. What am I supposed to hide from you?” I ask, getting rather defensive, a frown forming in between my brows as I keep staring at him.

He notices my irritation, letting go of my shoulders and holding his hands up in surrender.

“Okay- I understand. Don’t get all angry at me..” He says, smiling.

“I’m not angry- just confused..”

“Forget I asked- How was work? How about you tell me about that instead?”

I purse my lips, looking down at my laptop.

“Alright, the players got new cars, so we had to do a shoot for BMW..” I mutter, fiddling with my notebook.

“You look so down, y/n. What? Are you jealous? I got you your new Audi less than two years ago..”

“What do you mean, dad? I love that car, would not exchange an Audi for a BMW- I have some car knowledge.” I state, my expression changing as I explain to him.

“That’s right! Come to me when you really want to change your car. I’ll call up some people I know.”

I make my way towards the printer, looking for the documents I had sent over to be copied a couple hours ago. Finding them, I quickly read them through to confirm the pages are complete, until I’m stopped by Hugo.

“Are you ready for El Classico week?” He asks, making a copy of something.

Most people, as in football fans, would say an El Classico is a match you shouldn’t miss. The long-standing rivalry between the two clubs was always interesting to watch, and I would definitely agree a hundred percent-

Only, if it didn’t mean we had to ensure our match posts, interviews, and statements were properly prepared and triple-checked and approved days leading up to the match.

Of course, I loved watching the game- but the way it exhausted literally everyone involved was no fun.

What made it harder was the fact that we had a whole Champions League match to worry about first. To sum it all up, no one was getting sleep for the next two weeks.

“Yeah, just really busy with preparations.” I reply, folding the corner of the documents.

“Good luck, we’ve all been having sleepless nights. It will be worth it in the end- you’ve experienced this before. Just keep on doing what you always do.”

I nod in acknowledgment, smiling at him.

“You’re right, we will put our best foot forward.” I give him a thumbs up, chuckling.

“Good- I’ll see you at lunch. Work hard!” He encourages, patting my shoulder before leaving with his printed papers.

I sigh in relief when he leaves, making my way up to my desk. I place the documents on the table, before running down to the pitch. Having to finish some last-minute recording of the match preparations.

I walk over to the pitch, training is already in full motion, and I notice Luis already there. I look around for any other staff members, only seeing the creepy guy I ran into weeks ago standing across the pitch.

The guy was a walking, real-life jumpscare at this point. I’d only run into him at random moments, and the way he’d look at me had my heart leaping into my throat.

“You’re late.” Luis complains, bringing me out of my thoughts, fiddling with a black cable.

“Did those two minutes kill you?” I ask, sighing, and look at the players who were training.

“Of boredom, yes..” He replies, and I notice the small- very slight compliment in his words. A smile forming on my face as I chuckle.

“We would’ve been absolutely fucked if Kepa didn’t save that one..” I mutter, insanely stressed, as I eye the scoreboard in the Lluís Companys Olympic Stadium. A temporary stadium FC Barcelona had been using for this season.

“Don’t say that- you have no trust in this team whatsoever..” Luis complains, looking up at me.

“Who will score?” I ask, we loved guessing who would score and assist goals during every match.

“Jude.” He immediately says, not hesitating one bit.

“No- I’m guessing Vinicius..” I say, eyes darting back to my laptop screen.

“I will be right- just watch..”

“It’s his second El Classico and his first in season one. What is he going-” I immediately stop talking when I notice a chance to score, my hands tangle into my shirt as I see how much space there is to score.

I gasp, and my jaw slacks open when Jude scores an absolute screamer, which I’d obviously never admit to him.

“I told you!” Luis screams, celebrating like it’s his birthday. I scoff, secretly happy we were put out of our 0-1 misery, and search for the draft I’m supposed to publish.

A couple minutes pass, it’s almost full time, and extra time is finally announced. The away side is full of Madridistas, all sitting on the edge of their seats until Luca kicks the ball towards Jude and GOAL!

The away side celebrates happily, with another El Classico win in our pocket. I quickly manage and do what I have to do, before we both get up to go back inside.

I was both delighted and annoyed at the fact that we won. Of course, it’s always amazing to win a match like this, especially when we were doing so well this season. Also because it’s Luca’s 500th match, and an assist is pretty amazing to pull off on a day like this.

The only thing making me have bitter feelings was the fact that I had to interview Jude today. Normally, Man Of The Match interviews with him were already horrific to experience. An elaborate interview with him, after I’d been avoiding him like the plague, wasn’t necessarily something I would want to do.

“Can you go first? I’ve got to pee really badly..” I say to Luis, placing my bag down and running towards the restroom. Finishing my business up quickly and washing my hands thoroughly.

I look around me for a bit, knowing that sometimes players would use these restrooms as well. I had heard about instances where the players of the opposite team had raged against our team’s staff members. Which definitely had me watching my back in moments like these.

I had interacted with some players of FC Barcelona, and they hadn’t been disrespectful so far.

Thus, I’m not too fazed when the door to the restroom opens. I look up as a sweaty and tired Ferran Tores walks in.

We make immediate eye contact, and I nod in greeting, shooting him a quick ‘hello' before pulling some paper towels from the dispenser to dry my hands.

He seems to be seething in anger, so I break eye contact, looking away.

“This is a staff bathroom, are you aware of that?”

He suddenly says, water splashing from the faucet as he begins washing his face.

“Sorry?” I question, wondering what he’s getting at.

“Not for girlfriends.” He mutters, turning the faucet off.

My face twists into one of confusion, the words throwing me for a loop. Seems like he notices, and he opens his mouth again.

“You’re Bellingham’s girl, aren’t you? This is the staff restroom.” He enunciates every single word as if I’m a kindergartner, it makes me freeze for a second.

I struggle to stop myself from reacting thoughtlessly, not knowing if I should be crying or laughing.

My hand reaches for my staff badge hanging from my neck, waving it in front of his face.

“Do I look like a girlfriend?” I ask, dropping my badge and stepping out before he can apologize.

Asshole, losing doesn’t give you the right to be so damn rude.

How could I even get rid of these stupid fucking rumors?

“Okay, smile!” I exclaim, holding Luis’s camera up to take a photo of the squad. With the happiness of winning an El Classico and the celebration of Luca's milestone came a lot of excitement and enthusiasm.

I hold back a chuckle at the sight of Aurélien laying on the floor, instructing some of them to move a bit for a better shot.

We take multiple photos together, staff members taking photos with the squad while I force them to stand in front of the camera.

“y/n, come here, and we’ll take a picture!” Antonio urges, snatching the camera off of me and pushing me to stand in front of the camera.

I feel myself being pushed, until I find myself almost pressing into Jude’s side.

I curse to myself, forcing an awkward smile as I pose next to everyone.

“What? Surely, you don’t think I bite?” Jude whispers, his arm dropping to his side.

“Please, shut up and pose. We still have that interview, so don’t start now..” I mutter between a clenched smile, pretending I’m not fazed.

I hear a soft chuckle, a mocking and breathy ‘sure’ leaving his mouth.

It gives me shivers down my spine, and I fight the urge to step on his shoe, focusing on posing instead.

This will be a long, long interview..

“You should’ve told me you’re leaving.” I mumble, mouth full of cereal and milk.

“Sorry, been so busy, didn’t even come to mind.” My dad says, walking around the house as he gets ready for work.

“Where is that blue tie I just got?” He shouts from his room.

“I ironed it! It’s in the bottom drawer!” I shout, scrolling through my messages.

“Got it!”

I hum, chugging the leftover milk in my bowl before standing up from the dining table.

“When are you going? Will you be gone for long?” I ask, watching him put the tie on in his bedroom.

“This weekend. It’s a crucial case, so I’ll be back when it’s totally over. Don’t get up to mischief. I know how you get when you’re home alone.” He points, giving me a stern look.

“Yeah, sure, I will plan a house party or two..” I joke, but it doesn’t land as he continues staring me down.

“Okay! I will be a responsible adult and call you or auntie Carmen when something happens..”

“Good, I’m leaving to get to work. Will you be back on time for dinner?” He says, grabbing his paperwork and laptop bag.

“Yeah, can we order in tonight?” I give him a pleading look, walking him out.

“You know I can’t deny my daughter happiness in the form of burgers and fries...”

[pochipop]

＃OVERWATCH !! ♡ — DON'T WASTE YOUR HEART IN MOURNING ME (MOIRA X READER).

#. synopsis! — left to grapple with moira's sudden departure from your life, you spend a harrowing afternoon reminiscing on the good, the bad, and the deliciously bittersweet . #. characters! — moira .

#. warnings! — angst, liberal use of curse words .

#. word count! — 6.1k .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw), @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

The apartment feels larger now than it did before. It’s quiet in a way it never was when Moira was around, —always with her little tics, tapping her long, ever-manicured nails on the kitchen island or pacing about in one of the rooms. . . She did that latter thing a lot near the end, with more dramatic touslings of her hair than in the time before. For a moment, you fear the downstairs neighbors must be celebrating her departure, and the thought of it almost makes you laugh. The silence is laden with memories in every nook and cranny of this place, and it dawns on you now that it feels much like it did back when she and you were moving the first of many boxes in, ready to start a new life together.

Only this time, there’s no promise of eternal love or any of that other bullshit that she always warned you was a fool’s game to play with. 

Moira, Moira, Moira, ever the pragmatic one. . .

There’s a faint scent of lavender-heavy perfume that lingers throughout, reminding you that she wasn’t just some figment of your imagination. At one time, she’d been the love of your life. Or, she was who you thought would take that title, anyway. Nowadays, you just aren’t so sure, and perhaps that’s been the hardest pill to swallow thus far. The scent reminds you of her, —of the way her brows would furrow deeply when she was displeased, of how she always took her coffee black and poked fun at you for the additives you refused to drink it without. It reminds you of her arms wrapping ever so sweetly around your waist, her chin coming down to rest on the crown of your head.

You blink and try to focus on something —anything— else. It’s hard enough to deal with it all, but you’re just torturing yourself with it at this point. Your eyes sweep the room, the cream-colored walls, landing on a painting you’d created several years ago. It was lackluster now in terms of honed skill, but there was something so endlessly passionate about it, so full of vibrance and promise. Reaching out, your fingertips graze the glazed canvas, and it’s like you’re right back there again. . .

The gallery buzzes with excitement, the sounds of light, casual conversation and clinking wine glasses echoing through the wide halls. You stand before your own work, amazed that it’s hanging here in this exhibit of your prowess, even if this gig had been a long time coming. To see it actually displayed here made your heart soar. It was the biggest step you’d taken in your career since moving to this city and it felt so incredible that your sacrifices were finally paying off.

You’re caught up in the whirlwind of congratulations, thanks, and small talk, —but none of that is enough to keep your eyes from drifting over to her; a tall, ginger-haired, sophisticated woman standing a few feet back from one of your pieces, staring at it intensely enough to feel unnerving and intriguing all in the same breath. Dressed in a finely pressed suit the same color of the wine in her glass, her sharp, calculating gaze turns to you as you approach her nervously, feeling small both physically and metaphorically standing beside her.

