#i’m sorry nobody follows me for this i’m just so fucking tired

[jaskierx]

i need to stop using this godforsaken website. jesus fucking christ you’re so brainrotted.

how are you posting ‘being run off the site isn’t enough i need their head to explode’ about a user who suggested donating to recognised charity funds instead of individual palestinians’ gofundmes and then turning around and saying this about the genocide in ukraine?

‘these people are being genocided but as a monolith they haven’t always been 100% perfect so they don’t deserve help’ - you really want to play this fucking game while you’re posting about how great hamas is?

how many ukrainian prisoners of war have to be imprisoned and tortured and starved before you decide it meets your standards for concentration camps? how many ukrainian children have to be kidnapped and relocated to all corners of russia before you realise that russification is cultural genocide?

how many ukrainians have to die before it’s enough for you? do you really love trauma porn so much that you don’t recognise a genocide unless nobody is fighting back?

i hope you never know peace

[idkwhatever580]

I’m sure you could pt. 1

Masterlist

Pairings: Natasha romanoff x reader

Prompt: y/n follows Natasha to Norway. What happens when they go out? (Loosely based off of black widow events)

Warnings: fights, mentions of cuts and injuries, no smut but almost, mentions of death. No actual death though.

A/N: I’m working really hard on this one but it’s taking a bit out of me. I decided to create two parts to it. Because I’m basically going with the black widow movie. But including r. So have fun. Tell me if you think I should add something to part two!

Y/n’s pov

“NATALIA ALIANOVNA ROMANOVA OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR RIGHT NOW!”

I am pounding on the door of the trailer and Natasha opens it with a gun in her hand and she quickly covers my mouth and pulls me inside.

“Shut the fuck up you’re gonna get me caught!”

I storm past her and say

“No you shut the fuck up! What were you thinking?!”

She sighs and says

“Detka please-”

“No! Don’t baby me! I am so pissed with you.”

“Please let me explain”

I huff and say

“Go on then. Explain to me why you left with no note not even a call! You could have been dead for all I know and I was just at home waiting for you!”

I start pacing back and forth in the little space there is.

“I know I’m not an avenger and I’m not all special like you are, but as your wife I deserve the decency to hear when you’re running away!”

“It wasn’t safe!”

I shake my head in frustration she keeps explaining

“It never is safe right nat?”

“They are after me. Everyone is after me right now. I felt horrible but I had to get rid of my everything because of it. I double crossed tony and the government.”

I let out a frustrated groan and she finally realizes how bad my breathing is. She knows it’s gonna be bad if I don’t calm down soon so she says

“Baby. I need you to breathe with me. In. And out. In. And out.”

I take a few more breaths and then I look back up at her

“I thought you were dead”

My eyes fill with tears and she says

“Oh dorogoy. Im so sorry.”

I start to sob and she wraps her arms around me and I grab onto her shirt as if she’s going to disappear if I let go. I start to rant into her chest.

“I thought I’d never see you again and you just were going to run off. You always do this Natalia I am always so scared. I wish you’d have come home and taken me with you.”

“You know it’s not that simple”

I nod my head and keep crying.

After a long while I finally am able to calm down and we get up and go to the bedroom to talk. Natasha starts with a question naturally

“How did you know where I was?”

I sigh and say

“This guy named mason broke into the compound somehow and told me after I almost shot him.”

She laughs and says

“He’s always been like that. Stupid”

I nod my head in agreement and Natasha asks another

“How did you get here? Do you think anybody followed you?”

I shake my head and say

“Mason made sure to get me here with nobody on my trail.”

I decide it’s my turn for a question

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

She shakes her head and says

“Clint threw me on the ground pretty hard but not bad. I think I got a few bruises but not much more”

I nod my head and say

“Let me see you”

She sighs knowing I need confirmation that she is not damaged too badly. I’ve always been like that.

So she stands up and takes off her shirt and does a slow 360 for me. Before she can turn back around I wrap my arms around her waist from behind and move her hair to the side so I can kiss her neck.

I trail my hands under her breasts and then move to the back and say

“Is this okay?”

She nods her head and whispers

“Yes”

I unhook her bra and let it slide down. I immediately start kneading her boobs softly making her let out some soft moans.

Her head rolls back and she turns around eventually to do the same for me. She kisses me softly and says

“Let me make you feel good”

I sigh and say

“Natty I don’t want to make you tired”

She chuckles and shakes her head

“You give me life baby. You could never make me tired.”

I raise my eyebrow and say

“I don’t know about that. I’m sure I could if I tried”

She smiles and kisses me tenderly

“I’m sure you could detka”

Before we actually get anywhere the generator goes out and everything turns off.

I groan and say

“Why now?”

She chuckles and says

“We don’t need lights”

I smile and say

“No. But I think we should figure it out before we fall asleep and then freeze.”

She sighs and says

“You’re right”

And as she is getting off of me I mumble

“As always”

Nat turns to me

“What was that?”

I look away innocently and say

“Nothing!”

She slaps my arm and throws on her bra and shirt again. We both go outside to investigate. Well. I investigate and she stands guard.

You can never be too safe.

Unfortunately the generator has run out of gas. So we need to go into town to fill up the little gas can we have.

We load up and go on our way. I smile at her from the passenger seat until we cross a bridge and a bomb goes off throwing us around.

I black out for a few minutes and once I am fully conscious again I look around and find nat next to me unharmed. But I look around for the perpetrator and see this person in a suit. It looks weird. But Natasha already is in action.

She unbuckles and falls making the car move. I finally realize that we’re hanging over the bridge. I shakily say

“Nat?”

She turns to me and says

“Get out and get as far away as possible through the backseat okay?”

“I’m not gonna leave you here with that maniac!”

“He’s here for me. Not you. Go!”

I know she’s telling the truth. It’d be no good if I’m hurt and she’d have to handle me too so I slip out the door and she starts shooting at him.

They start fighting and I see a brief case that looks like it has important vials in it. Honestly these things look like magic. So I grab them swiftly and sneak off.

I hide in some bushes and Natasha and the robot person fight more. From the looks of it they are copying her exact moves. Like they know exactly what she’s doing.

This is terrifying since she is never predictable.

Suddenly. They end up staring right at each other and as Natasha analyzes this things armor, it turns towards me. I know I’m hiding in a bush but I think it can see me.

She says

“You’re not here for me”

And she looks around for something. I widen my eyes and realize he’s here for the briefcase that I have in my hands.

Natasha knows it too so she runs at the armored person and they fight a bit more.

Natasha clearly knows what she’s doing so she yells

“Throw the case y/n!”

I don’t think and just listen to her so I throw it on the bridge and they fight to get to it. But Natasha gets there first.

They fight again and Natasha uses the persons shield that oddly looks like caps shield. But before she can win he kicks her off the bridge and I almost scream out but I remember they might come for me too so I stay silent as tears run down my face constantly.

They end up with the briefcase and I look and see that there is nothing in it. Clearly nat took it out before they kicked her off. But there’s no fucking point.

Once they leave and I see the way is clear I run down the side of the bank to the water. It’s a little steep and I slip making me fall a lot but I don’t even care. I don’t stop running.

I get to the water and start looking around.

Nobody’s pov

“My baby! No. No no no no. No no. You can’t be gone. Please Natasha nat please. I need you.”

Words start to roll out of y/n’s throat uncontrollably, but nobody can hear.

Y/n is on her knees at the river bank with cuts and scrapes all over them.

They look around and then start crawling to the water. Somehow their brain isn’t functioning properly and they just start looking for Natasha while repeating the same things over and over like a crazy person.

Until a gasp comes from the water and y/n looks up to see Natasha coming out on the other side.

She immediately scrambles up and says

“Nat?!”

They can’t hear her speak and they just lie down. Suddenly they pull some red glowing ball out of their jacket.

Y/n’s pov

That red shit is the stuff that was in Natasha’s briefcase! It’s her!

I almost yell her name when she gets up and starts looking around. I find my phone which somehow didn’t break in the crash or my fall and I turn the flashlight on and wave it at her.

I realize that if I yell at her it might alert that person again. I don’t want that.

She sees the light and knows it’s me. So I make my way over the hill and cross the burning bridge and climb back down much slower this time.

“Nat?”

“Y/n?”

We both sigh in relief when we recognize each other.

I run to nat and say

“Are you okay?!”

She nods her head still a bit winded from being under water

I tear up and say

“I swear to god if I ever find that person I’m gonna kill them.”

She shakes her head thinking and says

“You shouldn’t be here. You need to go home”

I look at her like she’s crazy and say

“And leave you for that thing?! No fuckjng way!”

I can tell she’s in black widow mode right now

“Y/n… you don’t know what we’re dealing with right now. I need you to go home. I need you to be safe”

I huff and say

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Why won’t you listen to me!”

“Because! I am only safe with you. If you send me home nobody can protect me as well as you can. You are the only one that can help me sleep at night. You are my safety.”

