#he's a jackass there is no doubt

[bacchuschucklefuck]

prayer of the day:

[mugiwara-lucy]

This fucking assclown 🤦‍♀️🤣

[juniperjelly]

i really don't get how anyone's hyped about notch saying he announced "basically minecraft 2". most of his career consists of saying he's gonna make a game, barely half-finishing it, and abandoning it when he gets slightly stressed or nobody finishes making it for him. he never finished any of the supposed minecraft successors he announced before, i seriously doubt this one will be any different lmao

[earlgreylatte]

Of Moons, Birds, & Monsters

Where Mark Grayson having a sister changes everything and nothing.

You were privileged in a lot of ways; a nice house in the suburbs, a mother that worked in real estate, a father that wrote travel guides after seeing his novels weren’t doing so well, and they both never laid a hand on you. They were reasonable and raised you with a firm but kind hand. Well, maybe your mother more than your superhero father. But even with his usual absences, you and your brother were without a doubt loved. You are grateful, you really are. On top of the warmth provided by your household, you’re special. You’re different than the rest of the general population, with your father sure you’d inherit the powers inherent to his, your, alien heritage. You had the means to do something greater. A purpose. A higher calling.

People lamented not having such a clear path. Yet, you only felt a growing hollowness in your chest. As if you were barely tethered to reality. And you had no real reason to feel that way, at first. Your mom made sure she was there at every moment, every milestone. Your dad, while busy with his heroics, who would always throw you in the air and catch you in his strong arms, always picking up your favourite pastry from a bakery in the Netherlands. Your younger brother looked up to you with stars in eyes, pestering you to play with him.

But even then, you felt aimless. Apprehensive. Empty when you’re left alone, no one to distract you, and only your thoughts to reign freely.

Your dad had shared his origin with you and Mark when you were twelve and nine year olds. Adding to the puberty talk your mom had already given to you. Mark was excited. Why wouldn’t he be? Awesome powers and a future wearing spandex? That was every kid’s dream. Even you felt anticipation at being able to fly one day.

But the planet your father came from, Viltrumite, only gave you anxiety. Devoting yourself to protect the weak, to the point you’d have to leave your own home planet was a daunting task. You don’t know how your father could do it. Protecting strangers so far from home. You liked the comfort of home. Of being with your family. You didn’t even know what you wanted to be when you grow up.

After your dad sent you two to bed that night, you started up at the glow in the dark stars that covered your ceiling in quiet contemplation. You heard your bedroom door slowly creak open. From beneath your blanket, you slowly pushed yourself up.

���Get in here already,” you call and in an instant, he’s climbed onto your bed, starting at you with barely restrained energy. “Getting a bit too old to need a sleep buddy, Mark.”

Your brother shoves at your shoulder indignantly, “I can sleep by myself! And you sleep with stuffed animals!”

“Hey, stuffed animals are for all ages, you’re never too old for them.”

“That’s not what I came here for!” He protests, “We’re aliens!”

“Half-aliens,” you correct, bringing your knees to your chest.

“Same thing! And—and dad’s Omni-man!” He babbles, a far cry from his quiet awe while he listened to your dad earlier.

“I mean, yeah, Mark. I don’t understand how people don’t know, the moustache is a dead giveaway,” you respond. “And you know I like Darkwing and War Woman more.”

Mark calls out your name in frustration, “Aren’t you even a little psyched? We’re going to be heroes! We could be…Omni Boy and Girl!”

You squint at him in the darkness of your room, “Maybe workshop the names a bit more, and that’s not going to happen for a while. I mean, you should be more concerned on whether or not you’re going to grow or not. It’s not looking good, midget.”

Mark, done with your jackass behaviour, lets out a war cry and tackles you off the bed, landing on one of your ridiculously big stuffed animals. You two laughed as you grappled and shoved at each other, only freezing when the light flickers on.

Your mom stares at you menacingly from the doorway.

Your powers came in when you were thirteen. You had been in school, a teacher droning on about trigonometry, and you felt the telltale signs of tinnitus. When your ears popped, you could hear more than you could even comprehend. You slammed your hands over your ears but you could still hear everything. Dozens of teachers talking to their own classes, the gossip of students, the pipes below, and even the creaking of your school’s infrastructure. Ignoring your teacher’s protests, you left. Running through the halls, for the first and not last time, you ditched school, exiting the building.

Your dad found you across town, in a desolate park, grass overgrown and with splintering benches. It was quiet. Quieter. Away from the noise of traffic and crowds.

He had simply stared at your huddled form before picking you up, and flew high. Higher and higher until the only thing you could focus on was the infinite blue of the sky, fluffy white clouds surrounding you two. Your dad rubbed a large hand over your head comfortingly.

“Usually, strength or flight kicks in before the enhanced senses gradually appear for Viltrum children. But it happened all at once for you. Not unheard of, but definitely unlucky,” your father explains, looking down at your with a complicated look in his eyes. “I knew you would get your powers, but I didn’t…prepare myself or you for it.”

At your silence, he continues, “Your mom was worried when she got that call from school. It’s not everyday your kid pulls a jailbreak from school. So why don’t we go let her know you’re okay and we’re going to start training you. Get you up in the sky and you’ll be able to go to that pop cafe you like so much in Tokyo.”

“Pokémon cafe, dad,” you correct, “Mark’s going to be so jealous.”

He laughs, “Soon enough both of you will be like your old man, thrashing monsters and then…”

When he trails off, he only shakes his head and asks if you want to pick up some food before you go home.

Your brother groans and moans at how he’s going to have to wait to get his powers while you’ll be out with dad. Your mom forbids you from going out as a hero as a middle schooler, not that you’d object. Your dad…

Your dad has always had his obligations. You wouldn’t call him absent, but your mom was the one you’d come home to and the one to tuck you and Mark in every night. So it felt like you were getting to really know him for once. He told you more about his home as he helped you fly, not unlike how any other dad would help their kids learn how to ride a bike.

You don’t really go into detail about your lessons with Mark because you know he’d sulk.

You don’t tell your mom because don’t you want to be cause of a disagreement or fight.

You wouldn’t call yourself an inquisitive kid, but there was something unrealistic about Viltrum. You could believe that food shortages and illness could be eliminated. That technology beyond what you could even imagine what out there. What you couldn’t believe was that indisputable peace could exist.

Conflict, idiocy, and more polluted humans. Any living being that had thought that went beyond survival and instinct would inevitably have their own selfish and nefarious thoughts. The cost of free will. Were humans worst off than other species out there? Surely strife was equal.

Humanity isn’t all bad, of course. That’s why even though there’s hurt and pain in the world, people will always have the ability to make their own choices.

Your dad’s brow knitted whenever you discussed this particular topic. There was a certain superiority he had, which was understandable when you were the strongest on Earth, but it seems to have bled into a certain resentment towards the people he was supposed to protect.

Other times, he described beings like you as shepherds, to herd the flock of sheep. He emphasized duty and responsibility, having to make the hard choices that no one else could make. What those ‘choices’ were, you had no idea.

(Sometimes his face contorts when he thinks you’re not looking. With what emotions is a question you stay up thinking about.)

Your dad is patient with you, a good teacher, really. But there are instances where he’s anxious, rushed as if there is something looming behind him.

(He hits hard enough to having you tearing up at his worst moment before his face twists with regret as he moves to comfort you.

Frustration shines through his eyes when you seem disinterested in your training, wanting to play games with Mark instead. A moment later, he relents. His strange mood remains for a couple hours before disappearing like it never happened.

Neither of you mention it.)

When you’re in high school, your dad takes you to get a proper suit from Arthur. The old man reminiscing with your dad with a comfortable ease. They’re friends, you note. It’s nice to see your dad have these moments with people outside of your family.

Your brother had recommend ‘Omni-Girl’ as a your hero name, but you immediately vetoed it. A title wasn’t too important to you since you were just shadowing your dad. You didn’t feel too motivated to throw yourself out in to the thick of it.

(“You see, sometimes it takes more then one punch to finish the job,” your father explains while holding up an armadillo like beast, “So, don’t become discouraged and don’t be afraid to just let them have it.”

And with that he began pummelling the beast.

“Okay, dad.”)

Eventually your dad’s gentle suggestions to be more proactive become firm orders.

(Your dad is cruel sometimes. To his enemies. Even to you. His grip on you too tight and his words too demeaning. He backs away in regret, apologizes, and buys you whatever food you want afterward.)

You begin to patrol aimlessly. You started out with minor conflicts; muggings and other assholes looking to take advantage of other people. Then you began fighting with super powered criminals, ones that could actually stun you or even hurt you. You weren’t too invested in your hero responsibilities, especially since there were more than enough people to pick up the slack. It was a good after school activity at least.

(You used to be on the field hockey team, but after getting your powers, it would just be unfair. People could get hurt.)

You noticed things getting increasingly difficult. You never anticipated how much things would weigh on you. Having to ignore the screams of helped you were forced to tune into because you didn’t want to fail a midterm. People getting hurt or killed because you weren’t fast enough, that you making the wrong choice or move would always have consequences. The same villains would continue to break out and continue to hurt others, you would beat them to a pulp, take note of the casualties, and the cycle would restart.

You alone had the power and capabilities to make a difference in the lives of so many people. People that can’t rely on the Guardians or Omni-Man to be everywhere. Your inaction alone outweighs the sins of many, you realize.

(Mark calls your name. You jolt out of your thoughts. He had out walked you and was now looking back at you in confusion.

“Why are you so slow? Come on!” The now teen complains, urging you to speed up.

“Dude, it’s not like 7/11 is going to suddenly run out of slushies,” you retort, but jog to catch up with him.

“Why can’t you just fly us?” Mark asks, “We would have been home already.”

“What,” you laugh incredulously, “someone could see us and then they’ll know there’s a super in the neighbourhood, and then boom. You’ll have gotten us doxxed, Mark, and we’ll have to put you and mom in some protection program!”

“Overdramatic much? And it’s not like anyone cares about ‘Singularity’,” Mark whispers the last part, quickly glancing around the empty street. “And that’s such a lame hero name, by the way!”

“You don’t even know what it means,” you scoff.

“And you do? I bet you got it from one of those RPGs you’re always playing!”

“Nah, I just got it from some song.”)

Mark is thirteen and he still hasn’t gotten his powers like you had. Outside the house, your dad looks more worried than Mark does. He rests a hand on your shoulder, tells you that one day you’ll have to step up more. That you need to watch over your brother while he’s just human. When he says that, he looks more calm then you’ve seen him in a long time.

Your mom looks at you worriedly when your back is turned. You get it, you aren’t the most social and your beginning to think your mom knows you don’t really have any friends at school now that she no longer tries to get you to invite anyone over.

You just tease Mark and debate with dad until you feel her worry lessen.

You’re tired. You don’t really have a plan for the future. You try not to think about it too much.

(“We Viltrumites…far outlive humans. Eventually, your aging will slow down enough that while your peers will be old and grey, you won’t even look thirty,” your father reveals one evening. The two of you stand at the peak of Mount Everest, watching the sun set in a mirage of pink and orange. It’s beautiful. “Just, don’t get too attached. One day, it will just be us. Don’t let your heart get broken.”

“What about mom? Mark?” You ask. “If…he’s not like us.”

Your father is silent, he doesn’t deny the possibility, “Then we stay with them. Till the end.”

You don’t ask what you do after.)

You wonder if this is how you’ll spend your days. Fighting and fighting as everything changes around you. Do you stop when you can’t recognize what this planet has become?

You’re not particularly skilled or even much of a good person. You’re more than aware of that. You’re selfish. You’re just human, despite your alien blood. Maybe humans and Viltrumites aren’t too different.

(You’re falling. A giant mecha just tossed you out of the city. People are screaming and running away in terror. No matter how much you punch it and how brutal you are in tearing it apart, it keeps rebuilding itself. It’s been hours. By now, people have already evacuated. You’re exhausted and hungry. You want to go home. You don’t want to be here anymore. But, no one else is coming, it’s just you. This can’t be anyone else’s responsibility but yours.

But, you let yourself fall. You could catch yourself. You don’t. The absolute idiot you are, you don’t catch yourself. You can fly, but you don’t.

You land on someone. You can’t tell their gender or even how old they are. How could you, when you’re sitting in the red, mushy remains of them. They’re nothing more than a bloody mess on the ground. You’re covered in a mix of their fluids and organs. You’re screaming. You can’t stop.

Your dad finds you.

“It’s not your fault.”

“It happens.”

“One life versus thousands.”

“They’re insignificant…in the grand scheme of things. People die so easily. Disease, traffic accidents, even just fading away in their asleep.”

You don’t feel any better.

When you get back home, the two of you eat dinner as mom complains about a client.

You two don’t mention anything about the mecha, despite Mark’s begging, besides that it’s been taken care of.)

You stop fighting the evil geniuses and beasts that were always around, demanding attention from the public. You focus on the monsters that hide in the shadows. The ones that aren’t broadcasted on the news. The ones that take advantage of those weaker. Traffickers and gangs. Women, children, and drugs seem to be what’s circulated. Every time you take down one ring, ten more seem to pop up. It’s just as relentless as the usual villainous devastation.

They work in even the most populated cities, keeping everyone down. Girls go missing and people find themselves in debt to loan sharks that never yield.

No one’s around to see you beat normal people and the occasional super-powered thug to mush.

(“You’re doing good work,” Cecil compliments you, watching as his agents usher victims away from the remains of their prisons. They glance at you as they pass. You pretend you don’t notice. “Wasn’t expecting you to start handling the dirty work. We tend leave this kind of thing to our agents.”

You remain silent. Your father doesn’t answer to him. Neither do you. It was nothing personal. You just didn’t want to feel like a tool, more than you already do, at least.

“I get it. You like to work alone, just like your old man. But it would be better for the victims if you’re at least in contact with us. I— we can help.” Cecil offers you an earpiec .

You hesitate, “Don’t contact me for anything besides leads. I don’t do the whole public hero thing anymore.”

He smirks, “Sure, kid.”)

Your dad stares at you in confusion, and then irritation. You two argue.

“You don’t have to deal with this,” he struggles to find the words, “We’re above this. Squashing insects doesn’t make you any smarter or stronger. This isn’t growth. You’ll never change things, not really. You can’t change humanity.”

“I thought you were here to make a peaceful world,” you interject, “How can you do that if you think people are doomed to be infinitely cruel? Have you given up? You’re literally on a committee with the express purpose of helping people, which I’m doing! Throwing the same morons back into prison isn’t doing anything either!”

“Are you really prepared to change things? To change this world? To see the actual value of humans?” He questions with an intensity that cuts the words in your throat. “Do you think you’re ready?”

“Ready? What are you talking about?” You watch him place a hand over his face before turning away. “Dad?”

“Right now, you can’t make the hard choices,” your father concludes.

You two don’t resolve your disagreement, neither of you willing to bend.

Your mother and Mark try to ease the uncomfortable tension when the both of you are home.

“So, uh, how goes the heroing?” Mark asks, cutting into his lasagna.

“Fine,” you and your dad grunt before glaring at each other.

“And this isn’t awkward at all.”

(Your mom strokes your hair. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re going after…a different kind of danger?”

“Not really something to talk about over dinner,” you mumble, laying your head in her lap. “Or brag about.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

You stiffen.

“You’re helping so many people, my baby is a hero. You’re doing so good,” she whispers as your body shakes with sobs, “You always see what others don’t. My considerate girl.”)

You graduate. Rather than go to school, you pick up a camera. You get pictures of heroes no one else can get, see views that only you can find. You also don’t mind doing wedding pictures for some extra cash. You travel, you sometimes run into your dad in the skies. You two are better now. He probably sees your motivations as a phase. And maybe he’s right when it comes to near immortal beings.

Things are okay. Everything seems kind of grey, dull, even, but it’s okay.

Mark calls you one night. He got his powers. Something in you shrivels up. A foreboding feeling washing over you.

You come home. You and your dad sit at the kitchen table.

“You look like the world is ending,” you comment, narrowing your eyes when he doesn’t immediately reply. “I thought you were waiting for him to…become like us.”

“Things are going to be busy with me training Mark for the next little bit,” he speaks up, “I’d appreciate it if you stepped up a bit more.”

“…why? You seemed on top of things when I got my powers,” you note.

“We don’t have that kind of time anymore, Mark is already a late bloomer. I need to get him to your level as soon as possible. You’ve been slacking off on your training too. You’re only getting faster and your senses might be better than mine, but you need to get stronger, to stop holding back,” he stares down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them.

“You’re acting like you’re on a deadline,” you observe, “Are you okay?”

“Just,” he breathes out, “keep an eye out.”

Before you can say anything else, you hear your mom shuffle out of bed above you.

“Alright.”

Mark begins his training and your dad is weirdly wired. A tension residing in him. It’s noticeable to you and your mother.

(You find yourself comparing Mark to a cocoon. Metamorphosis. It’s hard to believe how much he’s grown. How much he’s growing. Who he’ll become.

Invincible, he declares as his name.

“Why can I still see you?” You ask, lounging on his bed.

“You’re not funny,” he scowls. You push yourself up.

“It’s a good name,” you smile at him. “But you do know we can still get the crap beaten out of us, even dad.”

“I know that!” Mark protests, throwing a pillow at you. You catch it and throw it with more than a little force.

Mark huffs as he catches it before, sending it back. And before you know it, you two are tussling like you’re kids again, trying to put the other in a headlock.

“Someone is suddenly a little too confident,” you laugh, before shoving him into the wall.

“And I think someone needs to knock you down a peg, you tyrant! You can’t bully me anymore!” Mark lunges at you but you simply step out of the way as he crashes onto the floor.

He huffs before letting out a chuckle, “We haven’t roughhoused like this since…you got your powers, I think.”

You pause, “I mean if I bumped into you too hard, you’d probably explode.”

“Hey! I wasn’t that scrawny!”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Just be careful around other people.” You warn before grinning, “I mean, yeah, you’ve always been a bit of a late bloomer so I did have to be extra delicate with you—!”

With a battle cry, Mark charges at you as you two begin grappling again. You both freeze when you hear your mom clearing her throat at the doorway.

“Sorry, mom.”

“My bad.”)

You meet your dad at the peak of Mount Everest once again. You’ve both gotten into the habit of visiting when you needed to think. He hasn’t come in a while.

“Sweetheart, do you trust me?” He asks finally turning to stare at you, bathed in orange light as the sky turns to dusk. “That I want the best for you and your brother. Your mother.”

“Of course I do, dad,” you say honestly. Despite his faults, he’s your dad and you know that he loves his family above all else.

“Then I need you to be strong. Stronger than you’ve ever been before.” He brings you in for a hug, cradling your head as if you were still a little girl. “You should go home tonight. I’ll be out late.”

“Okay, dad.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, get some rest.”

You don’t see him tomorrow, not really.

Your mom and brother jolt when they see you come down the stairs, wiping the sleep out of your eyes. Both of them already ready to start their day, unlike you.

“Honey, I didn’t realize you were here!” Your mom exclaims.

Your brother shoots you a look, “When did you even get here?”

“A couple of hours ago,” you yawn halfway through your words. “Dad not home?”

Your mom frowns, “No, he didn’t come back last night.”

“Mom, stop worrying,” Mark reassures her, “he probably got buried under a mountain again or something.”

You remain silent as she chuckles, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

She heads to the door after telling you she bought more of your usual tea from the store as Mark picks up a box of cereal. “Don’t be late for school—“

You hear her gasp as two men in black stand outside your door.

Donald leads you into a government operated hospital, his exchange with Mark passing over you.

You’ve been here before. A couple of times. When you were inexperienced. You’ve never seen your dad beaten enough to warrant a visit.

Your brother and mother rush into his room, your father laying unconscious on a gurney, hooked up to different beeping machines. You stagger a bit behind them, noticing Cecil in the corner, who nods at you.

Your ears are buzzing as you look away, watching your mother already hover above your father.

“Who did this?” Mark asks sharply.

“We have no idea,” Cecil cuts in, as everyone turns to look at him. “Not yet, anyway. But we’ll find out and when we do, they’ll look a hell of a lot worse than your dad over there.”

He introduces himself to Mark, shaking his hand before acknowledging your mom. “Deborah. I’m so sorry.”

She stands up, glaring, “Cecil, you’ve got a lot of nerve—!”

“Someone murdered the Guardians of the Globe last night,” he interrupts as your mother gasps and your brother lets out an astonished ‘oh my god’.

It takes every muscle in your body to not flinch as you stare down at your comatose dad. Your dad never joined their team despite their numerous offers. He said liked to work alone. Even if attended their numerous parties and get togethers. Even when he laughed with them.

Cecil sighs, “All of them. Tore them down limb from limb. We tried like hell to bring them back, but Nolan was the only survivor.”

“How is that even possible?” Mark asks.

“We don’t know yet. We also don’t know why your dad was at Guardians HQ,” Cecil continues. “A working theory is whoever killed the Guardians, lured him down there to try to wipe them all out at once.”

You ignore Mark’s confusion and Cecil’s pragmatism. Your mother’s tearful demands wash over you, distraught that even your father could have a brush with death.

But you can’t focus on that.

You exit the room.

You might have been the last person your father saw before the attack yesterday. No, you know you were the last one.

(“—do you trust me?”)

“Your brother is out dealing with an invasion,” Cecil informs you, finding your crouched form in the hallway over.

You jolt up, “Where?”

He raises an eyebrow at you, “Not your area of focus, right? I’ve already sent the Teen Team to assist him.”

You’ve met them before. Members in between yours and Mark’s age. They asked you to join them, maybe two years ago.

“He’s new,” you remark, “I should—“

“Singularity,” Cecil interrupts, something he seems fond of doing, “You’re currently the strongest person on Earth.”

You freeze.

“I respect you. You do the work no one notices or wants to notice. The stuff that’s hard to digest. You don’t do it for the fame or recognition. I understand why you don’t want to get involved with the government, but I need your cooperation right now. Whoever did this could come after you next—“

You doubt it.

“And we need someone to pick up the slack more than ever. Can I count on you? Even if it means you’ll be out in the light?”

“Okay,” you nod.

“That easy?” He asks. You shrug.

“What do you need me to do?”

“As much as you can.”

You’ve never not lived in a cycle. You’re back where you started. Just beating down the bad guy that Cecil points you at.

Dragons, hairy beasts, and the Lizard League.

You’d rather you do it than Mark. He has enough to worry about.

You wonder what’s going to happen now. Cecil was using you to close the power vacuum the death of the Guardians would leave. You had to be fast and efficient so no one would notice their absence. So no one would get any smart ideas. You were sending a message that there were plenty of other heroes to fear. At least for the next few days.

You wish time would stop moving forward, just for a little bit. You feel so tired. You don’t want to do this. You’re sick of seeing people hurt other people. Of having to hurt people. But what would you be if you looked away? What would your family think of you if you didn’t help when you had the ability to do so? Were you anyone without these powers at this point?

Your life consisted of nothing but the job, whether it was black market dealers or experiments gone wrong, you had to wear the suit.

(“—be strong.”)

You almost dread the moment your father will awaken. It won’t be long. They might not know much about your species’ durability, but you had a guess.

(“Hey,” Mark’s voice echoes from your phone. “I saw you on TV. Back in the limelight, a bunch of theorists think you’re trying out for the Globe.”

He pauses.

“If,” he starts, “If you need any help—“

“Focus on school,” you interject. “And I heard you fought off those Flaxans pretty well yesterday.”

You hear his breath stutter.

“I know mom left some stuff in the freezer, but do you want me to pick up anything?”

“Sushi,” Mark replies instantly.

“Yeah, I think there’s a place near me—“

“From that one place in Nagoya.”

“Bro.”

“Bro,” Mark pleads, “I know you carry that insulated bag with you. I’ll pay you back.”

“With your burger money?”

“Elitist, but yeah.”

“I’d feel like a bully, so just buy me, like, fifteen milkshakes.”

“I think that’s still just extortion.”)

You get a frantic call from your mom that he’s awake. When you burst into his room you narrowly avoiding your brother crashing into you.

“Careful,” you chide him but he ignores you to approach the now conscious man.

You watch them.

After changing out of your costume and into your civvies, you watch Mark brush off your father’s hand. You sigh. Your mother told you the older woman he had saved hadn’t made it. Your father didn’t seem too concerned, instead turning to the nurse at the front desk, demanding his costume back.

“Manners,” you scold, walking to stand next to him. He only glances at you as the nurse leaves to retrieve the damaged suit.

“You did good, covering for me,” he commends.

“Guess I’ll have to do it a little longer while you recover,” you note. “Don’t take too long, I have my own stuff to get back to.”

Your dad only scoffs before your mother intervenes.

“I’m just glad we’ll all be home again!”

You and your father share a glance. He knows you know.

“I gotta get going,” you step away, “I just wanted to make sure dad was okay. Cecil needs me to go do…something.”

(“Why didn’t you and dad ever tell me that there’s an orange, telepathic cyclops alien that shows up every once in a while?” Mark demands.

“Oh, I don’t know. Three years ago, while I was chilling on the moon, he showed up, I punched him, and then I got to dad to deal with it,” you explain, “Freaked me out.”

“And you didn’t try to talk to him?”

“I was in the middle of some really deep thinking when he showed up,” you defend yourself, “But, he had the wrong planet? That’s funny.”

He groans out your name in exasperation.)

“Singularity,” Cecil’s voice rings out in your ear, “You’re needed. Your brother and the Teen Team aren’t doing so hot—“

“Send me the coordinates.”

When you’re fifty kilometres away, your dad joins you.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” You ask.

He ignores you, “These Flaxans are on their third attempt to invade?”

“That’s right.”

He grunts, “Let me show you how to nip this kind of thing in the bud.”

“What?”

“Follow my lead. We’ll talk after. I know I owe you that much.”

When you arrive, Mark is being beaten by a Flaxan in a mech suit. Speeding up, you punch the alien off your baby brother, before tossing him into the air with a yell. Omni-man catches him as you turn away.

“Are you okay?” You fret as you crouch down to lift him out of the crater he was slumped in. He groans in pain before perking up at seeing your dad.

In his usual effortless fashion, Omni-man has the army’s attention as he wipes the aliens out in an instant after proving that their attacks could do nothing to him.

Your brother watches in awe as he forces the intruders to retreat back into their portals.

“Singularity,” he calls out from above you, nudging his head toward the last of the Flaxans. The one in the mech suit, the one that wanted to beat your brother to death, still wasn’t keen on leaving, despite the portal behind him.

You close your eyes before turning to your brother, giving his shoulder a squeeze as he stares at you in confusion. “You did good.”

And in the next instant, in tandem, you and Omni-man fly at the enemy with a burst of speed, the three of you disappearing into the portal. The last thing you hear is Mark call out for your dad, and for you. Your name echoing from behind you. You couldn’t even blame him for the secret identity thing.