“I can’t quite tell if you like it or not,” you muse, trying to sound playful, even if the real intent was just to have her offer her unfiltered opinion so you could stop guessing what she thought of it.

The way she was staring at it made you feel like she thought there was some kind of hidden message carved into the paint strokes. When her eyes flicker to you, you notice that they’re different colors, —one red, one blue, both deeper shades, and you get lost in them for a moment before she laughs softly, and you have something else to fall into. 

“Oh, I like it quite a bit,” she answers.

There’s an accent clinging to her words, but you haven’t quite placed it just yet. That doesn't stop it from making your stomach twist itself into knots though.

“It’s quite captivating.” 

You almost blurt out that you could say the same of her, but you let that sentence die on your tongue before it has the chance to see the light of day.

“I’m glad you think so,” you smile softly, “it was my favorite of the bunch. That’s why I placed it in the center of the exhibit.” 

“I’m inclined to agree,” she nods. “How much would it cost to purchase?”

Your eyes widen. It wasn’t necessarily unusual for paintings to be arranged to be sold during these events, but that tended to come with recognition from the local art collecting scene that you just didn’t have at the moment. For you, this exhibit was more about reaching a wider audience and allowing the public to see your pieces than it was making any kind of profit. . .

“Um. . . I— I don’t know, how much would you be willing to pay?” You swallow, at the risk of sounding unprofessional.

She gives the painting another glance over, then turns back to you.

“Does a grand sound fair?”

Your jaw almost dropped to the floor.

“S-Sorry?”

“Two?”

Holy shit. All of this seemed to have gone from zero to a thousand (or two. . .) in the blink of an eye, and you have to take a second to collect yourself, lest you seem anymore clueless than you’ve probably already come across as.

“Does. . . fifteen hundred work?” You dare.

“Certainly,” Moira nods decisively.

You give her your information so she can send the money your way in a few days time when she comes to pick the painting up at the end of the exhibition. And when the time comes, you walk away with one less painting to lug back to your apartment, fifteen hundred dollars richer, and with a new phone number added to your contacts with her name attached.

It was almost funny. Maybe you’d have laughed if you weren’t already on the verge of tears. All of this has really come full circle, and you’re just not sure you appreciate the irony of it all in the moment. Here you are, standing in front of this goddamn painting, the one that had acted as a catalyst to meeting Moira in the first place. . . And it’s back in your possession, because she couldn’t even be bothered to take it with her. As much as you love it for what it represents, there’s a part of you that wants to pluck it off the wall and slam it out the window right about now. Or maybe beating it with a baseball bat or something would feel more satisfying.

Whatever the case, you’re getting tired of looking at it, so you avert your gaze elsewhere and let your back touch the wall beside it. Stupid painting. Stupid apartment. Stupid Moira and her stupid decisions that have plagued your life for the past five years, and those stupidly long nails that traced perfect shapes along your hip at night, and her stupid lips with that goddamn orangeish gloss that always stained yours when she’d kiss you—

“Ugh!” You groan.

All this reminiscing has reminded you of how electric it felt to be in her presence back then, how magnetic she’d been from the start. Those sharp eyes that matched her wit, those clever jokes she’d throw your way (some of which went over your head, admittedly), —and the sweetness of her voice when it came to you. She was kinder with you in subtle way, would place her hands on the small of your back in public, taking care to tuck loose strands of your hair behind your ears if the need arose. You hate that this fallout has left you wondering if it was ever truly affection at all, of if she was simply protecting her own self-image.

You’ve questioned a lot of things about her over the years, but whether or not she was genuine in her love for you had rarely been one. But now, that conversation is back on the table, and it’s woefully one-sided this time. 

One text lead to many. At first, it was hard to tell if she was simply interested in you as an artist or if that interest expanded to you as a person, but she quickly put your worries to rest when she began flirting with you in a way that even you, in all your obliviousness, had to acknowledge was more than playful banter between friends. Slowly, your life became intertwined with hers, and looking back, it seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. One late night date at a fancy bar and you were practically groveling at her feet, so desperate for her to see you as her equal. She spoke with you about science and philosophy, —her words acting as a forewarning for what was inevitably to come, even if you didn’t realize it at the time.

She was very hush-hush about her working endeavors, but you knew she was employed by Overwatch. That alone explained why she couldn’t divulge all the information of her duties to you, and you were okay with that. The secrecy got worse as time went on. Especially after she was publicly shamed for her “poor regard for the ethics of the scientific community” or whatever. The city isn’t small by any means, but it wasn’t large enough to spare you the fate of being tied to her name. You’d been seen attending various events with her, and many of the wealthy clientele that purchased paintings from the local galleries soon put two and two together. At that point, your paintings began selling at a much slower and much less financially liberal rate.

Moira insisted that it was okay. That it would pass eventually as she became involved with a different organization, —or. . . A different branch of the same organization? You weren’t sure. She never explained much, and you didn’t like to pry. If Moira wanted you to know something, she would tell you. Anything beyond that was best left alone.

Equally mesmerizing and maddening all at once, she insists that all is well. That everything will be okay. That all of this heat on her name is a fad, that once she proves herself, the tides will turn in her favor. . . And you believe her. You take smaller, more intimate jobs and refrain from showing your face at the local galleries for a while, waiting for the heat to die down. She talks you into moving in with her, taking you from your one-bedroom studio apartment to the top of the most affluent building in the city. You tell her it doesn’t feel much like anywhere you could call home, and she brushes your concerns away.

“It’s all the empty space,” she says. “We’ll decorate.”

You do, and somewhere along the line this apartment begins to feel exactly like you insisted it couldn’t. You sleep on sheets that smell like her, bury your face into her pillow to breathe her in when she gets up at ungodly hours of the morning to leave for work. She hangs that painting she bought from you about a year ago by now up on the wall near the kitchen and the living room, and she glances at it often when she sits at the counter. When she manages to make it home in time for dinner, you sit together and eat. . . Sometimes she’s just shy of talking your ear off, and others, she doesn’t say much at all.

She cups your cheeks and insists that everything will be okay when you get overwhelmed. She learns how to be gentler with you, learns how to be more sensitive. You learn how to trust her more and how to avoid stepping on her toes when her days are hard. Sometimes, you convince her to turn that magnificent brain of hers off and watch something stupid on the television with you, —trashy reality TV that she doesn’t really get, but likes to watch you giggle at more than anything else. If you’re lucky, she won’t wake you when you doze off in her lap, she’ll just gently massage your scalp and let you rest against her.

Slowly but surely, the apartment is filled with lots of things. Books, trinkets, little pieces of decor. . . Love. She doesn’t declare it often, but every now and again, she’ll get the urge to remind you. Usually it’s just before you fall asleep, her long arms pulling you against her chest, mumbling a confession so quiet only you can hear it above her heartbeat; like it’s a secret she’s keeping from the rest of the world.

You feel bad that sometimes you wish it was.

“Do you even understand what’s happening?” You ask one afternoon, frustrated and angered by her continued neutrality towards it all. “To me?” You add. “To us?” 

Those eyes that you’ve always loved so much flash with anger and a hint of something else, something you don’t really recognize on her. . . Guilt?

“What is there to understand?” She challenges. “My work is important. I thought you understood at least that much.”

“And mine isn’t?” You counter.

“I never said that,” she shakes her head. “I’ve never not supported your career choices, —need I remind you how we met?” 

She says that and gestures to the hung painting on the wall. You nearly scoff.

“It’s one thing to support me, Moira, it’s another to be proactive about it.”

She frowns.

“I’m sorry our relationship has caused you so much distress,” she hisses.

“That isn’t what I’m saying,” you bite back.

“Then what exactly are you saying, y/n?” She questions, but you can tell by the way she says it that she’s not really looking for an answer.

You still offer one anyway.

“I’m asking you when enough is enough, Moira.”

Her expression hardens, a shield silently snapping into place.

“Enough is never enough in science,” she says to you, like you’re some underling in her lab she’s giving a lecture to.

There’s a cold, detached sentiment in her tone, —one that makes your heart ache. Because you love her, in spite of all this.

“Progress requires sacrifice.”

You laugh, but it sounds so bitter that you hardly recognize it came from you.

“Sacrifice? You wanna preach to me of all people about sacrifice? —What about us, Moira? What about the sacrifices I’ve made, endless ones, mind you, to be here and stand with you and back the things you do? This kind of mindless complacency because I care, and I only ever want to assume the best of you. But what about me? What about the life we’ve built together? Does that mean nothing to you?”

Moira’s eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place. Regret, maybe, or something like fleeting sorrow.

“Of course it means something to me,” she says softly.

You hurt her, and you can see it on her face. A part of you wants to reach out, take her by the wrist, kiss this better. . . But you don’t. The argument hangs heavy in the air, a chasm widening between the two of you. She turns away and leaves the apartment for a while. It’s nearly midnight when she returns, and she sleeps in the guest room for the next few days. You catch brief glimpses of her every now and again when one of you is coming or going, but there isn’t really anything to say. It’s a stalemate, and you’re both a little too stubborn for you own good.

Moira cracks first after four days, a rare showing of compassion on her part. You come home to a nice, home cooked dinner, and she coaxes you into sitting down and eating with her. It’s not like it takes much convincing. It’s been a while since you’ve seen her cook, but you’re reminded of how much you’ve missed it as you eat what she’s prepared. After some awkward small talk about what you’ve both been up to over the past few days, and you holding your tongue on any snarky quips, she sighs.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” she tells you. “About us.”

In the back of your mind, a part of you steels for a breakup. For some dissolution of everything you’ve put your heart into, and somehow. . . It feels like something that was bound to happen. And that’s the worst part. Still, you nod and put your fork down, giving her your full attention as she speaks with careful measure. It’s the first real conversation you’ve had with her in over half a week, and you’re determined to make it count for something. 

“My work is very important to me. You must know as much by now. But I do understand your frustrations, and I’m sorry that my career has interfered with yours. There isn’t much I can do about it, but I acknowledge your frustrations, and if I could make this easier for you, y/n, you know that I. . .”

You sigh.

“I do,” you say softly. “I know.”

She nods.

“I also know that I can be difficult to be with at times. I know that I get so caught up in my experiments that I fail to leave time for anything else, but I try. Because I care for you very deeply, and I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose what we have together, what we’ve built. . .”

“I know,” you repeat. 

Moira sighs.

“You’re still angry with me.”

“I am,” you admit. “But I appreciate that you’re trying to make things right, and I. . . Should apologize to you too. For what I said. I know that you care about me, and about our relationship, and I’m sorry that I questioned that. It was wrong.”

She seems pleased with this, —more than willing to let it be water under the bridge.

Things admittedly don’t get much easier in the fallout. Not in terms of your career, anyway. Your works are tainted by the woman you call a lover, and your name is blackballed across the community. It’s a constant struggle to reconcile your own morality with the dubiousness of her’s, and yet you really can’t imagine life without her. So you stay, and you sleep in her bed; —your bed. The one you’ve built with her. You stuff it down and vent your frustrations to the walls of your painting room.