She sighs and shakes her head knowing it’s a losing battle.

Suddenly I look down into her hands and in one, she is holding the red stuff, but in the other, is a little paper.

“What is that?”

She looks up at me and says

“What is what”

I look her in the eyes to be a bit confrontational and say

“What’s in your hand?”

She holds up the red vials and says

“Uh- I actually don’t know. But I’m going to figure it out”

“No no. Not that hand. That hand”

I point to the other hand.

“What? Oh- nothing.”

“Cut the act Natasha. Tell me what is in your hand.”

She hesitates but hands it to me

“Who are these kids?”

“Me. And…”

My eyes widen and I say

“Yelena…”

She nods her head and I say

“She got out?!”

Nat shrugs her shoulders and says

“We can talk about this in a bit. We need to get somewhere safe. Where they can’t get to us”

I nod my head and we walk back to the trailer making sure nobody is on our trail.

We sit down and Natasha and I take a second to look at each other and take each other in.

Only now does she realize the cut I got on my forehead because of my fall.

“I’m so sorry”

I shrug and say

“Not your fault. I went too fast down the hill looking for you and fell”

She laughs a bit at my clumsiness.

“I’m glad someone’s getting a kick out of this”

She tends to my wounds and I tend to hers as she tells me everything.

“If you’re coming with me you have to understand the dangers of this. We’re dealing with the red room here”

I nod my head and say

“I might not know much but I at least train with you for hand to hand. And I can shoot.”

She nods her head and says

“I don’t know if Yelena is truly out. She could have just been on a mission.”

“On a mission where?”

“Budapest”

I smile and say

“You’re one of the only people I know who say Budapest correctly.”

She nods her head and continues

“I’m hoping she’s still there. If not I don’t know what I’ll do. But mason brought these to me from my hideout there. So she might be laying low if she actually escaped.”

I nod my head and kiss the last wound I just cleaned up for her. Now I move on to brushing and re-braiding her hair.

“Who was that robot person?”

“I don’t know. But from the looks of it, they’re from the red room. So it’s probably not a guy. The red room utilizes women and their weaknesses. That person has been training to fight me since they were a girl.”

I nod my head and say

“Why don’t they look like any other widows?”

“I’m not sure”

I keep braiding my hair and just say what pops into my head.

“Do you think this girl is special to the red room? Like. Maybe she’s dreykovs daughter”

She shakes her head.

“Impossible. She died when I bombed the both of them. I didn’t mean to get her, but I had to get him and that was my only time slot.”

I nod my head in understanding and say

“Okay.”

She stands up when I finish the braid and says

“We’re going to Budapest. Grab your things.”

I look around and say

“I don’t have any things. For some reason I just left.”

She sighs and grabs some extra clothes for me.

Before we leave she grabs my hands and says

“Before we go, I can’t in good conscience let you come with me without telling you the dangers of this. We could very likely both die”

I nod my head and say

“I know. But there’s no one I’d rather die with than you. I’m not worried though. I know you’ll keep me safe.”

She smiles and kisses me and says.

“I could always kick your ass and make you stay here”

I smile and use her words from earlier.

“I’m sure you could baby”

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A/N: I’m totally gonna make a part two don’t worry. You just might have to wait a little bit :)))

Part two

Taglist

@ilovesnat @ihartnat @marvelnatasha12346 @moistblobfish

[darklordofthesimp]

Dissonance (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader)

Part of the "Anything" verse but can be read as a standalone.

Summary: When a mission-gone-wrong leads to a confrontation, Ghost confesses the way that he feels. 

A/N: Get a load of the fucking ART OH MY G O D 

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Mutual Pining || Tension 

Warnings: Graphic Language 

Disclaimer: Sunshine is Gender Neutral as always, however I am looking to start showcasing fan art as the cover pieces on fics and it will always be up to the artists discretion to decide what they want their Sunshine/Saint/Birdy to look like.

Like the characters? Birdy Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Such amazing Ghost x Sunshine fan art by @hiskonigin honestly leaves me breathless every single time I swear to God.

___

The mission had gone terribly wrong. 

You felt like they always were, these days. Any task or deployment that started off well, started off controlled, they’d fall to pieces the second pressure was applied. It wasn’t all of them, though. Just enough that it had become noticeable to Price and the team. For the life of you, you couldn’t figure out the issue. 

But, as you stood nose to nose with the Lieutenant in the shared kitchen, you were beginning to see the common denominator. 

“I’m not doing this with you again, Riley,” you snapped. “I’m fucking sick of this conversation.” 

Simon’s fists clenched by his side, “I say when this conversation is done, not you.” 

Your eyes narrowed, grinding your teeth in an attempt to keep your mouth shut. You’d been warned by Price about your insubordination but the urge to risk it all was at an all-time high. Simon Riley was insufferable. 

“Yes,” you ground out miserably, “Sir.” 

The officer took a step toward you, unrest buzzing beneath his skin. You could feel the discourse running in his blood, you could sense the unreasonable rage that burned in his chest. You knew it because you knew him on a plane that nobody else would understand. You’d related to him. You’d experienced it all, too. 

“You’re a fucking pain in my ass,” he snapped.

Yet… every time. Every time. 

Rejection pinched your heart but the feeling was almost hollow. You’d been hurt by Simon so many times that you could almost say that you were numb to it. It’s not as though you were chasing his approval, it was that you were never going to earn it. You couldn’t get civility, you couldn’t get anything from him. 

You were tired. 

Things had changed, everything had changed since the incident. You’d been kidnapped, held ransom, beaten and battered, and then left to die in favour of your teammate. It was ironic that Simon had been the one to save you; it felt like he regretted it some days. 

The fire that burned beneath the skin had dimmed and you felt out of place. There was only so much you could take and you could feel that breaking point creeping up on you. It was foul that you were treated with the same hostility as König, your only crime was being brought onto the team. 

Your only crime was that you weren’t Birdy. 

“Okay,” you rasped, nodding your head. “Noted. Am I dismissed?” 

Simon took in a deep breath, eyes steady on yours. He didn’t waver and you knew that he had more to say. There was always more venom with Simon, quiet with others but angry with you. Always so angry. 

“Dismissed.” Ghost confirmed. When you turned on your heel, the man spoke up from behind you. “First parade tomorrow is 0700 at the gym with Birdy and König for training.” 

You whirled around as fast as you’d gone to leave. “Sorry?” 

Simon barely blinked. “You heard me.” 

“I have the day off tomorrow,” you snapped, “we all have the day off tomorrow.” 

The officer only shook his head. “Learn to follow orders and you’ll earn a day off.” 

Your chest burned, blood rushed to your head and you wanted nothing more than to just scream. You wanted to grip Simon by his stupid shoulders and shake him until that fucking mask fell from his face. You wanted to beat on his dumb fucking chest until you knocked some sense into him. 

“I’m sick of this, Riley.” Your voice shook as you raised a finger. “I’m fucking sick of this.” 

“Imagine how I feel, Sunshine,” the LT drawled, turning to leave like he hadn’t just ruined your night- like he ruins every night. 

You couldn’t breathe. The sensation of being alone, of being rejected over and over by the people that are meant to be the closest to you. You’d never stopped experiencing that particular pain. From your parents to your first few units, and now, to this. 

To the 141. 

To Simon Riley. 

“I won’t be there,” you rasped. The words escaped from between your lips before you could catch them. “I’m not going.” 

Your Lieutenant shifted his body to face you again, eyes square on yours. You couldn’t care less about the murder in his eyes, you couldn’t care less about the chill drifting along your spine. You didn’t care about anything anymore. 

If they wanted to treat you like some erroneous outsider, then you would act like one.

“What?” It was low, almost whispered, but you heard him loud and clear. 

You glared up at him, moving forward until you were only inches from him. You could taste his unrest, the shift in his body language, you could almost hear him grit his teeth. You didn’t care. His upset meant nothing to you, he meant nothing to you. 

“You heard me.” You dared him to do something. Anything. “I’m not doing shit for you people anymore. Especially you. I’m never doing anything for you again.” 

“That’s what you’ve been asked,” he snapped, “your job and nothing else.” 

“I’m trying!” You all but shrieked. You felt the tether to your calm demeanour beginning to slip from your fingers. “I’ve been doing nothing but trying and it’s never enough for you.”

Your lips trembled as you gasped for air. Adrenaline was rushing through your system and you prayed that he wouldn’t push you over the edge you teetered along. You felt the unfamiliar tingle along your nose and cheeks, the tell-tale signs of angry tears. 

Don’t say anything, you begged internally. 

But, if there was one thing Simon was good at it was disappointing you. 

“If you have to try that hard then maybe you’re in the wrong place, Sunshine.” 

Something inside you snapped.