(Their planet was red. The rocks beneath your feet, the lighting, and even the fear in their eyes as they started at you like you were their reckoning.

“You don’t seem to understand,” Your dad speaks with a menace in his tone unlike anything you’ve ever heard, “Earth isn’t yours to conquer.”

“Dad?”

He looks back at you, and he’s almost remorseful, “Just watch, and I promise I’ll explain everything.

You couldn’t even move if you wanted to. You watched a civilization fall to ruin, buildings collapsing, innocents screaming. It wouldn’t stop. Your dad, who used to throw you in the air until you were screaming with joy, always catching you with strong hands, was now the cause of pure terror.

With a surge of courage, you tackle him, both of you plummeting down to the ground.

“What are you doing?” You cry, gripping his face, “Just stop!”

He says your name, hands grabbing your wrists, “This is what needs to be done.”

“You’re insane,” you state, “you’re actually insane—“

In a quick turn, he throws you down by the wrists before you can react, with a strength you’ve never experienced before.

When you sit up, the screams are louder. Your crash created a crater, but your eyes widen at the sudden warmth you feel, covering your legs, back, and hands.

It’s red. Not again. It’s red.

It’s in your mouth, in your nose, and the only thing you can see is red.

You think you’re screaming, crying. You’re fourteen again, the same idiot that fell and caused devastation. You can’t breathe, you’re choking on your own sobs. You don’t know how much time has passed, only blinking into awareness when you feel your father pulling you into his arms, shushing you as he presses your face into his shoulder.

You cry out in defiance, pushing your hands against him, but his grip only tightens against you.

“It’s okay, it’s over,” he whispers.

“You killed them,” you hiccuped, “The Guardians—“

“I had to—“

“You didn’t! You didn’t have to—“

“I know this is hard, that you never wanted to be a hero,” he interrupts, “And a part of me was always glad about that. That you recognized the futility of it all. But, that only makes it worse on you. You more than anyone knows how crooked and violent that world is, that no matter how many so called heroes appear, it will never end. Not unless people like us step in. Force them to stop, even if it means having to be cruel, to be the monsters in their eyes. For the greater good.”

“Dad—“

“From the moment I stepped foot onto that planet, its fate was already decided. That Earth would become a part of our empire. No more disease or famine. No more lives being sold or slaughtered. But, I faltered. If you and Mark were just human——I couldn’t let them find out about you. But you’re not human. And you don’t need to have these human problems anymore,” he continues, stroking your hair with his bloodied hand. “But I need you to be strong. For your brother and mom. For yourself. For your survival and theirs. We can’t defy the empire. The weak aren’t allowed to live among us, so you need to stop crying.”

“No, no, I can’t,” you try to object.

“You can and you will. For a better world, one where your mom can grow old in, where you and your brother will have each other as everyone around you ages and dies. This is the only way, your empathy will only doom you. Us. So let me—-let me make the hard choices until you can.” He finishes as you cease struggling, only lying limply against him.

As your vision blackens, you hope you don’t wake up.

(Time passes on a different rate on this planet. Your father forces its inhabitants to send you back home, something they are more than willing to do. The days blur together, your father gently cajoling you into drinking and eating in your detached state, cradling you to his chest like you’re a kid. Maybe you still are one. Still unable to handle the pressure, stupid and weak as you are.

You leave behind death and destruction as you return back to your planet, guided by your father.)

You and your father leave those issues outside of the house, so when you return home, your gait is casual even if you look battered.

Entering first, your father walks in, only a bit tired, as if he hasn’t doomed a whole planet.

“I need a shower,” he sighs.

“I called dibs,” you shoot back, following behind him as if you hadn’t spent days crying and cursing him out.

Mark and your mom jump from their seats, pulling you two into an embrace.

“Woah, group hug?” You laugh as your dad holds all three of you in his arms.

You stop when you hear the announcer on the TV declare that the Guardians are dead.

A day later, you find yourself dressed in black, accompanying your family to the televised funeral of the Guardians; heroes, civilians, and the press all attending.

Your father, the murderer, begins his eulogy. You clench your coat in between your fists, scrunching your eyes closed. It’s almost laughable.

Your mom nudges you, “Are you alright? You look…anxious.”

You smile at her, “Just a bit crowded.”

Hours later, you attend the second, and real, funeral. Olga sobbing as the actual caskets lay in front of you. You hold an umbrella over your mother’s head as your father begins to speak. You wonder how sincere he’s being.

“Good to see you again, despite the circumstances. I didn’t realize you three were all related,” Eve greets you.

“Don’t want any nepotism accusations. You know how it is,” you joke with Mark scoffing at you, but you notice his lips twitch.

People soon begin to leave as the rain continues. You watch from a distance as the detective from hell stands off against your father. He’s onto him. You shudder.

(When you turn to leave, your parents stop you.

“Honey, are you sure you don’t want to come home with us?” Your mom looks at you in worry, you feel like that’s all you do to her now.

“Come on, you can choose what we have for dinner,” your dad bribes. You keep your face flat.

“Some publishers approached me about some of my action shots. For the Guardian’s memorial pages,” you explain, squeezing Mark’s arm before turning away.

You feel your father’s stare until you disappear from sight.)

“You sure you won’t consider a place on the team? I wouldn’t even ask you to tryout,” Cecil offers.

“You said you had a ring you wanted me to dismantle?” You deflect.

The man studies you, “Are you okay? Looking a little worse for wear there.”

“Not a fan of funerals.”

“Who is?” The man clears his throat, “You know, we offer a lot of services for heroes. In case, you needed someone to talk to. Our NDAs are ironclad.”

You jolt, “What? I’m fine. Just…tired.”

You don’t meet his dubious gaze.

(Your mom pulls you aside one day.

“You know you can talk to me,” your mom says, “I know you’d want Mark to talk about his problems. You can do the same. You don’t have to leave it out of the house, like your father says to.”

“I know, mom,” you reply.

She frowns at you, “Cecil told me…about what happened when you were younger. It wasn’t your fault.”

You hum, “It was a long time ago. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I asked dad to keep it secret. I didn’t want to…”

When you trail off, she wraps her arms around you, “You’ve helped so many people, but you don’t have to keep doing it. Not at the expense of yourself. It’s your life, you’re still young. Do what makes you happy. You can stop.”

Once, those words would have been your salvation. Now, it’s no longer an option.

“I know, mom,” you smile.

She pulls away to cup your face, “When was the last time you ate something?”

“I had a light breakfast,” you lie.

“Then you’ll have room for some soup. I made your favourite,” she declares confidently, but you see the defeat in her eyes.)

“You have a girlfriend?” You question.

“Why are you saying it like that?” Mark demands.

“Dude, you’re a superhero, high school student slash part timer! How are you going to have any time left?” You ask.

“I’ll make it work,” he insists.

“You’re delusional.”

“And you’re mean.”

(“…are you okay? You’re a bit quiet.” Mark later asks as you two play your usual racing game.

“Need to focus to beat you.”

“You’re in last place. Like always,” Mark teases, “And I meant it in, like, general.”

“Just adult stuff.”

“I’m literally eighteen now.”

“You’re a baby.”

“You can’t even legally drink alcohol yet!”

“In this country.”

“I’m telling mom!”

“I didn’t say I actually drank anything, you snitch!”)

You avoid going home for a while.

Your father hasn’t made any moves. He won’t make any. He’s hesitating. The childish part of you thinks it’s because he’s your father before a Viltrumite. Even if you don’t visit home, you visit him. You argue. You scream. He threatens and bargains. Sometimes he almost reveals something human. Other times, he berates you. Telling you that you’d be the cause of Earth’s destruction, unless you listen.

You can’t fight him.

No matter how many times you try to imagine it, you don’t see yourself beating your dad. You don’t think you could even try.

(Mark calls you one night. He wants to help take down a gang. You already know your father wasn’t happy about that.

“If you feel like your intel is legitimate then go for it. Dad’s never appreciated anything that doesn’t involve some epic battle.” You explain. “You need backup?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s just this teleporter dude I have to worry about.”

“Remain vigilant, you never what kind of BS desperate idiots will pull.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m more worried about Amber—“

You groan, “You high schoolers are actually so annoying.”)

The next time you see your family, Mark is half dead and being operated on. You can only watch as your parents argue behind you. Your mom pulls you away from the operating room window.

You and your mom stay overnight while your father visits after his patrols. He doesn’t wake up until nearly a week later.

You almost laugh when the first thing on his mind is how he blew off his girlfriend.

(As you’re leaving, Cecil pulls you aside.

“Hey, is everything alright with you and your dad?” He asks. He almost sounds like a CPS worker.

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“You seem to be avoiding him like the plague, is all. I thought you two were close.” He comments.

Your mouths opens but no sound escapes it. You almost tell him. But you hear your dad’s footsteps approaching.

“Didn’t take you for a gossip,” you chuckle, “I really have to get going though.”)

You’re in Iceland, taking photos of puffins, living in existential dread. This is your life now.

You nearly cry when your phone’s ring rouses you from your sleep. You look around in confusion before realizing you’re in your hotel room. The ringing ends, only to begin again, vibrating noisily against your nightstand.

It’s your mom. You pick up the phone.

“Honey, listen to me carefully—!”

The call cuts off.

“Seriously?” You huff, realizing your phone just died before getting up to search for your charger, rooting around your bag.

After ten minutes of less than fruitful looking, you exit your hotel room to go ask the front desk if they have one instead.

When you walk out of the elevator, you notice a crowd of employees huddled around the lobby television.

When you take a closer look, you notice a familiar kaiju beating up Omni-man and Invincible. Your dad and brother. And Immortal is back from the dead. And now trying to kill your dad.

Phone forgotten, you fly back to your room ignoring the people blown back, looking around confused.

With your costume now on you take off faster than you ever have before. Iceland to somewhere outside of Chicago. Yeah, definitely easy.

By the time you arrive, you see that the kaiju is tied up and that the Immortal is in two pieces on the ground. But your father and brother are missing.

You close your eyes and listen. Before turning to look at where Chicago is; people screaming, buildings collapsing.

“Oh, fuck.”

You find them in a destroyed subway tunnel. Mark covered in red. Your dad’s hand tainted with the same colour. You can smell it. The remains of hundreds of people scattered among the rubble.

Mark whispers your name. He’s scared and he’s hurt, and it’s all Omni-man’s fault.

“Mark,�� you begin gently, “Get out of here. Go find mom.”

He starts to protest, but your dad interrupts him, calling your name sternly, eyes red and bloodshot. “Neither of you are anywhere. Not until you both understand.”

“You’ve lost it,” you laugh before charging at him in an instant, arms hooking around him as you break through the damaged ceiling, throwing him into the orange sky above, away from the crying city. Before he can regain his balance, you strike him again, to create more distance.

“You’re still not listening,” He admonishes before closing the gap, gripping you by the shoulders. “My time here has been a speck in the span of my life. You don’t know me, neither of you do. I will burn this planet before I spend another minute living among these animals.”

“Animals?” You’re almost hysterical at this point, “Are you saying that you’d start a family with an animal, you sick fucking bastard—“

He goes to strike you, but you place a hand between his shoulder and neck, and you squeeze—

He shouts in pain but you ignore it, you have to ignore it, as you bring your other hand to punch him down.

You’re not stronger than him. But you are faster. And he’s weak. Tired.

You tackle him in the air, head against his hip as you crush back into the ground a couple hundred miles away from where you left Mark.

He growls your name throwing a punch that you duck under, kicking him in the ribs with punishing force.

He stares at you shocked. For the first time, you’re brutal with your blows, unrelenting. He can take it.

With a cry, you charge again.

Kicking, punching, and even biting, you exchange blows with your father as if you two were nothing more than beasts that are beyond reason.

With a quick kick to his knee, you force him to stagger, seizing the opportunity to wrap your hands around his neck and push him down, following him as you crouch above, and squeeze, trying to crush his windpipes so he can never let out a breath again, never hurt anyone again.

One of his hands grips your forearm, breaking it, but you don’t relent. His other hand, slams against your ribs repeatedly until your choking back blood, but you can’t relent.

As you watch his eyes grow redder and dazed, you realize he’s crying.

No, he’s not crying. Your own tears are falling onto his face.

Mark shouts your name, and you stop immediately, pulling your hands back, frightened.

Your dad struggles to breath again, staring up at you.

“You were almost there,” he exhales, and maybe you imagine it, but you see guilt flash across his expression, before he jabs four of his fingers through your stomach, before pulling out, blood coating his knuckles as you gasp. You feel frozen before you begin to tip, falling onto the ground as your father gets up. He turns you to your side as blood gushes out of your mouth. The gentleness contrasting his cruelty.

(When you were younger, every Christmas, Mark would wake up at the asscrack of dawn to run downstairs. Your mom would have to stop him, telling him he would have to wait for you to wake up before you could all open your presents as a family.

So, every Christmas, he would burst into your room, jumping onto your bed, shaking you as he called your name over and over—)

He’s calling your name over and over, begging you to get up. Mark, your baby brother, hovers above you. He’s crying. You try to ask why didn’t he leave. To warn him that Omni-man is behind him. You’re forced to watch as the man you called dad wrenches Mark away from you despite his struggles, taking off into the sky again.

You slowly but surely begin to shift your legs, moving your unbroken arm against the ground to push yourself up. You ignore your trembling limbs and the way your body cries in protest.

You nearly fall back down, when a sphere like drone begins to speak. Cecil.

“Stay down, we’ll send help—“

“Where,” you breathe out, ignoring the blood seeping out as you talk, “are they?”

Cecil tries to stop you in vain but you push yourself up into a kneeling position, watching blood pour out of your stomach.

“Coordinates.”

Nepal. Mount Everest.

Should you laugh or cry?

You find them in a crater. Because that’s what you Viltrumites do, get beaten until the ground cracks beneath you. Mark is worse off than you, you think. Face bloodied and brutalized. Omni-Man standing above him, a weird tension in his body. He’s distraught. He turns to meet your gaze.

He leaves. Straight into the sky, away from you.

Mark murmurs your name. You stagger over to him before dropping to your knees.

“It’s over, it’s okay, you’re okay,” you nearly snivelled, gripping his hand. He’s battered and beaten, but he’s alive. Your brother is alive. “…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mark.”

You stay there for hours, as Mark loses consciousness. Only perking up when you hear the noise of Cecil’s helicopter. Your mom jumps out alongside paramedics. Her hands hover above you brokenly, as she takes in your injured body, tears in her eyes.

You watch as Mark is carried away.

“‘M sorry, mom,” you apologize, feeling your sight blur before collapsing, as your mom holds onto you, calling for help.

You hope you don’t wake up.

You wake up before Mark. Your mom at your side. You feel like a walking bruise. Your arm in a cast, and your stomach flickering between numbness and agony.

She’s stroking your head. You can tell she’s still holding back tears.

“You did so good,” she sniffed. You fall asleep to her assurances.

Despite seeming to be in worse state than you, Mark is out of bed before you. Your stomach wound is particularly annoying, it seems. You did not enjoy having to use a feeding tube.

He stares down at you, with teary eyes. “I’m—“

“Thanks for stopping me, Mark, I don’t think I would have survived, otherwise.”

His face cracks.

“He told me before you.” You admit. “It’s my fault, not yours. I didn’t want you or mom to know. I thought I could stop him, change his mind. I guess I didn’t really know him. Don’t blame yourself.”

“You shouldn’t either,” Mark responds, gripping your hand, “It wasn’t right, how he was treating you, what he told you——you were just a kid. Even now, it’s still not okay, you’re his daughter. He shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

When you look at him in confusion, he elaborates, “He mentioned some of the stuff he told you. It wasn’t fair of him to make you hide that stuff. You were only thirteen, and even now…”

You close your eyes when you feel them water. You didn’t want him or mom to feel guilty. Not because of you. Because you were too weak to even have made a difference.

“It’s going to be okay, he’s,” your brother chokes, “gone now.”

When your brother is cleared to go home, you insist they return without you. That they’ve spent enough time in a hospital. Your mom acquiesces. You feel worse because she probably thinks you’re trying to avoid her. For not knowing. But that was your choice, your fault, not hers.

Nolan Grayson is dead. Omni-man is a traitor to humanity. You know things are only going to get worse from here.

You startle when you hear a knock on your temporary room’s door.

“We need to talk.” Cecil states, making himself comfortable in the chair adjacent to your bed.

You sigh wearily.

“Let’s talk.”

Omni-man: Sweetie, you’re not like other girls, and I mean that in a non-misogynistic way.

Singularity:

*

Omni-man, watching as Singularity has a panic attack on the bloodied remains of Flaxans: I really need you to not snitch on me. We’ll literally all die. It’s your fault, by the way.

*

Omni-man: I made her strong!

Cecil: You gave her PTSD and depression??

*

Singularity, staring into the mirror: you stupid piece of shit, go kill yourself

Debbie:

*

Rex: Yeah, and Invincible has a hot sister—

Mark: Yeah—wait, what!?

Rex: you have a hot sister?

Mark: We are so not cool anymore!

*

Omni-man after gravely injuring Singularity: Oh my Shaylaaaaa

Omni-man after beating the shit out of Mark: Why did you make me do this!?

*

Rex: So, I’m single, you’re single, so why don’t we—

Mark: No, not doing this, nope.

Singularity: how to kms

*

Singularity after being dropped in DC: No, you can’t adopt me! Wtf is wrong with you, besides your dumbass name

Batman: I will get you therapy

I somehow finished this before season 3, omg. Yeah Nolan isn’t a good person and definitely put too much pressure on an actual child. I think I did decent with hinting that even before season one, he had issues, especially having to train his daughter. And most people wouldn’t notice because he screams girl dad but he’s actually bad!!

Also please, please tell me if there are any grammar errors in this behemoth. The notes app doesn’t have spellcheck! Or word count…

Masterlist, Series Masterlist

[gothamite-rambler]

Jason Todd later finding out that not only did his brother beat Joker to a pulp he did kill him... until Bruce stepped in.

Dick: Jason… How are you feeling, bud? I know it's a lot to learn.

Jason took a deep breath as he kept his head down, pinching the bridge of his nose, before reacting explosively.

Jason: Are you kidding?! That's unfair! He wasn't even the-

Jason paused closing his eyes and pulling a dagger out of his pocket, gripping it tightly. Dick's eyes widened in shock, but Jason was able to relax as he took a deep breath.

Jason: I need to calm down. Everything's fine... I'm an adult.

Cass sat next to Jason and patted him on the shoulder while sipping her smoothie.

Dick (nervous): That's a big dagger in your hand right now.

Jason (calm as he gripped the hilt of the knife): This? It's my support dagger. I’m not going to stab anyone. I'm just furious at the jackass who thinks everyone in this family should follow that rule!

Dick: Come on… I felt guilty afterward.

Jason: Oh God, you and your big heart. Let me handle him next time.

Cass: Jason, no.

Jason: You won't have to be there when I do it. I'd kill him for you or Dick, even Bruce.

Cass: I doubt taking his life would be what you truly wanted.

Jason: Okay, but what if it's an accident? I could accidentally push him down a flight of stairs where he'll fall onto a knife.

Bruce: No! No you won't!

Jason: Why the hell did you revive him?!

Bruce: Murder is wrong!

Jason: For you! For you! And Cass, but she's my favorite. At least she killed someone and felt regret.

Bruce: I… Okay, sure. What do I know? My parents just died—

Jason: We’ve all lost our parents! You're not special!

Damian: Mine haven't… Wait.

Bruce: Don't worry about it Damian. I’m… kind of sorry. I can make it up to you.

Jason (crossing his arms): No, you can’t!

Bruce rolled his eyes, then pulled out his phone and sent Jason some money. Jason checked his phone and huffed in annoyance.

Jason: Well, this kind of fixes it.

[mywritersmind]

BREAK MY HEART AND I SWEAR IM MOVIN’ ON WITH YOUR FAVORITE ATHLETE - LN4

summary : You weren’t joking when you wrote the lyric ‘Break my heart and I swear I'm movin' on with your favorite athlete’. What a perfect opportunity when that same athlete falls right into the palm of your hands with your ex’s burning gaze directed straight at you.

listen up : reader wrote ‘good graces’ ! flustered lando! protective lando! sorry to anyone named nick.

words : 1519

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Need a shot of your strongest!” I slap my hand down on the bar, my friends around me and looking worried. I’m fine! I’m absolutely fine!

Is my ex currently across the room from me? Yes! But I'm cool, I'm calm, and I'm collected.

I down the bitter liquor, pushing back my hair and taking a breath. “Fuck him.” I mumble as my friend's hand goes to my arm. I’m completely over him, but every time my eyes land on that jerk I can’t help but remember how I caught him fucking his assistant.

Jackass wasn’t even talented enough to have an assistant, I should have known.

I start dancing, forgetting about my hatred and focusing on my friends. The true loves of my life! I throw my hands up, ‘Cupid's Chokehold’ playing as we all sing around and laugh.

I hear the mumbling and whispering instantly, a new ground walking into the exclusive club my friends pulled me into. My best friend squeals, grabbing my arm, “That’s Lando Norris!”

I raise a brow, still dancing and turning to see the man and his own group. I recognize a few from when my ex would get up at 4AM to see their races.

Formula 1 drivers have a reputation… most worse than any other soccer or hockey player. I watch Lando, a drink in his hand as his eyes scan the crowd.

The reputation makes sense, a face like that doesn’t just shrug off girls.

I turn before he can see me. He doesn’t know who I am, I doubt any F1 driver knows a borderline inappropriate pop star.

“You have to talk to him!” She screams, jumping up and down in her heels now.

“No!” I laugh and think she’s going to drop it until she gives me an annoyed look.

“That’s hypocritical!” I laugh, how the fuck is that hypocritical? I am forced to realize what she’s referring to as I turn and see my ex standing in front of the driver.

He’s smiling like the idiot he is, asking for a photo and clearly going on for too long. Lando is his absolute favorite driver, I couldn’t escape his face for the two years I was dating my ex.

My friend's smile grows, and she starts singing. “Break my heart and I swear I'm movin' on with your favorite athlete!” she’s off key and definitely drunk, pushing my arm she laughs, “This is your fucking time! It’s your own words! He broke your heart babe!”

At her last words I frown, making up some excuse to get another drink. I look back at Lando as I walk back to the bar, my ex is still there but I catch Lando’s eye, accidentally sending him a disgusting look.

I rip my eyes away and order another drink. I sip on it, my legs crossed on a bar stool and my back against the counter as I watch my ex go back to his friends.

I know he sees me, and I'm grateful he hasn’t said anything. He’s an asshole and I'm upset that he’s ruining my night by his proximity to my friends and I.

“Do I know you?” The unfamiliar accent catches me off guard, looking away from my ex and up at Lando Norris. Shit.

“Um… No?” I sip my drink again, trying to ignore his arm resting behind me and how delicious he smells.

“So why were you death glaring at me?” I can’t help but laugh at this, his brow quirks when I do.

“I wasn’t! Not at you at least…” I look back to my ex, nodding, “I was glaring at him.”

“Well he must have done something really bad to you because that look was damn scary.” I bring my lips to my glass again, locking eyes with his that are so green, even in the club lights.

“He’s my ex.”

Lando looks genuinely surprised at this, “Your… ex?” he points and nod, “Yours? As in dating ex?”

“Yes. What other type of ex is there?”

Lando shrugs, eyeing him and shaking his head, “Sorry. I genuinely just don’t believe it! He’s…” He stops himself, like he realizes he’s actually speaking out loud, “Well you’re way out of his league! You’re fucking gorgeous, and honestly on my to-do list of the night.”

I raise a brow at this as his eyes go wide, “I mean I wanted to talk to you! Not in a creepy way! In a genuine way.” I turn towards him more and clock the sincerity in his voice, “So, i’m assuming you broke up with the dick?”

“He cheated on me.” Lando’s jaw drops at this, “Okay shut up now you’re just boosting my ego.”

“It deserves to be boosted! Fucking hell, asshole. Shouldn’t have let him take a photo.” He smirks at me and it makes my smile return, “You do look familiar though…”

“I’m a singer, Y/n L/n.”

He laughs, tapping his fingers against the counter, “I know you! My teammate's girlfriend is obsessed! You're the one with the funny lyrics.” By ‘funny’ he means horny as fuck.

I nod, “And you’re my ex’s favorite athlete.” He cringes at this.

“Not yours?”

“I know nothing about Formula 1.” I shrug as his hands go to his curls, “But I do know you.”

His smile widens at this, his eyes soft, “I like that.”

Lando is nothing like I imagined. I thought he would be annoying and honestly a dick, but instead he’s just flirty and actually hilarious.

He’s cute too, buys me a drink, moves his hand to the outside of my leg to pull down my dress that’s riding up my thigh.

Fuck those lyrics, I want him.

He’s funny and ridiculously stunning, “You know- once I mentioned that you were cute, not even hot or anything, and Nick didn’t talk to me for two hours!”

Lando scoffs, “That’s just rude.” he motions to his face, “Anyone could see i’m adorable.”

“Fuck, now i’m boosting your ego!”

He smiles, “You’re doing that by just looking at me.” He's a flirt and I love him for it.

He’s looking at me like I hung the moon. We just met and he’s leaning down to hear what I'm saying over the loud music, his hand never leaving me.

I reach up and twirl a piece of his hair around my finger, “I like your curls.”

“Thanks love…” the nickname comes out smooth and easy. Far too dangerous for someone I barely know and someone I really like.

He tells me about his travel schedule and how he likes my dress. I tell him where I live and when I tour… “I wanna see you perform.”

I laugh, his hand still on my leg, “I barely know you.”

“Easy fix. Come home with me tonight.” It’s straightforward and risky, yet very tempting. “I’ll let you know everything about me.”

I bite my lip as his eyes stray from mine, “Norris.” I say sternly as he nods, slowly looking back at my eyes with a cheeky look on his face.

“Yes or no, love? Break my heart, it’s fine!” He says dramatically as I laugh and roll my eyes, leaning away from him before his hand finds my waist and pulls me closer, “You don’t have to. I’m just offering…”

“Get me a water, then we’ll see.” His smirk is back and his hand lingers on me before walking down to where the barista is flirting with a pretty girl and not paying any attention to us.

I smile as he leaves, waving to my friends as they motion to text them and blow me a kiss. I’m still smiling when someone slides next to me.

“Y/n!” I know the voice instantly and it makes me feel sick. He’s beaming as if he is privileged to see me, which he is, but he shouldn’t look so happy.

“Nick.” I say, my smile gone and my warm and fuzzy feeling disappeared.

“I didn’t know you were here!” Liar. “How’ve you been?”

“You mean how have I been since I caught a girl sucking your limp dick?” I say with my brows raised, “Oh just peachy.”

His smile falters. Dickhead.