You glance to the door but make no move to go near it. God, all this shit those walls have heard over the years. . . You don’t even wanna think about what kind of therapy they’d need if they were sentient. It’s almost enough to make you shiver. This entire apartment, for that matter, is like some kind of twisted mausoleum of memories; good and bad. The bed you’ve slept alone in more nights than you can count over the years is the same one she undressed you so many times on, picking you apart like you were perfectly cooked ribs just sliding off the bone, and fuck it makes you so mad that she’s just thrown everything away like this. That couch you’ve cried on out of sheer overwhelming frustration is the one where she urged you onto her lap, the one she covered you up with a blanket on those times she came home to find you napping there.

It’s been three years since that argument was settled at the table. It’s been three days since she sat you down in the same chair, in the same room, at that same goddamn table, to tell you she was leaving. That she didn’t know when or if she’d be coming back. That Overwatch was just too stifling, that she needed to get away, to explore. . . And in the process, she’s left you alone. Again. The echoes of that last conversation haunt the empty space. You’re mad. You’re so, so angry that this is the way she left things, and it’s eating you up like boiling water in your veins.

All that time you’d spent making sacrifices, letting your art be devalued so she could search for some secret key to humanity’s shackles while keeping you chained in this fucking apartment. The chandelier hanging from the ceiling just didn’t fix everything the way it should have for the way it raised the rent of this goddamn place. You check your phone, knowing there won’t be any kind of message or call from her, but silently hoping there might be. That maybe, just this once, she’ll prove you wrong. . . That she’ll just come back and say she’s sorry, that she made a mistake and wants to make it right again.

But there’s nothing.  You choke back a sob and train your eyes on the apartment walls again. They’ve seen nearly everything from start to finish, and yet you just don’t feel like you can let them watch you weep now. They held your back when Moira pressed you against them, her hands traversing you with more muscle memory of you each time, and they held it again the night she said she was departing while you slid down it, heart heavy enough to pull you like gravity itself.

Now, these walls bear silent witness to your grief. The silence wraps around you like a cold, unwelcome blanket, frigid on your skin like her hands tended to be. It amplifies every thought in your head, every memory of her, all the things she’s just left behind now like it was easy. Like it was all meaningless fodder for her when to you, it was just shy of everything. It was what you fought for the hardest, what you sacrificed for the most, what you were willing to crawl on your hands and knees for above anything else. It’s hard to believe that she’s gone, just like that, but the absence of her presence now, the absence of her things, makes it all too real. 

You let your head tilt upward, catching the barest sight of the painting just up and to your left. The thing that started it all, the beginning of the end, and it feels like such a cruel joke now, —like a reminder of everything you’ve come to lose.

More than anything, you want to be angry. You want to tear this place apart with your bare hands, destroy every reminder of her, every piece of her that still lingers in this god forsaken apartment. . . But you can’t. You just can’t bring yourself to do it, and not just for the fact that the costs will be far too much to repay in the aftermath. Instead, you simply slump further against the wall, letting the tension melt into exhaustion, and letting all this weight crush your spirits in way only something uniquely Moira ever could.

The love you held, the love you received, the dreams you shared, —all of it and more is tangled up in this place, in the memories that permeate every room. You’re surrounded by it, but even if you leave, you know all too well that it’ll just travel with you. There’s no escaping this, and that’s the scariest part. Your hand drifts to your phone again, almost involuntarily, as if by some miracle there’ll be a message from her; something to explain that her hand was forced, that she’s sorry, that she didn’t want things to end the way they did either. Maybe there’ll be a goodbye that doesn’t feel so goddamn final, maybe she’ll ask you to wait for her because she knows you would if she requested it.

But there’s nothing.

Just the same void that’s been growing since she walked out the door.

The tears come before you can stop them this time, a pent-up release of all the emotions you’ve been stuffing down for three days. Anger, sorrow, confusion, frustration, all of it and more, mix together and spill out through your eyes as you curl up on the cold floor, folding in on yourself, trying to feel as small as possible in hopes that you might just disappear altogether.

You can almost feel her hand atop your head in a comforting gesture, the way she used to pet you like a cat because she wasn’t sure what else to do when you cried. You can still hear her voice ringing in your ears.

“We should talk,” she says, a sense of hesitation present which was wholly uncharacteristic of her. . . Moira wasn’t the type to hesitate.She never had been. 

Her usual confidence has been replaced by something tentative, and that cut deeper than any words ever could. 

“Is something wrong?” You ask softly, because something surely was, even if you didn’t know what just yet.

“Just sit, please,” she requests, and you do, ignoring the sense of deja vu.

“Moira?” You utter, and she cringes visibly at the desperation on your tongue.

“I’m leaving.”

Your mind stills. There’s no way you heard that correctly, or perhaps you just need to clarify what she means, maybe she’s going somewhere for a time, but surely she’ll return, surely she’ll come back—

“L-Leaving?” You repeat after a few moments of silence. “What do you mean leaving?”

She looks to the floor, like she’s searching the grooves of the tiles for the right way to explain.

“Overwatch. . . Has made a fool of me for too long. And I’ve stupidly allowed it for the sake of access to their equipment and their people, but no longer.”

This wasn’t news to you. She’d always shown a slight disdain for her employers, but her relationship with her superiors had gotten notably more hostile in recent months. She spit more venom when speaking of them now, scowled when she saw anything to do with Overwatch in the media. . . But you never thought it was this bad.

“So you’re leaving your job?” You seek to clarify.

“Yes, but. . .” she pauses. “I’ve been presented with an opportunity that I cannot pass up.”

“A job offer?”

“Something like that.”

You frown.

“This is way too cryptic for my taste, Moira, can you please just—”

“I’m going away.”

Another pause, this time from you as you let her words digest.

“. . . going where?” You ask eventually.

“I cannot tell you,” she replies decisively, and for the first time, you’re tempted to ask why.

For so long, you’d been fine to simply accept what she couldn’t divulge to you. It was what it was. But not this time.

“Don’t you think I deserve some kind of explanation for all of this?” You question, raising your voice slightly. “You can’t just tell me you’re leaving, that’s not how this is supposed to work, Moira, we’re partners—”

Her face tightens, uncertainty morphing into resolve. Her tone is pointed as she cuts you off.

“I know it’s not fair,” she tells you bluntly, voice steadier than before. “But this isn’t about fairness. This is something I need to do for myself.” This only makes you angrier.

“And what about me then? The person you’ve, I don’t know, —built a fucking life with? What about me in all of this, you can’t just throw me away and give me no explanation! If you need space, just say that you need space, you don’t need to play a cryptic game with me, I know you! Why the secrecy with me of all people?”

The woman you’ve always known to be so confident now seems so vulnerable before you, and it almost makes you feel guilty for being upset.

“It’s not about secrecy. It’s about protecting you, protecting myself and my work. . . If I told you everything, it would compromise too much. I will not put you in danger.”

“But putting the woman I love in danger is just fine by you?” You hiss. “Don’t tell me you’re protecting me, don’t make this out to be some noble act on your part. What are you so afraid of telling me?” 

“The information you’re after is something I cannot disclose to you.”

“Don’t speak to me like I’m a stranger meddling in your affairs, we are partners! We’ve been together for half a decade, we share a home, you can’t just leave!” You shout. “Don’t you think I deserve a proper explanation after everything we’ve been through? After everything you’ve put me through?” 

“What you deserve and what I can give you are rarely the same thing, and you know this.”

You scoff.

“This isn’t about you,” she continues. “This is about protecting the things I value, which includes you, whether or not you believe as much right now. If I were to reveal details, it would jeopardize everything: my work, my safety, your safety, and I’m doing what’s necessary to prevent that. I’m not willing to risk it. Because I know you as well, and I know how stubborn you are. I’m doing everything in my power to keep you out of a situation that puts you in harm’s way.”

“And what about the risk of losing me, huh? The risk of losing everything we’ve built together? You’re just walking away without giving me any proper closure, —dropping this bomb on me and expecting me to take it in stride? Just swallow this like it’s not going to turn my world upside down?” 

Tears threaten to spill down your cheeks.

“How is this any better?” You demand.

“It has nothing to do with you,” she retorts. “It has nothing to do with walking away from you.”

“Yes it does, because that’s what you’re doing!” You argue. 

“I am making a choice that I believe is best for my career and for both our safety. I’m ensuring that my choices don’t put you in danger. You of all people must understand that by now.” 

The silence stretches after her words and you feel the weight of them mix with your mounting frustrations. 

“You think you’re protecting me by shutting me out like this?” You question, hurt evident in your voice. “By just up and leaving without giving me any real explanation? How is this supposed to make anything better?” “I never said it was supposed to make anything better.”

You laugh, bitter and sarcastic. Her frown deepens. 

“I’m not doing this to hurt you,” she tells you in earnest, but it’s hard to believe it in the moment.

What do intentions matter in this case if it hurts you all the same?

“What about us?” You question, voice breaking. “What about the life we’ve built together? You can’t just erase it all and pretend like it never happened. You can’t do that.”

Her eyes flicker with a brief flash of something like guilt, but she masks it quickly.

“My decision wasn’t made to erase our past—”

“Our past?” You interrupt.

She runs a hand down her face in frustration.

“My decision is not about erasing you,” she revises. “It’s about ensuring that my actions don’t put you in a position I can’t protect you in. I’m taking the steps to ensure that my choices don’t harm you.”

“You’re harming me right now!”

“And you can heal from this!” She snaps. “But there’s no guarantee you’ll heal from what could happen to you if I don’t make the choice I’m making right now. I’m taking the necessary steps to protect what’s important, and that includes making tough decisions.”

You feel your hands start to tremble. Because of what, you’re not sure. . . Maybe it’s anger, maybe it’s anxiety, maybe it’s grief. 

“Don’t try to justify this to me,” you shake your head. “Don’t try to pretend like you’re doing this for anyone but yourself. After everything I’ve done for you, all the sacrifices I’ve made, you’re throwing everything away like it’s worthless? How is that protection?”

Her gaze hardens.

“You know well and full that I do not make uncalculated decisions. This is no different. I’m making a choice that keeps you safe, even if you don’t recognize that right now.” 

“It’s not about what I do or don’t understand!” You shout. “It’s about trust! It’s about being fucking honest with me! You’re not even giving me a choice in this, and that’s not fair! You’re making choices for the both of us alone that we should have been making together!” 

“I’m not asking you to like or agree with what I’m doing, I am telling you what’s taking place because I care for you, and I believe you deserve that much,” she states. “But this conversation does not change what has to be done.”

“So that’s just it then?” You question in disbelief. “You’re throwing me away and I don’t even get a say? You’re just gonna up and go and leave me to pick up the pieces by myself?” 

The rest is a blur. She gathered her things while you sit around in a daze, pinching yourself every so often, convinced that you’ll wake up and it’ll all just be a nightmare. You’ll tell her about it when you wake up and she’ll tell you you’re ridiculous with a lopsided smile on her face, and she’ll roll her eyes when you wrap your arms around her waist and bury your face in her chest. It’ll all feel better when she kisses the crown of your head and mumbles that she’ll see you when she gets home from work. 

But she doesn’t.

“Moira,” you practically whimper as she emerges from your shared room with items smushed into a travel case. “Don’t. Don’t do this.” 