Tension slingshotted from where it had been building in your chest and landed straight onto your tongue, tasting of venom and fury. Rage washed over you, tears spilling from your lashes as you pushed a finger into his chest. 

“Maybe I am.” You finally admitted to your own fears but you wouldn’t be conceding peacefully. There was too much you had to say, too much spite poisoning your lungs to leave it there. 

“Maybe this is the wrong fucking place,” you nodded, “because it’s just a fucking high school in here. Everyone’s fucking someone, everyone’s in love with someone and everyone hates someone.” 

The LT said nothing as you pushed him hard, stepping back from the force beneath your palms. 

“I can’t do anything right because I’m not Birdy,” your voice was warbled as you shouted, thick with tears and anger alike. “König can’t do anything right because of a mistake from the brass, Birdy can’t recover because they’re being babied, and you can’t be unbiased because you want to fuck Birdy!” 

“What?” Simon hissed, but the word was lost on you. You hadn’t even heard him as you pushed him again and again. He let you shove him, let you gain ground on him until his back was pressed against the wall. 

“And you!” Your voice cracked beneath the volume. “I’ve done everything for you, risked everything for you!” 

“I never asked you-” 

“You didn’t have to!” It was a sob. It was a confession. 

Simon’s jaw fell slack from beneath his mask. 

“I’d do anything for you,” you finally fell to a whisper. “We both know that.” 

The man took in a shuddered breath from beneath your palms. He was pressed hard into the wall with your hands splayed across his chest as though readying yourself for another attack. 

But then they fell slack. 

Then they left his body completely. 

He shivered at the loss. 

“I hate you,” you took a step back, body shaking from emotional overload. You had so much more to say, so much hatred built up over the months. There was just no energy to deliver them anymore.

And, the more you thought about it, maybe it wasn’t hatred. Maybe it was just hurt. 

The realization that you would never be loved, never be accepted- the understanding that you would never be the first choice. Always an afterthought, always a hindrance. 

A self-sabotaging menace that no one could tolerate. 

“You’re right. I don’t belong here.” You affirmed, sorrow forming a pit in your stomach as you finally came to understand. “But, I want you to know that you made this every inch as miserable as it’s been, you selfish cunt.” 

The insult fell like a gavel between you. 

You half expected Simon to yell. You almost wanted him to. A reaction would be better than the silence filling the small space between you both.

The air grew heavy with tension the longer the quiet continued. Your fingers twitched at your side, the understanding that this was the end of it all. The end of the farce that he’d put on in the hospital, the short pretence of caring. 

You supposed people did crazy things when lives are at stake. 

Maybe he only pitied you when he’d spoken those words, the sentence you’d been hanging onto for weeks. 

“I would follow you anywhere. We both know it.” 

The only thing that Simon followed you with was dissonance.

“Nothing?” Your voice cracked and wavered. “Got nothing to say?” 

Simon didn’t move, didn’t say a word, he didn’t even blink. You supposed you’d been expecting too much. The man never gave you anything when you needed it, when you were desperate for a sign. His silence was infuriating. 

“Yeah,” you said, wobbly and broken. “Of course, you don’t, you fucking coward. Never do when it matters.” 

You took another step away from him, forcing yourself to detach from the situation. The longer you stayed the longer you craved a response, you felt like he owed it to you. But no one is entitled to anything and you sure as fuck weren’t about to let yourself fall into that mentality. 

The man before you brought out the worst in you. 

As you were readying yourself to turn around, Simon Riley finally spoke. 

“Are you finished?” 

Your jaw fell slack. “Excuse me?” 

Ghost pushed himself off the wall, inches from you in what felt like a second. You could barely catch your breath at the sudden proximity, the overwhelming sense of being in his presence. The feeling of being on the back foot beneath him, rather than the one in control, was intoxicating. 

“I said,” he repeated, stormy eyes bearing into yours, “Are you finished?” 

Each word was enunciated, a pause in between that felt like a beat on your chest every time. You were, in all honesty, flabbergasted. There was no better way to put it. 

You couldn’t even string together a sentence to come back at him with, really. The audacity that it took to reply to everything you had said with such an arrogant question made your blood simmer beneath your skin. 

Simon took your silence as a confirmation that you were, in fact, finished. 

“Can I talk now, Sunshine?” He growled, stepping closer into your space as if there were any more room for him to fit. You receded, feeling as though you were gasping for air that wasn’t tainted by the taste of him. “You gonna let me talk?” 

You said nothing as he walked you backward, desperately wanting to dig your heels into the ground. When your back hit the wall you looked up at Simon with wide eyes, hands hovering over his chest. 

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna talk now,” the LT deliberated mockingly, nodding his head as though he’d given you the choice. The sarcasm dropped from his tone when he spoke next. “You have no fucking clue, Sunshine. You’re a fuckin’ clueless idiot, is what you fuckin’ are.” 

Tears burned in your eyes, collecting on your lash line against your will. Had he really trapped you against a wall just to shatter you further? Did he really hate you that much? 

His gloved hands came to grip your own and you flinched away, the back of your head thudding against the drywall. Simon’s eyes narrowed, pressing your trembling fingers against the thin shirt covering his chest. 

You could feel his heartbeat. To your shock, it wasn’t steady. 

His heart was racing. 

You met his gaze once more, watching as his eyes trailed the lone tear on your cheek. 

“You’re an idiot.” He repeated but, this time, his voice was a whisper. “You have no fucking clue.” 

You wanted to say something, anything. You wanted to believe what he implied, you wanted to hold onto it with the hope that you’d had so many times before. 

Unfortunately, vague confessions and sweet nothings weren’t enough anymore. 

Simon knew it, too. 

“I can sit here correcting half the shit you’ve said,” he shook his head. “But I’m not gonna bother ‘cos I agree with you.” 

Your heart dropped.  

“Don’t look at me like that, let me finish.” Simon rasped, his fingers tightening against yours. “You’re right about it all, ‘bout it being a fuckin’ high school. König wants Birdy, Price wants Saint, Soap wants Gaz, and everyone’s a fucking bitchy cunt to someone on the team.”  

You blinked at the last couple that he’d mentioned. 

“But,” he shook his head, gaze heavy on your skin. “I’m not targeting you because I don’t think you belong. And I don't. Want. Birdy.” 

You made a small noise, embarrassment burning flush along your neck. You cast your eyes to the side and took in a shuddering breath. 

“I don’t give a fuck who you want-” You began, the lie falling shakily from your lips. 

“Yes, you do.” Simon interrupted sharply. You looked up at him quickly, ready to defend yourself. “Because I give a fuck about who you want, too.” 

“Why?” You blurted, heart thrashing in your chest when he shoots you a pointed glare. 

“Come on, Sunshine, don’t play dumb.” 

“Then don’t be a coward, Simon.” 

The LT raised a brow, gripping your hands tightly at your words. The beating beneath your palms picked up in speed, reminiscent of a racehorse sprinting towards the finish line. You’d never have picked his anxiety if you were just watching him, those dead eyes unwavering. 

Maybe, that was why he let you feel it… feel him. 

He wanted you to know, he wanted to show you in the only way that he could- in the only way you would trust.

Simon Riley was laying himself bare. 

“I give a fuck because,” he paused, loosing a shaky breath. He blinked, finally. Those blonde lashes fluttered as his eyes scoured the features of your face, building the courage to spill his honesty to you. “I give a fuck because I want you, Sunshine.” 

There it was. 

There it was. 

You were frozen, suspended in time with your hands on his chest and your face inches from his. The taste of his words lingered on your tongue as you took him in with every trembling breath. 

“I give you a hard time,” Simon nodded, “I do. You put yourself in these fuckin’ situations to save me and I can’t do anything to protect you.”

And, as if someone had turned on the lights, everything suddenly became clear. 

The time he’d been so furious that he barged into your room after a mission to berate you. “I could have lost you,” he’d said, “You would have died and it would have been on me.” 

That shattering incident where you’d fought in the kitchen, “I don’t need you to save me!” Ghost had snapped, smacking your cup from the table. “I don’t need anything from you.”

And, of course, this mission. This whole debacle had started because you’d recovered him from an ambush. 

“This whole time…” You rasped, “I thought you hated me.” 

Simon scoffed, the sound bitter on his tongue. “No. I just hated the way I felt. The way I feel.” 

You opened your mouth to speak, your fingers pressing into the skin of his chest. These months had you doubting yourself, had you wondering what you could have done so wrong to deserve this treatment. The embarrassment of wanting someone that couldn’t stand you was crippling. 

But now… now as his eyes bore into yours, begging you to say something wordlessly. The way his body was on edge, waiting for your response, fearing your rejection. How could you be asked to articulate anything? How were you meant to formulate a sentence? 

You wanted to tell him how you felt, you wanted to tell him everything. 

You wanted him. 

But the craving to put your hands on his skin, to taste his confession on his lips, to show him what he meant to you, it was overwhelming. You wanted him to understand how you felt in a way that he’d never doubt, in a way that would explain why you were constantly risking yourself for him. 