My actual savior returns, a head turning smile on his face until he sees my ex. Lando walks past him, not even sparing a glance and handing me my ice water.

“Ready to go?” His hand is warm on my hip, his gaze cold when looking at the man who stares at the two of us.

“Sorry… what?” Nick is genuinely frozen in place as I pop out of my seat, Lando gripping me with both hands now. Shit his hands are big.

“Mate… she wrote it in a song.” He nods at him as I grin, a straw at my lips and giggle in my throat. Lando leans down close to my ear as we walk away. I can practically hear the smirk in his voice, “I’ll show you a real man.”

@//YOURUSERNAME

liked by landonorris, lilymunihe, and carlossainz…

yourusername i’m a woman of my word🤷🏻‍♀️

landonorris definitely lost a fan but gained the most important person in my life. i love you😘❤️

comments on this post have been restricted…

[midnightshindig]

Can I request marriage proposal hcs for Cecil, Donald, Rex, and Mark? Like just quick "this is how they would propose, where, now they're feeling" thing

Cecil, Donald, Rex and Mark Proposal hcs!!

okay quick rapid fire, following a strict format!

Cecil

Where?:

either AT the GDA or some shit like a fancy restaurant he rented out just for you

either way a SUPER private proposal

After how long?:

Cecil would wait a WHILE before proposing

think 4-10 years

How?:

Cecil gets someone to custom design you a ring based on the pinterest board he found on your account

gives you a very curt speech that sounds a little like a business proposal

but then he takes a heavy, anxious breath and drops his shoulder

"Y/n, I can't do this without you. And I love you. and finding those two things in the same person doesn't happen twice. I wanna do right by you. Can I be your husband?"

(The rest under the cut!)

Donald

Where?:

Probably a nice restaurant with people populating it

or somewhere really casual like a drive in movie

he probably took you there a lot on dates early in your relationship

After how long?:

Donald, like Cecil, is pragmatic and older (hc like his early 40s) than Rex and Mark

He'd wait a sensible 2-3 years before proposing

honestly, finding out he's a cyborg is probably what pushes him over the edge into proposing

How?:

The wedding ring is forged from the specific type of metal used to make his skeleton

He gets one of those trinket boxes from like hobby lobby or smth, but not a traditional ring box

Probably opens the ring box and just stares at you

for like a good minute

before it occurs to him that duh he has to, yknow.... ask?

"...Y/n- Will you marry me?"

He just stares at you with that dumb ass placid look on his face

but inside he's SWEATING

his glasses are fogged as fuck

Rex

Where?:

Probably somewhere relatively remote

like the Teen Team tower/bridge

Or where you had your first date

After how long?:

he's impulsive but NOT commital

you'd have to be dating for like.... 4 years before he'll propose

selfishly that's because some part of him is waiting to see if he'll fuck it up and cheat

before he realizes this is for real and he really adores you

like yeah he wants to tie your ass down ofc he does

plans the proposal in a week flat

How?:

boy is broke, you get fancy Target wedding ring

cost him 20 of Rudy's dollars

he puts on a firework show for you, along with some of his cooking for a picnic date

Gets down on one knee as the firework finale occurs, makes a big thing of it

"Y/n- I know I'm a total jackass and I can be annoying- I don't know how you deal with me. But you're the best person I've ever met and I want to be with you forever. Soooo, will you marry me?"

cocky grin with a glimmer of anxiety in his eyes

please say yes

Mark

Where?:

Somewhere only he can take you

if you can breath in space, then the moon

but otherwise, the top of a mountain or the Eifel Tower is not out of reach

After how long?:

Mark is a romantic at heart

Probably between 8 months and two years?

I DOUBT longer than that

I only say 2 years because of Debbie

How?:

He proposes with Debbie's wedding ring

Which, in and of itself is a family heirloom from her side of the family

He goes out of his way to take you on the most fantastical date

An activity and then dinner and then dessert and then he flies you around, laying on his stomach as he cruises backwards through the air

Its some "a whole new world" type shit

He takes you to-- we'll assume the Eifel Tower-- and gets on one knee

pulls out notecards

"ahem- Y/n-" ass mf

Literally the lengthiest, corniest speech ever

"I'm so grateful for that day, the day I met you and you changed my life forever."

this goes one a WHILE

"Marriage is the bond between two people who make each other better. I am better in every way with you in my life. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

Pure anxiety in his face, you can see the crinkle of self doubt in his eyes

[romaevelizz]

Crybaby ˖ ࣪⊹

K. TSUKISHIMA x Fem!reader ˖ ࣪⊹

Sum: Kei hated it how easily he let the team get to his head. What did they know, she was his crybaby after all.

Warnings: none, fluff, crybaby coded reader, kei being love sick, occ kei(kinda)!not proofread Tho reader is blk coded I hope everyone enjoys!

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

It was wierd the team thought as they watched their middle blocker standing in front of a girl with a tear stained face. Of course their first thought is he made her cry, but that was not the case. They couldn’t help but watch as this happened multiple times before practice until Kageyama said something.

“Who’s that crybaby you stand with after practice?” He asked making Tsukishima stop tying his shoe immediately glaring up at the setter.

“Yeah making pretty girls cry huh Tsukishima!” Noya yelled pushing the blondes head.

Kei leaned up pushing Nishinoya off him “No I’m not, and don’t fucking call her a crybaby.” He spoke making eye contact with Kageyama.

“Why is she your girlfriend?” Kageyama scoffed.

“Yeah she is jackass.” A lot of the team definitely was not expecting that answer out of him. Tsukishima with a girl who’s known for being whinny, with as little patience as they know Tsukishima has she’s his girlfriend.

“No way! How is that pretty girl going out with a bully like you!” Hinata shouted.

Because he was soft with that pretty girl. Of course kei teased her for crying easily and over the most stupidest things but he was alway there to comfort her if needed. His hand squishing her tear stained face tell her it’s all right and not to be dramatic, but earns a punch for call her dramatic.

But it didn’t matter what the team thought of them, because they honestly held heavy doubts, that maybe he was to harsh with her or even mean. He didn’t think he was and she never said anything. She would right if his words ever hurt her she’d speak up. Right?

His eyes looked over to her as they walked through the night market hand in hand, a smile on her glossy lips as she looked around the food trucks. He hated that he could tell him self that he didn’t care what others thought but it did, it bothered him a lot. Was he the reason she cried sometimes, that his snotty remarks actually hurt her feelings. How could he do that to her. How could he make her cry what kind of boyfriend was he if he made her cry.

“Kei..”

He made her hurt didn’t he? The reason her pretty face was always wet with tears?

“Kei!”

He blinked. “Yo are ya with me!” She laughed waving her hand in front of his face. “Am i distracting you” she teased.

“Tsk- no you’re not.” He scoffed.

“Booo! But anyways what has you all airheaded?” She asked tilting her head slightly her braids moving to the side with her motion.

“Nothing.” He hummed.

She pressed her lips together squinting at her boyfriend, his eyes staring into her dark ones. “Will you quite that.” He asked a small smile appearing in his face as his hand pushed her face away.

Even with the moments they shared, he continued to let it eat at him. They moved to a more secluded area sitting on the grass food in hand. He watched her as she ate, and talked, about anything and everything. He just listened, as she went on, smiling at small things she said.

How did he get so lucky.. a polar opposite that didn’t annoy him. Her melanin skin glowing under the street light as they ate her smile wide and so bright. Kei let his hand fall into his hand as she continued talking admiring her.

“So are you gonna tell me what’s wrong.” She asked.

“Hm?”

She looked up as him her smile going away “what’s going through your head, I know better.” She did she knew him, mind you he hadn’t made any comment on what she was talking about nothing not even a snarky remark teasing her.

“So what is it baby?” She spoke leaning back in her hands.

He looked away from her gaze “nothing just something stupid.” He sighed closing his eyes.

He could feel her roll her eyes, the sound of her body shifting her now sitting right in-front of him. The feeling of her hands holding his face made him open his eyes.

“It’s nothikng don’t worry your tiny little head about it.” He spoke softly.

“Don’t lie what is it Kei? You know you have to talk to me to.” She spoke her brows frowning, don’t do that he thought.

“I understand but it’s nothing just letting people get to me head alright?” He spoke his hand squishing her cheeks her hands not yet leaving his face.

“Who? Is it about you-“

“It’s about us.”

She looked at him “bad things?”

He shrugged his shoulders “I guess..”

Her hands left his face, letting herself get comfortable on his lap her face close to his. “Tell me baby..”

He only looked at her for a moment his eyes looking at her lips then back to her eyes. “Do I ever make you sad?”

She tilted her head giving him an are you crazy look. “See I told you it was stupid.” He huffed.

“Why would people thing that, are they saying that?”

“Yes.” He groaned his head falling into her shoulder.

“Why?” She laughed.

He shot back pinching her cheeks “because you’re a crybaby!” He scoffed.

“Nuh uh!” She whined.

“Yuh huh!” He laughed.

Letting go of her face he watched her pout “I’m not a cry baby just open with my emotions!” She sassed.

“Uh huh sure you crybaby.” He spoke his hands resting in her hips.

“But it’s okay, you’re my crybaby.”

She smiled “shut up that’s so lame!” She scoffed pushing him.

“I thought it was good.”

“Lame!” She laughed.

“Yeah then why are you laughing you idiot!”

“Because that was cringy and stupid nothing my boyfriend would ever say.” She groaned her laughter causing him to smile.

“Whatever you idiot I can be romantic.” He said.

“Yeah I know you can but with actions not so much words.”

He scoffed “really!”

She hummed crossing her arms, making his eyes twitch “get off of me, that irritated me.”He spoke pushing her.

“Whatever! You love it.” She said getting back in his face.

He only raised a brow, “ya know ya do.” She whispered leaning on her hands, their lips grazing against one another.

“Want me to kiss you sweetheart?” He asked.

She grinned “I should be asking you that sir, you’ve been looking at me lips all evening.” She hummed.

He let her get closer their lips barely touching befor pulling away, “UGH! Why do you do that!” She whined.

“You gave me attitude.” He shrugged a grin on his face.

He watched as she fell back dramatically “you hate me!” She groaned.

“Mmhm sure do.” She sighs looking down at her smiling at her dramatic pose.

He let her complain a bit more befor leaning down kissing her lips. Only to be pulled by her for a real kiss. “Feel better…” he whispered a little breathless.

“Alway fee better when you’re here with me.” She said pushing his glasses up.

Yeah they didn’t know shit about them. He’d never hurt her, he never wanted to. She would be the only one to get true kindness out of him. Because he couldn’t afford losing her.

Req are open!!! (Plz send something I’m desperate 😞)

[plasticflowersinahistorycemetery]

don't lie to me

part I

Pairing: Boyfriend's!Dad!Ben x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend's been treating you like shit for too long, and tonight? Is the straw that broke the camels back. Lucky for you, his dad is around to comfort you.

Warnings: 18+!, Ben being his own warning, forbidden relationship, power imbalance, dubious morality, age gap, language, toxic relationship, heartbreak, smut (dirty talk, dry humping, fingering, clitoral stimulation, mutual masturbation, squirting, cunnilingus/oral, p in v, spanking, marking, spitting, degradation, gentle humiliation), guilt, I think that's it.

Word Count: 7,131

You didn't know when things started to go bad. Not really. But you remembered when they started to go good, and that felt important.

You and Jamie had been together for a long time. Too long, probably. Long enough to make leaving feel like failure. Long enough to confuse nostalgia with love.

It was good in the beginning. Golden, even. The kind of romance that made your friends roll their eyes but smile when they said you were lucky. Jamie had a casual kind of charm, easy in his skin, confident in the way most college boys were—like he knew the world would bend for him eventually. He brought you gas station flowers and kissed you like he meant it. He called you his girl and made you feel like that title actually meant something.

The first year was everything.

After that, the cracks came quick. The texts got shorter. The kisses got rarer. He stopped asking if you got home safe and started forgetting you were even coming over. You'd sit in your car outside his house while he "finished up at work," only to wait two hours and see him post a photo from someone else's party.

He always had an excuse. You always believed him.

Because that's what you did when you loved someone. You gave them the benefit of the doubt. You softened your edges to fit theirs, even when it left you bleeding.

Lately, it had gotten worse. The kind of worse that was hard to ignore. He stopped coming home when you were over. He'd call you, say he was just running errands, and then not show up until midnight. If at all.

So you started spending your time with someone else. Not by choice. Not at first. It just happened that way.

Because Ben was always the one who answered the door.

You'd knock, expecting Jamie, and there he'd be—broad-shouldered, barefoot, always a little scruffy like he hadn't decided whether to shave or not. He'd take one look at your apologetic smile and sigh like he was already annoyed with his son, then step aside and tell you to come in.

You'd sit on the couch with him, sometimes in silence, sometimes not. Watch football with a mug of tea he made without asking how you liked it. The commentary on the screen would hum in the background, but your attention would drift, eyes trailing the way he sat—casual, like nothing in the world could touch him. Like the room shaped itself around his gravity.

He was different from Jamie. Steady. Solid in a way that didn't demand anything from you. People used to say he was wild, back in the day. That he was the reason everyone wanted to party at their house in high school. Jamie used to brag about it, say his dad could drink anyone under the table and still wake up at dawn to run five miles. There was something about Ben that made people lean in when he spoke. Something sharp in his smile, wicked in his humor, but dulled by the years like a knife worn smooth by use.

He still cursed like a sailor, still called politicians jackasses and made crude jokes that made you choke on your drink, but there was a gentleness there too. One you weren't sure anyone else saw.

He always hugged you when you left. Tight. Firm. His hand splayed across your back like he meant it, like it mattered that you'd come.

Sometimes he said things that made your stomach twist.

"You could do better than him. That boy don't deserve someone like you."

You always brushed it off. Told yourself it was just a dad thing, a gruff attempt at keeping his son humble. You never thought there was truth behind it.

And even if there was, you'd spent so long pretending Jamie was still the boy you fell in love with... it felt dangerous to let yourself want someone who actually saw you. Someone who never made you feel like too much or not enough.

Ben never made you feel like a placeholder. But Jamie did. More and more.

And now, you were twenty-three, sitting on the same couch you always had, wrapped in the blanket Ben threw onto your lap without a word. Jamie wasn't home. Again. You didn't even ask where he was this time. You just waited. Like always.

Ben didn't ask either. He just turned up the volume on the game and passed you the popcorn.

It wasn't weird. But maybe it had been building for longer than you realised. You'd forgotten how easy it was to be around him.

The couch sagged a little beneath his weight as he shifted to grab the remote, muttering something about "goddamn commercials" under his breath before flipping to something less noisy—reruns of some old action flick, grainy and overacted. He always said he liked the classics. Said actors nowadays didn't know how to throw a punch without a green screen.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he settled back, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, the other cradling a sweating bottle of beer. His legs were spread comfortably, boots still on. He hadn't changed out of the work shirt he wore to fix the gutter earlier that afternoon—collar open, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, grease still dark beneath his nails.

You hadn't meant to fall asleep. You'd just meant to sit down for a minute. Rest your legs. Let your spine uncurl into the couch that still smelled faintly like woodsmoke and cheap detergent.

Ben was still next to you. One leg stretched out, the other bent just enough for his knee to brush yours. You weren't sure if it had always been that close. His beer sat half-finished on the table, and he was flipping through channels with the kind of concentration that made you think he'd been doing it for fifteen minutes and still hadn't found anything worth watching.

"Jesus," he muttered, "is it all just reboots and dick-measurin' contests now? Whole industry's got its head up its ass."

You blinked blearily and smiled into the throw blanket he'd tossed at you earlier. Not handed. Tossed. Like it was nothing. Like he hadn't noticed you shivering and grumbled something about "central heating bein' for soft little pricks."

He noticed everything. Just never talked like he did.

"You okay?" He asked without looking. "You were out cold for, like... four whole minutes."

"I wasn't asleep."

"Right." He snorted. "You were just aggressively meditatin' with your mouth open."

You laughed before you could stop it. A sharp little sound in the quiet. His mouth twitched, just barely.

That was the thing with Ben. Everything was just barely. Just under the surface. Just on the edge of being something else.

He leaned back, arm slung across the back of the couch, fingers drumming against the cushion behind your head like he wasn't thinking about how close they were. Like it didn't matter.

"You know," he drawled, "I always figured my kid was dumb, but this shit? Tellin' you to come over and then pulling a Houdini? That's a whole new level of dumbass. Like, Olympic-tier."

You grinned, cheeks warm. "You're not supposed to say that."

"Yeah, well." He shrugged. "What's he gonna do? Cry about it into his fuckin' vape?"

You shook your head, biting your lip to hold in another laugh. "He says he's just busy. Work's been—"

Ben made a sharp noise in his throat. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Make excuses for him." He finally looked at you. Direct. That sharp green stare like he was lining up a target. "He's not that busy. Nobody's that busy. You don't leave someone like you sittin' on a couch with a guy like me unless you're either a fuckin' idiot or just don't give a shit."

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Your heart thumped a little harder.

Ben ran a hand over his jaw, rough and tired. "Christ. I didn't mean it like that."

"No, I... I know."

He shifted, tension bleeding into his shoulders like he was trying to shake it off. "You're tired. Go crash upstairs if you want. Guest room's clean. Or Jamie's, if you feel like baskin' in the smell of Axe body spray and underachievement."

You smiled, soft. "I like sitting with you."

Ben paused. Brief, but enough to notice.

"Yeah," he said, quiet. "I like it too."

And that was it. He didn't touch you. Didn't move closer. Just let it sit there between you, real and unspoken.

The TV flickered on, casting blue light across his face. The room was quiet. Safe.

Then your phone buzzed. You looked down. Jamie. Ben caught the name on the screen and went still, like a hunting dog catching scent. He didn't say anything—just leaned back a little, eyes still on the screen.

You answered.

"Hey," you said, already curling into yourself, trying not to sound too hopeful.

A laugh. Not Jamie's. A girl.

Then Jamie's voice, distant and smug: "Yeah, hey. So, I've been thinking. We should break up."

It hit like a car crash. Sudden. No brakes. You blinked at the wall, your mouth parting in disbelief.

Ben's head turned, slow and sharp. "He what?" He said, voice low.

You didn't answer. Couldn't. You were still listening to Jamie—still trying to make sense of what he was saying while someone giggled beside him, soft and syrupy.

He told you to grab your stuff and head out. That was it. No apology. No hesitation. Just a quick, "Later," and the line went dead.

Your phone dropped to your lap. You didn't cry, but Ben stood slowly, the couch groaning as his weight shifted. He didn't speak at first—just watched you, jaw working like he was biting down on something bitter.

You forced yourself to move. To smile like nothing had happened. Like you hadn't just been gutted from the inside out by a boy who couldn't even break up with you alone.

"I should grab my stuff," you said lightly, pushing the blanket aside. "Jamie's not gonna be back anytime soon, so..."

You moved to stand, but Ben stepped into your path before you could take a full breath. His hand caught your wrist—not hard, just enough to stop you.

"Hey."

You looked up at him. His eyes searched yours, green and dark and unrelenting.

"Tell me what just happened."

You shook your head, tried to pull your arm back gently, but he didn't let go.

"It's nothing."

"Bullshit," he snapped.

It wasn't loud. It wasn't cruel. But it cut through the air like a blade. Your stomach twisted.

"I'm serious," you insisted, keeping your voice light. "It's not a big deal. We just... talked. That's all."

His grip tightened—not painful, but firm. His other hand hovered for a second, like he didn't know where to put it. Then he let it fall.

"Don't lie to me," he said, quieter now. Rough around the edges. "You think I don't know what that voice means? I've known you too long for that."

You looked down at where his fingers wrapped around your wrist, your skin warmer than it should've been. That was when you noticed it—his hands were clean now. The dark streaks of grease that had been etched into the creases of his knuckles earlier were gone. No smudges under his nails. He'd washed up when you weren't looking.

When you were "sleeping." He'd done it quietly. Without saying anything. Like he didn't want to wake you.

Your throat tightened.

"It's fine," you said again, barely above a whisper. "Really. I just... I should go."

Ben exhaled hard through his nose. Then he stepped in, close enough that the scent of clean soap and warm cotton hit you like a memory. His hand was still on your wrist. He dropped his voice.

"You're not goin' anywhere until you tell me what the hell just happened."

You hesitated. Swallowed. It wasn't even that you wanted to protect Jamie anymore—you just didn't want to see it. Didn't want to put the words into the air and make them real. But Ben's stare didn't budge. And you'd never been good at lying to him.

"He..." You took a shaky breath. "He called. From someone's car. A girl. She was laughing in the background."

Ben's jaw clenched, sharp enough that the muscle jumped.

"He broke up with me," you finished, soft and stunned, like you were still catching up to it.

He didn't speak. Not at first. His thumb brushed against the inside of your wrist—once, slow. It felt like a pulse.

"Fuckin' coward," he muttered.

You didn't argue. You didn't say anything at all. Because the silence that followed felt like the beginning of something neither of you could name.

Ben didn't let go of your wrist until you blinked again. He watched you like he was waiting for you to crumble, to fall apart right in front of him. And maybe you would've, if he hadn't caught you first.

"You're not drivin' like this."

"I'm fine," you tried again, but your voice didn't hold. It cracked at the edge.

"No, you're not," he snapped, already steering you back toward the couch like the conversation was over. "You're shakin' like a goddamn leaf and your face is doin' that thing—don't gimme that look."

"I'm not—"

"Sit."

You sat.

Ben stood over you for a second, running a hand through his hair like he wanted to rip it out. Then he turned, muttering under his breath as he stomped toward the stairs.

"Little shitbag can't even grow a pair to break up with a girl like a goddamn man," he grumbled. "Calls you from someone else's fuckin' car? While she's gigglin'? Jesus Christ, what a pathetic excuse for a—"

He kept going as he climbed the stairs, the sound of his boots thudding heavier with each step. You stared at the muted television, every nerve in your body ringing. Your hands were curled into the hem of your shirt. Your chest ached.

You hadn't realised how heavy the silence in this house had gotten until Ben's voice had filled it.

A few minutes later, he came back down with your overnight bag slung over one shoulder, his jaw set, expression thunderous.

"That my stuff?" You asked, sitting up straighter.

He dropped the bag near the hallway, closer to the guest room than the front door.

"Movin' it."

You blinked. "What?"

"The guest room." He shrugged like it was nothing. "Jamie's room smells like old socks and broken promises. You're better off."

"I can't stay here."

"Sure you can."

"Ben—"

"I already called him." His voice was low, clipped. "Told him not to come home tonight. Told him if he did, I'd knock his teeth so far down his throat he'd be spittin' molars 'til Christmas."

Your mouth fell open.

"You... you didn't."

He raised a brow. "Sure did. And he agreed. Pussy little prick probably didn't want to face you anyway."

You shook your head, heart starting to beat faster. "I can't do that. It's not fair."

Ben looked at you for a long second. Then he let out a breath through his nose—tight, bitter.

"No," he said finally. "It's not. But it's the first goddamn time anyone's treated you even half as good as you deserve in this house. And I'm not lettin' you crawl out the front door like you're just some fuckin' afterthought." 

Your breath caught.

He didn't seem to notice what he'd said—he was too busy crouching to unzip your bag, mumbling something about pyjamas and Advil, like this was any other night. Like he hadn't just dropped a live wire between you.

You sat frozen, replaying the words.

The first goddamn time anyone's treated you even half as good as you deserve in this house.

You weren't sure exactly what he'd meant. But something about the way he said it, the heat under the gravel of his voice, the way he hadn't looked at you after—it felt like a confession. Small. Raw. Dangerous.

You looked away, cheeks burning.

He didn't mean it like that. He couldn't have. You were just upset. You were reading into things. Making it worse than it was.

Ben was just being... kind. That was all.

Ben moved through your bag with that familiar, rough focus he had when something pissed him off. He didn't bother asking about what to grab—he just reached into it and fished out your pyjamas, a ratty old pair of flannel shorts and a loose t-shirt. He tossed them at you with a grunt, the fabric landing in your lap.

"Change. Now. I'm not lettin' you leave this house tonight. You need sleep. And if I gotta make you comfortable to get it, then I will."

You took a deep breath and nodded. Maybe you'd actually get a good night's sleep here for once—something you hadn't been able to do in weeks. Maybe it was the comfort of Ben's familiar grumbling, or maybe it was the fact that the world felt just a little bit safer when he was here.

"Thanks," you murmured, standing up and heading toward the guest room to change.

When you came back out a few minutes later, the house was still. The television had been muted, and there were two cold beers sweating on the table. Ben tipped his head toward the beers with a casual nod.

"Take one if you want," he muttered, still clearly worked up about his son. "Or if you're picky, you know where I keep the good shit."

You hesitated for a second, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Good shit. Ben's idea of "good shit" usually meant top-shelf whiskey or one of those small-batch bourbons you could only find if you knew the right people. You weren't picky tonight.

"I'll take the beer, thanks."

Ben grunted in acknowledgment, but his eyes were already back on the TV, his jaw tight with whatever thoughts were spiralling in his head.

"You know," he started, his voice low, almost like he was speaking to himself, "you're always so goddamn polite when you're here. Always so considerate. Thoughtful. Mindful. You don't act like the rest of 'em."

He didn't look at you. Instead, he grabbed his own beer and took a long sip, eyes still fixed on the TV.

"You're too good for him," Ben added, his voice barely above a murmur. "That kid... James, he's been a goddamn disappointment for a while now, and I've been too patient with him."

You couldn't help it—you let out a small giggle at the way Ben spoke about his son. It wasn't just the words, but the way his voice broke with frustration and the rawness of it all.

"You know," you said softly, taking a sip from your beer to hide your smile, "I didn't think you'd be so pissed."

Ben's lips twisted into something that could've been a smile if he wasn't so damn angry. "You didn't think I'd be so pissed? You must not've been listenin', sweetheart."

You shook your head. "I didn't realise how much that pissed you off."

"Don't get me started." He leaned back, rubbing his hands over his face. "He's been draggin' his ass through life like a fuckin' kid playing pretend. And you? You deserve so much more than that. Always takin' care of everyone but yourself. Jamie don't appreciate you." His voice softened for a second. Then it hardened again, muttering, "Useless waste of space."

You chuckled under your breath, the sound foreign in the quiet room. Even in a moment like this, Ben could still pull that laugh out of you. It wasn't even a joke, really. But the way he spoke about his son was so Ben—raw, unapologetically real, and somehow endearing even when it was brutal.

You looked at him, confused by the sharp pang of emotion in your chest. You should've been angry. You should've been crying. But instead, you found yourself giggling, something warm in your belly, even though the weight of Jamie's call was still hanging over you.

"Why do I feel like I'm laughing at the worst possible time?" You murmured, shaking your head. "Like, I know you're furious, but..."

Ben didn't look at you right away. He just took another long pull from his beer and muttered, "Yeah, well. Better to laugh than cry, right?"