She pauses, unable to meet your gaze completely. Like she’s ashamed in all of this, as much as she wants to hide that away.

“This isn’t easy for me either,” she tells you.There’s a twisted coolness to her voice, like she’s rehearsed these exact lines so many times before now.

“But I’ve made my decision. There’s nothing more to say.”

“Please,” you choke out, not caring how pathetic or childlike you sound as you beg for this woman not to exit your life and leave you high and dry. “Please don’t do this, don’t leave, please don’t go, we can figure something out—”

“We can’t,” she shakes her head. “I’m leaving, and I don’t know when I’ll return. I don’t even know that I’ll be coming back at all.”

“But I love you,” you utter in desperation. 

“I know,” she says, her voice colder than you ever thought it could be. “But love isn’t enough right now. This is bigger than us, and I can’t ignore that.”

You reach out and grab the sleeve of her button-up shirt.“Don’t do this to me,” you plead.

But when you look into her eyes, all you see is resignation.

“I wish things were different,” she murmurs, her voice softer now, but still laced with that same finality. “But I can’t change what I have to do. This isn’t about us, it’s about something far bigger, and I need you to trust me like you always have.”

“Moira.”

Her thumb strokes your cheek in a tender gesture that feels like a cruel contrast to the words she’s saying. 

“You’re stronger than you think, and you’ll be okay,” she continues. “And maybe there’ll be a day when I can come back. But for now, you have to let me go.”

You feel sick to your stomach, hand clutching so tightly around her’s that it likely hurts, but you can’t help it. You shake your head as your throat squeezes and you open your mouth slightly to speak, but nothing comes out.

She pauses in the doorway, her back to you, and for a moment you think she might turn around. But she doesn’t. Instead, she simply says, “Take care of yourself.” The memory fades and you feel hollow. Raw, like the wound has been ripped open all over again. It stings like it’s been covered in salt. You blink, realizing now more than before that you’re alone, on the floor in this cold, empty apartment. The echo of the door as it closed behind her for the last time rings in your ear, over and over, a sound you can’t shake no matter how hard you try. So you don’t. You sit and let it fester. And maybe you’ll wait around for her and she’ll come crawling back some few odd years later. Maybe you’ll move on and search for her in the face of every potential partner you sit across from at warm cafes. As you sit there, the painting looms in your vision, its once comforting brushstrokes now a bittersweet echo of a time when everything felt whole. It’s a reminder of what was and what might never be again and it makes you nauseous just to stare in its tainted direction. But you’ll keep it hung no matter where you go, and you know that. . . Because Moira loved it. And you love her. 

[mtchee]

An Honour to be in a Harem!? - [Genshin Impact SAGAU] | MDNI | GN AMAB 18+

blurb:

The concept of all these gorgeous people bowing before you is hard to grasp, but it's even worse to think that they'd actually offer themselves to you as a love interest. So obviously, you brush them off and decline, retorting that just because you're their supposed Creator doesn't mean they should feel as though they had to subject themselves to your unwanted affection. After all, who were you really, to compare to them? Unfortunately (or fortunately, actually) they seem quite boggled at your output. Ah! It all makes sense now! Their dearly Beloved is the shy type! Worry not, your Grace! Your dearest acolytes are more than happy to bask in any sort of attention you decide to share! Rest assured, they'll take care of all your needs~

cw: not edited, second-person-pov, kind of a sequel?, amab bodied, you are dearly beloved and longed for <3, realistically if this happened i would rather die of a heart attack, lots of love and affection!!, mdni, spicy content, swearing, smut, overstim, manhandling, voyeurism, fingering, blowjob, sub [name], use of terms cock shaft penis tit, help i'm embarassed i wrote this omfg who am i, would u believe me if i said this is my first smut

| masterlist | genshin impact collection |

< prev. - afab! ver. - next. > [afab] [amab]

[3.0k]

What is this bullshit.

You can't help but just blink at the Archon knelt at your feet, his head bowed low. When you emit a shocked squeak he looks up at you, amber eyes latching onto your flustered expression.

Your gaze darts around the few others surrounding your throne--you only really sit in it when the people of teyvat line up for personal prayers and blessings, or when someone tells you to. Otherwise, you avoid sitting in it.

Venti, Ei, Al-haitham, Ayato, Ningguang, Jean, Furina, Neuvillette, and Tartaglia stand past Zhongli who is knelt before you.

You force a polite smile and let out a nervous laugh, "Aha, um... d-dont.. you don't have to do that. Really."

"Do not misunderstand, Beloved," The geo Archon stands to his full height, and you feel small despite the grandness of your seat, "it truly would be my--our, utmost honour." He places a hand over his heart and bows lowly by the waist. The others follow in tandem, and you panic.

"No! Really," Although all your fanfic dreams were coming true, knowing that these are now very much real people and not just characters put you on edge. They all have their own lives to live, their own goals and ambitions, likes and dislikes, preferences and attractions that you certainly didn't and never would attain.

At first, the idea is flustering and the offer makes you feel giddy, but looking into it, you feel bad. They see you as their All-Maker, who are you to make them miserable?

"You don't need to do that. I-I know there's that rumour going around, but really, I'm fine by myself."

"Your Grace," Ei steps forwards with a tiny furrow in her thin brows, "please, it would be our honour--"

"You know what would really be an honour," Your heart stings slightly, but you straighten up on your throne and give your audience a reassuring smile, "is if you went out on your own to seek who you actually love, to find a partner you'll be happy to spend your time with--to love on your own accord. That, would be an honour, I'd say."

You're not oblivious to how everyone reels back at your words, a mixture of shock, fear, and disbelief covering their features sported by prominent frowns.

Al-haitham is the one to break the tense silence that freezes the room.

"Beloved," His eyes flicker over you, thought and theories wiring around his ever working mind, "are we unsatisfactory?"

You blanch, "Gah! No! Oh my--it's nothing like that!" You can't help but feel flushed under the intensity of their eyes.

"It's just, you need to not see me as a duty."

You address them calmly, forcing your fluttering feelings down to school your face passively.

"You need to focus on yourselves, and your own lives. I'm not here to come between that."

Their silent stares are unnerving, and Venti and Furina share a look with hidden smiles while Jean steps forward with a respecful bow.

"Of course, your Grace."

"F-Fuck..!"

Embarassed tears sting your eyeline while you hold your breath, desperately trying to get ahold of yourself.

Plap! Plap! Plap!

Your pretty eyes roll to the back of your head and a loud moan is forced out of you each time Ayato's fat cock plunges in and out of your sloppy hole.

He sits leant against the finest silken pillows with your naked back pressed against his bare, toned chest, an arm wrapped securely around your waist while the other sweetly fondles with one of your spit laden nipples.

Thoma lay stomach down on the soft doona, face buried dutifully between your quivering thighs which he holds apart with surprising strength. He swallows around your swollen cock determinedly, and you cry out in humiliation when your pre-cum pools at the corner of his lips and drips onto the expensive fabric below.

"G-nngh!" You clench your eyes shut at the embarassingly loud noise of skin slapping against skin and the lewd sucks of Thoma's mouth and the squelching of your asshole, "a-ah..! Ah! Ah!"

The Kamisato Commisioner lets out a low moan by your ear, feeling your hot and gummy walls squeeze down on his length deliciously.

"Remember-- hng! R-Remember to breathe, my beloved."

He gently squishes the enticing softness of your tit, bucking up into you abruptly when you let out a squeal as he pinches your nipple.

"M-Mm~ my dearest," Thoma moans onto your slickened shaft, and you just about explode at the burst of electric pleasure that shoots up your spine, "you taste.. divine..~!"

Your heart thrums at the messy sight of him, his lips, chin and cheeks covered in your honey thick slick with half lidded eyes locked onto your expressions. You let out a needy moan when you notice him desperately grinding his naked hips into the bedding for release.

A now all too familiar searing pleasure suddenly coils in the utmost depth of your body, and you scream at the sheer ferocity of it.

"C-Can't! I can't!"

You buck your hips away from Ayato's throbbing cock and bump into the back of Thoma's throat, but they only follow you--the commisioner's arm moving from your waist to your hips, locking you in place while Thoma's grip moves from your thighs to the underside of your knees, opening you up and forcibly holding you still.

You dig your nails into Ayato's arm, your other hand fruitlessly shoving at the housekeeper's head to push him away.

The pleasure becomes piercing, and you choke on a sob as your gushing asshole just goes squelch, squelch, squelch with every thrust you have to take. His cock feels so dangerously good, and you fear your own might bleed from its continuous onslaught of pleasure.

Thoma's tongue licks at the puckering rim of your ass and the base of his lord's cock, and Ayato curses lowly, his grip tightening.

You feel something thick and heavy and hot spurt inside you, though the pounding doesn't let up and the near painful coil violently pops inside you, and you shriek in tandem with the burst of honeyed white fluid that spurts from your throbbing cock.

Your face burns hot with humiliation, and you can only muffle your embarassed moans into the fabric of the couch.

Naked and vulnerable, you're bent ass up and face down over Al-haitham's lap with his dominant hand knuckle deep in your lubed hole.

Maybe, just maybe you might've been able to handle this amicably, but not with Kaveh walking in and berating the Akademia Scribe turned Grand Sage on his pleasure skills.

With your rear held high and knees spread, your leaking hole is on display for the genius architect while his roommate fingers you ruthlessly, constantly prodding and rubbing that special squishy spot inside you that renders you immobile.

"H-Hah.. mmngh! Ah..."

You can do nothing but take it and drool on the couch while they squabble above you as though you're not there.

"--Y-You brute! That's our beloved and you're treating them like that!?"

"I'd say our Creator quite likes it."

You stifle a screech when Al-haitham takes his other hand and spreads your ass open to prove his argument to Kaveh.

"See?" He takes out his fingers and spreads them apart, watching your hot slick string apart, "and here too." You sob loudly as he gently prods at your convulsing balls to stare down your red, throbbing penis.

Kaveh's face flushes at the lewd display, and he gulps while setting his suitcase down off to the side before approaching.

"A-And?"

"[name] has cum thrice already."

Kaveh's brow twitches, "Were you not going to clean them up?!"

Al-haitham huffs indifferently despite the miniscule tint of pink arousal across his cheeks, "I'll leave that to you."

The blond hmphs at him before cooing at you softly, praising you with your title and demeanour.

"Our beloved," He caresses your back, and you shiver pleasantly at the tingle it stimulates, "you've been so good, haven't you? Done so well..."

He hushes you gently as he moves closer behind you, kneeling at the couch's edge, face level with your puffy hole. Al-haitham remains quiet this time around, his non-slick covered hand patting your head lovingly.

"It's okay~ I'll take good care of you now, I'll clean you up all nice, alright?"

You only whine when he sinks his tongue into your ass, lapping up your spilled juices and nipping at your twitching sack. Your body trembles with an absentminded moan when he sucks on your sore needy cock, and he emits a noise of suprise as a new abundance of white syrup leaks from your slit.

Al-haitham quirks up a brow, "Four times, now."

"Mercy! M-Mercy..!" You cry out.