You knew he understood when his hands moved to grip your waist.

“Oh, my God.” 

You leapt away, your body thumping into the wall as the spell broke between yourself and the Lieutenant. 

“Oh, my God!” Birdy said again, hands coming up to their eyes hesitantly as they stumbled back and forth in the doorway. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” 

You groaned, dropping your chin to your chest as you pinched the bridge of your nose. 

“Relax,” Simon coughed, his fingers trailing along your skin until they fell by his sides again, slow and hesitant. “Just- We were debriefing.” 

You could hear footsteps approaching from down the hall and the urge to throw yourself out the window grew exponentially. Out of all the times for these two idiots to make an appearance, they had to pick the most paramount moment. It was as though they were the main characters and you were simply a side-plot, cursed to never be able to develop further than the main story-line.

You glanced up at Ghost who offered you a similar expression, unimpressed. 

König cast a shadow over the intruder as he rounded the corner to the kitchen, undoubtedly investigating the commotion. His eyes fell on Birdy first, watching as their hands came up and down from their face, unsure whether they were allowed to look. Then, jade eyes moved to observe Ghost who hadn’t moved from his position posted next to your flushed body. 

“Oh…” König murmured, realization slowly dawning as he returned his gaze to Birdy. “Oh.” 

Gigantic hands reached to gently but firmly tug on the back of the stumbling sniper’s shirt. He offered an apologetic wave as he began to drag Birdy from the room, the latter still sputtering embarrassed atonements. 

“It’s okay,” you slipped out from your space between Simon and the wall. “I was just leaving anyway.” 

You quickly moved towards the door, wiping away any remaining tears from your face roughly. Just as you reached the exit, you realized that you’d left the man hanging. What if he thought that you were rejecting him? What if he went back to hating you? 

What if you missed your chance? 

You paused, turning to look over your shoulder. 

Simon was already watching you, eyes soft and his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. 

“Don’t worry,” he offered. “I’ll catch up, Sunshine.” 

You hid your smile as you turned back around and continued. 

You left the room embarrassed, sure. But, you also left with newfound hope and a promise. 

You left with the promise of Simon Riley. 

[sashi-ya]

東京 NIGHTS mini event

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑰𝑴𝑨𝑮𝑬ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𓂃 ࣪˖ toji fushiguro x f! reader

⤹˚ synopsis. a miserable Toji founds the living image of his death wife in you, a sex worker at Kabukicho.

requested by: Anonymous ➡ omg i've been waiting for you to write for jjk!!! please Sashi, can you write an nsfw toji x f! reader with the prompt The red lights of Kabukichō. tw: MNDI. dark! content. reader is a sex worker from the kabukicho red district. toji has no respect for you. oral, rough, spanking, slapping, unprotected sex, cream pie implied, you look like Megumi's mom. first time I write for Toji pls be soft on me. wc: 2k masterlist

A lucky round, for the very first time at Pachinko. Fushiguro Toji feels pleased; he lies on the backrest of his seat, right in front of an old machine and next to many other people desperately trying to win something. The more desperate they get, the more they lose.

Poker, Mahjong, horse races. money, lose the money. lose your life, lose the time until it is over.

“It looks like you have a lot of luck tonight, mister” a woman whose face he simply ignores, paws his wide frame.

“Get off, bitch” he mutters, scaring her away with his sharp -but really tired- eyes.

The lady walks away, spitting expletives that Toji couldn’t hear -nor cared to do so-. However, consequences were about to hit him.

Two guys, or maybe gorillas, appeared right behind his seat. “Sir, I must ask you to leave” one of them says, trying to snatch him from behind, passing one of the arms around his neck.

Unfortunately for them, as well as for Toji, the strength and speed of his Zen’in body  allows him to not only avoid the attack but also smash the head of the aforementioned gorilla against the Pachinko machine.

“Fuck you” he grunts, knowing too damn well the aggression didn’t come because of him disrespecting a lady but rather because his “luck” wasn’t welcomed into their business.

Honestly, given the right moment, Toji would have killed them both in no time… but tonight was different; some years -he doesn’t even remember how many- have passed and today marked the anniversary of his wife passing.

Toji stole a bun from the guy that was sitting by his side and walked away from the Pachinko parlor before the astonished looks of the people there. Nobody dared to follow him, they knew death would find them if they dared to mess a single second more with that man.

His steel blue eyes shine red as the lights of Kabukichō receive him in their sensual embrace. The attractive concupiscence of beautiful women dancing on windows catches his attention, but no woman is enough to make him feel any type of pleasure.

He is well aware of the many scams there, but he is sure nobody could scam him more than he could scam them.

Many women and men come closer, wearing revealing suggesting outfits; they touch him, they call him inside their “shops”. Yet, Toji still walks unaware, as if possessed. Some even offer him their services for free, his handsomeness is undeniable; his strong physique, delicious and tempting.

“Sir, sir!” you call him, tapping insistently on his wide shoulder. “SIR!” you repeat, as he seems not to hear anything around.

Toji turns around, all of a sudden, grabbing your hand to stop poking him. “What the fuck do you want, I don’t wanna fuck you… you…” he angrily barks, stopping immediately after watching your face.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t trying to… your… your wallet just fell from your pants” you tell him, scared and feeling the tight grip intensify around your wrist.

His eyes burn holes into yours, his expression turns troubled, darker. He is not blinking, and perhaps even not breathing.

“Do you work here?” he asks. “It’s my first night… I was promoting that- bar” you point out to the entrance of a quite ratchet facility of red and pink lights and semi naked woman pictures on their walls.  “I… your wallet” you murmur, showing him the black ragged leathery pouch that feels light and empty.

He lets your arm go and takes the wallet with absolutely no interest. His eyes, however, never let go of your face… you must be an interest to him?

“You… what’s your surname?” he asks, as if he was waiting to hear something revealing.

You frown; why would a complete stranger ask for your surname? Men in here only want one thing, and to them what’s your name is totally irrelevant for that purpose.

“It’s (Surname)” you tell him, either way. You had nothing to lose, after all.

He seems relieved but also a little disappointed. Truth is, that you look incredibly similar to his late wife… “Come here, I want you” he simply states, pulling from your hand to the inside of your work place.

You follow him with no time to say no… you wouldn’t say no anyway.

There is not much your boss can do either; he is in fact pleased to know that right after he hired you, you have already given him a client.

You open the door to the “rooms”. Precarious looking places that no man cares about as they only care the true purpose of his visit.

Once inside one of them, you close the door, and the red lights bathe both of your bodies as if it was a blood bath.

“Sir, which service would yo-“ you ask, but you are immediately silenced by his hand on your mouth. He pushes you to a round bed, making your back hit violently the mattress. You blink twice before he could pounce into you.

Toji is big enough to smash you with his body, and you honestly would love to die underneath his prominent chest tonight.

“I don’t care about the services you give, spread those legs” he orders, slapping the inner side of your knees.

You let your legs open wide, falling to each side. The short skirt you were wearing invites him to taste you; the buffed man with a scar on his lip sees everything you have to offer.

He smirks, so dark. And then, takes his black shirt off. His body is by far better than what you thought that tight shirt had already revealed to you. Each muscle perfectly showing like it’s been sculpted on his skin. The wide shoulders and prominent collarbones and pecs… he is the total embodiment of carnal desire.

Toji’s brute hands rip your almost transparent thong now; the elastic band snapping on your hipbone makes you squirm owning yourself to get his hand around your neck. “Stay still, bitch. You will have enough time to squirm around once I fuck you”

Your insides tremble, your core tenses. Such a disrespect makes you hornier instead of mad.

“Y-yes…” you stutter, finishing your words with a loud moan as his fingers penetrate you. Your back arches, and the more it does, the more he squeezes your neck.  

With lack of air and probably blue lips, your eyes turn white from pleasure. Your legs tend to close but you can’t as Toji prevents them to shutting.

“Hold on there, don’t close them. I need to prep you, you are too tight to me” he spits, reaching deeper with curled beckoning fingers hitting your top wall. You clench to the sheets, coffing and trying to grasp for some air… this man will kill you, and you will be smiling at him.

He takes his fingers out of you, giving you some seconds to rest. You watch your own arousal dripping down his hand and forearm. Toji sticks his tongue out in a disgusting, yet absolutely sexy way, and licks your salty products right from there.

“Not as good as my wife, but still good” he murmurs, leaving you startled… he has a wife?

Well, not exactly.

He turns you around from your right ankle, this man’s strength surpasses any limits. Your face hit the mattress, leaving you a little bit dizzy from the fall. Immediately after you could react, you feel two big hands lifting your ass from under your lower belly.

Knees carved on the bed, and also head as one of his heavy hands pass from your waist to your nape.