You weren't sure if he was talking to you or himself.

Then he glanced over—brief, like he couldn't help it—and added, a little quieter, "Kid pulls that shit on you, and you're still sittin' here being polite... no wonder I'm the one losin' it."

Ben hadn't stopped ranting since you sat back down.

Your beer was cold in your hand, sweating like your palms. He was muttering, swearing under his breath, one hand raking through his hair while the other gestured to ghosts in the air around him.

"Fuckin' unbelievable. Kid's got a girl like you sittin' in his house and decides to toss you aside like a fast-food wrapper." He scoffed. "Jesus Christ."

You didn't say anything. You weren't sure you could. There was a weight in your throat that hadn't moved since the call ended. But Ben kept going, voice low and sharp like a knife sliding over a whetstone.

"I mean, really—what the fuck does he think he's gonna do better than you?" He turned, finally facing you, heat still simmering behind his eyes. "You're here, lookin' like that, sittin' on my couch in your little pyjamas, and he's out there dick-first in somebody else's backseat?"

You looked up, startled. "Ben..."

But he wasn't done.

"God, if you were mine..." His voice dropped, rough and quiet, the words dragging out of him before he could stop them. "I wouldn't let you leave the fuckin' bed."

The silence snapped taut.

You sucked in a breath. Tiny. Audible. And his eyes flicked straight to you. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks instantly, your fingers tightening around the bottle in your lap, heart hammering like it wanted to break your ribs. You didn't look at him. Couldn't.

But it was too late. He'd seen it. His voice was quieter when he spoke again. Not softer—never softer—but lower. Controlled. Deliberate.

"Yeah. You like that, huh?"

Your head turned toward him before you could stop it, eyes wide.

Ben didn't smile. His expression barely changed. But he shifted on the couch, leaned in just a little, forearm braced against his knee, beer bottle hanging forgotten between his fingers.

"'Course you do. He doesn't have a clue what he had." His voice rasped, barely above a whisper now. "Didn't know how to look at you. Not really. Not like I do."

You were trembling. Not from fear. Not from heartbreak. From something darker. Thicker. Want. You couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. His leg brushed yours when he leaned in further.

"Sittin' there in those little shorts," he murmured, eyes dropping—slow, deliberate, dragging over your thighs and back up. "All sweet and soft, tryin' to play it cool. Like I haven't been noticin' every fuckin' inch of you for months."

Your breath caught.

Ben let the silence stretch. Then he leaned just a little closer, his voice so low it felt like it was inside you.

"Tell me the truth," he said. "The little fuck ever even make you moan?"

You gasped. You didn't mean to. It slipped out of you like a secret, sharp and quiet and real. Your eyes snapped to his—wide, shocked, pleading for him to pretend he hadn't said it.

He didn't. His gaze didn't waver. If anything, it darkened.

"Or was he too busy admirin' his own reflection to figure out how to touch you?"

You stared at him, frozen.

"Bet I'd only need one hand," he muttered, more to himself than you. "Maybe two, if I wanted to be generous."

Your thighs pressed together.

Ben's eyes dropped. Noticed. His jaw ticked. He leaned in—closer now, the heat of him thick in the space between you. Close enough to count every fleck in his eyes, every scar on his knuckles, every breath that ghosted between your mouths.

"You're thinkin' about it now, huh?"

You couldn't answer. You didn't need to. Because your body already had. And Ben? Ben looked like he was about to sin for the first time in his life—and fucking thank God for it.

Ben hadn't touched you. Not once. And still, your whole body was trembling.

Your knees were pressed together, your thighs aching with tension. You could feel the way your breath stuttered in your throat, the way your grip had gone white-knuckled around your beer. He was still so close. Still watching you like he could see straight through every layer you'd ever used to protect yourself.

"You're thinkin' about it now, ain't you?" He asked again, quieter this time. Like a secret.

You didn't respond. You couldn't. But something in your silence made his eyes darken. Made the air in the room twist into something dangerous.

Ben sat back slightly, but only to set his beer down on the table. The bottle clinked. His eyes never left yours.

Then, voice low and deliberate, he said the thing that broke you.

"If I had you," he murmured, rough and slow like gravel in molasses, "you wouldn't be sittin' here wonderin' what it feels like to be wanted. You'd be fuckin' glowing."

Your stomach dropped. A sound slipped out of you—unbidden, humiliatingly soft.

A whine.

Ben's jaw ticked. And then—he smiled. Not sweetly. Not kindly. He smiled like a man who'd just won something.

"Yeah," he muttered, almost to himself. "There she is."

You looked at him, startled, every nerve in your body tight and humming. But he didn't move toward you. He didn't lunge or grab. He just spread his legs a little wider and patted his thigh, lazy and confident.

"C'mere."

You blinked.

"What—"

His brows lifted. "You want me to make you feel better, don't you?"

Your breath caught again.

He cocked his head, smirk widening like he could see every thought unraveling behind your eyes.

"Or you gonna sit there playin' good girl until it hurts?" His voice was velvet-wrapped sin, laced with dry amusement. "Your call."

You stared at him, frozen. He didn't push. Just let his hand rest on his thigh, palm open, warm and steady.

"Not gonna beg," he said, tone lighter now, teasing. "You want it, sweetheart, you come take it."

That did something to you. The challenge. The smugness. The fact that he was still so patient with it. Like he knew he didn't need to do anything but wait you out.

And god help you, it was working.

You swallowed hard. Shifted slightly on the couch. Heart hammering.

Ben's gaze flicked down—watched the movement. Still didn't touch you. But his voice dropped one last octave. Soft now. Almost sincere.

"You want comfort?" He said. "You want someone to show you what it's supposed to feel like?"

His hand flexed against his thigh. The invitation was silent. Waiting.

"C'mere, baby girl."

You didn't move at first.

Just stared at his lap like it might catch fire if you touched it. Your fingers tightened around the neck of your beer bottle, your pulse thudding against the inside of your throat like it was trying to climb out.

Ben just watched you. Silent. Still.

You set the bottle down. Carefully. Deliberately. It hit the table with a quiet clink. Then you stood. Moved in front of him. Stood between his knees.

He tilted his head back to look up at you, brows raised, like he was amused that you'd made it this far. Like he was proud.

His legs were spread, but not wide enough—not yet. You looked down at the space between them, at the lazy way he was leaning back into the couch, relaxed in that heavy, masculine way like his body knew you were coming before you did.

"You look like you're tryin' to solve a fuckin' puzzle," he said, voice low, teasing. "Ain't that complicated, sweetheart. You want it, you take it."

You flushed. Still, you didn't move.

Ben's voice softened, but somehow it only made everything worse.

"You nervous?" He asked, head cocked slightly. "Or just takin' your time with me?"

You glanced at him, breath shaky, and he smiled—soft. Not mocking. Not smug. Just warm.

Then he leaned back further into the couch and spread his legs wider, thighs shifting beneath the thin cotton of his sweats, settling in like a man getting comfortable.

Waiting. Watching.

"I've got all night," he murmured. "But you don't need to wait, baby girl. You want to feel better?" His eyes flicked to your mouth. "Come take it."

Your knees nearly buckled.

You climbed into his lap before you could stop yourself. Slow. Careful. Like if you moved too fast, you might spook yourself and bolt back to the other side of the room. Your legs slid over his thighs and you lowered yourself, your hands braced on his shoulders, every part of you tense with something that felt like fear and desire tied together with string.

And only then—only when you were fully in his lap, straddling him—did he touch you. His hands lifted. Large, steady palms settling on your waist like he'd been waiting years for permission.

"Shit," he muttered, almost to himself. "Look at you."

You swallowed, your breath catching.

Ben's hands flexed against your sides. Just a little. Just enough.

"You're shakin'," he said softly.

You nodded, too breathless to speak.

"Not scared of me, are you?"

You shook your head.

"Good," he murmured. "'Cause I'd never hurt you, baby. Never."

His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. His voice dropped further—more gravel, more hunger.

"I'll ruin you. But I'll never hurt you."

You whimpered. Couldn't help it.

And Ben smirked, like that was exactly what he was hoping for. Then he leaned in. His mouth hovered just beside your ear, breath warm against your skin.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered, voice thick and deliberate. "Use your words."

Your breath stuttered. Your nails dug into his shoulders.

"I... I want you," you managed, quiet and trembling.

Ben's hand stilled on your waist. Then he let out the softest, filthiest little sound—something between a hum and a chuckle.

"Yeah?" He rasped, tipping his head to look at you fully. "Want me to what, sweetheart?"

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

He grinned, slow and dark, eyes dragging over your mouth.

"C'mon," he said, voice a touch rougher now. "You're already in my lap like a good little thing. Say it like you mean it."

You were shaking. Not with fear. Not anymore. With the pressure of it all—of him, of you, of everything he'd said. The weight of being seen. The heat coiled so deep inside you it ached. You wanted. God, you wanted. You wanted him like you'd never wanted anything in your life.

Ben's hand slid from your waist to your hip, slow and possessive, his thumb dragging across your skin through the thin fabric of your pyjama shorts.

"Still waitin', baby," he murmured. "Thought you had something to say."

You broke.

"I want you to touch me," you whispered, breathless. "I want you to make me feel good. I want—" you swallowed, cheeks burning, "—I want you to fuckin' ruin me."

Ben's groan hit you like a thunderclap.

"Fuck," he hissed, head falling back slightly. His hips jerked once, grinding up into you so hard and slow your whole body jolted in his lap. "Christ on a cross."

You gasped, eyes fluttering shut, the thick press of him beneath you lighting a fire between your legs.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, fingers flexing hard enough to bruise.

"You want it that bad, huh?" He rasped, voice wrecked. "Want my hands on you? Want me to make that pretty little body beg for it?"

You whimpered. Nodded. Couldn't breathe.

Ben's mouth curved, dangerous and pleased.

"Then come give me a fuckin' kiss, baby girl."

You didn't lunge. You leaned in slow. Tentative. Your breath caught in your throat as you moved forward inch by inch, like some part of you still didn't believe this was happening. Like getting too close might wake you up from whatever this was.

Ben didn't move. Didn't blink. He just watched you.

His eyes were half-lidded, heavy, and he was breathing slow—calm on the outside, but you could see it, the storm under his skin. His hands stayed where they were, resting on your waist, fingers flexing every so often like it was taking everything in him not to pull you down the rest of the way.

"Yeah," he murmured, voice so low it vibrated through you. "That's it. C'mon. You're right there."

You inched closer. Your knees squeezed tighter around his hips. Your hands found his chest, broad and hot beneath your palms, and you swore you could feel his heartbeat through the thin cotton of his shirt—deep and steady like a drum.

"Take your time," Ben said softly. "Ain't goin' anywhere."

That wrecked you.

Your mouth hovered just above his now, your nose brushing his, your breath mingling with his in the warm, electric space between.

"Good girl," he rasped. "Now kiss me."

And you did. You pressed your mouth to his—slow, open, reverent.

He met you there. And it was everything. His lips moved with yours like he'd mapped this moment out in his head a hundred times. Deep. Unhurried. Filthy in the way it devoured your breath but never pushed. His tongue dragged against yours with a groan that left your thighs trembling, his hands tightening on your hips as your body melted down into his.

He kissed like he was teaching you something. Like he wanted you to remember this when you were alone later, wrecked and ruined and aching for him again.

You moaned against his mouth and he pulled you in tighter, his fingers bruising into your hips as he rolled up into you, slow and hard.

The kiss deepened. Wet. Heavy. Hot enough to burn. He sucked your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging just enough to make you whimper before he soothed the sting with his tongue.

"Fuck," he groaned into your mouth. "Listen to you."

You ground down harder, chasing friction, and he met you, hips grinding up into yours like he couldn't help himself anymore.

One of his hands flew to the back of your neck, dragging you deeper into the kiss as his hips thrust up again, slow and deliberate. The other guided your movements, helping you rock in his lap, the thick ridge of him grinding perfectly through the layers between you.

"Atta girl," he growled against your mouth. "That's it. Just like that. Ride it out."

You writhed, panting, your fingers tangled in the front of his shirt, grounding yourself as he took you apart without even needing to move.

His kisses were wet, filthy, all tongue and heat and groaning breath. He kissed like he meant it. Like he owned your mouth. Like it had been his since the first time you said hi to him at the front door and he let his eyes linger a little too long.

You cried out as he guided your hips harder, the friction dizzying, filthy sounds echoing through the room.

"You're so fuckin' pretty," he murmured against your lips. "So good for me. He ever get you makin' these sounds?"

You shook your head, dazed, lips slick and parted.

"Didn't fuckin' think so."

He kissed you again—harder this time, stealing your breath, your thoughts, your name. His grip tightened as he ground up into you again, slow and punishing, like he wanted to drag every sound out of you and make you remember it later, alone in your bed, still aching for him.

"You feel that?" He rasped, lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, your throat. "That's how bad I wanted you. Every fuckin' time you walked in here, smilin', bein' sweet, sittin' at my table like you belonged there—this is what I had to fight."

You whined again, rolling your hips down into him, chasing more.

Ben groaned, hands grabbing tight at your ass now, dragging you down against him in rhythm.

"No more fightin', baby," he growled. "Not now."

And you believed him. Because whatever this was—it had already taken you both.

You couldn't stop moving. Every time your hips rocked into his, every time his hands dragged you closer, it just got worse—better—hotter. You were soaked through your pyjamas, breath coming in shallow little pants between kisses that only got filthier the longer they lasted.

Ben was panting now too, forehead pressed to yours, lips slick and pink and kiss-bruised. His hands were still on your ass, guiding every motion like he was conducting a symphony made just for him.

"You're drivin' me fuckin' insane," he groaned. "You feel what you're doin' to me?"

You nodded, breathless.

He growled. Actually growled. Then his mouth was on your throat again, teeth dragging slow over your skin before he pulled back just enough to look at you—his pupils blown wide, jaw tight.

"Off," he said, nodding toward your shirt.

You froze. Heat rushed to your cheeks.

But Ben didn't push. Just let his hands slide back to your waist, eyes dragging over your face, patient even while he looked like he was seconds from snapping.

"You don't gotta be shy," he murmured, voice lower now, rougher. "Not with me."

You swallowed, then reached down with shaking fingers and pulled your shirt over your head.

Ben's mouth parted.

His gaze dropped like a stone, dragging down your neck, your chest, every inch of newly bare skin until it landed on the swell of your breasts and stayed there. You weren't wearing a bra—hadn't expected to need one—and the second he saw that, his hands twitched.

"Jesus fuck," he muttered. "Look at you."

You shifted in his lap, suddenly aware of everything. Your breath, your thighs, the way your nipples peaked under his stare.

Ben leaned forward.

Not kissing. Not touching. Just bringing his mouth close enough that you felt his breath against your chest. His hands slid up—slow, warm, calloused—and cupped you gently, like he was still making sure you were real.

"You been hidin' this from me all this time?" He rasped.

You whimpered.

And then he kissed your breast. Open-mouthed. Hot. A filthy, reverent drag of his tongue over your nipple before he pulled it into his mouth and sucked.

Your whole body jolted.

"Ben—!"

"That's it," he muttered against your skin. "Let me hear you."

You moaned, rolling your hips down into him again, needy and shaking.

He pulled back with a wet sound, licking his lips as his hand slid down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

"Gonna show you what it feels like," he said. "You remember what I said?"

You nodded, dazed. "One hand."

Ben smirked.

"Damn right."

He leaned in, kissed you again—slower this time, deep and thick and hot—while his hand slid inside your waistband, knuckles dragging down over soft, soaked cotton.

"Fuck me," he breathed. "You're already drippin'."

You whimpered, hands gripping his shoulders, rocking into his touch without shame now.

Ben's fingers dipped lower, sliding between your folds over your panties, just enough to make you cry out.

"That's right," he growled, "ride my fuckin' fingers. Show me how bad you needed this."

You did. You couldn't stop. You were shaking in his lap, panting into his mouth, his hand wedged between your bodies while he stroked slow and deep over the thin barrier of your panties, never rushing, never giving you quite enough.

"Ben—please—"

His mouth was back on yours, swallowing the desperate sound as his fingers finally slipped under the fabric and found your clit—bare, wet, aching.

You sobbed into his mouth.

"Shh," he whispered, kissing you softer now. "I got you, baby. Gonna make you come just like this, sittin' pretty in my lap. Nice and slow."

He circled your clit with maddening precision, dragging two thick fingers through your slick heat while his other hand stayed firm on your waist, anchoring you there, his.

"You're already so close," he muttered, voice wrecked. "I can feel it."

You gasped, grinding into his palm, head falling to his shoulder. He kissed your neck, your jaw, your temple.

"You gonna come for me, baby girl?"

"Y-Yeah—Ben—"

"Then come. C'mon. Wanna feel you fall apart."

You shattered.

It hit fast and hard, ripping through your core like a lightning strike. You cried out, clutching his shirt, grinding into his hand while your thighs trembled around him. Ben held you through all of it—murmuring filth into your hair, groaning into your ear, his fingers still slow and gentle even as you gasped and bucked against his lap.

"That's my girl," he whispered, dragging his fingers back up to circle your clit one more time just to watch you twitch. "Fuckin' perfect."

You were still gasping when he kissed you again—deep, slow, savouring you.

"Look at that," Ben rasped against your mouth, fingers sliding lazy circles over your oversensitive clit. "Just made a fuckin' mess in my lap."

You whimpered, thighs twitching as your hips bucked into his hand again, helpless and overstimulated. "I-I can't—"

"Yeah, you can." He nipped at your jaw, then kissed the sting away. "Gonna give me another one while you take care of me. That too much for you, baby girl?"

Your heart stuttered in your chest. You shook your head, breathless. "No. I—I want to."

Ben growled. Low and hungry.

"Yeah?" He leaned back slightly, eyes locking on yours, smug and reverent all at once. "Then show me."

You slid your hand between your bodies with shaking fingers, reaching down to where he was thick and hard under his sweats—obscene with how long he'd been like that. Your fingertips brushed over him through the cotton, and he shuddered.

"Fuck," he gritted, head falling back for just a second. "There you go. C'mon, sweetheart. Take it out."

You didn't need to be told twice.

Your hand slipped beneath the waistband, fingers curling around him—hot, hard, heavy in your palm—and Ben groaned, loud and wrecked.

"That's it. Fuck, your hand's so small," he growled. "You gonna stroke it nice for me, baby? You gonna be good?"

You nodded quickly, already moving your hand, pumping him slow, your grip slick with the way your own arousal coated your skin. You couldn't believe how wet you still were—how much you needed more, even after what he'd just done to you.

Ben's breath caught as your fist curled tighter around him.

"Jesus," he hissed. "That's it. Don't stop. Just like that."

His fingers moved faster now, dragging tight circles over your clit, dipping down to tease through your folds before sliding up again, matching the rhythm of your strokes. You gasped, thighs trembling, your hips rocking into his palm at the same time as you jerked him in your fist.

The motion was filthy. Perfect.

Wet sounds filled the room—your slick, his cock, the breathless moans you couldn't hold back. He was panting now, fingers digging into your thigh to steady you.

"Such a fuckin' good girl," he growled. "Sittin' there all pretty in my lap, makin' me feel so fuckin' good—Jesus, keep goin', baby, don't stop—"

You moaned, your forehead pressed to his shoulder, breath hot against his neck as you stroked him harder. He was throbbing in your hand now, his hips jerking up into your fist as his fingers circled your clit ruthlessly, forcing another orgasm up your spine like he needed to feel you fall apart again before he let go.

You cried out, hand faltering, and Ben caught your jaw in his palm, kissed you hard and open-mouthed, tongue filthy against yours.

"That's it. Come with me," he whispered against your lips. "Wanna feel you squeeze my fuckin' fingers while I come all over your hand. You want that?"

"Yes—Ben—yes—"

"Then fuckin' take it."

You shattered again—your whole body tensing, legs trembling, hips grinding into his hand as the orgasm crashed through you harder than the first, and at the same time, Ben snarled your name, hips jerking up into your fist as he spilled hot and thick over your hand and into his sweats, his teeth sinking into your shoulder with a desperate groan.

You were both panting, wrecked, clinging to each other in the thick, sticky heat.

Ben's hand slid from between your legs, dragging up your thigh, slow and reverent. He pressed his lips to your temple, still catching his breath.

"Fuck," he whispered. "You were worth waitin' for."

a/n: AHH! So, obviously an AU. I hope y'all liked. I liked. Just let me know what you thought... I'm kinda obsessed with this one. The dynamic feels so baddirtywrong and it's my favourite. Ew. Also, you know the craic, if the warnings listed above aren't evident yet? They will be in the next part. Hehehehe. I just needed a lil break from "eyes too close to let me" and also... I was high and this became sentient all by itself. In the words of William Butcher: you're all fucking welcome. Until the next one? Smin signing off. All the love.

Ben/Soldier Boy taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @losers-clvb @lunaleah. @itshellfire @drakulana @sl33pylilbunny @suckitands33 @nevercameraready @0ccvltism @bittersweetfig @lyarr24 @podiumackles @spxideyver @tinas111 @ohgodimgoungtodie @cevansbaby-dove @paristheonewhoreads @winchestersbgirl @blossomingorchids @sacr1ficialang3l @kaz-2y5-spn <3

[muzansfangs]

How would Gin, Shinji and Jugram react when they get it in the the wrong hole while have sex and their s/o start crying in pain

They get in the wrong hole during sex.

Starring: Shinji Hirako x f!reader; Gin Ichimaru x f!reader; Haschwalth Jugram x f!reader; mention to Rangiku Matsumoto, Hinamori Momo, Kira Izuru, Bambietta Basterbine, Candace Catnipp, Bazz-B, Robert Accutrone, Yhawach;

Format: short-imagines;

Warnings: nsfw, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, accidental anal sex, remorse, aftercare, slight hints to degradation kink, dirty talk, spanking, mirror sex, hair pulling, crying during sex, dacryphilia;

Plot: In the heat of the moment, amidst goofy and tragicomic accidents that could occur during passionate sex, you end up experiencing one of the worst. How will your boyfriend deal with the situation? Is it going to kill the mood?

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Shinji Hirako.

When your boyfriend swung the front door of your flat open, barging into your apartment with a large luggage and shit-eating grin, you knew exactly what was going to happen. An eventful night, without the shadow of a doubt. At first, you just stared at him doumbfounded, eyes travelling up and down his frame, surprised to see he was not wearing his Captain’s haori and the shihakusho you loved oh so much. You had not been able to see him in a month, since he had taken back his former position as the Captain of the Fifth Division.

You knew it was going to be hard, but there was no difficulty you could not deal with, as long as you were together. And your relationship persisted.

“Well? Are ya just gonna sit there and ogle me? Doll, that’s not the way I expected ya to welcome me back! C’mon, bring that ass over here” Shinji sassily commenced, kicking the door closed with a foot and opening his arms to invite you to jump on him.

You dashed towards him instantly, glorious smile of victory over your face as you buried your face into his chest “You stupid jackass, I missed you like crazy!” you exclaimed, as he wrapped his arms around you and swept you off of your feet. You giggled, kicking your feet in the air, as he marched towards your bedroom without further ado. After all, he was still a man drunk on your love. Even if disrobing you right away might have resulted overly materialistic and egoistical, you had been dying to be touched too.

It was a romantic reunion, no matter what any bigoted stranger could think of it.

You were turned on, when he began to undress you, mouth devouring yours passionately, devotly, as you reached your hand out to switch the lights on. Shinji thought the darkness spiced things up even more, though, and he swatted your hand away.

“Roll over” he eventually chimed, quick to unbuckle his belt, or this is what you assumed he was doing for the metallic sound of his belt clinking.

Maybe, choosing such a position in a room scarcely illuminated by the streetlamps and neon lights of the shops outside was not exactly a brilliant idea. Centuries of fornicating around, however, had apparently helped your boyfriend to find the right hole even without the help of his sight. Or, at first, that was what you thought. Sheathed deep into you, Shinji held you down by gripping the back of your neck. The feeling of him filling you up repeatedly was ever so satisfying.

“Dear Gosh, don’t stop! Not even if I pass out!” you dramatically said, back arching up as his pelvis smacked against the back of your thighs roughly.

“My nymphomaniac vixen! You missed that cock, didn’t ya? I’m no where near to be done with ya” your menace of a boyfriend drawled out, wanton in his voice, cock twitching into you as he pulled out to readjust his position behind you. Those were moments before the disaster.

You whined for the lack of contact, shifting on your knees subconsciously to search again for the warmth of his body “Hurry up, Shinji! I need you back”.

“Have some patience, babe, I’m right here! You’re horny as fuck tonight” he replied, going straight for the kill and pushing the head of his cock back into your entrance. But the wrong entrance.

Dread washing over you, the stinging sensation in the most private part of your body, sensitive, now bruised, caused tears to overflow from your eyes. A small screech left your lips, throat burning as Shinji panicked and immediately pulled back.

“Holy cow, forgive me! Babe, are ya okay? Does it hurt? I’m so, so sorry, it’s my fault! The damn lights, I should have switched them up!” he profusely apologized, jumping back on his feet and finally allowing the lights to illuminate the bedroom. You collapsed on your side, curled up in a ball and taking sharp intakes of breaths.

Shinji rushed back to you, peppering your cheeks with kisses, hoping to calm you down “It’s okay… It happens, don’t worry”.

Your boyfriend was glad you had forgiven him, but the resoult was an immediate cockblock effect on him. He grew soft, as he slumped down next to you “I think we better rest tonight, love. I’ve taken two weeks off to stay with ya” he stated, defeated, still shocked by the accident.

You scooted closer to him, nose brushing against his one “Promise?”.

“Promise”.

Gin Ichimaru.

The barracks of the Third Division were terrifyingly empty, ghostly. When the Captain of the Eight Division threw a party, everyone attended it. No one turned down the opportunity to chug some high quality saké for free. No one besides you and your shrewd boyfriend, as well as the Captain of the Third Division. Working hours did not leave you the chance to spend some quality time together. The absence of new recruits and officers continously requiring either his, or your assistance was a manna from Heaven.

Now, in the privacy of his office, you were showing off your new uniform to a randy Gin. After years of him pleading you to purchase a skirt, you had given up and there you were, proudly twirling around to whet his appetite for your flesh. It did not take a lot for him to nimbly haul you over his shoulder and head straight to his desk. His bony hands shamelessly groped your ass through the thin fabric, visualizing your globes and the way he was going to smack them, while nestled deep into you.

“Damn, I really did not need another distraction at work… — Gin chimed, carefully letting your feet touch the floor, your face’s destination the smooth mahogany surface at your back, as you diligently turned around to slump over it with your torso — But don’t you dare wear those shitty pants again, sweetie” he warned you, provocative timbre sending frissons down your spine.