"Oh," Lisa tuts demeaningly, "no, no, no dear one~ You see, you didn't quite seem to believe our intentions true when we offered ourselves to you. So it only seems right that we prove it, yes?"

You can't squirm away from Eula's mouth, her strength baffling as she keeps you stood still against the Grand Master's desk with ease. Amber mouths at the mounds of your pecs, obessed with how soft the skin them are.

You whimper loudly when Eula curls her two fingers into your prostate, clenching down on her and nearly screaming when she thrusts them into you punishingly.

Jean can't help but watch in stunned silence of you, your voice and body ethereal. She can't wait to get a taste of her own as you shudder and gasp.

It was bad enough when Venti had his way with you earlier under Vanessa's tree, simultaneously teasing you and giving you everything you wanted.

He ran his mouth with words that were both endearingly sweet and pure debauchery, controlling the winds to graze at your hardened nipples with ghost like touches that left you spasming and breathless.

He'd shown you his choice of belonging to you through the intimate thrusts of his hips and sloppy, loving kisses across your body--he'd then guided you back to the gates of Mondstadt with the held of the wind to keep you balanced.

You cry when a thin zap of purple shocks the tip of your pulsing cock, cumming instantly while Eula's tongue soothes over it with the help of her cryo ability. Your lewd honey drips down your stomach and onto the floor, and the blue haired girl sneers at the waste of it.

A whimper escapes you when Amber bites at your nipple a little too harshly, and she murmurs a timid apology, looking up at you reverently before continuing.

"P-Please..!" You hate how they've all been able to make you cry with pleasure, as though they always knew just what they were doing to you, "it..-it hurts now..! A-Aaahhh..."

You let out a long, breathy whine as you cum again, tears steaming down your cheeks as the gentle wave of bliss washes over you. You almost miss Acting Grand Master Jean calling for someone to enter after a knock on the door.

Humiliation of your state causes you to flush and shut your teary eyes as Kaeya walks in, gaze latching onto you immediately.

He closes the door behind him, humming lowly at the sight.

His eye glints in dirty interest, a grin creeping up his lips at the sound of your whimpers and sloppy hole.

"Oh? It's our turn already?"

"Kaeya! You're just in time," Lisa grins mischieviously, "I believe our dearly beloved is ready for something... thicker, now." She smiles as though her filthy implication were a casual statement of time.

You hate being the centre of attention, but fuck does it feel good. You hate feeling so vulnerable, but good god do they take care of you.

Maybe, just maybe you could allow yourself to indulge in their affections...

Nope.

Hate. You hate, hate, hate, hate hate it.

You whimper quietly, head bowed to hide your face from the prying eyes of the others seated around you.

You're back in the lands of Inazuma, in the very same place you were last time the picnic was set up. It was much more lavish this time around, based in the early evening with a gorgeous ocean view, lights strung up in the trees and scattered atop a few stable rocks.

The blankets laid down were much thicker this time, and the pillows larger and fluffier. The sunset paints the horizon gold and pink which fades into a rich purple and, eventually, the glimmering darkness of night.

You sit in Zhongli's lap, a spare blanket covering your lower half as you squirm on his throbbing length. You could feel his other drooling pre-cum against your lower back.

The others had been coaxing you to eat your share of the platter, Navia and Wriothesly feeding you small portions since you were too shy to do so yourself.

Though ashamed and bashful, you can't help but clench and throb, and you fluster when Zhongli lets out a small groan from behind you.

Navia places a comforting hand on your clothed knee.

"Beloved Creator, are you alright?" Her voice is soft, loving.

You swallow sharply, shoulders hunched and tense nervously from those watching.

"Your Grace?" You glance over at Diluc who huffs with a small blush of his own, "we'll take care of you."

Your ass clenches, and Zhongli thrusts into you.

You yelp at the sudden motion, straightening up instinctively to balance yourself only for your most devoted to thrust into you again, and again, and again. His arm wraps around your waist to keep you seated, and the blanket slowly slips from your lap from the movement.

"A-Ah! Zhon--aahhh!"

Squelch, plap, slap, his fat cock hits the textured roof of your squishy insides and sends an overwhelming shock of pleasure through you. Throwing your head back with a lewd moan, both your embarassment and arousal increase tenfold at the sight of your most shameless worshippers touching themselves at the sight of you.

Others swallow roughly, barely holding themselves back with a single thread of dignity. Those of them watch with eyes that burn your body into memory, and the intensity both frightens and arouses you.

The better of them murmur and coo praises at you, causing your stomach to flutter and your member to throb painfully.

You pant loudly when Ayato softly intructs you to breathe, and you squeal when Tartaglia reachs out to play with your pretty penis while rubbing his own neglected cock.

"Pl..ease..! Hah..!"

You feel a pair of lips on your neck and whine, whimpering shamefully when Neuvillette starts whispering sweet praise into your ear, sucking on your skin softly. You white knuckle the thick blanket by your forcefully opened legs and clench your eyes shut in humiliation.

Your abdomen starts to tingle with sparks of pleasure that strike your overstimulated cock, and you flush at the feeling of your sex juices trailing from your both your cock and your ass, soiling Zhongli's clothed lap and the pillows and fabric below.

"Hng! Cumming! AH!" You shriek, thrashing in their hold, "c-cumming! H-Help, 'm cumming-- oohhh~ Ohh~"

That weird prickly feeling coils in your tummy again, and you let out a lewd and bratty whine when they don't let up on their touching.

"S-Slow! PLEASE! F-Fuck! Feels funn-y~!"

When you slap at Childe's hand, your own are quickly restrained by Kazuha who simply smiles with red cheeks and mutters to you flowery reassurances.

The sound of your asshole is loud, it's noisy, and filthy. You emit a desperate, pleading wail, not knowing if your subconscious is trying to beg them to stop or to stay.

Saliva pools in your mouth that then begins to hang open as your starry eyes roll into the back of your head, chest heaving.

Your thighs tremble and your fingers twitch--Kazuha intertwines them with his own, and you lock onto the comforting hold.

"G-Good!" You can't stop yourself from babbling, "m-makes me feel soOo goood~!"

"Oh, sweet one~" Yae Miko giggles.

"You understand that we choose you now, yes?" Ningguang hums with a teasing quip. Her eyes torn between your adorably lewd features and your swollen, glistening length.

"Relax, beloved. It's only us, your most faithful~"

"Mm, don't hold back, dearest."

"Can you moan for us, beloved? You sound just delicious when you moan!"

"Are you gonna cum for us?"

"It's not fair how they got a taste of you first~!"

"Hng..! A-ah, hah!"

"Oh-oh! Beloved, calm down, you're alright. Just let it happen.."

"Do you feel good, your Grace?"

"--c-cumming- cumming! Cumming..!"

A white hot blaze of heat crashes over you, and your ears ring as your body trembles in utter bliss. Your slickened hole squeezes and gushes with your lewd honey, and as your abused, pulsing cock sears with an almost painful pleasure, your body squirts out your most powerful orgasm that soaks the blankets and the people surrounding.

Pleasure caused tears leave hot stains on your face, and your head lulls to the side tiredly. Your chest heaves for breath as you come down from your high, and it takes a few moments before the ringing finally stops and you can hear again.

Doting whispers and coos are the first thing you process, followed by something thick and hot leaking out of your stretched and now empty ass.

A hand caresses your head as many others touch on you innocently, checking in on you and taking care of you.

Someone holds a glass to your lips, and someone else helps you lean forwards to sip.

You startle at the feeling of a soft mouth coming to gingerly lick and suck at your sore cock, and you let out a delirious whine.

Another acolyte hushes you gently, kissing you softly before another joins in peppering kisses all over your tired face to distract you from the one cleaning you up between your legs.

You still feel light headed from the embarassment of it all, but you've latched onto the pleasant tingling you feel when they look at you so adoringly--more lovingly than just in reverence.

No, actually.

You don't hate this at all.

[ghuleh-recs]

*inhales deeply* Haaappyyy Birthdaaayyyy @miasmaghoul!!!!!!!! Ohhhh MAN we are all in for a treat today. As per usual, I have compiled a list of some of my favorite Miasma fics in honor of their special day—a greatest hits if you will. Not only are they an absurdly good writer, they are an incredibly thoughtful, kind, supportive and generous friend. All mushiness aside, if Miasma's writing isn't making my brain melt out of my ears (because smut), it's making me actually cry real tears. (No one who has read Suspended Reality will ever really emotionally recover.)

It was extremely difficult to narrow these down to a reasonable list so please feel free to add your own Miasma must-reads if I missed a good one. Please consider leaving a comment when you read any of these. You know. As a little treat. A little birthday treat. I just think Miasma deserves a treat ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Endless thanks to @askingforthesun @forlorn-crows @belle--ofthebrawl and @iamthecomet for their input (Miasma can you guess who rec'd what? hehehe).

recs under the cut.

By Your Righteous Hand - Swiss x Rain - 3.1k, E

He’s across the room in a handful of strides, palming himself through his pants as he watches Rain’s fingers tease those strings. Swiss can see the strength in them, the deftness, the skill, and his body heats with memories of how they look around his cock. How they feel when Rain curls them inside him, how his thighs quiver with it every time. How they feel between his lips. Swiss should be embarrassed by the fact that he’s already panting, but shame is overrated. “I forget how weak this makes you,” Rain says, low and teasing. And it’s true – Swiss is not a weak ghoul, but for this? Well. “Kneel for me.”

Electric Light, Vibrant Sound - Cirrus x Cumulus x Sunshine - 2.9k, E

All of Sunshine’s senses seem sharper, somehow. The lights are brighter, the colors more distinct. The rainbow-colored confetti littering the stage seems to glow beneath her feet. Her nose tickles, filled with sweat, sulfur from the pyro and the confusing combined scent of her fellow ghouls. She sways as she walks, blowing kisses and waving with both hands. It’s a sudden distinct whiff of lavender and orange blossom that drags her back down to Earth, the ghoulette stumbling and catching herself on Rain’s sleeve. The new scents flood her sinuses and swirl into her lungs, spirals of springtime slicing through the haze in her mind. Sunshine shakes her head, one hand resting on her stomach as her eyes dart around the stage. She knows these smells, but in the fog of adrenaline and whatever else is filling her skull she can’t place it. Not until she sees them.

A Touch Too Much - Copia x Dewdrop - 9k, E

“Do you know what is wrong with him?” He doesn’t even try to keep the tilt of concern from his voice. Aether knows him better than most of the ghouls, it would be pointless to try and hide it from him. “Nothing’s wrong,” Aether replies. They stare at each other for a few beats and he does not elaborate, which Copia finds supremely unhelpful. He frowns, crossing his arms and stepping back while Aether rubs at the back of his neck. The ghoul huffs out a long-suffering sigh. “Strictly speaking, at least.” “If nothing is wrong, then what-” “He’s in heat, Papa.” Aether cuts him off in a rushed exhale. Copia freezes mid toe-tap. Oh. -- or -- Dew goes into heat on stage and Copia has to deal with the fallout. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

Believing is Seeing - Aeon & Aether & Dewdrop - 1.2k, G

"Bullshit," Dew scoffs, leaning his chair back to balance on two legs. "You don't really expect me to believe this crap, do you?" Beside him, Aether rolls his eyes. "Ye of little faith," he chuckles, nudging Dew's knee with his own. "I'm telling you, Dew, he's never wrong." "Whatever," he says with a dismissive wave. "He's probably about as accurate as that fortune cookie I got last week." Across the table, their supposed psychic chuckles. He scoots closer and leans on his elbows, cupping his own face in both hands, and something about the look in his eye makes Dew straighten up in his chair. "What're you so scared of?" He nods at the table, a slew of tarot cards laid out before the three of them. "That I might be right?"