You sense two fingers spreading your folds, and the wet tongue of him licking from your clit to your ass. He has absolutely no decorum to do it, he does it so disgustingly lustful. Toji’s nose buries in your perineum as he sometimes focuses on your throbbing clit, sucking hard until your inner thighs begin to spasm and tremble.

Some spanks are added, that leave your cheeks burning. He goes even down, hitting the back of your thighs, a place that hurts but makes it even better. You are sure by now you must have created a pool of your fluids underneath you, and if not… well, you are most likely about to.

“Ehj… so wet…” he pants once he stops eating you out.

With difficulty you see him through the mirrored walls cleaning his mouth with the back of his forearm. Slanted eyes peek through black strands of hair, they meet yours and It’s both scary and hot.

Toji smirks, so devilishly and turns you once again around from your leg. You are like a mere doll to him.

He buries his fingers in your cheeks, making your lips pout and your eyes widen. You are still panting, so your breathing sounds loudly in between your fingers and a drop of saliva pools right in the middle of your lower lip.

That man has the look of a murderer, of a devil. With just one hand he gets rid of his grey pants along with his underwear. Your eyes confirm why he mentioned the need of you getting “prepped” as he exhibits his hard sex.

Purplish tip, veiny. It is not gigantic, but still constitutes a challenge for anyone to be able to take it. He is not going slow, nor carefully… and you know that for sure.

“I’m going raw, hope you are ready to become a single mother” he lets you know, as if you didn’t know already. You limit yourself to nod. You are honestly more worried for the integrity of your insides than that.

Toji kneels on the bed, sitting on top of his heels. He grabs you by your hips, pulling you over his lap to get your sex closer to his. A sex that with the simple touch of his warm precum covered tip makes your already overstimulated you to shiver.

His fist, also veiny, clench around his shaft. Toji pumps up and down two or three times and then plays with your wetting mess and his, giving you little slaps with his tip.

Strings of transparent lubrication mix; your neediness is that big you squeeze one of your breasts… it seems eternal, the wait, the desire…

The penetration. “Ngh…”

You arch your back while Toji penetrates you deeper and mercilessly, there is no escape as he has you trapped by the sides of your hips. Your toes curl, feeling the stretching of your cunt, and swearing his tip has probably reached a place nobody has ever reached inside you.

He begins fucking you, without moving a single muscle but his muscular arms. He is using you as a fleshlight, and his eyes are fixed in your beautiful pleasure façade.

“Keep moaning that way, you are almost identical” he grunts, moving you in and out faster and harder.

You aren’t very sure to who you are almost identical, but your brain has become nothing but a mere dumb slave of that lustful sexual torture.

He lifts from his heels, along with you. Your face and barely any of your nape remain on the mattress. To him moving your body, he adds his own hip thrusts. The sound of your skin slapping is almost as loud as your whining.

His forearm is the only thing holding you up by the small of your back, while his free hand now rips your little shirt open. Your breasts bounce in pure freedom, calling him to bite them so brutally. And so, he bends over to reach for your hard nipples.

Toji’s eyes never leave your façade, he seems possessed as he enjoys and also suffers.

“Fuck you bitch, how come you are that similar to her… you do the same fucking face” he spits, slapping your face and then burying his index and middle finger inside your mouth.

You choke but suck desperately. Your moans get muffled by his salty fingers; your sex has already undergone the stage of climax more than twice.

He can go for hours, pumping deep in you, biting your breasts, slapping you… and he does, until your conscious begins to fade, and he wishes to fill you up.

“Hold my cum inside, maybe I can give the fucking clan another kid” “Sir…? Which clan?”

I only touched her; I only fucked her because she looked just like you… I miss you, I miss you, I miss you so much...

[jacketkiszka]

Only You Can Set Me Free

Female Reader x Danny Wagner

Word Count: 5.3K

WARNINGS: Explicit Sexual Content 18+, angst, alcohol consumption, drinking to the point of memory loss, oral m receiving, best friends to lovers, DIG setlist at a SCWT show (sorry not sorry)

*Thursday night, 10 pm*

*Your POV*

“Can I get two beers? Whatever you have is fine.” You shout to the bartender over the noisy Nashville bar. You return to your group with two canned beers in tow, and pass one to your best friend, Danny. You are out celebrating tonight as Danny has a show in town tomorrow, but will be leaving for tour the following day. This will be your last chance to spend quality time with him for a while, until they have a break. You clink your beers together, as you always do, and you both take a drink. 

After a couple beers and a lot of talking, you head to the restroom. When you return, Danny is talking to a girl you’ve never seen before. She seems really excited to talk to him, so you think you know what’s going on. 

“Thank you, yeah… It means a lot.” Danny replies. You approach the two and grab your beer from the table behind him. 

“Oh! And you must be the girlfriend!” The girl asks. You practically spit out your beer in surprise. “Girlfriend?” You look at the girl and then to Danny. The question was genuine, and you’re taken off guard, so you just introduce yourself, avoiding the ‘girlfriend’ comment as a way to end the conversation quickly. The fan eventually leaves you two alone and you make your way back to the rest of your group. 

“Did you tell her we were together?” You ask. Danny busts out laughing. “No! I don’t know where that came from! Do people really think that?!” He responds as you approach the group.

“What’s that? Y/N and Danny are dating?” One of your friends says, loud enough to get the rest of the group’s attention. They chuckle. “Congratulations! Took you long enough.” Another friend teases. You both roll your eyes. You hope it stops there, but of course it does not. 

Deeper into the night, the music gets louder and the alcohol percentages get higher. One of the friends in your group comes back to the table with a tray of shots. Everybody grabs a shot and holds them up when someone in the group shouts “To Y/N and Danny!” 

Great. Clearly you two have been chosen as the butt of all jokes tonight. “Fuck you guys” You mumble after taking the shot. You know they’re joking, but the more they talk about it, the more you think about it… and you’d been trying not to think about it for a long time. Of course you liked Danny, everyone did. But you left it at that. It would not, and could not, ever be more than that. You realize that this will be a long night of trying to repress those feelings if they don’t stop picking on you. You clear your throat and stand to go back to the bar. You need a distraction, and another drink. Danny follows suit. You should have expected that, the man is practically chained to your ankle. You offer to buy him a drink but he’s already ordering his own and putting yours on his tab. He does that when he feels like something is wrong. You know it’s coming, so you brace yourself. 

“Is everything okay?” He asks, quiet enough that nobody else can hear. You nod, and do your best to look confused while doing it as if you don’t know what he’s talking about. You do, though, and he knows that you do. Sometimes you wonder if he knows because he feels it too, but you try not to think too hard about that. 

“They’re just messing with you, y’know.” He says, now sounding concerned. 

“Oh, I know… It’s not about them, I’m just tired and… well, I’m not looking forward to you being gone. That’s all.” You hope he doesn’t see through your excuse, but you know he probably does. 

His facial expression softens, and he smiles a little. “I know. I’m going to miss you too.” 

You smile back and you both stand there in silence. This is the side of Danny that made your heart melt. This side of him was tender, and reserved for only a select few. You were lucky enough to be one of them. 

After a moment he breaks the silence. “Man, no wonder they think we’re dating.” He laughs quietly to himself. 

The drinks he ordered arrive and he slides one to you. “Drink up, get out of your head. Let’s have fun tonight.” 

He was right. There was no sense in letting a good night go to waste. After all, you would miss him greatly after he leaves for tour. The two of you make your way back to the group and plop down on one of the couches in the corner of the bar that you all had claimed as yours for the night. In typical Danny fashion, he sits entirely way too close to you on the couch. Again, chained to your ankle. You hope to god you’re not blushing, but you try not to care. 

As the night goes on, the alcohol starts catching up to everybody. You and Danny have gotten pretty comfortable on the couch, talking about the upcoming tour and pretty much anything else that comes to your mind. You loved to talk and he loved to listen to you. You hadn’t noticed yourself leaning more and more into Danny the more that you talked, but your friends did. 

They’d asked you about it before but you always denied having any feelings. They knew, though. Everyone did. You could deny it all you wanted, but there was no questioning the way that the two of you looked at each other. The way that he listened to you, the way that he was the only one who could calm you down if you were upset. In fact, the only two people who couldn’t tell, were you and Danny. The way you both managed to ignore your own feelings as well as the possibility of each other’s feelings was extraordinary. You had both become so jaded by the need to preserve your friendship that you ignored the fact that you knew it was right. Maybe that’s why they teased you about it so often, maybe they thought if they badgered you for long enough, you’d see. And maybe they were right. Whether it was that, or the impending sadness that would be coming with your best friend going on tour without you, you’d not been able to stop thinking about him. 

You had just barely started to let the thought creep back into your brain when one of your friends approached the two of you. She’d already had plenty - if not too much - to drink and brought a polaroid camera with her to document the night. As quickly as she approached, there was a camera being pointed at your faces. 

“Say cheese!!” She shouted.