You clicked your tongue, propping yourself up on your elbows “And what about my panties? Should I wear them outside your office?” you instigated him to slide his slender digits past your folds in one smooth motion.

Gin hummed, pumping his fingers into you painfully slowly, savouring the lewd faces you were making through your reflection on the window. He was done playing nice. The prominent tent in his hakama indicated it was time to replace his fingers with his throbbing cock. It was only a matter of seconds, before you let out a strained whine and banged your fist over the desk, right beside your head, the stretch of his length penetrating you making it hard to breath.

“Shit! Gin— Oh!” you seethed, perching your ass up against his navel out of the reflex aroused from your boyfriend’s ministrations.

He leaned over you, his whole body draped over your back, mouth brushing agaisnt your earlobe “Only after I’ve shot my load up this irreverent pussy! I mean, they’re going to love seeing you all sticky, messy, cum running down the insides of your thighs… Fuck, would you like that? Do you want to waltz around the Soul Society leaking like a sieve?” he hissed, hot breath fanning your jawline as he thrusted into you with a hard and steady tempo making your velvety walls clamping around his cock.

You squealed out, overstimulated, his dirty talk reducing you to a flustered girl dealing with her first crush. Moans and guttural grunts echoed in the room, sweaty bodies and sinful remarks falling from both of your lips, until he grabbed a fist full of your hair and tugged you back towards him.

“Brace yourself, honey. I wanna see your face, when I shoot—” he rasped out, cock slipping out of your cunt accidentally.

He was about to slide in again, but a familiar voice coming from the outside of the door made him flinch and push you back down on the desk, hand over your mouth to muffle your frantic pants.

“Captain Ichimaru, I’m the Lieutenant of the Fifth Division! Are you awake?” Hinamori called out, not even daring to knock on the door.

The disgusting sound of someone puking shortly after followed her question and she gasped, clearly worried “Nevermind! I wanted to tell you Lieutenant Kira got drunk! Rangiku challenged him to a drinking game and I thought to accompany him back to his dorm! Goodnight!” she piped out, the sounds of footsteps fading away reassuring him enough to loll his head back and push himself back into you without double checking his actions.

The strangling constriction around his member was different. Weirdly so. Then, you screamed. A sob shook your form, body shaking uncontrollably, as Gin lowered his gaze and realized what had happened. You cried out in pain, mouth gaping in a struggle to endure the sudden intrusion and formulate coherent walls of protest. Gin’s eyes widened in shock, but the sight of some tears in your splendid eyes and the grip on his cock made him burst.

He groaned, the moment he spurted right into you. A white ring forming at the entrance of your puckered hole somehow electrifying him, but he was quick to pull out of you. Your body finally relaxed, breath labored as you glanced at him from above your shoulder in total bewilderment.

“Believe me, it was not intentional” Gin apologized hoarsely, hands slithering down the length of your back to provide you some comfort.

You hummed, eyes closing in exhaustion “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just… It’s no good crying over spilt milk”.

He kissed your cheek, nuzzling his face on the jucture of your neck “If I give you cookies and make you cum too, will you consider forgiving this poor man who was defeated by a sexy hole?”.

You could not help yourself but chuckle “Gin, please, stop!”.

“It was a matter of time anyway! You know, it always kept blinking up at me, while I fucked you like that!”.

“Stop!” you lamented, playfully slapping his forearm.

In the end, he kept his promise and granted you a mindblowing orgasm and some delicious cookies.

Haschwalth Jugram.

Abstinence and the unmanageable preparations for the incoming war had taken a toll on you. Your fiancé was beyond exhausted, yet he was exceptionally good at showcasing a completely different set of emotions than the ones he was dealing with in front of the others: professionalism, determination, authority and inflexibility left no room for tiredness and prostration. He barked orders around, keeping your comrades in line for the sake of your King. You knew him better than anyone else and you actually believed him when he said he was ready for this. However, it was exactly because you knew him that you sensed he was just as nervous and overwhelmed as you were. He was an atomic bomb about to explode.

Now, it had been another ordinary and chaotic day at the Palace. You were supposed to spend the night with Bambietta and Candace, when you heard a commotion resonating in the corridor. The source of the upheaval came directly from the training room. Curiosity killed the cat and you decided to sneak in and peek from behind the wall. Upon analyzing the situation, you realized a lot of people were gathering around two men. You were not surprised Bazz-B was picking up a fight, but you had to admit you had not expected his counterpart to be the ever so composed Robert Accutrone. It was hard figuring out what had caused the two Sternritters to throw hands, but you were displeased to assess no one was going to stop them.

No one besides your boyfriend.

The sound of his cape fluttering and the metallic sound of his sword being unsheathed from its scabbard made you flinch. Iciness in his eyes, he stepped between the two men and immediately pacified them without uttering a single word. He squarely gazed at Bazz-B, his jaw clenched, knuckles whitening around the hilt of his sword as the other scoffed and dashed out of the room, followed by some lower ranks supporting him. Robert merely bowed his head, eyes downcast, as he backed off.

“I am consternated” he curtly apologized, before leaving the room silently, index fixing his glasses over the bridge of his nose, probably out if habit rather than necessity.

The atmosphere in the training grounds was still thick, though. Some young recruits resumed their training sessions, while the rest of them began to gossip about what had just happened. When you saw Haschwalth sheathing back his sword, you decided to reveal yourself and hesitantly stepped into the room with a compassionate gleam in your eyes. Your boyfriend did not move an inch from where he was standing, always so descreet in the presence of your comrades, but you could tell he was beginning to feel tired of his role.

You approached him cautiously, hand reaching up to trace a path going from his forearm to his hand, still resting over the shiny hilt of his blade. The Sternitter Grandmaster inahled sharply, before suddenly enveloping your wrist in a bonebreaking grip stealing a low wince from your parted lips. This was new.

“Use it”.

A command. An order from the man you loved and your superior. You knew what it meant, though. Haschwalth was evidently fed up and in a desperate need to quell his wrath, to take his rage out somehow.

You gladly obliged his request, eyes closing as you snapped your fingers and a pool of pink light engulfed you two. You could have just walked straight out of that place to reach your destination. If Haschwalth Jugram had specifically asked you to resort to your power, he was decidedly about to make the entire Palace blow. What happened in your bedroom did not stupify you. The moment you reappeared in the privacy of your shared room, your boyfriend did not waste any precious time in superfluous compliments: he shoved you against the wall behind your back. The impact made you whimper out, but your huffs and puffs were swallowed by his mouth devouring yours to savor your taste.

You had missed the intimacy between you two. His hands popped the buttons of your uniform open, eager to finally claim your flesh after weeks of barely indulging into short make out sessions in the shadows. Opening his coat, he hastily unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers, leaving you with the task of disrobing yourself before his stunning blue eyes.

“Turn around” he breathed out, hand already wrapped around his hardening cock, pumping his shaft a few times to make sure he was straight as a ramrod.

Once all of you clothes were scattered on the floor, you twirled around and planted your hands over the wall in front of you. Haschwalth slapped your rear, quick to bend you over a little more for him to angle you in a better position. Your moan, strained, wantoned, echoed in the bedroom and the man standing behind you pressed his tip to your glistening entrance.

“I apologize for the lack of foreplay” he stated, cock slipping carefully into your warm channel, body going taut in the effort of controlling himself.

The burning sensation soon dissipated, your forehead pressed against the wall to help you concentrate and relax your muscles. The stretch was immensely satisfying, but this time you felt a tad more excited. There was raw desire behind his actions. His fingertips were pressing onto the plush of your hips enough to leave crescent marks over the skin, pressing down until he could feel the sharp hipbone beneath the pads of his digits.

“You should apologize for not having slammed me against the wall sooner” you heaved out, nails scraping the polished grey bricks underneath your palms, your boyfriend groaned out with the way you shifted around to squeeze him up better.

Your fiancé lolled his head back, golden eyelashes fluttering and casting curvaceous shadows over his cheekbones, as he pulled out slowly only to thrust back into you forcefully. Your whimpers and breathy moans filled the air, your minds freed from the sense of disquietude cascading on you two those past few weeks. He let it out on you, heedless of the slight pain you were enduring, his movements frantic and desperate, eyebrows knitted even if not in concentration to please you. He had chosen to be selfish this time. It was not like he had any other feasible option to consider. The choice was between massacring his underlings, or riling you to oblivion.

Naturally, he knew he could go a little too far with you in some peculiar occasions like the current one. His onslaught on your body was authentically brutal and your cries were starting to sound high-pitched, strained. Among the moans, the unmistakable sound of skin against skin and his lust for you, Haschwalth never really rested. Upon sensing your King was awakening, he tensed and remembered he should have been ready to receive his new orders. He decided to speed up the pace, cock accidentally slipping out of your dripping cunt, and painfully invading your puckered hole.

You choked out a wince, eyes rounded in shock as he groaned for the sudden tight grip of your muscles around his member. Yet, he was quick to pull out and let you go, somehow horrified by what had just happened. You were a panting, weeping mess, as you slumped down on a nearby leather pouf, hands shaking for the adrenaline and surprise.

“I hurt you, didn’t I? — Haschwalth was the first to talk, eyes scrutinizing your face to decipher your thoughts on the matter — I’m mortified. It wasn’t my intention” he explained, only for you to raise your hand and stop him from apologizing further.

“It was an accident. I just need a few minutes to recover” you sighed, eyes flicking up to meet his ones reassuringly.

Your fiancé pinched the bridge of his nose, luscious blond hair draped over his visage “I think Yhwach is looking for me. I lost control because I felt him calling for me”.

You nodded your head, knowing damn well he had to drop whatever he was doing to assist the King. You stood up and walked up to him, hands reaching down to buckle back up his belt “Hey, it’s fine. I promise we can continue later on. Now, don’t let him wait, or he’s going to let you know what a pain in the ass is” you jested, only for your ever so serious man to huff and bend down to plant a small kiss on your forehead.

“I don’t think I want to find out” he muttered lowly, fingers threading your hair as you smiled brightly up at him.

“Definitely”.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! The poeople have spoken and I am glad to serve! I missed writing this format and I stumbled across this request in my inbox. Christmas is going to be chaotic and my time to write is diminishing drastically. I will therefore have some posts scheduled to feed y’all. Likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!

Love,

– Luce

TAGS: tagging some of my lovely mutuals because I love to feed your fantasies @dehemetera @electronicwitchcollection @bankaizen @noirfan12 @suigetsusunny @my-my-my @velaenaa @villainsrtasty @brittscafe @akashis-waifu @sashi-ya @jesurum-says-hi @j-u-u-z-o @naru-mi-gen

[writingwithciara]

family game night -quinn hughes-

summary: game night at the lake house. what could go wrong?

word count: 2.6k

pairing: quinn hughes x reader

notes: idk

game nights at the hughes' lake house were mandatory for anyone staying there. they were also known for being the most fun anybody in the group ever had.

but with the good times, come the bad ones and the awkward ones. some friendships are seriously tested when game night begins and if one of the boys brings a girlfriend to a game night, the relationship usually doesn't last much longer than the summer.

and that is why a 'no significant others allowed' rule was implemented for the summers. everyone wanted to protect their respective relationship and refused to subject their significant other to the torture that ensued.

hanging in the family room was a scoreboard that kept track of who had won the most games since the family game night started years ago. and luke hughes was tied for first place with his jack's best friend, y/n.

the youngest hughes had dreamt of claiming the crown on his own but that became impossible when he and y/n got paired together the first night. they went on to win every game that night and decided they would always partner together.

jack used to argue with it, claiming that it was against the rules to be with the same partner year after year. but seeing y/n and luke jump for joy whenever they won, meant more to him than he expected so he dropped the argument after the second year.

so when luke was unavailable for the fourth year, y/n turned to her best friend.

"please jack? you're my best friend and i can't win without you."

"don't you mean you can't win without luke?" jack smiled, knowing it would get on her nerves. but that's what they did. they bickered like brother and sister.

"he's the dumbass who went and broke his arm earlier this week so if you won't be my partner, i'm gonna lose my crown."

"well, it's about time, ain't it princess?"

"jack, i'm serious. will you please be my partner?"

"no can do, sweetheart. already promised trevor i'd play with him this year."

"but i thought this year, you were gonna partner with quinn. and if he's not your partner, then that means-"

"that he's a free agent. why don't you ask him to be your partner?"

"we never talk. i highly doubt we'd be on the same wavelength long enough to retain my crown."

"wouldn't hurt to ask. you both need a partner and you're both good at games." jack shoved some chips in his mouth and snatched the remote back that y/n had taken from him when she entered the living room.

"you were no help, jackass." y/n rolled her eyes and went upstairs to find quinn.

that was the year she and quinn won every game, causing her to take the lead over luke in most wins. she was happy with the outcome and had decided to partner with quinn the following year.

but when she arrived at the lake house for the 5th year, she was shocked to find out that quinn had brought his new girlfriend for the few weeks they'd be on vacation. and that meant that she'd be back with luke for game night. but that didn't bother her. she loved playing games with luke but she was under the impression that she and quinn had a surprisingly good amount of chemistry when it came to game night.

when jack arrived at the house, he went to quinn and started restating the rules.

"i thought we had a rule, quinn. no significant others allowed. remember?"

"i remember. but i also made the rule and therefore, am the one who can lift it. plus, our relationship is strong enough to withstand the torture of game night."

"well then if you're allowed to have your girlfriend here, then i'm going to invite mine." jack pulled out his phone and dialed his girlfriends number.

"i am too." luke did the same, leaving y/n to wonder who her new partner would be.

after everyone arrived, it was officially time to start the game night. since all the boys ended up inviting their girlfriends, y/n was forced to partner with brock. she didn't know much about him and he was fairly new to the group so she was worried about losing. but he turned out to be amazing. they ended up winning 2 of the first 3 games, basically securing her spot at the top of the leaderboard. but when quinn and jack got in an argument about whose relationship was stronger, their version of the newlywed game was announced.

"we don't have to play this, right?" y/n asked while looking up at brock.

"we don't have to. but i'm sure there's a way we could kick their asses in this game." brock smiled.

quinn went to go find the game and each couple started their own conversations.

"if we want to win, i need to know everything about you."

y/n and brock began to share as much information with each other as they could before quinn came back with the board and question cards. he quickly explained the rules and the game began.

after 12 rounds, it was shocking how far ahead y/n and brock were. for not being a couple, they somehow knew more about each other than the real couples did.

when y/n answered another question about brock right, quinn threw the cards down.

"you guys are obviously cheating. there's no way that brock could've known that your favorite meal to eat when you're upset is meatballs covered in nacho cheese with a glass of orange juice. or that you had a crush on danny phantom until you were 14. or that when you're sick, you really enjoy cuddles on the couch while watching coraline on repeat." quinn looked from y/n to his girlfriend. both girls were giving him weird looks. "what?"

"you sound jealous, quinny." his girlfriend marissa narrowed her eyes at him.

"i'm not. i just don't like losing this game. our relationship is strong enough that i don't have to prove it with this stupid game." he grabbed his drink and stood up. "come one, babe. let's go."

he and marissa walked outside while the group dispersed into their own little worlds.

"guess that means we win, huh?" brock looked at y/n as he began cleaning up the game.

"yeah. guess so." she smiled and started helping him. "thanks for helping me retain my crown."

"it was a lot of fun. maybe next year, we can be partners again."

"okay. that sounds like a good idea." y/n looked at the back door and saw quinn and marissa arguing. "so, what do you think was going on with quinn earlier?"

"i'm not sure. he's usually competitive but seeing him blow up over a game as meaningless as that one was very odd. but also kind of interesting." brock followed her gaze and only saw quinn standing outside. "i think he has a thing for you."

"no he doesn't. why would you say that?"

"the way he was upset that we were getting so many questions right."

"he would've gotten mad at anyone who was beating him."

"but he and marissa were in 5th place. he could've gotten upset with trevor, luke or cole. he didn't have to be upset with us. but he chose to get mad at you instead. plus, he rattled off those facts about you like they were common knowledge. face it. he pays attention to you, y/n."

"maybe so. but that doesn't necessarily mean he's into me."

"believe what you want." brock chuckled. "but i can tell when he's into someone."

as brock headed up the stairs & to his room, y/n went out to the back porch to talk to quinn.

"hey. you alright?"

"why brock?"

"pardon me?"

"why did you partner up with brock?"

"because all you assholes broke the 'no significant others' rule and invited your girlfriends to our game night. brock and i are the only single people in the group & game night is mandatory. i was not allowed to sit out." y/n looked at him. "although, since one rule was broken tonight, i probably could've said 'fuck it' & went out for a ride on the lake with brock instead."

"okay. that's fair, i guess." quinn sighed. "but how did he know all that stuff about you? you guys have barely ever talked before."

"i don't know. maybe he just knows things about me."

"it sounds a little creepy to me. i'm thinking you should stay away from him."

"why? he's your friend."

"yeah. but still. better safe than sorry."

"okay, you know what? no. you do not get to break a rule & then try to take over my life like this. if i want to hang with brock, i will. because it's my decision. not yours." y/n sat down in her favorite chair. "ugh. why are you being such an asshole today?"

"i'm just looking out for a friend."

"great excuse." y/n shook her head. "stop trying to run my life, quinn. i don't want you in it."

"you don't want me in your life?" he sounded shocked.

"not if you're gonna run it." y/n looked out towards the boat. "you're not gonna stop, are you?"

"no." he sighed. "i'm sorry but i just can't. not when i'm only looking out for you."

"i appreciate it, quinn. but i'm a big girl who can take care of herself. i don't need you doing it for me."

"i'm sorry."

"if you're really sorry, you'll let me have fun the rest of the time i'm here."

"okay. if you want to have fun, whether it be with brock or by yourself, i will try to stay out of your way."

"thanks, quinn." y/n got up and headed back inside. she had one goal in mind and as she ascended the stairs, quinn's words echoed in her mind. she knew getting involved with a hockey player was risky, but she liked brock. he was a good guy.

she knocked on his door lightly and waited for him to open it.

"hey. how'd it go with quinn?" brock smiled when he opened the door.

"he tried to tell me i should stay away from you. we argued for a minute but he apologized and promised to let me have fun the rest of the time i'm here."

"did you guys talk about him having feelings for you?"

"didn't come up, actually. we talked about you and why he got so upset with the game earlier."

"and what did he say to that?"

"he said he was only trying to look out for me and kind of told me i should stay away from you."

"y/n, he's got a thing for you. why else would he be getting so protective and jealous?"

"brock, i really want that to be true. i like him. i really, really do." y/n stepped into his room. "but he's got a girlfriend. one who's actually in his league. marissa is so pretty & i don't know what to do."

"talk to him like he's your best friend. talk to him as if he were jack. be honest with him."

"it's so hard to be honest with quinn. and believe me, i want to tell him how i feel. i just don't think i can anytime soon."

"you're strong and brave. i'm sure you'll figure it out."

"maybe you're right." y/n sat on the edge of the bed. "i originally came up here to tell you how much fun i had playing games with you tonight." she lied.

"i had a lot of fun too." brock smiled. "for the record, it was cute when you got excited every time we'd win."

"oh." y/n blushed. "thanks. i try."

"you and quinn really need to talk."

"yeah yeah. i know." y/n walked over to the door. "see you in the morning." she walked out slowly and stopped in front of quinn's room. "i'm an idiot. he and marissa are probably in there doing god knows what. i can't talk to him now." she sighed and went to turn away. she was only 3 steps down the hall when she heard his door open.

"y/n? what are you doing out here? and who were you just talking to?" quinn asked.

y/n faced him and walked back to him. "we need to talk."

"what is it about now?"

"before i say anything, where's marissa?"

"probably almost home by now." quinn looked at y/n. "she dumped me just after we went outside and right before you came out to talk to me."

"oh. i'm really sorry, quinn. i know you liked her."

"yeah. i think that was the problem. i liked her, but i wasn't in love with her." he smiled slightly, his gaze never leaving the ground. "kind of hard to find someone else to love these days."

"have you been in love before?"

"um, once. when i was 17." he took the opportunity to look to at her. "i didn't know it at the time though. and just when i finally figured it out, she ended up in a serious relationship."

"oh. that sucks. sorry to hear that. what's she like?"

"she is the most kind and gentle person i have ever met. she puts up with someone as crazy as my brother and she seems to truly love him. don't know if it's platonically or otherwise, but there's definitely love there."

"have you ever told her how you felt?" y/n looked at him. "what if there was a chance she felt the same way?"

"i don't see how she would. i haven't been the nicest to her lately. yet, she's still sticking around."

"does this girl happen to be best friends with jack? and is she at the house right now?"

"yeah. she is." he looked at her. "i'm sorry, y/n. i know that you figured it out. and i really am sorry. perhaps i should've told you back when i was 17."

"so, brock was right? you do have feelings for me?"

"yes. but i'm an idiot and i already know you don't have feelings for me. so, as promise, i'm going to stay out of your way while you have fun this summer. i'm sure brock could help you with that."

"i don't want to have fun with brock. i want to have fun with you, quinn."

"with me? why?"

"because....i love you too, dumbass. how can you not understand that?"

"because, as you so affectionately put it, i'm a dumbass."

"clearly." y/n smiled widely when quinn grabbed her hand. "so, are you gonna kiss me or what?"

without another exchange, quinn pressed his lips to y/n's. no hesitation and all the passion one person could give in one simple kiss.

neither of them heard the door open down the hall. but when they heard brock chuckle, they knew they had to pullaway from each other.

"about time. seriosuly, dude. how could you not know y/n was in love with you too?"

"because he's a dumbass." y/n smiled.

"yeah. but i'm your dumbass now, right?"

"absolutely. and it's going to stay that way, right?"

"oh, you bet it will." he kissed her nose, making her giggle.

"you guys are so perfect for each other, i swear." brock shook his head with a chuckle before retreating back to his room.

"so, you and me, huh? i really like the sound of that." quinn smiled. and intertwined his hand with hers.

"yeah, me too." y/n stood in the hallway admiring quinn like he was going to disappear any second.

they were oblivious to the world going on around them. but they didn't care one bit. they were finally together and that's all that mattered to either of them.

[mullermilkshake]

Even praise hurts

Part 5 <- Part 6 -> Part 7

The association dinner goes mostly the way Jinwoo expects, yet he suspects that something darker is at play.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - Mentions of unprotected sex/public sex/gore and violence/murder/drowning, mentions of babies/pregnancy, dark thoughts, intrusive thoughts, mild treats, alcohol, drinking

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

“What took you guys so long?” Baek leant on the bar with a whiskey swirling in his hand.

Jinwoo thought it best to say nothing. If he had it his way, he’d tell the whole restaurant and bar exactly where he was and how deep, just for his own entertainment. Though he doubted you would have appreciated it.

“Traffic.” You said casually, your hand still in Jinwoo’s like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hm,” He did not sound convinced. “Sounds about right. There’s always jackasses on the road. Glad you’re here, we’re all sitting in the back room waiting for you.”

Jinwoo fought hard to hold in his smugness, keeping everyone waiting whilst his load was dribbling from your thighs was potentially one of his top five moments in his life so far. He led the way behind Hunter Baek right through to the back room where the others were talking and smiling, Jong-in noticed you immediately and smiled, putting Jinwoo's back up immediately.

So irritating. 

“You’re here,” he grinned with his glass. “We almost thought you’d gotten lost.”

“Lots of traffic.” An adorable laugh left your lips. “Lots and lots of traffic.”

When you grinned back, Jinwoo watched Jong-in closely. Were those kind eyes, or ‘fuck me’ eyes he was giving you? Yeah, they were definitely ‘fuck me’ eyes. Just what the hell was that?

“It’s good that you’re finally here Hunter Sung, we were beginning to worry.” The Chairman did not address Jinwoo directly, rather he was looking at your hand entwined with his, a knowing stare that flitted every so often.

“We apologise, Chairman. It wasn’t our intention to arrive late.”

Jinwoo took his glances as a contest, doing the exact same towards him and Jin-chul, an all knowing glance for the conversation preciously, noting how he was studying you and Jinwoo just as closely.

The Chairman grinned and allowed you and Jinwoo to sit. “It’s quite alright, now we can make a toast to the happy couple.”

Happy couple… that’s rich coming from a man that gave them no choice.  

Hunter Lim sat next to Jin-chul, totally impassive. His arms folded the way they were signalled that he wasn’t entirely present, not until he took notice of Jinwoo. “Hey, glad you two finally made it, Yoonho’s been boring the hell out of me with random crap.”

“Were you waiting long?” Jinwoo asked with caution, according to his calculations, you and he were only late by ten minutes.

“Eh, we all decided to meet a little earlier, you didn’t get the message? So its more like forty minutes, no one could reach either of you.”

Oh shit. Well, in this case, you and Jinwoo would have arrived late regardless if he’d fucked you in his car or not, somehow it didn’t make the situation as dire as it could have been.

“Oh,” Jinwoo pulled out his phone and pretended to check through it like it actually mattered. “No, I didn’t get anything sent to me.”

Lim dismissed it and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Maybe you’ll see Yoonho get drunk this time, that can be entertaining.”

“Right… uh, where’s Hunter Ma?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s off somewhere. He couldn’t wait much longer for you so I think he went to get a light bite. He’ll be back shortly… but I guess we can get to celebrating the happy couple as happy as they can be, being forced into this like they have.”

Out of the two, Jinwoo had faith that you and he would be happy, but he saw right through the facade that Jong-in and Hae-in put up, and it fascinated him. So much so that he let one of his shadows go and attach itself to Jong-in. Just out of curiosity behind closed doors.

Jinwoo pulled out your seat for you and only then did you let go of his hand, he waited until you were seated properly. He watched the interactions between them as a toast was announced, you said something to Hae-in but his concentration picked up on the little things.

Despite popular belief, You and Hae-in rarely spoke the last two months, and even before then, it seemed to be more of a show for the public eye rather than a genuine friendship. The act of survival when one’s life is threatened to change often brings people together, and Jinwoo saw that it was that case with you and Hae-in.

She wasn’t entirely invested, it was obvious by the extra few inches distance her chair sat from jong-in, never touching hands, always at her side unless picking up her glass of water. Jong-in was more invested in you than the mother of his child, barely making eye contact with her or exchanging more than a word or two.

Trouble in paradise. And the chairman thinks it’s appropriate to berate us, instead?  

“Hey, guys!”

“Oh,” Lim snorted. “There you are, big guy. Thought you got lost too.”

Ma chuckled and flopped down in the seat next to Baek with a satisfied grin and a fleck of sauce on his cheek. He noticed you and Jinwoo and waved. “Hey you two, thought you were never gettin’ here!”

Before anyone could address that elephant in the room further, the Chairman stood up to command the room with his scotch glass. “Let’s toast to the first step in the reclaiming of our country's security and the future of the Hunter’s association… To Hunter Choi and Hunter Cha!”