Permafrost - Mountain x Rain - 11k, E

“Will you-” he whispers, feeling his skin prickle in the wake of Mountain’s barely-there touch, “will you help me now?” It’s pathetic and he knows it, but he’s beyond caring. Something dark flashes over Mountain’s face then, and Rain feels an anxious flutter in his chest. “I believe I said I was having fun watching,” he rumbles, and Rain’s stomach plummets through the floor when he remembers what game they’re playing. “Oh no,” he whines, biting hard at his bottom lip. “Oh yes,” Mountain growls, moving himself closer to Rain as the smaller ghoul digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “But if you listen closely, maybe I’ll reconsider.” The words are liquid in Rain’s ear, flowing into the folds of his brain in a silvery spiral, and he feels himself melting into the mattress all over again. Powerless to resist.

A Little Less Conversation - Aether x Dewdrop - 2.8k, E

After a long day, Dewdrop finds himself at the mercy of a very loud motel. Thankfully Aether is a good distraction.

Brushfire - Cumulus x Dewdrop - 4.6k, E

She should probably retreat to a stall. Sink two fingers into her cunt and make it quick. What if someone walked in an found her humping the sinks? That surely wouldn't look very good. Cumulus bites into her red-stained lower lip and groans at the thought, knuckles blanching as her grip strengthens. She ruts against the counter, drags the hard bud of her clit over the edge of it, feeling her panties start to soak through. There will probably be a damp spot on her dress when she pulls back at the rate she's going. Her knees really start to shake, her breath coming in strained gasps, the heat in her belly already threatening to spread. One trembling hand flies to her chest, squeezes a prominent nipple and - "Well, isn't this a sight."

WET DREAM RAIN - Rain x Swiss - 1.4k, E

His fingers drift in aimless swirls over Rain's thigh, the water ghoul still snoring softly into his pillow. It's midday judging by the way the spring sunlight pours from between the heavy navy drapes. The air is thick with lavender and rose, sweet scents carried from the nearby gardens mingling with the heady aroma stuck in Swiss's nose. Rain is pressed against his bare chest, their sleep shirt caught up around their ribs. Swiss's other arm is around his waist, fingertips teasing the trail of soft hair poking out of Rain's boxers. His soaking wet boxers.

Bonds of Trust - Omega x Secondo - 3.4k, M

He crosses the room in a handful of strides, hands extended, and Omega visibly sags with a ragged sigh. He offers up what Secondo knew he was holding behind his back - a simple leather strap with a buckle on one end and a shiny silver ring in the center. "I need your help, Papa," Omega murmurs, and that's all Secondo needs to hear. "Then I will give it to you."

All Water Holy - Dewdrop x Rain - 6.5k, E

“Rain, I’m not- I’m not kidding,” he manages, but the laughter removes the seriousness and urgency from his voice and Rain can’t stop himself. “Not kidding about what?” he asks, mock innocent. He would have thought it would be taking more out of him to keep Dew pinned beneath him, but he seems increasingly weak the longer it goes on, wearing himself out. “Fuck you,” Dew spits, pained and forced to smile through it anyway, “seriously, I’m gonna piss myself.” Or, As always, Rain gets what he wants, and Dewdrop suffers (affectionate).

Once More, With Feeling - Cirrus x Cumulus x Sunshine - 4.3k, E

Every now and then, Cirrus wakes with a very specific ache. It’s a distinctly empty feeling. Like something had been taken from her in the night, stolen away while she slept a restless sleep rife with images of shimmering skin and ruby lips. She’ll wake panting and wide-eyed, delicate claws digging into the mattress with her thighs clamped so tightly together they threatened to seize up. Every inch of her covered in goosebumps, every brush of the sheets against her skin sending electricity skittering through her tense muscles. On days like these, everything is too much. On days like these, too much is exactly what she needs. And she knows just where to get it.

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

Like I mentioned earlier, you've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡

[intothedysphoria]

It was expected that moving in together, there’d be some initial teething problems but Steve hadn’t quite thought that Billy was going to break his bubbe’s antique vase with a yo-yo.

Well, in fairness, Steve had seen Billy do far worse. Drop a baseball bat onto a car windshield from a third floor window, vandalising the mayors office, that one time he threatened to establish a nudist cult. Billy lived to shock people and now that they were in a relationship, Steve appeared to be the prime target.

Fucking hell.

The relationship wasn’t exactly public and the moving in wasn’t exactly official, which may have been causing some of the tension. Neil Hargrove would still rock up every night, screaming every word under the sun at Billy but never stepping a foot over the threshold. Because he was a coward, Billy said. But he was still spooked.

Thus, coming to the point where Billy had smashed his bubbe’s antique vase with a yo-yo. Breathing heavily with shards of pottery imbedded deep into his hand. Then he looked up at Steve, audibly gulped and ran for the bathroom.

It took a while to get Billy out. He’d point blank refuse if he was in one of his bad patches, seeming to prefer to simmer in isolation than to turn to help. But Steve was patient and always wore him down. He just had to sit and wait.

Eventually the bathroom door opened with a quiet flick of the lock. Billy’s face was unusually blank, apart from the red rimmed eyes that clearly denoted that he’d been crying. Steve cautiously tried to go in for a hug only to get a grunted “I’m fucking fine Harrington” and an angry teenager barrelling past him.

Which was not exactly ideal.

Steve cleared up the shattered vase on the floor, silently apologised to all his cousins who were still in Romania and knocked on Billy’s door. The groan of acknowledgment made Steve feel like he was good to come in.

What Billy had managed to do was bleed all over the floor and go through about ten cigarettes if the slowly growing pile on the floor was anything to go by. Steve’s offer to clean up his hands got an eye roll but no obvious resistance so he went ahead.

It wasn’t until Steve had managed to create a rudimentary bandage for Billy’s hands that Billy actually looked at him, now appearing more than slightly sheepish. There was a blush slowly rising over his cheeks that looked so genuinely adorable Steve just wanted to kiss it.

Instead he pulled back and asked “you doing ok Hargrove?”

Billy snapped “why the fuck wouldn’t I be” which didn’t exactly bode well for Steve’s plan to sort the situation out and put it to bed.

“Well you know, you seemed kind of upset earlier so I thought I’d ask” Steve had learned over the months of knowing Billy that it was best to not sound accusatory and instead act like it was no big deal.

Billy stayed silent for a few minutes while Steve just waited for him to be ready to form a response until he blurted out “it just pisses me off so much how he treats us. It’s bullshit!”

Steve didn’t need to ask who the “he” Billy referred to was. Instead he set a hand on Billy’s knee in a way that would hopefully be soothing, not annoying and rubbed small circles on Billy’s leg while he breathed.

“I know” Billy looked up quizzically, clearly wondering where Steve was going with this. “I know it’s bullshit and I wish it were different now but it will be in the future I promise. We’re gonna move you back to Cali, Neil’s sorry ass is gonna stay here and everyone who ever hurt you can get fucked. Ok?”

Billy sniffed loudly before nodding an affirmative, then wrapping Steve into his arms, doing what Steve knew he’d swear later wasn’t crying. He then leaned in to give Steve a surprisingly tender kiss on the lips and smacked his ass. Something Steve probably should have expected.

“Come on, let’s go watch Halloween before Munson holds us hostage because we haven’t watched a John Carpenter yet.”

Things weren’t perfect after that. Neil was still an ever looming presence in their lives, Billy still got pissed off and broke shit, they still fought pretty much weekly at least and Steve had expected that. It was what he’d signed up for in dating Billy. But Billy was still out to shock people.

Leaning across Billy’s chest, not dealing with a horror film nearly as well as Billy was but still having a hand gently squeezing his shoulder to make sure he was ok was the best shock Steve had ever been given.

[iznsfw]

Can we get more Hyewon fics?? 🥺🥺

Negotiation

IZ*ONE's Kang Hyewon x Male Reader Smut

4,491 words

Categories | daddy kink, power dynamics, titjob

It's your usual route, to be completely clear: circling up all the newbies, clearing out the incompetents and training those who had more than a pocketful of potential. It's your job, it's what you're paid to do. So if anyone dared question your bond with any of the trainees, they can complain about it to your face, and not in the form of scattered whisperings throughout office cubicles.

Your intentions are wholly pure. You swear on your mother's life. You'd pull the typical blame-it-on-the-femme-fatale thing with this girl, but you know it's somehow your fault, too: whatever might happen. She can't bear all the weight of the sin. 

You don't think sin is supposed to look this good, though.

"Sir," she says, perfect curled lashes fluttering with no ill intent at all. She's innocence, pureness, angelicness—all compiled and composed into one beautiful young girl. "Good afternoon. My name is Kang Hyewon; I'm more than eager to do my best for you."

In what way? you're tempted to ask. But then those exact words tumble from your mouth, and you're pretty sure you've fucked it all up. You, in your holier-than-thou suit and tie, asking something so suggestive to an innocent girl like her? Outrageous, that's what it is; scandalous, too. You could get fired for it.

However, it's as if she expected it—she leans forward, offering you a show of plentiful cleavage that breaks several dress code regulations and ethical rules, with a soft, rare smile. 

"However you want me, sir," she says sweetly. Resting her chin on her hand, the smile on her full lips grows wider. "I'll do anything."

"I've heard something like that before, Miss Kang," you say. "Strangely, I've heard it from the same person, too."

"Oh?" Hyewon assumes an innocent naïvety, wide doe eyes almost convincing you of a clean record. "How so?"

See, she's kind of used to that subtly flirty banter. Somewhere in the city of Seoul, in a humble little apartment, she's learning to make money in other ways. By doing it, she needs not travel lengths of distance to a corporate building or spend day after day spell-checking papers. You, having checked backgrounds of probably a billion people and verifying their digital footprint as decent or in-, know all about it. Might have watched a few of it online. Might have done some stuff too.

"You might've fooled Nana and the others, kiddo, but you haven't fooled me," you inform her, offended that you actually have to tell her. You're lowering yourself down to keep up with her one-step-ahead talk. She may be playing dumb, but she knows what she's doing. "I know all about your secret streaming account. Thing is, it probably isn't a secret. You've got thousands of followers on it."

"Can't a girl have a little fun, sir?" asks Hyewon with a giggle. "I was just playing games to pass time."

"'HyemsterKang' ring a bell?"

Hyewon looks up at the ceiling, as if she could find an appropriate answer for your inquiry embedded there. There's none: only a switched-on lamp and a vent. 

"Hmm," she hums, curled hands supporting her pretty face, "probably. What kind of account is it?"

"There's Twitch, YouTube, you name it. Twitch has the most followers, with over two hundred thousand. It's a surprise no one recognized you when you walked through the front door."