You and Danny sit up straight and smile for the camera. He puts his arm around you to bring you closer. You don’t mind. She snaps the picture and sets the developing photo on the table. She points the camera at you again. 

“Give us a kiss, lovebirds!” Another one of your friends yells. The others giggle and shush him. “Come onnn, just a little peck. It’ll be funny!”

The next few seconds are fuzzy.

Was it the copious amounts of alcohol? Was it the peer pressure? You’re not sure, but the next thing you know, you’re kissing Danny Wagner.

As quickly as it began, it was over. Everyone laughed and then continued on as if nothing had happened, and the girl set the new photo next to the first one to continue developing. You and Danny laughed it off immediately, making comments about what assholes your friends were. Nothing he said registered in your ears. In fact, nothing for the rest of the night did. Your brain was mush and your skin was hot. What just happened? 

*Thursday night, 3 am*

You made it back home and you’re lying in bed, rethinking the night's events. Your head is swirling thinking about the way Danny’s lips felt against yours. You felt stupid for thinking about it still. It was nothing, just a silly joke to appease your friends. You’re not even sure how it happened, you can’t recall leaning in. All you remember is his lips, a flash, and then it was over. You lie there thinking about it for longer than you should. The thought replaying in your head over and over again, preventing you from falling asleep despite how tired and drunk you are. You can’t stop wondering how Danny may have felt about it. Was it more than a joke to him? Was he still thinking about you the way you were still thinking about him? Suddenly, you remember something. 

“The picture!” You whisper to yourself with a small gasp, and you jump out of bed to find your wallet. 

You had quickly snagged the picture from the table when no one else was looking. The last thing you two needed was rumors starting, and perhaps there was a small part of you that just wanted to keep it… it didn’t matter. You needed to see it. 

You find the picture and pull it out. You gasp at the sight, because this was not how you remembered it. Your arms wrapped around each other, his hand on your thigh and a smirk on his face as you kissed. What?! You must have been too blindsided by the kiss to notice. Did this mean he felt the same way…? Surely not, but this picture was making you think otherwise. You decide against your better judgment to text him. 

3:12 am

You: I had fun tonight. Thanks for talking to me earlier, I get too much into my own head sometimes. What time should I be at the venue tomorrow?

A text bubble popped up almost immediately showing that Danny was typing. It quickly disappeared and you felt your heart sink a little. 

3:13 am

Danny: soudnchck at 2 im being there 1. any time.

Oh, he is still drunk. He went pretty hard tonight. You chuckle, reading the message again, trying to decipher it.

3:13 am

Danny: always have. funwith u :):)

Smiling, you clutch the phone to your chest and fall asleep without a response. 

*Friday Afternoon, 1:48 pm*

*Danny’s POV*

You open your eyes for the first time today and are immediately assaulted by the dogpiling combination of dizziness, nausea, and a migraine. The sun is too bright, the fan in the corner of the room is too loud. Everything is too much. What time is it? You turn over to face the clock on your bedside table, trying not to make yourself sick in the process. The clock reads 1:48.

“Fuck!” You shout, but you’re so exhausted it comes out more as an angry groan. 

You force yourself out of bed against your body’s will and make your way to the bathroom to get ready. You are certain you’ve never looked worse in your life. You’re certain that nobody has ever looked worse in their life. You brush your teeth and put your hair in a claw clip, just to get yourself out the door. You decided you’d freshen up after sound check. Trying to minimize the damage of how late you were going to be, you just grab your keys and head out the door, not even considering grabbing something caffeinated on your way out. 

Upon getting to the venue, it’s clear that everyone is upset with you, and rightfully so. You were not only holding everybody up, but in a funky mood on top of it. You slam your keys down and get to the stage to do your soundcheck. Everything sounds fine, except for you. You can barely think straight and keep missing the beat. What is wrong with you today? 

After soundcheck, you’re making your way back to the dressing room to get your shit together when you spot Y/N running through the halls. She is always doing what she can to help the band, despite not being a part of the crew. You appreciate her more than she’ll ever know. She’s clearly busy right now, so you dip into your dressing room instead of saying anything.

Shortly after, you hear a knock at your door. You open it to find your best friend, holding a box full of miscellaneous equipment and wires. 

“Hey,” she starts, “You okay? I didn’t see you earlier, you’re usually the first one here so I got concerned.”

You laugh and rub your hand on the back of your neck. “Oh, yeah… Sorry… I guess I drank a little too much last night. I slept until almost 2. I woke up with a violent hangover, I don’t even remember most of the night.”

“Oh..” Her expression drops.

What was that? What is that face? Why does she look disappointed? You furrow your brow in response. 

“Umm, maybe you should get a coffee?” She suggests. You agree. That would make you feel a lot better right now. You offer to get her one, as well. She appreciated that. 

She disappears into the hallway to go distribute the box of gear and you start to gather your keys and wallet… Shit. Your wallet. In your hungover haze this morning you completely forgot to grab it. 

You debate if the coffee is even worth it, but ultimately it is, plus you had offered to get one for Y/N. You couldn’t possibly let her down. You roll your eyes and leave the dressing room, finding her in the hallway and asking if you can borrow her card for the coffees. She agrees and hands you her wallet. You thank her with a hug, now setting off towards the coffee shop down the road. 

You order yourself the largest coffee they can offer you, and a regular sized one for Y/N. She didn’t have to tell you what she wanted, you already knew her order. In fact, you knew everything about your best friend… or at least you thought you did. 

Reaching into your pocket to pay, you pull out her wallet. When you open it, you stop in your tracks. The barista is staring at you with a confused look on their face, and you feel just as confused. When did you kiss her? Who took this picture? And why was it in her wallet? You try your best to shake it off long enough to pay for the drinks but on the ride back to the venue you can’t stop thinking about it. Is this why she looked disappointed to hear you hadn’t remembered anything about last night? You feel like your heart is going to break in half thinking about that. 

You’ve always liked Y/N. How could you not? You had always hoped if you ever kissed her it would be special. This wasn’t special. You couldn’t even remember it. You wondered how she felt, if she had thought it was special. If she wanted you to feel the same. Had you unknowingly ruined any chance you had with her by drinking too much to remember it? Maybe she doesn’t remember it either. Would that make it better or worse? You don’t know. Fuck.

You sit in the parking lot for a moment too long, trying to rack your brain. You force yourself to go back inside so that the coffee doesn’t get too cold. Somehow you managed to make handing off her coffee and wallet the most awkward experience of your life, barely looking her in the eye when you saw the corner of the polaroid still poking out of the wallet. You felt bad, but you didn’t know how to talk about this. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to find the words to say. 

She felt it, too. She felt the tension, she noticed the way that you looked at her as if she was fragile. You were terrified to say the wrong thing, and push her away. 

It wasn’t the fact that you’d kissed her. It was the way that you kissed her. It was the way your hand was gripping her thigh, the way you smiled against her lips. It was the fact that you couldn’t remember it, and it was the fact that she’d kept it in her wallet. 

*Friday Night, 9:23 pm*

The arena fills with cheers and screams as Safari Song comes to a close. You feel the anticipation building as you prepare for your moment. You start your solo as Josh exits the stage, and you catch a glimpse of Y/N standing side stage. She was always there for your solos, at the very least. Even if she didn’t catch the rest of the show, she made sure to watch you have your moment. You knew she’d be staying for the entire show tonight though. This was going to be a special one. You smile and get focused, trying to give this solo everything you had. If you were one thing, it was a perfectionist. Maybe the fans wouldn’t notice if you missed a beat every once in a while, some of them used your solo as a bathroom opportunity anyways, but you would know. Once you were in the zone, nothing could stop you. Well, almost nothing. 

Your time in the spotlight flies by and Josh comes back on stage, rambling his usual stage banter and more importantly giving you a breather before you transition your solo into the next song. 

“Better than sex!” Josh exclaims to the crowd.

You press your tongue to the inside of your cheek and shake your head, mouthing “I don’t know about that” to him before looking back to your left and watching the color flush in Y/N’s cheeks. 

“Well, how about a climax, Daniel?” Josh shouts. 

From the corner of your eye you see her turn and abruptly walk away from the stage.

What was that about? Was she- No. Daniel, focus. 

You try to push it to the back of your mind but you keep finding yourself thinking about last night, the photo you saw, and how flustered she looked as she ran off. Fuck, it was getting hard to stay in the moment. 

As the show goes on, you find it creeping back into your head more and more. Y/N still hasn’t returned and as you start Light My Love, you feel yourself getting more and more wrapped up in the thoughts of her. 

The music is swelling, the fans are holding each other tight in anticipation, singing along to Josh’s oohs. He throws his hand in the air and as the music stops, the lights go out. You give the drum two solid hits and right before the big moment, the photo of last night flashes in your mind again. 

You miss. 

You were late. 