Everyone toasted, raising their glasses whilst the Chairman ordered food and ordered everything to fill out the table. The mood seemed fruitful, enthusiastic, despite the ominous response to it two months ago. Even you seemed more on board with it now, chatting more and smiling a little warmer than previous weeks.

The others might not have seen it, not even you, yet Jinwoo could think of nothing else. Chairman Go and Jin-chul’s watchful eyes on everything across the table. Watching closely, Jinwoo found that as the night progressed, Jong-in and Hae-in became touchy.

A hand brush every so often, a little whisper in her ear with a smile sweeter than treacle to rot the entire table’s teeth for endless cavities. Though when those moments vanished, Jong-in was clinging on to you, with the hope of what, exactly? That he’d eventually come clean to how in love he was with you, or try to convince you that he was a better person despite having a child with another woman?

Just the thought made Jinwoo brood, grit his teeth through the boring dinner during parts he wasn’t listening just to think of ways he’d kill the man in a fit of fuelled jealousy that Jong-in even had the gall to talk to you with such familiarity-

“Jinwoo.” 

He blinked, looking down at you with softer eyes. “Hm?”

You leant closer and whispered. “You’re spacing out… are you feeling okay?” 

God… Those eyes staring up at him so innocently when Jinwoo knew you weren’t the innocent persona you allowed the public to perceive you as. If only publix sex was legal, and he definitely would have had you over the dinner table and no one could have stopped him. That would have set Jong-in straight.

“Y-yeah… I’m okay. Just tired, I think.”

You seemed to buy it. “Okay… we’ll leave soon?” 

“Sounds good.”

The Chairman cleared his throat and addressed Jinwoo properly for the first time with full eye contact. “So, Hunter Sung, when will you greet the association with the good news?”

This went against Jin-chul’s advice on keeping the night about the Hae-in's pregnancy. It was a direct threat too. Every hunter alive treated the Chairman with the respect and decency someone of his position and temperament dictated, but Jinwoo saw straight through it like glass.

By this threat, Jinwoo suspected that the Chairman had another agenda.

Why is he so hellbent on getting results this eagerly?

He glanced up at the system's quest screen, still unchanged. It wouldn’t give him an unobtainable quest so pregnancy was still possible, but with the Chairman’s urgency, something told his gut to shut it down immediately.

At the end of the day, whenever you finally fell pregnant, you and he were keeping the baby close.

“Well, we’re trying our best, Chairman. Each week we’re hopeful.”

In other words, it translated to, back off old man. 

“Well I look forward to the happy news, I have high hopes for you both.”

Long story short, what he meant to say was, hurry the hell up you two, I’m growing impatient. 

“You’ll be the first to know, Chairman-” The eruption of Jong-in’s laugh pulled Jinwoo out of the conversation.

“It’s true! Ask Yoonho.”

“Don’t ask me anything.” Baek turned away and chugged his drink with heavy eyes.

Jong-in chuckled and took a sip of his own drink, clearly giddy. “While we’re guild rivals, we get on better than others think, even Tae-gyu knows what I’m talking about- oh… maybe not.”

Hunter Lim snored away on the table, dribbling and nursing a bottle of Soju. The table acknowledged the humor and Hunter Ma commanded the table with anecdotes. Jinwoo wanted to join in, he did, because it made him understand the people he spent the most time with, but his gut told him to observe Jong-in closely.

You were unaware of this, watching Ma chuckle and tell embarrassing stories of a drunken and foolish Baek. Jong-in stole brief glances at you now and then, each time softer than the last. What was he thinking about?

About you? Friendly or intimate- no doubt there were intimate thoughts going through that head of his like a neanderthal. 

He bet Jong-in had all kinds of lewd thoughts up there in that head of his, all fabricated of course. Seeing as Jinwoo had seen you naked, touched the curves of your body and came inside you most nights, whatever Jong-in could conjure up in his mind sure as hell wouldn’t be anywhere near the real thing. Jinwoo had that edge over him, though it never got rid of the intrusive thoughts. The darker side he���d been battling with since he killed that staff member, well, even before then. Maybe after the first person he'd killed.

Each thought darker and more violent than the last though he never usually acted on them.

Since having you in his grasp, Jinwoo found them cropping up more and more often and the thought of being in a position that he’d be expected to let you go in a month didn’t help alleviate the symptoms.

It made his eye twitch, seeing another man look at you the way Jong-in did, he wanted to hurt him in a way he'd never recover with all of the mage healing in the world. He wanted him gone from your life completely, eradicated and wiped from existence.

How could he look at you the way he was doing right now when the time came and you had a newborn baby in your arms? Jong-in had a reputation to uphold as a guildmaster and having a child of his own would make quite the scandal if he was pursuing another woman.

Though Jinwoo simply wouldn’t have it, he couldn’t just get rid of him in the way he was fantasising about.

A quick dagger slice to his throat to watch the red slip out all over the floor, to see Jong-in gargle and panic because his mana would slip away with his consciousness and no amount of stupid fire would save him.

Maybe drowning him in a water dungeon, so that the only way his fire attacks would serve him any purpose would boil the water until his flesh melted from his face.

It had to be something slow… something painful. Something memorable-

“Jinwoo? Are you ready to go?”

Had he zoned out again? “Yeah, let’s get going.”

“I’ll see you in a few weeks, Hunter Sung.”

Another threat from the Chairman. Jinwoo saw it on the shining rim of his scotch glass, Jin-chul watched him too over the edge of his sunglasses. He stood and waited for the Chairman, allowing him space to pass and land a firm hand on Jinwoo’s shoulder.

“I’m counting on you.”

I bet you are, Chairman Go. 

Jinwoo was counting on it as well, to keep you close to him and take care of you. There was a lot to think about, much to discuss with you. Many concerns he wasn’t so sure he should come out with until he could investigate further.

Though his quest remained the same.

To get you pregnant within the next month.

Part 5 <- Part 6 -> Part 7

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know! Thanks so much for all the support on this likes, reblog and comments appreciated! ❤️

Tag list - @bubera974, @snowy-violet, @sky2lar, @starrynights23x, @minh907

@yessirr7, @aussie-boys-wife, @yihona-san06, @mashiromochi, @daiyanomochi

@justatimidcreator, @alia-17, @otomegamesforlife @m00n-estelle, @towomatos

@stormnightingale, @johnnysactualgf, @solarisstarrsolomonsbeloved, @johnnysactualgf, @notleclerc

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@delusionillusion322, @dreamingoftomorrow, @gina239,@blxuqueenie, @stardust0709

@chahaezii, @athanasia10

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[bettystonewell]

I GOT YOU

Masterlist || Reas on AO3

Dean Winchester x Reader

Dean might not have the best bedside manners and you might not be the best patient, but when you wake up feeling unwell and feverous, he tries to help you out in his own way. 1.1k words

Tags: fluff, sick-fic, language, Dean takes care of you

A/N: I wrote this one a little over a year ago when I was feeling under the weather and sorry for myself. Nothing like a Dean body pillow (if only I could get my hands on one), even when you’re not sick.

You woke up that morning like any other. The sound of your alarm calling to you from what felt like a distant room. Only your phone was a mere foot away from you, sitting on the bedside table charging and waiting for you to turn it off.

Dammit. Sam would be waiting for you in the war room, ready to start your early morning run.

You moved to push yourself up and off your mattress, but your body felt heavier than normal, fingers and toes, oddly sweaty. In fact, your whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat, and yet you felt cold.

No. Urgh. No. You couldn’t be getting sick, could you? You’d barely left the bunker in the last few days to run into anyone that could pass any germs onto you. But the further you moved across the floor of your room to your wardrobe to choose your clothes for the day, the heavier your body felt. The foggier your mind became. The snottier your… Urgh…

Fuck this! Fuck Sam and his morning run. You were going back to bed. Hopefully to sleep it off and wake up feeling refreshed and not sick.

You. Were. Not. Sick.

And you kept telling yourself that, splaying yourself out on top of your bed like a starfish, feet dangling haphazardly over the edge.

Lucky there were no such things as monsters under the bed. Or was there? Sam or Dean had never told you if such things existed and you’d certainly never come across any mention of one in the books in the library. Urgh. You were delirious and needed rest.

Rest. Rest was… Good…

A loud thump startled you from your dream. It had been a good dream, too. One where Dean had been…

“Sweetheart?” the object of your desires called out to you from behind the door to your room. “You in there?” he yelled loudly again. Making your eardrums ring with the obnoxious way he insisted on greeting you presently.

Why did he have to be so loud?

You tried to reply, but your voice was dry and hoarse. The sound coming from your vocal cords while meaning to be a “Yeah,” came out more like a cat hacking up a fur ball.

Surprisingly, though, he heard you. Either that or he disregarded his manners as usual and opened the door anyway to find you still sprawled across your bed. Your hair no doubt splayed in every which way across your face and back, while your nose dripped with the mucus you had zero fucks of wiping in that present moment.

His eyes did a once over your weakened form and he commented in a way only he could get away with. At least at present because you had no energy to throttle him.

“Woah! Sweetheart! You look like shit!”

A groan that was meant to come out as a sarcastic “thanks” escaped your throat. ‘Way to make a girl feel better, jackass.’

You slowly sat up, making sure your clothes hadn’t bunched awkwardly in any of the wrong places as you did so. The fear of accidentally exposing yourself to him while you were still stuck in the friend zone fuelled you, even in your under the weather state.

Once upright, your body swayed. Its own weight, too heavy to hold itself and your head up on top of it. Arms doing their best to support you, along with your legs and feet that you dropped to the floor.

Dean’s eagle eyes had been watching you the entire time. Studying your movements and observing the way you scrunched up your face in pain and discomfort.

Without an invitation or an explanation, he walked over to where you now sat and placed himself beside you. A hand coming up to feel your forehead. The drops of sweat transferring to the back of his hand, along with the heat that radiated off of your skin.

“You’re sick!” he exclaimed, his voice hitching on the end.

‘No shit, Sherlock,’ your inner voice said, but “Hmph” was the sound that escaped you.

“You should lie back down. I’ll go get you some aspirin or something.”

The something scared you and you shook your head in protest.

“Don’t be so stubborn. We gotta break that fever. Wait here.” And he stood up and left the room.

Now alone again and no longer feeling the pressure to sit up in front of company, you allowed your body to flop back onto the bed. Your head missing your pillow by inches, but you didn’t care. It was easier to lie where you now lay. Moving was just as difficult as speaking had been, and sleep soon took you again.

You woke to the feeling of something or someone shaking you this time. Strong hands on your shoulders, gripping the muscle and flesh over them too tight.

“Help me sit her up.” A male voice rung through your ears again.

“Dude, she’s really burning up. I don’t know if this’ll be enough.”

“Just, okay Sammy!” said the first.

A second set of hands grabbed your own, and you were pulled and pushed into a sitting position. A softer feeling headboard, or was it a hard muscly mattress, slipped in behind your back? It grew arms and then wrapped them around your frame, pulling you against it.

Fingers pried open your mouth and placed a small object on your tongue. A hard, smoother one pushed against your lips and cool liquid flowed against your teeth and down your chin. A second pair of fingertips massaged your neck and the tiny pill shaped thing eased down your throat and into your stomach.

Your head still pounded when you awoke again, but your body felt less cold and more comfortable. The grogginess of waking made it clear you had finally managed some uninterrupted sleep.

But your pillow felt hard, and it wasn’t like that before. It didn’t smell of whiskey and gunpowder, either. The same scent you loved to smell when you sat in Baby or next to… Dean…

His soft flannel was on your cheek. Short spikey ends of his five o’clock shadow pressed through the strands of hair that graced your head, tickling your scalp underneath. His hand rested on your side, draped lightly by the arm that wrapped around your back.

You were on a lean, lying against Dean. His sock covered feet attached to the end of his denim covered bow legs came into view as you opened your eyes for the first time since he’d arrived in your room earlier that day.

As you moved to sit up, startled by the position you’d found yourself in, his hand pressed you down, gentle but firm. “Stay still and rest, sweetheart,” he said. “I got you.”

You swallowed the lump in your dry, aching throat and attempted to talk. “Dean?” His name left your lips shaky and coarse.

“Best not to talk…” His body leaned some, shifting back into place almost as quick with the addition of a glass tumbler half full of water. “Here…”

The cup tilted into your lips and the cool liquid from earlier lined your inner mouth and throat, relieving the scratch that had tickled them some.

Dean leaned back again, and you heard the glass hit the wood of the table at the edge of your bed. “Better?” he asked softly.

Your head only nodded in response, lazilly and slow was all you could manage.

“Good. You had us worried. Go back to sleep. I got you.”

DEAN TAG LIST:

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

@reluctanthalfwayoptimism @supernotnatural2005 @jackles010378 @kaz-2y5-spn @applelovesposts

@jaydensluv @foxyjwls007

If you’d like to be tagged in anything, please let me know, or you can add yourself HERE

[baronessvonglitter]

Just a Ride

dbf!Dave York x f!Reader | wc: 3.6K

Summary: When a date goes bad you call your dad's best friend Dave to come to the rescue.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Dave is your dad's best friend. Mention of his daughter but none of Carol - what happened to her? Is she dead? Did she leave him? Don't know don't care, but she doesn't exist because for once I didn't want to write an adulterous Dave. Age gap (reader is 20s Dave is in his 40s). Bad, handsy date. Reader wears a dress and makeup but is otherwise not described much. Protective!Dave. Mention of drinking alcohol. Mutual pining. Pet names (princess). Fingering. Car sex. Unprotected p in v. (Dave can hit it raw with me anytime). Wistful/sad ending. No use of y/n. Never beta'd because fuck it we ball.

a/n: Hi, my name is Adriana and when I was a kid I had two pet baby turtles named Michaelangelo and Raphael (I was planning on getting two more to be Donatello and Leonardo) but they "ran away" (parent-speak for they died) and I think about them every day.

So this is the fic that won out. It was 97% done and I just needed to fill a couple holes (hehe). I don't think I've ever read a dbf!Dave fic before, though I highly doubt mine's the first. I'd gladly accept recommendations below if you know any! Please enjoy 🖤❤️

dividers by @thecutestgrotto 👑

DAVE YORK MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

Dave sits at the bar, pretending to find his Scotch very interesting, doing his best to stay unnoticed. He's dressed casually in jeans, a black tee and a leather jacket, blending in. Now and again he checks his watch or his phone, but he's secretly got you in his sights.

In his peripheral vision he sees you at your table with your date. You're talking, laughing, charming each other. Seemingly having a good time. But he's good at reading people. That smile on your face doesn't quite reach your eyes, and when you laugh at one of your date's lame jokes the sound is hollow, not how you usually peal out in laughter.

He knows a lot about you, having known you nearly your whole life as your dad's closest friend. He knows the date isn't going great and that you deserve better than the jackass who's sitting across from you, leaning in a little too close to you, fixing the shoulder strap of your red dress and using that as an excuse to touch you without your permission. Dave's blood starts to boil.

He waits for your signal, ready to pounce though he looks to all the world like he's relaxing with a drink.

Suddenly his phone lights up with a call from you. He briefly glances your way, seeing you trying to be discreet about your call while hiding your phone in your lap as your date is seemingly in the dark. When your gazes meet you give a small, nervous smile and an almost imperceptible nod. Dave immediately jumps into action.

He's jammed up by a couple of wait staff with loaded trays, and he manages to dodge them, but by the time he gets to your table you're struggling with your date, his hand around your arm in a vise grip.

"Hey!" He shouts. "Let her go. Now." He stands protectively at your side, giving this idiot a chance to do the right thing and walk away. His stance is intimidating to the much younger man, and he watches with a calm air of authority as your date slowly releases your arm.

"You need to leave, now. And don't even think about coming near her again," he growls.

Defeated, and not wanting to cause a further scene, your date puts his hands up and leaves, muttering under his breath. Dave makes sure he's gone from the restaurant before turning his attention to you. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

"I'm okay," you tell him, wiping a little tear away. "Thank you for that.."

His expression softens, his temper melting and giving way to concern. "Don't mention it. I told you I'd have your back." His hand is on your arm now, gently soothing where your date had grabbed you just moments before.

"Would you.." you softly hiccup through your tears. "Would you take me home? He was my ride."

"Of course," he says, glad to be able to escort you safely back home. "Let's get you home."

You settle into the passenger side of Dave's SUV, the same one that not many years ago he'd driven you to volleyball practice in when your parents were too busy to do so. It still smelled of leather and coffee and Dave's own special scent, the one you'd only ever gotten whiffs of during a rare hug.

You were close with his daughters until the three of you went your separate ways after high school. You're the only one who stayed behind, preferring to be closer to home.

Maybe a part of you stayed because you have a crush on your father's best friend.

Not that he'd ever notice you that way. He'd always maintained a polite, never-overly-friendly persona with you. It had changed when you'd started dating, and he and your father became a pair of ultimate authority figures when it came time for your date to pick you up. When you were younger and yearning for your freedom, you hated how they questioned your dates, asked for photo IDs, wrote down license plate numbers "just in case".

Now, having known what the dating pool was like, you appreciate Dave's overprotectiveness. It was actually you who'd reached out and asked him to be your emergency getaway if you'd needed it. You never had until tonight.

He starts the engine, looking over to you to make sure you're buckled in. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, of course.. but what happened?"

"He was really insistent on going back to his place after dinner.. even after I said no," you mumble,

His fingers grip the steering wheel too tightly as he maneuvers the SUV out into the late Saturday traffic. "I see. I don't like the sound of that. Good thing you called me when you did. You never know what could have happened."

"Yeah," you agree, shivering when you think of the look in your date's eyes when you'd rejected him. "I'm just glad I called you."

"You know you can always count on me to be there for you, no matter what."

"Thank you." You place your hand lightly on his knee, a touch meant, at first, to be of the friendly sort, but in the dark of this vehicle you feel the spark of something more.

"You don't have to thank me," Dave deflects. "I would do anything to keep you safe." True, he'd felt a jolt of electricity at your unexpected touch, and his heart rate speeds up momentarily. His mind races with a mixture of unexpected feelings.

"You always look out for everyone, Dave.. who looks out for you?" You watch him as he drives, see his handsome silhouette in the city lights. He's chuckling now, caught off guard by your question. The truth is, he's so used to being the protector that he often neglects his own needs and feelings. He gives you a sidelong glance, contemplating your question.

"Nobody, I suppose.. not really. I'm usually the one doing the looking out."

"Must be lonely," you say, your hand still resting on his knee.

His thick fingers tap against the steering wheel as he considers your comment. It stings a bit to hear it, to have his own loneliness acknowledged, like a mini-autopsy of his middle age. But he knows you, and that you're asking from a place of pure empathy.

"Maybe a bit, yeah. But it's a role I'm used to. Besides, you're here now, aren't you? That keeps the loneliness at bay, for a little while at least."

A smile grows over your lips, heat filling your cheeks at the compliment. "I like that.."

Dave's usual stoicism melts away under your soft demeanor and youthfulness. You're young and haven't yet had the weight of the world on your shoulders.

The ride passes in quiet comfort, even as with each moment he can't help feeling your hand on his knee, knowing it's not going to be easy to just drop you off and go back home to what is a less exciting life than you might think. He pulls up to your house and into the driveway he's parked in hundreds of times before to visit your dad.. and lately, in the hopes of catching a glimpse of you.

"Thanks again.. for everything," you tell him, not making any move to leave.

"Anytime," he says quickly. "It's what I'm here for. And hey.. if you ever need anything or just want someone to talk to, don't hesitate to call, okay?"

A smile graces your lips, forced because everything he's said is exactly what you'd expect him to say. And if the charge between you tells you anything, it's that there's unexplored business between you.

His gaze roams over your face, seeing you for your own person rather than just the product of your parents. Your lips are plump and glossy, and he has a feeling he knows just how they'd taste if he were to kiss you.

He shouldn't be thinking like that.

If he were a real gentleman he'd hop out and open the door for you, walk you up to your parents' house and bid you good night, maybe step in and have a beer with your dad and say hi to your mom. You could go your separate ways and that'd be that.

But you're here, and you're not making any motion to leave, not the feeblest attempt. In fact you're looking at him so expectantly that it pulls at his heart, floods his dick with need so that he's already getting hard.

You shouldn't be looking at him like that.

Without a word he reaches out and touches your cheek lightly, his fingertips running delicately over your jaw. Your breath catches in your throat, which makes his own pulse miss a beat. The rough pad of his thumb brushes against your bottom lip, slightly sticky now with your gloss but he doesn't care. He's wound up tight, watching your eyes flit to his own lips and remain there, likely imagining the very thing he's imagining.

Unable to resist any longer, his hand cups your chin and gently tilts your face up, his dark brooding eyes studing yours for a moment before he leans in. The gap between you disappears as he presses his lips against yours, the kiss gentle yet possessive. The electricity between you could light up a small town, and both of you give into the feeling.

His hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours, exploring your mouth with an urgency fueled by desire. The heat builds between you, the air filled with the heady mixture of forbidden lust.

Your hand cups the back of his neck while you kiss, fingers combing through the short strands of his hair. It sets a shiver through him, knowing he's in your parents' driveway, kissing their only daughter like he's some twenty-something idiot thinking with his dick.

You don't push him away, you encourage him further, letting him pull you forward by the small of your back as he tries to erase any vestige of space remaining between you two. The kiss grows rougher, hungrier, the pent-up tension between you finally reaching its breaking point as you press together, seeking each other's heat.

Like-minded, you pull him down on top of you in the passenger seat as he presses you down, neither of you thinking of anything except what comes next, the desperate need to get as close as possible. Your hands slip under his jacket before he removes it, growling softly in pleasure that you want this too, as he settles between your thighs.

He kisses down your jaw, nipping at your skin, exploring the soft flesh of your neck. Your whispers of encouragement as you rake your fingers through his hair only goads him on, responding diligently, his kisses growing more fervent and urgent with each passing moment as he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses and soft bites.

He watches you as he starts to unbutton your dress. "Is this okay?" he whispers. The straps of your dress are already slipping down your shoulders, revealing their softness.

You whisper "yes," and he gently pulls the top down until your satin bra is revealed. He's transfixed by the sight, your bra doing nothing to hide the rise and fall of your chest. His eyes darken with desire, his gaze heavy-lidded. He's torn between wanting to devour you and wanting to savor this moment, though who knows how much time you have?

"We really shouldn't be doing this," he murmurs, pressing hot kisses to the tops of your breasts and smiling when you arch up into his touch. "We could get caught."

"I don't care," you tell him, and he believes it.

"You want this?" he asks, nuzzling your soft skin, knowing he'll be devastated if you say no.

"Dave," you say in a soft and sweet chuckle. "I've wanted this for a long time.."

He lifts the hem of your dress, pressing wet kisses along your skin as he works his way down your torso, his fingers curling into the edge of your underwear waistband. Red satin to match your bra and your dress. You were expecting to get fucked tonight and he's going to see to it that you are.

You pull him down and he settles on top of you, his body slotting perfectly between your legs. He's close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off him, his stiff cock trapped in his jeans as he rubs against you.

Lifting your hips to his, you grind on him, making a wet spot on his crotch through the dark denim. Dave groans softly, his mouth millimeters from yours. "That's it, princess. Use me," he says with a gruff edge to his voice. Your hands grip his shoulders as he starts to rub against you, the friction growing hotter by the second. "You like using me, huh?" he whispers, his hips moving in time with yours.

"Yes," you eke out, your panties already soaked through. Dave feels it, your heat radiating through the sheer material. Your intoxicating scent is all around him and he breathes it in.

"You're making a mess of me, you know that?" His voice is rough, thick with need as his hands slide under your panties, his fingers seeking out the wetness that has already begun to pool between your legs. Your back arches at the deliciously forbidden glide of two of his fingers easing in, filling you up and stretching you. "Tell me what you want."

"I want- I want to come," you gasp, unable to concentrate on much else besides the feel of his fingers inside you.

Dave's already hard cock is painfully erect, but he's focused on your pleasure first. His fingers glide in and his mouth waters at how tight, hot, and wet you are for him. He leans down and gives a gentle bite to your bare shoulder. "You want to come for me? I'm giving it to you, you've got to take it."

Your body grows taut under his touch, your nails digging into his shoulders. He can see you teetering on the edge, balancing on the precipice of bliss. "Come for me, princess. Let me hear you," he commands. His fingers curl inside you as the pad of his thumb rubs your clit and he smiles when you start to come for him. Your hips lift up and your thighs threaten to close around his wrist. Colors dance behind your eyes as pure exhilaration warms you from head to toe. He keeps rubbing you in soft circles, coaxing you through your orgasm and his other hand gently cradles your cheek as he leans in for a kiss, swallowing up your sweet moans as you melt on his fingers. He doesn't stop until he feels your body relax, and then he removes his hand from between your legs and sucks your sweetness of them. He lets out a soft hum, his dark orbs never leaving yours. "You taste like heaven," he says, and you pull him down for another kiss, tasting yourself in his mouth.

Your hands fly to his belt, undoing it and pulling down his pants with it. He dares a quick glance at the front of the house but all is still. You're so eager there's no way he'd even want to stop. Even if your dad were to come out with a shotgun aimed at him-

All other thought flies out the window as he feels your hand grasp him through his boxer briefs. "Big," you say with a gasp. His hips buck involuntarily against your hand. "Yeah? You like that?"

Nodding, you whisper, "I want it," and reach your hand inside to start stroking him. He's already too turned on for any further teasing. His only thought is to get inside you.

He pulls his boxer briefs down and positions himself between your legs, his body covering yours in the passenger seat, his hips aligned with yours. "Ready, princess?" He nibbles at your ear.

"Yes," you reply breathily, the ache growing inside you. You've been waiting for this for years and now, as the thick tip of his cock presses into you, he starts to open you up, sinking into your channel, slowing to let you adapt to him inch by blessed inch.

God, you've never felt so full, no one has ever made you feel like this. Dave bottoms out, careful not to hurt you, though his hips twitch when you mewl with pleasure. "You feel so good, so wet," he says, holding you in place as he starts shallow thrusts.

"So do you.." Your legs are hooked over his arms as he controls the pacing, leaning in to brush a small kiss to your cheeks, forehead, lips and nose.

"You like the way I'm filling you up? No one's ever been this deep inside you, I can tell. You're so fucking tight."

"You're so big," you sigh, melting around him as he starts slow. "I think I can feel you in my stomach."

"You're taking it so well though." He withdraws slowly, savoring the way you feel around him, before plunging back in with a little more force, watching your breasts and belly jiggle with the movement.