"Why would anyone recognize me? I'm just looking to enhance my skills here."

You're tired already. "Cut the bullshit, Hyewon," you say. Drop all the formalities and workplace language just like that. "You know what kind of videos you make. And, look, you've got to understand that I've got nothing against them, but anoth—"

Hyewon pouts. "Why are you so hot and bothered then, sir?" 

"Because you can't pretend to be some pure, holy girl here. I would've gotten you on the training course if you didn't lie through your teeth. What we need is honesty, transparency. You can't lie on the job here."

Hyewon seems to consider this. Her eyes lose their glimmer as they look down to your desk. And she looks so… sad: her eyes are, as mentioned, downcast, and there's so much more to them than sadness because they hold so many raw emotions of disappointment that make even your heart hurt. Her saddened shoulders lose their sturdy posture. 

For the first time since she's entered your office, Kang Hyewon looks… defeated.

"Does that mean you're not taking me in, sir?" she says after looking up at you again.

"No, and please," stress this with gritted teeth, "don't call me sir."

You've no idea why you feel that way. Many other girls have called you sir, both in a formal and informal setting. There was Kim Minju, whose experience gathered little to no potential, and Yabuki Nako, whose aspiring dream to become your corporate's airline stewardess was a pipe dream due to her petite height. 

But it feels strange with Hyewon. It's like there's some hidden motive behind it. Whatever it may be, it's surely working.

Hyewon juts out one, plump lip as she rises from her seat. Instantly, your boundary alarms go off. They're blaring like ambulances now, running in purposeless trips around your mind. Interviewees are not supposed to do that. She's crossing the line, so many lines.

What sets more alarms off is her taking a seat in your lap, as if she's always done that before. As if she belongs there. 

Her slim, tiny body presses up snugly against your frozen one. "What would you rather be called, hm?" she asks. Like a good girl, her hands are folded neatly on her lap, (un)fortunately covered by a gray skirt. "Please, do tell."

"Hyewon…"

You try to give her a steady look, try to tell her that it's wrong. But your hands are on her waist, and they subconsciously pull her closer. Damn her and that sexy skirt and blazer. 

"Mm, your hands feel so good on me," she sighs happily. "It turns me on so much. It makes me feel warm here," she pats the space between her thighs, "and it's all your fault, sir. All your fault."

"You need to be taught a lesson, Kang Hyewon."

"Go on then, daddy." Hyewon's voice drops to a haunting whisper. "I deserve it."

There, you let go of all your morals. The fact that Hyewon's supposed to be your interviewee and you're supposed to play professional with her becomes nonexistent. You've seen what she does on those videos, and now you're eager to see the body she hides so chastely under those uniform clothes. 

"Bend over."

The obedient Hyewon gets off your lap and lowers herself on the table. Her skirt rises and shows you a lack of even undershorts to save the exposed thong. Her ass cheeks sandwich the thin little thong perfectly.

"Ooh, what's daddy going to do?" she asks eagerly. She wiggles her round butt into your sprawled hand. "Is he going to spank me and make his babygirl count it all?"

"That would be too easy, don't you think?" Groping her, you look hard into her sparkling eyes full of excitement. "Daddy's going to spank you, but you can't make a single sound."

Hyewon whines. "But that's so hard, daddy. Can't you make it easier for Hyem?" 

"So am I, and no. If I hear you moan, you're not allowed to cum." 

Merciless is the perfect word to describe you right now. But your mind just rambles with lustful things to do to this sexy little vixen—(a hamster, if you will, as an ode to her username HyemsterKang, but that sounds less sexy; it doesn't give justice to the seductress that is Kang Hyewon)—and you're eager to perform them ruthlessly. 

Trail your fingers on her wet pussy lips. You find her clit, and from there, you give it tiny, teasing brushes. Hyewon bites her lip hard, and clings to the table for support. And for a moment that's all there is to it: you rubbing her clit and her grinding her round ass to your fingers. Until:

"Ahh, daddy!" 

That's one orgasm subtracted from the list. After you slap Hyewon's cheeks with all the might you have, she instantly cries out. You feel her juices dripping on your hand. 

Hyewon looks back at you. And you realize why her streaming career has done so well—that face is made to be ruined. Her scared eyes portray an opposing desire for more, and you can't help but give and give exactly that.

"I'm sorry, daddy!" she whimpers. "I'm sorry!"

Nevertheless, you continue to spank her. Reddened skin blares almost as bright as the office lamp. Her thighs drip with her nectar. 

You're harsh; your hand's starting to hurt from yout endless slaps on Hyewon's butt. But the pain seems like a small, sideway thought when you're witness to her cheeks bouncing with each blow. When she's holding onto the table like she wants you to go on. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," sobs Hyewon. "Please just spank me like that, treat me like a whore, use me—"

Your spanks become less and less measured—one follows the other a little too briskly. If the door weren't locked and the glass made it so any outsider couldn't hear, people would assume you're already fucking her with your brains out. But no, that's just you spanking Hyewon to teach her a lesson, to teach her to be a good girl.

"Fuck, slap my pussy like that!" she yells. Her pants sound hot and eager. "I'm going to cum, oh yes, oh fuck!"

That's your cue to stop. Hyewon doesn't deserve to orgasm yet, not until she's learned her lesson.

"This is so unfair, no," whispers Hyewon disappointedly, turning around with a pout. 

"Newsflash, Hyewon: the world isn't fair. Nothing is." 

Slip a finger inside her and her knee-high-clad legs curl around your hand protectively. She's riding on any good thing; she wants nothing more than your cock, and besides that, probably a job, but anything works for now.

Hyewon works herself down on your fingers. "When will I get to cum, daddy?" she asks. "Daddy? Say 'now,' please."

Execute blunt thrusts into her slick pussy, which is an impossibly tight cavern not even the bravest can make it out alive without exploding. Her back curves and she twists at the pleasure. Her delectable little cunt is sweet and closed around you, a newfound temptation to latch on for life, a vice to remember.

But there's also her fantastic chest to look at, doing what you're doing: peeking through the neckline of her blouse, which you just so happen to do as well. 

"If you give me a feel of those tits," you propose, the way negotiations should go, "maybe I'll let you."

"Of– of course, daddy." 

Hyewon undoes the buttons of her blouse. Like curtains, they part to a wonderful show. This show, though, would have been banned for nudity and corruption (and not in the usual way.) 

Hyewon's tits are glorious—they size up to more than a handful, and have these tiny pink nipples that you'd love to squeeze any time of the day. You're hypnotized by them, in every way possible. You glance at how they rise and fall in coordination with Hyewon's breaths, and the way her nipples perk into the air hard and aroused once the black lacy bra is off. The air-conditioner wind might have had something to do with their state, but you're thankful for both, either-which-way.

"C-careful," begs the young girl, wincing. "They're sensitive…"

"Is that so? Would it feel good then if I did this?"

"Oh, ohhhh!" Hyewon gasps with a hand over her mouth. Her skin feels boiling hot, but in a strangely good way, when you begin to suck directly on her nipples. "Yes, just like that!"

Her breasts are softer and better than the stress balls your office gave away during mental health seminars. The balls are only good for squeezing and throwing. In Hyewon's case, you can completely release all your stress just by fingerfucking her tiny pussy, and sucking her tits all at the same time. With her, you forget more than your morals—you forget about work, your deadlines, your responsibilities. And, needless to say, it's all her fault.

Hyewon can't keep up with the doubled pleasure. She's constantly squirming to have your fingers deeper in her cunt, and she keeps pushing her breasts into your face. Your rhythm of thrusts in her hole doesn't wither, and neither does your sucking on her right nipple. She doesn't know what to do except squeal out replayed pleads.

"Daddy," she says. "Please keep doing that, it feels so good. I'll be a good girl, I promise I won't lie anymore."

You ride your teeth around Hyewon's areola, sucking the area around it also. If you could, you'd never let go of her breasts. You would keep sucking on them, alternating between one and the other, for days on end. You bet you'd survive even without food or water. Hyewon's tits are enough for you to live eternally. Hell is nonexistent when you're with her.

"Do you think you deserve to cum, Hyewon?" you ask. You play with her clit, making it harder for her to get her words out.

"I think so, d-daddy. Yes."

"I don't," you laugh. "I told you not to make a sound, and you disobeyed. How would you become a competent worker if you're like that?"

Hyewon's near tears. "I'll do whatever you want," she says. Breaths get lost here and there due to your fingers still swiftly exiting and entering her. "Please. I need you. I'll, I'll be your good little fuckdoll, I promise, I swear."

"Will you let me fuck your tits, then, Hyem? If you're that good and eager?"

"Yes, daddy!" 

Hyewon nods over and over. A bit too excited, she pushes you down to the office chair rather roughly. But you pay no mind; in fact, your erection grows harder and lengthier at her enthusiasm. It throbs violently with how Hyewon slips off her blazer and pulls down your pants.

Her eyes brighten at the sight of your member, as if it's something that can actually make her day better. 

"You're very hard, daddy." She bites her lip, looking up at you with incredulous adoration. "Let me do something about it."

Hyewon's huge tits hug your hard-on, sandwiching it between them. You groan as she holds her chest so that your cock slips in and out seamlessly, lubed up only by her spit and your precum. Her soft flesh brushes your sensitive, pink penis perfectly, giving it a feel of what heaven might actually be. 

"Holy shit, Hyewon," you sigh. 

It's like she's entertained by what she's doing, too. She's looking down at your cock entering her flesh as if it were an exciting movie. But she takes extra care to seal longer glances with you, knowing that her face alone can make you cum.

"Oh, daddy likes my tits, huh?" Hyewon says coyly. Playing with her nipples while titfucking you, her gaze grows more and more sultry. "Daddy's gonna let me cum after this, right? Make me learn my lesson?"

"Just… just keep moving your tits like that. And we'll see what happens."

Not a solid promise, but Hyewon is satisfied with that. She knows her power and how to use it well enough. She's practiced in the strokes and squeezes she does on your cock, the temptation calling for you  in her brown eyes, everything. She has it all measured and listed down somewhere, probably, just waiting for the right time to use it.

Hyewon lifts her breasts, then slams them down on your lap again. The cycle repeats, and her boobs become like that of a real fleshlight. But hers is better—a toy pales in comparison when paired up with Hyewon's tight, hot body. And all it took to have her was a spanking session. There was no need to shed thousands of won.

"Like this?" she asks. Hyewon's letting you use her for your own pleasure, caring for your bliss rather than hers. The grip of her bosom around you tightens, and you find it difficult to catch your breath. "Do you want me to keep doing this?"

"Fuck yes. You're such a good girl for me right now, Hyewon."

Her cheeks are rosy. "Thank you. I'll make you cum, I promise."

She's made probably a hundred of oaths from the moment she walked into this building, but this one seems to be the one she's most determined to carry out. Hyewon's fiery rhythm risks you of exploding all over her pretty chest. Her smooth, pillow-soft skin knots your stomach and sets everything ablaze. Her facial expressions, which are a far cry from the saintliness she pretended to possess earlier, drive you off the edge.