The pyro goes off before you can crack your symbols and your heart sinks. What the fuck was that? You’d never been late like that at a show. Especially not for this song that you’ve played a hundred times now. You had to be better than that, right? You know you’re better than that. How could you let this distract you so much? You hoped you could recover and move on, but it was fucked from that point forward. Whether you were playing too fast, too slow, skipping a beat, hitting the wrong drum. It didn’t matter, you were struggling and everyone could tell.

Finally the main part of the show comes to a close and you run off stage before quickly being berated by the other boys. The worst part is you knew they were right. This was by far your worst performance and as the timekeeper of the band, you were screwing everybody else in the process. Thinking there was only one way to solve your problem and hopefully do better for the encore, you run to the mini bar in your dressing room where you spot half of the drinks had already been gone. You knew it was from Y/N, since nobody else ever helped themselves to your dressing room, but you didn’t see her anywhere. After downing a couple tequila shots, you slam the mini fridge door shut and turn around to see her standing awkwardly in the back of the room. 

“You’re not watching the show anymore.” Is all you say. 

“I’m sorry- I-” She tries to find the words but you can see in her eyes there’s far too much she wants to say, and now’s not the time to say it. 

“I fucked up. I fucked up so bad.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad…” She tries to console you.

“I ruined the entire show! Everyone is off and they’re all pissed at me and it’s all because of your stupid-” you stop. 

The tension is palpable. 

“…Stupid what?” She says sheepishly, fidgeting with the hem of her Greta Van Fleet t-shirt.

Your eyes flick down to the pocket of her jeans against your will and she adjusts her forearm, as if a half-assed attempt to prevent you from looking for the wallet. She knows you know.

“Why do you have that picture in your wallet?” You step closer. She steps backwards but is quickly met with a wall. Your in-ear monitor pings to let you know it’s time to return to the stage.

“I didn’t want anyone else to see it..”

“You didn’t want anyone to see it, so you put it in your wallet… and then gave it to me to pay for coffee.” You scoff. “This shouldn’t have happened. This is all-” You stop yourself before you can say something you’ll regret. With a shake of your head you start to walk away. 

A hand reaches out and grabs your arm just as you’re about to step out of the room. You look back, feeling the rage build up inside you. You knew none of this would have happened if it weren’t for her. You were just about to bite back at her when you’re met with the saddest, kindest eyes. The eyes you’d always had a soft spot for. For just a moment, everything you were mad about seems to fade away. 

“I’m sorry, Danny… I didn’t mean to upset you… I think we should talk about last night…”

Fuck, she makes your heart ache. 

You look into her eyes and she bites her lip, scared of what you’re going to say. You know exactly what she’s thinking, and you’re thinking it too. You get another ping on your in-ear urging you to hurry up. Without another word, you reach up to grab the sides of her face and pull her into a soft, quick kiss. With that, you turn away and head back to the stage, pulling another mini tequila bottle out of your pocket and taking it. 

*Your POV*

What the fuck just happened? It was like one second he wanted to tear your head off, and the next he’s kissing you in his dressing room? Trying to wrap your head around the events of the last few minutes, you make a mental note to have him work on his mixed signals. The warm and dramatic intro of Age of Man begins and like a magnet, you’re drawn back to the side stage. Sammy starts the song off with a hauntingly beautiful piano number and you watch as Daniel, now shirtless, settles into his drum kit. The dark blue lights mixed with the warm amber glow of the fire pits around the stage define every muscle in his arms and back in the most delicious way. Danny looks over to catch you staring him down and smiles. His demeanor is much lighter than before and although it could be from the tequila, something told you it had more to do with you. 

You watch the boys finish out their encore and as soon as you see Danny stand from the drum kit and Jake start throwing his spare picks into the crowd, you make your way back to the dressing room. Danny is usually the last one off the stage as he is always getting caught up handing out drumsticks and taking shots with the front row, but tonight wasn’t a normal night. That much was obvious. You make it back to Danny’s dressing room and within seconds he’s behind you, drumsticks still in hand, pulling you further into the room. 

Your bodies collide and he pulls you into him, your face in his hands as he presses his forehead to yours. 

“Danny…” You whisper, looking up into his eyes, your breath stuttering. “I think… I think we should talk about-”

He cuts you off.

“We have all night to talk about it. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted- needed to do this.”

He presses his lips against yours. Cautiously at first, but increasingly more passionate when he feels you melt into him. The hands around your face find their way backwards into your hair, holding you in place and even though this is the third time you’ve kissed Danny, you’ve never felt anything like it. You feel like putty in his embrace and he feels like heaven. You’re suddenly being pushed backwards against the wall of the dressing room, the same place you stood the last time he graced your lips with his.

Your hands run down his sides and rest at the waistband of his pants. He kisses you harder. It’s blissful. His tongue feels like everything you imagined and more. It’s all happening so fast, yet time moves so slow. You swear you could stay here for hours, days even, pinned between the wall and his body. With your fingers hooking into the waistband of the boxers that poke out just above his belt, you draw a sigh out of him. You snap the button of his jeans and close the sliver of a gap between your torsos with your hand snaking down to feel him. You pull away from his lips, looking into his eyes for his consent and he ruts into your palm, making his answer clear. He feverishly presses his lips back into yours, like he’s been made hungry in their absence. Starved. He lets you explore the feeling of him for the first time and you let him trail hot kisses from your jaw to your collarbone. 

“Please take these off,” you whisper, pulling at his jeans.

Danny looks down at you, and with a gentle bite to his bottom lip he guides you away from the wall and quickly rids himself of his denim before sitting back on the couch. You can’t stop your eyes from trailing down his body, inspecting every inch of his skin, parts of him you’d only imagined before. He was just as beautiful as you thought he would be, built like a Greek god and splayed out just for you. He looks up at you expectantly as he strokes himself gently. You sink to your knees before him and take him into your hand.

You drag your fingers down the length of him, he hisses through his teeth. His head rolls back and you watch his Adam's apple bob through the mess of his long curly hair. You lean in, your breath hot against his skin, and press a soft kiss to the sensitive tip. He groans, and his hips buck slightly, encouraging you to take more of him into your mouth. You part your lips and slowly take him in, swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip. His hands tangle in your hair, guiding you as you bob your head, taking more of him each time. His breath grows ragged as you pick up the pace. The sound of your mouth working him fills the room, accompanied by his desperate gasps. You’re addicted to the taste of him, the feeling of him throbbing against your tongue. 

Danny's grip on your hair tightens as his body tenses. "Look at me, baby," he rasps. 

You pull back just enough to look up at him, his length glistening with your saliva, as you continue to work him with your hand. He pulls you up into him for a sloppy kiss, mixing your spit and the little bit of precum on your tongue. He pulls away with a strained whimper. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this… Wanted to feel your lips wrapped around me… Watch your eyes tear up when you take me… You’re a fucking dream, baby, are you gonna let me fuck you?”

You smile at him, still pumping his length in your hand. Your grip tightens. 

“Mmm, next time,” You peck him on the lips before returning to your knees before him. “I’ve always wanted to know how you taste… You gonna cum for me?”

You take him back in your mouth, sucking him in all the way to the back of your throat. His hips jerk forward at the feeling.

“Fuck!” His head rolls back against the couch and his chest heaves, your hair still wrapped tight around his knuckles. He pushes further into your mouth causing a gag to rip from your throat. He hesitantly lets go of your hair, afraid he’s pushed you too far, but you pick up the pace, bobbing your head faster and faster. He writhes and his nails dig into the soft gray fabric of the couch beneath him. Your free hand finds its way to the heat between your legs. You moan around him as you grind against your palm, searching for friction. The vibration of your groan rattles through him bringing out a loud gasp. The sweetest sound you’d ever heard.

"You look so good like this, just like that, baby, just like that… just…” He praises, his voice growing desperate. 

You look up to meet his eyes and his brows furrow tightly. His cock throbs against your tongue and you’re hit with a sudden rush of warmth. Danny lets out a groan so strained you’d think he was in pain. You’ve never heard anything more beautiful. Danny consumed all of your senses. The taste of him, the sound of him, the feeling, the warmth. 

You pull off of him with a loud pop! He looks down at you and everything feels… different. He’s looking at you like you hung the moon, a way you’ve never been looked at before. Not by him, anyways.

He leans down to place a gentle kiss to your forehead, and then your lips. 

“So… did you still want to talk about it?” He whispers, smiling against your lips. 

You smile back up at your best friend. “Maybe we can talk about it at your place. I know you have a long drive tomorrow but maybe-“

He interrupts you enthusiastically. “I’ll pull the car around. This is long overdue.” 

He hops up from the couch, pulling his pants back up and grabbing his car keys. You start to gather your things from the dressing room but before he opens the door, he looks back to you. “Y/N?”

You look up, meeting his gaze. 

“I’m glad you kept that picture… Really glad.” He smiles and steps out of the dressing room. 