"Fuck!" you gasp as he drives in again, your cunt squeezing around him as if to keep him there. But he starts a slow and sensual pace, his hips rolling against yours smoothly, your body moving with his as if in a dance, as if there's no hurry to finish this. His gaze is locked on you, watching as you writhe beneath him. "You feel amazing," he groans. Every sound you make feeds into his pleasure and so he moves a little faster, checking in with you to see if that's okay, noticing that hitch in your breath when he presses in deep, hitting that hot spot deep inside that makes you see stars. He increases just slightly, just enough to send you right to the edge before he slows down again.

"You're teasing me," you whine as he slows, your heart rate picking up speed as your pleasure ebbs.

"And what if I am?" Dave smirks, his thumb brushing your clit again.

"Dave," your body tenses as he adds the pressure, crying out in delight. He loves the way you lose control and he's desperate to make you moan over and over again, he needs to hear his name flow from your lips that way.

"Come for me," he rumbles, so close to the edge himself. He needs you to come first, needs to feel you quake and clench around him before he even thinks about coming.

Your legs encircle his hips, and he thinks there's nothing better than to be housed between your sweet thighs. He slows his thrusts, moving inside you until you demand more, your nails on his shoulders leaving crescent shaped marks under his shirt.

He watches as you come, memorizing the beauty of how you look, completely undone in this moment, keeping himself moving even as you squeeze and shudder around his cock.

"Good girl," he says. "Tell me where you want it." His breathing is getting heavier and his cock is starting to swell, starting to pulse and there's not much time.

"Inside," you tell him, and he's thankful for that. He's not sure he'd be able to pull out anyway, the way your sweet pussy is gripping him like it owns him.

That's all it takes to send him over the edge. Dave lets out a guttural groan, his body shuddering as his hips stutter then still while he comes, painting your walls with his spend.

The car windows are fogged up, the two of you still trying to catch your breath. The scent of sex and your perfume are in the air. Dave shifts a little, lifting himself enough to look down at you, his eyes dark and hooded. He can't help but push the loose strands away from your face, his touch gentle and almost reverent. His eyes soften and his lips brush your forehead.

"I sure didn't think that would happen," you giggle a little, coming down from your high.

"Life is full of surprises, princess," he responds, his eyes glittering with playfulness.

The lights above the garage come on and you remember that you're parked in your parents' driveway. Both of you scramble to get your clothes on, not wanting to get caught in such a compromising position.

"I guess I should go," you tell Dave once you're both decent. Though the last thing you want to do is leave him. Especially when you can still feel him inside you, his stickiness, the imprint of himself left behind.

"Yeah," he nods, his visage returning to that of the protective family friend.

"Do you want to come in?"

He chuckles darkly at that. Your dad would know. He'd know and Dave would be in a world of shit. "That's not a good idea right now."

Instead he watches as you walk to the door, your key fumbling in the lock until your dad comes and opens it. He's in his night robe, hair mussed, probably just awoken from his sleep. When he spots Dave's car in the driveway he raises his hand in acknowledgement and Dave does the same.

But he doesn't drive off. He waits.

The light comes on in your bedroom, and you appear at the window. You blow him a kiss and he hesitates before deciding not to catch it. He knows you'll understand why. So he nods, giving a smile and wishing you could feel the lurch of his heart as he turns on the engine and drives home.

tagging those interested: @sunshinehaze1 @letsgobarbs

@iamladyp @milla-frenchy @probablyreadinsmut @604to647

@inept-the-magnificent @sexydeadgirlxxx @teddybonkers1960

@dugiioh @everybodylovedcontractors @cuppajoel

@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @myhusband2cool

@joelmillerisapunk @itwasntimethatdidit40

[michirusagi]

Hi! Can I have a seperate headcanons for Soshiro, Gen and Reno (romantic) + Kafka (Platonic) with a female reader?

The boys noticed their s/o was getting close towards Kafka and quite jealous but when s/o told them she saw Kafka as a father figure. What would the boys + Kafka react to this?

YOO this is so cute lol. Also first request woohoo thank you!!

Shoshiro Hoshina

At first he's like, "huh. That's weird" when you're hanging out with Kafka a lot. He didn't think you two would click.

I think he's the least likely of the three to be jealous, tbh. He's pretty mature where it matters and wouldn't mind your friendship. It's when Kafka seems enamored by you that he gets... territorial. Not jealous, though.

Wouldn't outright tell Kafka to fuck off because he likes the guy, but would start being more publicly affectionate superior officers be damned

When you ask what his deal is, because yes, you noticed him glaring Kafka down at one point, he explains and you laugh, which actually relieves his anxieties. He's good at reading people, but he's an expert on you, or he likes to think he is, and the fact that you're laughing makes him realize how silly he sounds. Kafka would never, and you don't see him that way at all.

When you compare Kafka to something like a dad, or at least a "dad friend," Soshiro laughs a little too loudly.

You tell Kafka and he's like, vaguely terrified of your boyfriend for a week or so lmao

Gen Narumi

Pissbaby

SORRY I love him but. He hates that you're spending time with Kafka and he is VOCAL about this. You even argue about it

"What, is that OLD GUY better than me, is that it?!" "HE'S ONLY 32, JACKASS, THAT'S NOT OLD" "OHHH SO THAT IS IT"

You don't talk for a few days, and you vent to Kafka, actually. He's like? "Wait, he's jealous of me?? LOL"

Kafka actually has to be the mediator between you two, because as much as Gen thinks about texting you a billion times during the few days you don't talk, he's a weiner and is afraid you're gonna break up with him. So Kafka texts him and explains what you told him

At first Gen is like "why's this BITCH who STOLE MY WOMAN texting me" but he doesn't hate Kafka so he reads it and goes "oh shit"

Shows up at your doorstep 15 minutes later with big ol sad eyes. "Sorry 🥺"

You have a pretty long conversation then, about how you feel about him vs. Kafka. Needless to say, Gen is over the moon when you say you love him. Not anyone else.

Yeah this one ends in sex sorry lol IM NOT GONNA GET EXPLICIT THOUGH

Reno Ichikawa

You, Reno, and Kafka are all good friends, so it seems natural that you'd hang out with Kafka. At least, that's what Reno tells himself.

Until he realizes you two spend more time together than either of you do with him. Weird.

He immediately starts reeling. What if you liked Kafka better than him? Are you into older men? What if you are and you just didn't know that? Are you...maybe cheating on him? With his friend? No, no....but what if?

Why you worry so much, worry baby?

Doesn't address it right away. Tries giving the benefit of the doubt but eventually you notice that he seems sulky.

When he asks you about it, he's visibly teary eyed. He's usually so rational and level headed but the idea of you not wanting him anymore AND betraying his trust in one go makes him crazy.

You're really sad, too, that he thinks you'd do that. You comfort him and tell him that Kafka is like a dad or an older brother. When you say it, he realizes that it checks out in the way you interact with him and gets real embarrassed.

You have to reassure him twice that day lol

Kafka, in this situation, is a little offended. "Why would you think I'd steal your girl" kinda thing. But he's also...flattered? That Reno thought he was good enough for you, i guess. They probably argue about it a little.

[readngandweepng]

talking mostly nsfw of ftm rdr2 boys ft. charles sean (high and low honor) arthur kieran micah and javier with a top reader

MDNI amab reader with no pronouns mentioned. contains afab language and talk of dysphoria, binding, and periods in the first half plus breasts sex etc btw this is long

short first section mostly just sfw about if they feel dysphoria, if they bind, and what they're like on their periods etc.

i really can’t see charles getting much dysphoria at all, if any. part of him wouldn’t really care much how people see him as long as the gang/his friends see him as a man. the way outsiders perceive him isn’t something he thinks of much. even if the gang didn’t see him as a man for whatever reason it’s not something he’ll be that upset about. he’s confident in himself to never doubt his identity, despite any feminine features he bears. however he’s not afraid to knock someone out if they’re seriously taunting him and being a jackass. charles is also a great person to go to if you’re feeling dysphoric. his words are quality over quantity, and even someone with the worst dysphoria can feel a little better after listening to him.

i feel like charles would have a pretty big chest, so if he binds before going out into town he’s really doing it for the sake of holding up his male appearance to avoid any complications. at camp he’d wear baggier clothing just as a general thing but i don’t see him feeling the need to bind as much. he’s really not that bothered by his breasts; they’re just another part of his body to him and that’s about it. he can experience back pain and bodily stress, so it’s possible that binding can help relieve that pain, which in that case he definitely will bind. 

charles gets cramps but he’s pretty good at powering through them. he may hiss in pain every now and then but usually they don’t really get in his way much. though if they get particularly bad charles is a master at finding methods to soothe the pain. his period doesn’t change his mood much, aside from making him a little hungrier than usual. he’ll have extra snacks in his pockets prepared just for his cycle so he can eat while he sits around the fire or does chores. his sex drive also slopes, going from almost non-existent at the start of his period and then gradually getting hornier as it reaches its end. you’ll know his period’s almost over when he starts getting touchy-feely or when you can feel his gaze on you more often. 

sean’s flat chested in my mind, probably the flattest of everyone. maybe used to experience chest dysphoria as a teen but as he got older he started to see his breasts as pecs and now isn’t afraid to waltz around with his shirt off. (probably would have done so anyway, he’s ballsy like that) his hair doesn’t make him dysphoric but he’ll still make sure it’s at its reasonable length. for fun, sean would probably like dolling up, stealing a dress from karen and then prancing around it at camp just to fuck with people and maybe even get a guy to hit on him just to turn around and laugh in his face like an asshole lmao.

unlike charles, sean can NOT handle cramps at all. he’ll be curled up in a ball until they go away, whining and huffing when people tell him to get up and work. and when he is up and about all he does is complain about it hurting. even when he’s not cramping he’ll still be complaining until someone like karen or grimshaw tells him to pipe it down. if someone offers him some herbs or tonic he’ll all of a sudden try to pretend like he doesn’t need it but then will end up downing a bottle of whiskey later just to try and relieve the pain. he’ll also want to have sex with you to cope with his cramps. 

on his period he’s less chatty and a lot more grumpy. snaps a lot when he’s not in the mood to talk and even drinks less at times (when it’s over he’s back to the bottle though). his sex drive surprisingly plummets and he can even be a bit touch-averted. this can happen in spurts, where he’ll be sitting in your lap one minute and then all of a sudden won’t want to touch you again for the rest of the day. his breasts also become very tender even to the point where wearing a shirt that’s just a little bit too tight can be painful or uncomfortable. he’ll let you kiss him on the forehead or give him a side hug but for the most part he’s not as bubbly as he usually is. and when his period’s over he’ll try to wrack pity from you for not giving him enough love and attention.

out of everyone here i think (high honor) arthur would experience the worst dysphoria. he’d try really hard to pretend like the dysphoria doesn’t bother him, but he will be noticeably very happy and feel just a little bit more confident in himself when receiving affirmations from his close friends. if he’s out in town, he greets everyone just the same. he gets a bit of a pep in his step when he hears people referring to him as “mister” as they greet him back. arthur’s heart skips a beat if he overhears someone talking to a woman, fearing that someone’s talking to him. but when he turns around and sees a conversation happening elsewhere his anxiety slowly settles. really he tries to avoid going to town when he’s feeling dysphoric for these reasons, but also because he can’t help but over-analyze himself in other people’s eyes in fear of them seeing nothing but a woman, regardless of his muscles and rugged appearance. in a long-lasting relationship he won’t be as scared and lots of progress can be done however the dysphoria never does go away.

his breasts aren’t too large, but he’d still bind and would need to be reminded to change the bindings or take them off. arthur doesn’t like wearing too many layers so he sees binding as a bit of a hassle, and some days he’s too stubborn to bother with it so he just puts on a thicker jacket and calls it a day. he might need someone to remind him to bind when he goes into town, just for his sake. he can get into a headspace where he feels like he doesn’t need to bind for whatever reason, so having someone there to clear his head is something he’s eternally grateful for. 

when he’s on his period arthur doesn’t really like to admit he’s cramping. if someone asks why he’s groaning in pain he just waves it off and blames it on “being old”. charles and the girls will see through it and only then will he bashfully shrug in admission. he will hesitantly take any remedies they give him and may or may not actually use them. his period definitely physically weakens him a lot more than it may the others. all of a sudden lifting a hay bale feels like trying to carry a whole bison over his shoulder, and even riding his horse feels like a huge chore. he doesn’t get grumpy but he definitely gets depressed. will become more distant and will spend time away from people until his period’s over. his sex drive can randomly spike though. you might see him wander into the woods just to turn around and see him there with rosy cheeks as he asks you if you’d like to accompany him to his tent.

(low honor) arthur feels dysphoria but nowhere near as bad as his high honor counterpart. his dysphoria comes less from his outward appearance and more from within. he speaks to townspeople with trepidation because deep down he’s on edge in fear of hearing even a little bit of hesitation in their greeting. he becomes cold when dysphoric, even with you he’ll try to drive affirming words from you, pushing you to call him mister or to tell him how handsome he looks. he wants validation even when he doesn’t realize it.

lh arthur, even in the midst of dysphoria could really care less about his tits. there’s still some underlying insecurity but overall he could whip them out whenever he wanted to and wouldn’t be bothered. he almost gets off on it to be honest. he’ll use his own breasts to his advantage if he really needs to. both arthur’s in the right mindset can also see their breasts as pecs the same way sean can. lh arthur doesn’t feel the need to bind, but it’s not something he’s never done before. if someone like dutch insists upon it for whatever reason, then fine. but in his own accord it’s not something he cares much about. 

on his period he’s honestly the exact same, except maybe a little more cocky. something about his cycle has him just a tiny bit more confident and in over his head. he’ll be more antagonistic but also flirty. he’s also a huge tease. he’ll sit on your lap and grind into you just to pull away and leave camp for like two days. surprisingly, he won’t have sex on his period, not once. before and after? hell yes. but during? no. he doesn’t know why and neither do you. 

kieran feels some dysphoria, but i think his main problem is just insecurity and anxiety. he’d shrivel up very easy at any rude comments so receiving compliments and assurance goes a very long way. he doesn’t care about his hair length, but he does much prefer having facial hair. feeling/seeing a clean-shaven face on himself can make him feel a bit dysphoric, but again he’s really just anxious about how people perceive him. he will cry if he gets misgendered in public which is why he always has some facial and other visible body hair. over time if he’s around people who support him he will feel less insecure and will slowly garner more confidence until eventually he barely ever feels dysphoria.

i think he’d have pretty big breasts, second to charles. he definitely binds and layers his clothes when he’s anywhere but with his friends or you. if he’s been with people long enough that he doesn’t feel dysphoria anymore he’ll still bind but won’t layer his clothes as much. with you there are some insecurities about not being manly enough for you, but of course that is something that eventually deteriorates over time as your relationship progresses. he most likely will never be able to walk around camp shirtless like sean, but he can loiter in your tent without a top on as long as it’s just you and him, albeit with a very red face. 

his cramps vary. either he has cycles where he’s completely cramp-free or he randomly is struck with pain so bad he needs to sit and curl up in a ball for an hour. he gets a lot of headaches that he needs to sit down for and his sex drive fluctuates a ton; he’ll be super horny for one entire day and then the next he feels absolutely nothing. also gets distant more than usual, sticking to the horses and not making much conversation, and if he does get in conversation he’s somewhat curt and almost impatient, but right when his period is over he’ll be chatting it up with everyone and acting like he usually does.

micah 100% experiences dysphoria that he pushes down like crazy, he’s the second worst to arthur. would never admit to feeling dysphoric, but you can see it in his actions, like wearing a jacket over his shirt even when the weather is warm and hot. on the outside he’s high and mighty but inside he’s going through a literal hurricane. he really doesn’t want to admit that he feels like shit and most likely never will unless you’ve been together for a while. strangely he’d feel dysphoric if his hair was longer past his shoulders, and if he notices it’s even an inch longer than he wants it to be he’ll cut it even if he ends up doing a shit job. he simultaneously feels inner distress about not having a penis but at the same time gets really cocky about having a pussy.

i can’t really decide whether micah either refuses to bind entirely just out of spite or if he’d be too scared to go out without at least some thing around his breasts. he’s not flat by any means but they’re not too big either. he’ll bind or layer up to try and conceal his breasts but if his shirt happened to get undone when at camp and someone makes a comment, a part of him wants to say fuck it and pretend like he’s not bothered and another part of him wants to tear down an entire tent and wrap it around himself. micah’s very capricious, he can be showing off his tits one minute and doubling up on shirts with a jacket on the next. micah’s another one who, overtime and with progress will feel less insecure. 

when he’s on his period you may or may not will be able to tell; he’s snappy, grumpy and mean, but also very depressed. might make a comment to someone passing by but really doesn’t have the energy to continue his taunting further even if he gets a reaction. loses motivation very quickly and gets frustrated with himself often over little things. if he’s particularly sad and angry he’ll make especially mean comments to charles or arthur out of his own projection and insecurity. if he had a cycle where he was mostly depressed and quiet, when it’s over he’ll be twice as bad as he usually is to make up for the lost time lmao. but with you he becomes oddly affectionate, not really possessive but not docile either. he’ll stick to you half the time until he gets in a mood and needs to distant himself. at the end of the day he’ll always find himself back in your tent, snuggling up to you as you sleep.

i don’t see javier experiencing much dysphoria at all unless someone deliberately misgenders him. he’s confident with himself and his identity and isn’t bothered by accidental misgendering but if someone is purposely referring to him as ‘miss’ or calling him a lady to mock him or be an asshole then javier’s confidence dwindles just a bit and he can feel dysphoric, mostly just afterwards when the heat dies down. he’s kind of able to save himself by acknowledging how pretty he is regardless if he were a man or woman, especially when both are visibly eager to chat him up at a bar. your gaze is really all he needs, the mix of hunger and love is enough to overpower any dysphoria he feels.

his chest is about the same size as micah’s. sometimes he binds and sometimes he doesn’t. he honestly might forget most of the time because he’s not too bothered with doing it. he doesn’t care who sees his tits, and if he’s feeling particularly confident he’ll dress up real nice and pop open a button or two to even accentuate them, especially if it gets your eyes and hands on him. similar to charles, javier won’t hesitate to throw a punch at anyone who wants to antagonize him for it, and if it’s someone at camp attempting to get him riled up he’s petty enough to find every excuse in the book to show off his breasts in some way. 

on his period he’s not much in the mood to talk, mainly just wanting to get chores done and get the day over with. has cramps that vary in pain but usually he’s able to power through them well enough with some mental strength and tonics. also gets physically brought down by them, so instead of doing heavy lifting chores he’ll just go fishing instead to contribute. his sex drive spikes but for the most part he loses it. unlike some of the others, it takes longer for javier to bounce back after his period’s over, but when he does he really longs for the closeness he missed prior and he will put aside an entire day or two just to spend it with you.

second section all nsfw here of how your first first time together would be like—talking about them and their body, foreplay, ideal positions, their volume, how they take dick, and what happens after

you may or may not have to be the one to initiate it. if you’re dating charles he already trusts you a lot, so having sex for the first time isn’t something he’s particularly that shy about unless you were very flirty and gave him a lot of attention. he’s not typically self-conscious, but he can get bashful if you stare too much, especially at his breasts. not a lot of pleasure derives from them but he doesn’t mind having them played with if it makes you happy. if he’s already sensitive or you’re in the middle of sex, sucking on his nipples can make him moan a bit. if you’re really into his breasts, charles will purposefully incorporate them into sex just for you. he’ll ride you either with his shirt off or undone, if he’s on his back and his hands are free he’ll squeeze and caress them, etc.. for the most part as long as you’re happy then he’s happy too. charles does get a little kick out of you staring at him because he does like feeling wanted. if you’re looking at him like a love-sick fool he’s going to end up being the more dominant one, sitting in your lap to kiss your lips and neck, being sure to leave at least one mark because he’s a bit cheeky like that. he’ll love it if you run your fingers through his hair, not to pull it or yank on it but it does make him shiver a little bit, especially when you graze his spine or the back of his neck. he’d also like it if you left a mark on him too, so it almost feels like you’ve claimed each other in a way. 

compared to some of the other boys, charles takes a bit longer to get ready. he doesn’t get as wet as fast, and if you’re spontaneously having sex (compared to having planned a night together) then he’ll need more foreplay or at least some pomade to use as lubricant. this stays true no matter how long you’ve been together. charles is often a giver, but if you decide that you want him to lay back and just enjoy it then he will be happy to do so as long as you give him a chance to return any favors. he likes being fingered, and fingering him while you eat him out is the quickest way to get him soaking and ready for you. he’ll want to go down on you too, just because he likes (and is good at) doing it. he might accidentally make you cum though so it can be best to do that first. and charles recovers fast, if you make him cum once or twice it doesn’t sway him, he’ll still be able to take you just fine.

he takes it slow and steady. if you’re inexperienced then he’ll ride you and do the work. he tries not to let his desire accidentally soil your first time together, making sure that he rocks his hips at a consistent leisurely pace. if you’re experienced or you just want to be on top of him then charles will let you take the reins, he’s not picky at all how you’re positioned in general. he’ll keep his hands either on your shoulders or settled on your back. with charles there isn’t a lot of switching places mid-sex, however if he’s riding you and he cums first, you can gently flip him onto his back. he’ll buck his hips up into yours until you’re close before sweetly reminding you to pull out because it’s easy to forget when you’re inside him. even though charles isn’t picky about your positions, he does like to be physically close or pressed against you, favoring to feel your skin against his. there’s a lot of touching and squeezing and kissing, mostly from him. he won’t take it to heart if you can’t focus on anything but his pussy to be honest. 

doesn’t matter if you’re at a hotel or at camp, charles is pretty quiet. if you’re in missionary and in control of the pace, he’s a little louder, at least moaning loud enough for only you to hear if you thrust into him just right. when he gets near orgasm is when his volume picks up. he’ll go quiet for a second before letting out a shaky moan as he cums. if you’re loud, he might prefer riding you so that he can easily control your volume and/or shush you with his hand. it won’t embarrass him if someone were to overhear, he mostly favors the quietness for the sake of others especially for people back at camp. charles can also be a little louder depending on how many times he’s already orgasmed. each orgasm takes longer and longer to build up, so with the added overstimulation it can make him moan as long as you’re fast and deep with your thrusts.

charles is great at taking dick, honestly takes it the easiest out of everyone here despite him needing more preparation. doesn’t matter how big or thick you are, you’ll slide in nice and easy. he might need a second to adjust but he’s ready to go the minute you bottom out. charles’ pussy is a bit more creamy than it is actually slick, but he can take you at any speed just fine. his hips are wide and he’ll like it if you grab onto them as you fuck into him. he’s good at keeping his legs wide open and spread too so you won’t have to worry about accidentally cumming inside of him. his pussy is also very good at gripping you so you might need to pull out a little earlier than you’d think. charles needs clitoral stimulation to cum, so it works anyway. pull out and finish him with your tongue and fingers then cum on his stomach. he’s not picky where your cum goes, and if it’s on him then that just means you both can have a dip in the lake later. 

charles doesn’t need a lot of time to recuperate after he cums. he’s immediately relaxed and definitely very pleased. he’s not all that sensitive, so if you haven’t cum yet he’ll gladly let you keep fucking him to reach your peak. he won’t hesitate to help you in other ways, whether it’s jerking you off or using his mouth, he’ll do whatever it takes (within reason) to make you cum because he wants sex to be satisfying for the both of you. you’re both making love, and even though it doesn’t have to be ‘romantic’ he still wants it to be fun and sweet. and if you for whatever reason can’t cum, he doesn’t take any offense at all, and he’ll even really love the challenge. again, charles has a lot of energy. if you want to go for a second round? he’s up for it. maybe even a third, if you can handle him. he’s also totally up for sex while you’re cleaning up and bathing.

sean doesn’t care how long you’ve been together, he wants you to fuck him. if you’re not already dating, it’ll be a breeze for him. however if you’ve been together for a while, surprisingly sean might be just a little bit shy. this would be real for him; you’d be making love, really, not just fucking. you’d have to get him to slow down, stop him from tearing his shirt off and getting your pants undone before you’ve undressed everything else. feel him up over his clothes, he’ll like feeling you press your palms against his nipples. kiss him on his lips, his face, his neck chest hands whatever. his face will light up and get hot, and once you’ve undone the buttons on his shirt to reveal his chest he’ll be squirming telling you to get on with it already. because it’s sean we’re talking about he’ll want to jump the gun, so just take it slow and ignore his squabbling. the slower you take it the better it is for him, he just doesn’t want to admit it, but it is a very satisfying result once you actually jump into things. 

sean’s a greedy boy, he’ll gladly lay back and have you do all the work. he’ll wrap his legs around your head as you eat him out and he’ll beg for you to slip a finger or two (or three) in alongside your tongue. he gets wet very fast over almost everything you do, so you won’t have to worry too much about preparing him. tell him to get on his knees and he’ll do it in a heartbeat; sean gets a little bit in over his head so he’ll suck you off but you’ll have to grab his hands so he doesn’t touch himself. most likely he’ll cum once or twice (probably by accident) before you actually have sex. but just give him a minute and he’ll be ready to go in no time. he’s the opposite of charles, once he gets an orgasm in him the others cum in like clockwork. he likes foreplay but he likes sex better. he does secretly like having you be in control of his orgasms though, and he’ll be a lot wetter (and noisier) if you hold him back from cumming before you’re in him. 

he’s not gonna care what position you put him in. automatically he’s on his back with his legs open, but if you want to flip him onto his side or his back then he’s completely on board with that too. being able to see your face gets him going. if you want him to ride you he might whine a little about it but the minute he’s sitting on your dick he shuts up real fast. he’s sporadic and all over the place, so if you’re into that then you’ll love having him in your lap, though he’ll try to rush things and he’ll 100% forget to get off your lap before you cum but thankfully he’s light and easy to push off lmao. if you take him in missionary you’ll have to be careful because sean’s a leg locker, it’s the only position with him where you’ll actually struggle to pull out. he genuinely does it by accident because his head just gets so hazy and even if he hasn’t cum yet he’s going to be very fucked out. he just wants more and more of you, so naturally he keeps you locked in place. you genuinely might accidentally get him pregnant, so it’d probably be best to have him on his stomach a few minutes before you finish. 

yeahhh, sean’s a little noisy. for some reason he just can’t contain himself. he moans with every thrust and whines with every drag, and even when you’ve stopped he’ll just be talking. the only way to make him be quiet aside from stuffing something in his mouth is to fuck him so fast that his voice gets caught in his throat. when he cums he’ll let out a long and loud moan but at least for the most part he’s quiet. it’s better to rent out a room with sean, at camp he already gets enough flack from everyone. not that sean wouldn’t love to rub it in people’s faces, but for everyone’s sake it’s just a better option. this is also why it’s a good thing to put him on his stomach so that the bedding muffles him. it’s not perfect but at least it’s something. overtime you might be able to train him to be a little less noisy. 