"Shit… shit, I'm going to cum," you announce in a broken voice.

You can't stave your orgasm off anymore. Your dick expels liquid white strings everywhere. Hyewon's collarbone and big breasts bear most of the desirable damage, but she's sure to open her mouth, too. And she looks every bit the part of a cock-hungry slut, with her eyes rolled back and tongue lewdly hanging from her thick pink lips. White semen becomes her new lip gloss, and she'd put it on any time of the day.

"You still have more in you, daddy," says Hyewon. She strokes herself around your cock without pause. Curses leave your mouth as her evil gaze challenges you to say the opposite. "I can feel it. I want you to explode all over me."

"Fuck, yes, Hyem. I fucking will."

There isn't a single bad movie out there that matches the rapid pacing of Hyewon's titjob, and it's probably for the better. You just keep on cumming, and Hyewon keeps on titfucking you. It's a win-win situation because she enjoys being sprayed with your cum. It makes her feel like the used little doll she is.

She forces you to spurt more up until you can't anymore. All there's left are little droplets of pure white, and ragged moans from both ends. 

Hyewon's blouse and chest are stained all over. But when she gazes at the mess you made on them, she doesn't look upset. She looks rather… turned on. Her squirming thighs and bitten lower lip indicate that. She may look like a porcelain doll with her angelic face and pale skin, but she's been used just like a ragdoll would.

"Did you enjoy that?" she asks. "You liked it, didn't you?"

"I did," you confess. "How wet are you after all that, Hyewon?"

Hyewon reaches under her skirt and brushes her fingers over her pussy. She gasps. "Oh, v-very wet, daddy. Won't you do something about it?"

"Yes, I will. Get ready."

Both you and Hyewon rise to your feet. You step out of the rest of your pants while she shrugs off her blouse. Now, she's only wearing her black schoolgirl skirt and her long socks with shoes. 

Hyewon hops on the edge of your desk. "Will you really fuck me this time?" she asks hopefully.

"A deal's a deal, Kang Hyewon. Now spread your legs."

She opens them. You lift the skirt up to get a view of her pretty hole. Her pussy lips are plump, just like the painted lips on her face. 

(You want to fuck both.)

So, you thrust. 

All at once Hyewon is filled up to the brim, your balls pressing against her ass. 

"Oh, oh, so deep!" gasps Hyewon. "You're so big inside me!"

Your cock throbs. The clench of her walls is amazing, but they're also tempting you to cum again, and you can't have that. So, you set slow but forceful strokes, driving yourself inside Hyewon and feeling her walls part. Her surprised moans guide blood to your erection. The expression she wears never goes far from orgasmic, and she might as well be already cumming with how tight her hole's clamping on you. 

Wrap your hands around her tiny waist. You're ready now. You start to drill her tiny body down your desk. She cries out and leans her head backwards, allowing you to see how much of her neck you've covered in cum. Her glazed breasts bounce before you, getting your cock in an increased solid state to pulse and thrust in her hard and good.

"Yes, daddy, fuck me!" she prods you on, just like how your cock is prodding at her insides. "It's so good, daddy, it's so good, it's so good—"

She's promised to make you cum and delivered it out. Now, she wants you to make one, too, and return the favor. And, even if the only thing you're offered in exchange are Hyewon's loud screams that sound in your ears and her half-naked figure that's straight out of a porn video, you're glad to do so.

"Guess you aren't so innocent after all," you laugh. You're trying to keep custody of the upper hand here, but, god, does Hyewon's cunt choking your cock make it nearly impossible. "All that pretense, Hyewon, don't you get tired?"

"Oh, daddy," Hyewon sobs softly, arms hung around your neck and shoulders. Her eyelids are heavy, too wrung by pleasure. "If it gets you to fuck me, I don't mind at all."

You find her erogenous zone and rub it in the same, fire-quick way you thrust. "A little too fast there, don't you think?" you chuckle, but you're flattered.

"All I want is you going fast inside me." Hyewon's legs tense up after you grab them for easier leverage. Her moans are cut short with stutters. "I want it now."

"And what exactly do you want, Hyewon?"

"I—" She blushes furiously. Her words rarely come out in any form other than squeals. "I want to be your little office cockwarmer. I want to do nothing but be the toy who sucks daddy's dick and keeps his cock hard. I don't want to be anything else, daddy, and you know it—you know I want it—"

"Oh, you will." Pumping into her harder, you set the stone there and then of your ownership of her. "You're mine now. Everyone's gonna know about how you get on your knees for me so easily, Kang Hyewon. You'll be known as my little office slut, the one who keeps my stress relieved."

"Yes, yes, you can fill me up all the time, you can make me wear the slutty secretary outfits from my streams, daddy! Use me, oh god, I'm yours!"

It's a tempting offer. You've seen her streams while looking through her background, and you saw that one of her in the tight little secretary uniform. You think of how pretty she'd look in it, and how heads would turn at her entering your office everytime in it. You picture the outrage that does nothing since you're at such a high position in the office hierarchy, such an important person. They can't do anything if you decide at once that Hyewon's going to be your cumslut. They can only create rumors painting you out to be the exploitative bad guy, and Hyewon starring in the role of the poor head-over-heels newbie desperate for a good life.

You can live with that. 

The inches of your length never get to breathe as you're constantly shoving them inside her, knocking against her cervix and making her sob for more. There's no limit to the pumps you can give to Hyewon, but you still test it out. Hyewon remains at your mercy.

"Are you going to be my slut now? Do you really want that?" you ask her. "Or are you going to back out because you're too much of a pussy to dive in?c

Grab her chin and force her gaze at you. That's how you see that Hyewon's completely serious. That's exactly what she wants. She didn't come here for a job, she came here for you, and she's not leaving without being yours.

Hyewon nods. She presses her forehead against yours. "I want you," she whispers. "So make me yours. You know you want to teach your whore of a babygirl a lesson. You know you want to fill her cunt everyday."

That's right, you do. You knew, since the minute she spent teasing and toying with you, that you want to fuck her brains out. And here you are, doing exactly that. 

This could be forever if you wanted. 

"Gonna cum now, Hyewon. Gonna fill your cunt up with daddy's semen. Gonna fucking breed you."

"I'm close, too, daddy. Give me your cum."

You make sure to press completely against her cervix when you cum inside her. Hyewon's girl cum and your white fluids mix together, a blend of sex and sin, and drip down your table. You can't really think of anything else except for Hyewon's screams climbing up in volume and her squirt spurting all over your best uniform. No, you're brain-dead with lust, and there's no turning back.

You make her your cum deposit. You make her your babygirl, and as corny as it sounds, straight out of a bad teen romance where everything goes too quickly for any talent to be actually seen, you're okay with that.

-

"And that's how I think that we should promote the book earlier this year. Thank you for listening."

The clan of higher-ups sitting at the oval-shaped table clap politely. You try to keep your clapping at the appropriate level of enthusiasm, but your heart bursts with pride for Hyewon. She's come so far without your help. She's learning to stand on her own.

"I think that's a great idea, miss Kang," says Miyawaki Sakura, your director. She's a petite woman with a soft voice, but everyone knows that she's the boss of any room she stands in. "I'll jumpstart the idea tomorrow with the board of directors."

Hyewon flushes with happiness. "Thank you, miss Miyawaki."

"I do have one concern with miss Kang about the presentation, though," you pipe up. "Miss Miyawaki, do I have your permission to speak about with Hyewon in private?"

Now everybody's looking at each other. They try to keep themselves decent, but they all know what you mean. By now, your sexual relationship with Hyewon is an open secret. It might not be eligible for the title of secrecy anymore since all of the office knows it. 

But what can they do? You're the best in your team. You run too many things that keep the company going and they can't risk your loss. 

Hyewon waits for the director's response with bated breath. Her hands fiddle with each other as she waits for a response.

"Of course, sir," replies Sakura finally. "You may go."

You and Hyewon exchange glances. The two of you know exactly what your "talk" would be about.

[mageknight14]

I loved how NEO pulled the rug out with Rindo’s character. At first, he generally seems much more sociable and outwardly friendly compared to Neku and then the game quickly goes "yeah, nah, he’s a huge fucking mess too." He’s a good kid fundamentally at his core but he can also be whiny, hypocritical, passive-aggressive, and kind of insensitive at times. He has a tendency to be judgemental and harsh to the people around him while not acknowledging his own faults, like when he complains about Beat joining the team even though he saved their lives beforehand because he’s not Neku or when he gives Fret shit for fawning over Eiji Oji and Kanon while falling for Motoi’s BS. He’s so pessimistic about himself and others that not even a death game that heavily emphasizes the value of teamwork can get him to fully come out of his shell, which is where his time-travel powers come in AND EVEN THEN it’s a double-edged sword since on one hand, it forces him to actively step up to the plate and survey the situation to find the best possible solution, which leads to him slowly growing out of his shell, but on the other, it also leads to him becoming overly reliant on his time travel so that he can walk back from potentially life-changing decisions without having to worry about it since he has a magic reset button. Which ends up biting him in the ass. Hard.

He’s one of those types of people who is ultimately a thinker and planner instead of a do-er, but his being young and overly impressionable takes this personality quirk to such an extreme that he's foundationally useless to most groups. He’s the type of person who you have in a group project who sits around and does nothing, but then complains with the project does poorly because he couldn't be bothered to speak.

He's so unconfident and directionless that he uses effectively Instagram as a means to listen to someone who sounds like some 2deep4u philosopher post dumb flowery bullshit that effectively has all the meaning of "Drink water when you're thirsty." and he admits to finding such "deep" meaning in these posts that it supposedly helped him through life. Because he's 15 and doesn't know anything.

However, all of this makes him interesting as a character because he’s, again, still a fundamentally good kid at his core. While he’s shown to have a fuse, he is also the kind of person who has the ability to think his emotions through. That's what we ultimately see when he and Fret finally talk and drop their beef. The game depicting Rindo's capacity for self-awareness and emotional reflection is a positive revelation of his character strengths. He proves that he's capable of recognizing when he's in the wrong and knows how to apologize, a trait he shows quite a few times throughout the story, while also doing everything he can to set things right as well as be more understanding toward how his friends feels.

He’s kind of the guy who will drop everything to help a little kid out, even when there’s no tangible benefit to doing so and he and the others are shown to be on limited time, shows empathy to his friends/fallen enemies, and feels massive amounts of guilt for his actions, even if he didn’t know better at the time.

Hell, the entire endgame is fueled by his selfish yet understandable desire to save the people he cares about most from total erasure, to the point that he’s willing to risk thousands of lives to do so. But not only is he shown to be internally grappling with himself regarding his decision but he’s also willing to take responsibility and ensure that EVERYTHING goes right not just for himself and his friends but the people of Shibuya in general, in a parallel to Neku’s own selfish if understandable decision to put the bonds he formed in the original game (particularly with Joshua) over the actual city.

Characters aren't interesting simply by switching between 2 different character traits. They're interesting when all those traits are being expressed at the same time for reasons that are consistent within their internal logic. You gotta be a good writer to pull that off and you gotta know when to show off these dimensions during your story to achieve proper dramatic effect when the time calls for it and NEO I feel does this pretty damn well.