sean’s not the worst at taking dick. he tenses up a little too much sometimes, and with his overzealous personality he often bites off more than he can chew. he’s very tight, but he gets soaked rather quickly. he takes dick the best on his stomach or in your lap. he’s messy, so he’ll just be rutting his hips into yours inconsistently. preferably you’re the one to take control, either bouncing him in your lap or pulling him back to meet your hips. he’s sloppy on his back but if you’re on a comfortable hotel bed he likes it when you press him down flat against it, keeping his arms and legs down or even just one leg thrown around your hips and one pressed down. sean can cum with or without clitoral stimulation but during sex he gets forgetful so you’ll have to be the one to rub his clit. clitoral stimulation does also drain his energy a lot more, so he’ll recuperate less quicker and become much more sensitive. 

afterwards sean is a total wreck. he simultaneously is bouncing off the walls but is also ready to pass out. he likes to act dramatic, like you’ve wrecked him so hard that he couldn’t possibly do any chores for the next week.. (he wants you to offer to do them for him.) he likes being kissed after, it makes him feel all giddy and loved. he’s very ticklish, so honestly tickling him a little after sex really isn’t that bad of a way to get him tired since sean doesn’t know when to stop, he might end up trying to rile you up for another round or two. if you don’t take his bait, he’ll curl up in your arms and he’ll be totally conked out for the rest of the day/night. just be sure not to kiss his neck too much or else he’ll really start bugging you to go again. and he’s a heavy sleeper, so once he’s passed out you can clean him up a little and he’ll be none the wiser.

oh arthur. you’ll need to initiate. (high honor) arthur gets so embarrassed just having you kiss him, wanting to make love to him is a huge step. he’s not against it and he knows you’ll treat him right, but his own insecurities seep through that you’ll have to snuff out. he’ll be the shyest you’ve ever seen him, and depending on how you ease him into it he may or may not keep his shirt on. kiss him all over and give special attention to his neck. he gets red and bruises easily but it riles him up and gets him shivering at every touch. gently touch him over his clothes and slowly trail your hand under his shirt to squeeze his waist. give him lots of verbal praise, arthur will gain his confidence soon. once he does, he’ll guide your hand where he wants you to touch him. if he takes his shirt off, kiss his chest. his nipples are sensitive, so sucking on them gently will get him wet embarrassingly fast. he has performance anxiety, so you’ll have to take a domineering role until his worries settle (they never truly go away but they can be pushed aside). he is very sensitive altogether, emotionally and physically. his heart is constantly racing, both out of good and bad anxiety. once you get into a rhythm, he’s less scared, and if you can get his brain to turn off then he’ll be laying back and soaking in all the love and attention you give him. 

arthur’s not too sure what to do with himself, so you’ll need to take the reins. trail kisses from his lips to his stomach, and then to his heat. before taking off his jeans, grind yourself against him. he’ll look up at you with a sickeningly sweet expression until you slowly undress him. then you can drag your thumb across his folds before circling his clit. he’ll buck up, but he’ll let you carefully hold him down. kiss him, and when he feels wet enough, slide a finger into his heat. arthur will be blushing like crazy, probably even call you dirty for doing this, but make sure that you tell him how handsome he is so that he doesn’t get too in his head. he’ll enjoy any way you touch him, but most of all arthur loves to hear you tell him how handsome and strong he looks. whisper in his ear how well he takes your fingers and he’ll twitch and groan. his cunt tightens around you like a vice, mention it and he might just cum on the spot. foreplay will be a big part of sex for him. feeling how hard you are through your jeans just from kissing and licking him surprisingly gets him going. if you go too slow he might make a joke to hurry you up, but really his heart is swelling at your care and attention.

for your first time together arthur’s gonna be somewhat self-conscious, naturally. he’ll want to be on his back where he can move around as he pleases but still have you doing the work. in the future this changes but for now he wants you to be in control. arthur’s good at staying still, very obedient. you most likely won’t be switching places, unless arthur cums first. if arthur cums before you do he gains a newfound confidence and insists on riding you to bring you to orgasm. this is how arthur’s anxiety quells, when he knows that what he’ll do will be good and pleasurable. when his touch makes your cock twitch inside him and every kiss makes your hips jolt into his he soon starts to understand the power he has. it’s a bit dangerous honestly, but arthur uses it well. arthur wants you two to be physically close, mostly so that he can hide his face in your neck when he gets too shy, but also being held pressed against you because you crave to feel and have more of him is a reminder that he’s loved and that you truly do want him.

arthur tries very hard to be quiet, mostly just letting out low groans or shaky breaths and huffs. He sometimes puts his hand over his mouth to muffle himself if he’s moaning however if you’re not at camp he’ll reluctantly keep his hands over his head to let you hear him if you ask. he’ll be red in the face the entire time but at least you can hear the little moans he lets out when your cock drags along his walls. though arthur isn’t that loud, he does get very wet and slick; unless you’re having slow drawn out sex, things can get noisy very quickly. hearing his own pussy can make him shy, however it does bring him to orgasm faster. he finds it embarrassing, but if you love it he just gets so red and he can’t help but tighten around you if you tell him just how much you love it. if you’re vocal, whispering in his ear or groaning at how he feels it has him reeling. he wants to shush you, but he can’t help that it really does him going. arthur also can have kind of a dirty mouth by complete accident. like he’ll be so into it he might let it slip that he’s been thinking about this for ages and his face just gets so hot that you can literally feel it when he hides it in your shoulder. 

arthur struggles at first taking your dick. he tenses up so you’ll have to soothe him, caressing his thighs and hips. he’s tight, but once you’ve bottomed out his pussy has your dick in a chokehold. he loves resting his heels on the small of your back and pulling you into him. he wraps his arms around your shoulders so you can tease him by all of a sudden stopping and he’ll desperately keep fucking up into you to keep taking your dick. after some time of course he stops tensing up, and in no time sex is smooth sailing. he’s the second best at taking dick overall. and he does know how to ride, his hips aren’t just for show. it’s shocking how worried he was about his performance when he literally can make you lightheaded just from the way he bucks his hips. like before, he doesn’t realize the kind of ability he holds until later. but once he gets the hang of it you’re really going to be in trouble.

arthur is most likely going to be pretty tuckered out. all the anxiety building up and then being overwhelmed by so much love and pleasure, it tires him out real fast so there won’t be a spontaneous second round after your first time with arthur. he might be a little blissed out so you’ll have to help clean him up or wrap a blanket around him. he’ll let out a big sigh before rolling over and letting you wrap your arms around him. hold him close because truthfully he’ll be a little scared of you leaving. kiss him and don’t forget to tell him how good he did, arthur loves it. he’ll try to shoo you away if you get too lovey-dovey but he loves and appreciates it so much. internally he doesn’t always believe the praise you throw at him, but still his heart picks up speed and he may even cry a little bit, just don’t mention it. 

(low honor) arthur’s all confidence. if he doesn’t get to bed you within the first week of meeting you then success! you’ve tamed him, somewhat. he’s very seductive and knows exactly what to do with his body and how to twist his words. he’ll try to tease you by stripping slowly and grinding into you until you get impatient. you might have to wrangle him a bit just to get him to stop teasing but it’s entirely in his nature. he brings your hands to touch him, making you grab his tits or connecting your hips together. when he kisses you he’ll bite your lip before having you say out loud that you want to fuck him. he likes getting you frazzled, so if you’re unlucky he might end up pulling himself away entirely to get you riled up until you chase after him. he also will definitely mark you up, making sure at least one is visible for everyone to see. he’ll keep his favorite ones in places where only he can see and access them.

foreplay with lh arthur is slow. either he’s teasing your dick, dragging his tongue up and down it and suckling on the tip or you’re eating him out as he tells you how to touch yourself through your clothes. he’ll make you edge yourself as you finish him off with your tongue, promising that he’ll make it up to you. lh arthur likes spreading himself open with his fingers, inserting three right away, not to stretch himself out but just to show you how much he can take. he won’t want to get prepped too much because he likes the burn of your cock splitting him open. however he’ll shove your dick down his throat and make you cum once or twice in record time so once you fuck him it’s almost painful. if you’re really too sensitive, surprisingly he will give you a break and not overstimulate you, even though he really wants to. instead he’ll let you overstimulate him, although with lh arthur it’s not exactly painful. 

he’ll let you have some control before taking over. he likes riding you, first letting you lay him down and slowly fuck him until he sits up and starts kissing you. the way he kisses makes you feel hypnotized, and once you stop fucking him out of forgetfulness is when he’ll push you onto your back and ride you. he also likes sitting on something, a crate or bedside cabinet maybe so that he can pull you close into him with his legs and keep you trapped there. he’ll just tease you if you start worrying about pulling out. he’s also a leg locker, except he does it on purpose, so he wants a position where he can keep you in place easily. if you can’t afford the risk then he’ll let you pull out as long as you promise someday you’ll cum in him like he really wants. 

naturally he’s not actually that loud except for groans and huffs and dirty talking, but he sometimes likes to raise his volume deliberately so that someone overhears. lh arthur isn’t shy, he’ll take any excuse to kill two birds with one stone by teasing you and also letting people know he’s getting fucked by you. if you try to shush him he’ll laugh saying it’s your fault for fucking him so well but you both know he’s full of shit. if you’re in a hotel he doesn’t feel the need to raise his volume unless the law was near, the risk of getting caught turns him on like crazy. the best option would be to have sex camping out in the woods where he doesn’t feel the need to show you off and he can (reluctantly) be kind of normal for once, although he’ll still give you condescending praise just to get you riled. also know that if you can really fuck him just right he’ll let out a completely real and sweet moan that is reserved only for you. he tries to ignore how it makes you twitch inside of him even more so than when he plays it up.

he takes dick like an absolute champ. truthfully, out of everyone lh arthur is the most experienced due to his fearlessness and thrill-seeking personality. i can see him honest to god pretending that he’s a virgin at first just to see the look on your face when you momentarily believe him. again, lh arthur isn’t shy. he’s not as tight or wet, but he knows how to grip his cunt around you and how to work his hips. he’ll make you lightheaded the second you’re bottomed out. he loves making you feel so good that you’d want to stay inside him forever even when it hurts. he’ll want you to cum in him because he loves being filled with your spend and telling people about it. and he’s got a lot of energy, he doesn’t get as sensitive; you’ll end up clocking out waaay before he’s even close to being tired. he’ll feign desperation, pleading you to give him just one more. he won’t push you if you say no, but if you fall for it and humor him it most likely won’t just be “one more”. he has a high sex drive, and his loyalty to you also means you’re the one who has to help satiate him.

afterwards, depending on the events prior he either will be tired enough to sleep/give himself a break or he won’t be anywhere near done. you’ll have to have a lot of stamina to keep up with lh arthur, and even more mental strength just to handle what he dishes out. he’s a little restless, so if you’re tuckered out and ready to hit the hay he might end up leaving you for the time being to go hunting or robbing folk. if you can really manage to strike his heart, he’ll lay down with you and at least stay with you until you fall asleep. he’ll have a hand on you the whole time, and his staring may come off as a bit weird at first but internally he’s going through a lot of different thoughts and feelings. you may or may not hear him whispering into your skin as you drift off to sleep. you’d have to be real special to tame this arthur morgan. 

kieran’s going to want it sweet and romantic. having sex with him will always be intimate and full of love, especially for your first time. he’s completely head over heels and at your mercy. take it slow, but not too slow or else he gets squirmy and (at least at first) he’ll be a little too shy to tell you to pick up the speed. kieran likes having your hands on him, rubbing circles into his hips, holding his hands or squeezing his breasts. he wants to hide away and be shy, but at the same time he wants to be brave and give you himself completely, so undress him with care. he’ll get embarrassed about it but praising him and telling him how pretty he looks makes him preen in delight. he’s very sensitive, shivering when your breath lightly grazes his skin. blow on his nipples and they’ll perk up real quick. he likes having his chest squeezed and fondled, even if he can’t bear to look at you when you do it. his face gets red and warm, and even with everything his favorite thing is feeling you kiss him. 

foreplay is huge for kieran, especially for your first time making love. start with kissing him and holding him in your arms until he feels comfortable enough to move things forward himself. kiss his neck and ask him how he’s feeling, and if he’s feeling confident then take off your shirt and help take off his. kieran loves feeling your skin against his and it makes his heart flutter when you pull him flush against you. when you get into it he’ll like sitting down with his back against your chest as you pull his slacks off before having him spread his legs. he’ll squirm as you gently open him up with your fingers. they’ll glide between his folds with ease due to how wet he is. his legs will try to close automatically, but with the combination of kisses being placed on his neck and your fingers stretching him he gets so flustered he can’t think straight enough to be self-conscious anymore. he also likes dry-humping as foreplay, it makes him feel less insecure and it feels good to have your hardened dick against his heat. it gets him desperate, so you may actually hear him beg for you in your ear. 

kieran likes having his hands above his head, even though it makes him feel extremely vulnerable. he trusts you, though, and truthfully he enjoys how exposed he is. when he sees you gazing down at him with so much love and affection it makes him want to cry, which he does. hold his hands in yours as you fuck him, keeping him close. he’ll wrap his legs and arms around you in seek of warmth and comfort. he wants to be in a position where you can easily kiss his lips. kieran wants to feel loved and needs to be reassured. kiss his tears away and remind him of how much he means to you. then fuck him till he can barely move so you can pamper him and give him even more attention. and before he cums, lift one of his legs up and he’ll tighten around you so hard it’ll make you dizzy. he also loves feeling your hands gripping his waist or pressed against his stomach as you take him. 

kieran’s somewhat loud, somewhat quiet. he doesn’t realize he’s loud but he is. he’s more talkative, rambling about how good you feel. he’s actually got a pretty dirty mouth, but only far during sex when he can’t completely think straight because afterwards he’s totally embarrassed about it. if he’s not talking then he’s whining and moaning with your name slipping out occasionally. kieran feels comfortable with you, but having sex in a room rented out or somewhere far from camp will calm him much easier. it also means he can be as loud as he wants and doesn’t have to hold back without someone getting on his case about it. kieran would really enjoy a partner who’s talkative, someone who can whisper in his ear and talk dirty to him. it gets him soaking, which also makes actually fucking him loud too. he’ll get embarrassed hearing his own pussy squelching around your cock but it still drives him crazy. keep his legs down spread open and it makes him moan up a storm.

kieran takes dick well. at first he can be a little tense, but it’s mostly just nerves. he wants to perform well for you and wants to make you feel just as good as you make him feel. once the nerves have dissipated and he’s completely calm and in the moment his cunt suddenly grips you with fervor. he’s both tight and also not at the same time, but your dick glides into him so smoothly. his pussy practically sucks you in and his legs locking around your waist makes it difficult to resist fucking him deep. kieran’s another one you have to be careful with, once he’s in the headspace he can’t think straight for himself. he’ll want you to cum in him, and if you’re not quick enough to react to him keeping you in place deep inside him then you’re gonna have a pregnant kieran on your hands very quickly. 

afterwards kieran may or may not be knocked out. he’s a sweet crybaby, so after he might tear up again. he loves you so much, and he’ll tell you that a million times until he’s too sleepy to get any words out. kieran will get sad if you get up and leave to wash up, grabbing onto your wrist or an article of clothing you’re wearing so that you’ll stay with him and hold him. he wants to be wrapped up in your arms, feeling your skin against his. if you’ve got blankets, he wants to be boxed in your warmth. right after sex kieran doesn’t care about the mess, he just wants to snuggle up with you and sleep. he’ll be too overwhelmed for another round, but the next morning he’s going to want a bath and he’ll be happy to let you help bathe him. after too, it’ll be all he thinks about for days, so most likely the next time you have sex it’ll be him shyly requesting it.

micah’s another one who bites off more than he can chew. he’ll act all confident saying he’s not scared of nothin’ until the situation actually dawns on him and all of a sudden he’s trying to hide his face behind his hair or hat. he’s self-conscious and even when you’ve been together for a while he’ll keep his shirt on. your first time together is most likely not full sex, but instead just getting him off to help him adjust to an intimate setting. when you do have penetrative sex he’s shaking. you need to be slow with micah because this isn’t something he’s used to, but once you’re further into it and you’ve convinced him to just lay down and turn off his brain then he’s better about it and manages to relax and just take the pleasure you’re giving him. may or may not even cry too, but because he’s never felt truly loved before not because he’s in pain. he’s scared sex will make him feel like a woman, but with enough confirmation from you he loosens up and for the most part the fear and thoughts subside. of course in the future he’s less anxious, but for a new setting it’s absolutely terrifying to him. he won’t be very vocal, so you’ll kind of have to observe him and figure out what he’s okay with, where squeezing him is uncomfortable and where it feels good. he flushes at kisses really easily, and giving lots of those will make him huffy. he wants to push you away so badly but inevitably he loves it. 

he’ll want to skip the foreplay first, half out of embarrassment and half out of thinking foreplay isn’t ‘manly’ enough to him. however once you convince him to let you do your thing and you’ve got your mouth on him he’s like putty. being eaten out is a luxury he surprisingly loves to indulge in. sucking on his clit has him almost wailing, he might actually need to put a pillow over his face to muffle and ground himself. once you have your fingers in him he’ll be convulsing around them and he won’t even notice that he’s grinding back onto them. he can get fussy, telling you to hurry up and ‘get it over with’ but his mouth will shut the second you spread his legs any wider. micah likes getting his pussy slapped, and even if you feel it’s a little too rough for a first time, he’ll genuinely fold beneath you at the feeling of your hand or cock slapping against his clit. he may or may not suck your dick if he’s feeling confident enough to, most likely he’ll give you a hand job if you feel it’ll settle his nerves. he’s intimidated of course but with time he gets his own rhythm going and ends up being pretty amazing at it. 

at first he’ll probably want to be on his stomach where he can’t see your face and vice versa. but if he was the one to initiate, he’ll try to ride you as a spur of the moment thing until he’s actually hovering over your dick and realizes he doesn’t know what to do and he turns bashful. his face gets red very easily so he’d instinctively want to hide it. he’ll groan everytime you pull him into a kiss, and his eyes get a little glossy when he hears you whisper into his neck as you nip and suck on it. micah shivers every time your hands move his hair out of the way, and feeling you grip it when you fuck him from the back makes his heart swell and his cunt throb. being on his stomach also means he can muffle his moans, but if anyone overhears him anyway at least he can say he’s having better sex then they are. if you take him on his back, expect him to keep his head down the whole time. he won’t say it but he’ll love it if you move down closer to him where he can put his face in your shoulder and also wrap himself around you. his head will end up falling back when he’s close but at that point he can’t think straight enough to care. 

micah isn’t that loud no matter where you’re having sex. he’ll huff and puff a lot and he’ll sound like he’s out of breath almost every second you’re fucking. he does moan, but he tries to hide it. usually it’s when his clit is being stimulated, he’ll start with a groan but when you’re thrusting into him and circling his clit at the same time his back will arch and moans will eventually spill out of him. he’s the loudest when he’s cumming when your cock is as deep in him as it can get and you’re palming at his clit in sync with your thrusts he’ll moan as he gushes onto your cock before going limp and only letting out heavy breaths and incoherent mumbling. it is possible to get him real loud if you’re continuously fucking him and hitting a specific spot without stopping then if he doesn’t choke on his breath you can manage to rack out some real moans from him. over time as your relationship progresses and he gets more confident/comfortable something in his brain will switch off and you’ll find that he starts letting out soft moans just from kissing his neck or squeezing his hips. he doesn’t talk much during sex, at least not for your first time. he may say something to provoke you into fucking him rougher but besides that he doesn’t trust himself to speak without stuttering or moaning. he’d secretly love a loud partner though, either someone who groans in his ear because he’s making you feel that good, or someone who talks a lot since he gets off on dirty talk. 

micah is of course another boy who gets real tense the first time he takes your dick. it frustrates him because he wants to appear fearless, but in reality it’s a new intrusion for his body and he fears the vulnerability that comes with it. it helps to soothe him not with words but with actions, thumbing circles into his hips and thighs or kissing him all over his face and neck and chest; really anything to distract him from the imposing length sliding into him between his legs. he’ll be gripping your arm or back, literally digging his nails into your skin as he adjusts to your size, but once you’ve bottomed out he goes still for a second as his brain attempts to catch up with everything. he’ll be tight around your cock until you start fucking him open, and then he’ll be an almost perfect fit, only tightening around you when you try to pull out to slam back into him. slow your thrusts down and micah will fuck himself back onto your cock. once he has you there’s no going back, he’ll reach back and grab your legs if you try stopping. micah’s another one who wants your cum in him but he won’t be bothered by you pulling out so long as you cum on his ass or back. he’s also like hh arthur where he overtime starts to understand the power he holds with just his pussy, and if you thought micah was bad already then you don’t even know the half of it.

after he’ll be really overwhelmed, though he won’t admit it. if you ask how he’s feeling he’ll say something kind of like “could be worse” or “just fine” but in reality he’s blissed the hell out. his heart is racing but if you point it out he’ll blame it on the adrenaline and blind lust. micah’s kind of like a once abandoned and malnourished kitten that’s being fed and given a new home. he’s stubborn but helplessly putting himself in your hands. he can’t completely believe that you love him, at least not entirely but nonetheless he can’t deny (even though he wants to) that it feels good to be held in your arms so he’ll ‘let’ you gently push his head down to rest on your chest. he’ll shoo your hand away if you try to clean him up. micah also won’t be up for a second round, he’ll be too sensitive. he takes a while to recuperate after an orgasm, both physically and mentally (even after just a single round his pussy gets all puffy and tender) but there is a chance that the next morning (if he hasn’t run off somewhere for a job) he’ll want to go again, however you’ll have to actually figure that out yourself because no way in hell is he going to actually tell you with his words. 

with javier your first time together will more likely than not be in a hotel room that he rented out after a well-paying job. javier knows he’s pretty, he’ll make sure he’s sitting up straight so that you get a good view of his body as it’s complemented by glossy damask and dim lighting. his hair will be down, freshly washed and brushed. he smells of stolen cologne, and when you put his hand to your lips to kiss it you can smell a small spritz of perfume. he’s a swift romantic, holding onto either side of your face as you kiss, beckoning you to run your hands through his hair and down his body. he’ll scold you with a smile if he feels you getting too handsy, but it’s just an excuse so that he can press your hands down against the silk sheets and let him have his way. javier will rock into your clothed hips and then act like you’ve done something perverse when he feels you hardening against him. he’ll undress after making sure you’re staying still, slowly undoing each button with grace until his shirt falls from his shoulders and is pushed onto the floor. javier will love it if you’re impatient because then he can watch you writhe beneath him as he just barely gives you enough touch to keep you painfully hard. he’ll also give you a mark or two on your neck, half because he loves giving you any kind of touch and half because he wants people to know that you’re together (as if they don’t already know). 

he’ll make you cum first, to your surprise. he jerks you off, slowly, to make you think he’s just trying to get you hard. but your mistake will be telling him you’re close, because he’ll just jerk you off faster until you cum on his hand. why does he do this? just to torture you, most likely. maybe he ‘cleans’ your dick, taking you completely down his throat until you cum again, and then he’ll get on his back and spread his legs to circle and slap his clit, taunting you in a mixture of spanish and english. he wants you desperate, he wants to see the look on your face when your cock enters him and how even when you’re so sensitive that it hurts you’ll still fuck him. he’ll push you away if you try putting your mouth on him, teasing you about ‘being in a rush’. he’ll arch his back and spread his folds to show off his glistening cunt. javier is patient, and even more sadistic. he wants you pleading and throbbing for him.

javier isn’t picky about positions, but he’ll definitely want to see your face for your first time together. he’ll ride you and it’ll be both the best and worst experience of your life. he’s good with his hips, but he’s a little bit too good. he knows how to make you feel good and he knows far too well how to get you to the brink of insanity. he goes slow first to figure out his rhythm and he’ll mentally note every reaction you make to what he does just so he can use it against you. he’ll bounce in your lap before slowing to a grind, being sure to take you as deep as he can. he wants to know what makes you twitch and groan and throb and what words make your hips jump into his, and the best way to do that is when he has full control, if you let him have it. take him onto his back and he’ll still do the same except now he has to take everything you dish out, which he can and will. javier will suddenly lift himself off your dick just to watch how your body seeks him out, because no matter what with a pussy like his he will always be the one in control. 

javier can be as loud as he can be quiet. he’s another talkative one where he’ll mostly be trying to get you worked up with condescending praise or whatever he figures out gets you hot and bothered when he whispers it in your ear. he’s at his loudest if you turn the tables on him and get him on his back, preferably after he’s already cum once, then he’ll be extra sensitive but with how much more you’ll need to fuck him to get him close again he won’t be able to hold back. he might exaggerate his moans just a little bit as a way to tease you, especially if he knows there may be someone who will hear it but overall your first time together he isn’t going to be as loud as you may expect however a second round can reveal a different side of javier. if you manage to dominate him then he really has no other choice but to moan about it. give him slow or quick deep thrusts as you circle his clit and he’ll have to bite his lip to quiet him. 

of course he takes dick amazingly well. he doesn’t get wet as quick as some of the others mentioned in this list but that doesn’t matter when the foreplay goes on for so long. his pussy isn’t that slick but it is tight. he knows when to grip around you so that you’re reeling at every roll of his hips, which is why he prefers to ride you because he loves to drive you crazy. and since javier’s a very patient man, he’s not afraid to literally hop off your dick if you’re getting too close to orgasm for his taste. he knows he’s a good fuck and he wants to prolong it as long as he can without driving himself crazy since he does need clitoral stimulation to cum. javier’s a master at controlling your orgasm as well as his own and he’s fully prepared to keep you on the edge until you can’t take it anymore and have to flip him over so you can pound him, which he’ll appreciate the excuse to get back at you tenfold. it’s a dangerous game with javier, and if you manage to find the time to spend nights and days with him it can get a little addicting. 

afterwards you’ll share a bath, where you will both wash up and also have, more likely than not, another round unless you’re really tuckered out. he likes feeling your skin against his when he helps wash you and when you wash him. move his hair out of the way to kiss his shoulder or neck and he’ll let out a pleased hum before resting back in your arms for a while. maybe even suck a spot into his skin so you can match, the thought of others seeing the evidence of your long night together will do things to him. he’ll be less talkative but still making conversation just to fill the silence, mostly teasing you about your earlier actions. when in bed it takes a while for javier to fall asleep. sex energizes him more than it makes him tired unless it was particularly arduous, but he’ll drift off with you easily if you rub circles into his skin and softly kiss him or talk to him in a hushed voice. if you end up being in the mood, he’ll definitely want to have another go in the morning as long as there’s time for him to get another bath afterwards. 

might make a second part for this to talk about more general things. this is my first time writing for sean javier and micah so i hope it's not terrible lmao. was thinking about writing for john but i might have to have some practice. if i add him here ill make a post but i wanted to get this out because i've had this in the works for so long.