You didn’t know what your future with Danny would look like, but you knew one thing.

You were glad you’d kept it, too.

[futterurl]

Owe It To You

Josh Futturman x fem!reader

WARNINGS: smut (mdni!), oral(f!recieving), fingering, clit play, female anatomy on reader

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you were tired, to say the least.

going back in time, checking on the future to the same, demented outcome, really took a toll on you guys. it always seemed as if every effort and alternative path taken for the future didn’t matter.

you were lost in thought as tiger and wolf fought with each other, it was the same empty argument: wolf didn’t listen, tiger wanted control. it was draining to hear.

you all were in Joosh’s super house, taking a peek at how fucked up you all made this future. you left the living room in frustration, heading up to Joosh’s room.

you crashed onto the bed, covering your face with a pillow, letting out a low groan. you were tired of all the fighting, all the time travel, everything. you needed a break.

you heard a knock on the door, followed by a calming voice asking, “hey, you okay?”

you lifted the pillow from your face, seeing josh, peaking the door open, worry etched on his eyebrows. he knew how much of a toll this was starting to take on you, you guys were best friends, after all.

“yeah, just…tired, is all.” you half mumbled into the pillow, just loud enough so he could barely hear.

he leaned off the door and sat on the bed that you lay on. he scratched your head.

“something’s telling me there’s more to it than that.” he inquired.

“i don’t know…i guess i’m just tired of all this shit.” you began. “we try so hard to perfect the future, but are met with the same outcome. i’ve been trying to think left and right of new ideas…nothing’s working.”

he understood that this was only the tip of the iceberg, regarding your feelings for all this. when you got roped up into this mess, you left more behind than him. you left behind an internship you had busted your ass off for, and two other jobs, which you probably got fired from, due to your absence.

you had two different jobs just to meet ends meet, in your shitty apartment. sure, they were crappy, dead-end jobs, but they helped you get ends meet. you were somehow able to balance those along with your internship which you fought so hard to get.

all down the drain.

in a way, it was relieving, not having to juggle all of this, living every day as a drained, sleep deprived zombie.

unfortunately, this scenario was just like everything else in your life: there was no way out.

“i know, i know…i really am sorry you got dragged into this. it’s all my fault.” josh sighed.

it had just been a fun night of you guys playing video games, finally beating this one you guys had been playing for…forever. once you guys were just hanging out and talking about it, in a flash of light, wolf and tiger had appeared, needing the people who beat the game’s help. immediately. you both were there, so they needed the both of you.

“it’s not your fault, josh…we did it together, we gotta get through this together.” it really wasn’t his fault. you didn’t want him to think that.

“no, it is. i’m constantly getting you roped into all the shit that happens in my life, and you’ve been working your ass off to fix this timeline. you deserve better.” josh stroked your hair.

you sat up. “it’s okay, josh. there’s nobody i’d rather fix the timeline with.”

“still, it’s not fair. all of this isn’t fair. let me…let me make it up to you.” he seemed a bit nervous and started hesitating on his words.

you started to feel a little hot. “how would you go about ‘making it up to me’, josh?”

you did not expect what he did next.

josh was this awkward gamer nerd who had never felt the touch of a woman before. he’d always been so out of place and nervous talking to anyone, which made it so weird to hear what he said next.

“let…let me make you feel good.” his hand laying on the bed crept closer to your thigh, covered by your pants.

you started to get a little nervous yet excited. you had never seen him be this bold before.

“you’ve been so stressed by everything in life, and i mean everything. a-and you never have anyone help you out with anything. i want to help you…feel good, like stress relief.” his pinkie played with the fabric of your pants.

you couldn’t believe this was real right now. josh, the one you had known for years, barely having the balls to talk to girls besides you, doing this. your mine was racing.

he noticed how quiet you were being. “o-of course you don’t have to let me do it if you don’t want to! it was just an idea, it was stupid, i don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anythi-”

he was cut off by you kissing him, hand holding his jawline. he melted into the kiss.

as you pulled away, you smiled. “i…i think i do want this. please, josh. make me feel good.”

“okay…okay..” he started to trail off with his words as his thumb ran back and forth on your cheek. “before i do this, i just wanna let you know that if you’re uncomfortable, please tell me, and we’ll be done. won’t have to speak of it ever again. promise.”

he was very sweet. sure, he was awkward, but he put your comfort and pleasure first. it made you feel happy and safe.

he went back to softly kissing you as his hand went slightly under your shirt and rubbed your waist, just above your pants. soft, delicate touches.

as he unbuttoned your pants, he tapped your hips twice, signaling for you to lift them up. as you did, he tugged your pants down at an agonizingly slow pace. he was such a fucking tease.

his eyes became infatuated with your lace underwear you were wearing. the way it clung to your hips was driving him mad. he hoped you couldn’t tell how crazy you were making him. he toyed with the fabric as you smiled.

“as much as i love these,” he snapped them on your hips. “i’m gonna have to take them off. is that okay with you?”

you felt so safe, knowing how tender he was being. he didn’t want to fuck this up. you lifted your hips. “that’s more than okay with me, josh.” you played with a handful of his hair.

he dragged your panties down your legs, exposing your glistening cunt to him. he audibly gasped, he couldn’t believe he was doing this to you. sure, he always thought you were sweet, and even fantasized about doing things like this to you, but he didn’t think it’d ever happen.

he was lost in thought, staring at your cunt. you started to get insecure, closing your legs. “josh, stop staring.” you pleaded.

he shook his head. “sorry, you’re just…so beautiful. i can’t believe it.” he thumbed little circles on your inner thigh.

“can i…feel you? down there, i mean?” he asked. god, he was so awkward it was funny.

you nodded your head. “yeah. please.”

his fingers started inching closer and closer to where you needed them most. suddenly, he ran one through your slit, barely touching your clit. you shuddered. that felt good.

“fuck…you’re so wet. you’re so hot.” he ran his finger slowly around your clit, seeing if he’d get any reactions from you. you silently gasped.

“that..that felt really good. please keep doing that.” you felt so good right now. no guy had ever focused on making you feel good before. this was new. you liked it.

“god, please moan for me. love the little noises y’make.” josh was rubbing your clit a bit faster, making you let out a quiet moan.

“f..fuck. feels good. really good.” feeling that little area constantly stimulated was the ticket. you hadn’t felt this good in a long time.

“can i…can i put a finger in?” he asked, slowing down his aggression on your clit.

you furiously nodded your head, your pussy clamping down on nothing. wanting to be filled. by him.

“please, please josh.” you said, getting lost in the pleasure. you let out a grunt as he slowly inserted a finger inside you.

“fuck, it’s only one finger but you’re so tight, fuck.” he started to ramble as he moved his finger in your wetness. you squirmed a bit. it felt so good, his thick finger getting lost in you.

“m’ gonna put another one im, ‘kay?” he asked, prodding another finger to your tight hole. you nodded, to which he slowly put it in. you groaned at the tight stretch.

“you good?” he asked. he wanted this to be good for you. the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

“yeah, was just..new, was all. please keep going. feels good.” you went on.

he did just that. he curled his fingers inside you, pumping them at a quick pace. that, with stimulation he was putting from his thumb to your clit, was making you moan left and right. you felt something stirring inside you.

“god, you’re so cute like this…should’ve done this sooner.” he gushed, turning you on even more.

“fuck, m’close.” you panted.

as soon as the feeling met you, it left as he pulled his fingers out of you.

you looked up at him, confused. “why’d you do that?” you asked.

he started to sink down. “as much as i was getting into that, i wanna see you cum on my tongue.” he kissed your thighs.

you felt the wetness pool inside you even more once he said that. god, you couldn’t get that image out of your head now.

“please, fuck, josh. make me cum on your tongue.” you pleaded as he slowly trailed to your inner thighs, giving them a lot of attention. you had taken him for the thigh guy, but not to this extent.

“since you asked so nicely…” he lowered his head, taking a long lick to your cunt, you releasing a pornographic moan.

“fuck…feels s’good josh…oh my god.” you had never felt this type of pleasure anywhere, and here he was, giving it to you like his life depended on it.

he gave a light kiss to your clit before lightly tracing his tongue over it, testing the waters. once he heard you becoming a moaning mess, he licked it with more vigor, wanting to pull these moans out of you.

the stimulation felt like no other, him focusing on making out with your clit and entrance. he pulled your thighs closer to his face as he licked at more of your slick.

you pulled at his hair, letting out breathy moans. he groaned at this. hard. right into your cunt, which felt so fucking good. you could feel your back arch off the bed as he lapped into your juices, him tonguing your clit. your nails scratched at his scalp as that familiar pit in your stomach came back.

“josh…so close…holy shit.” you moaned as his tongue swirled around you.

“please, come on my face. please.” he pleaded. the vibrations his voice sent to your core sending you even closer. “wanna make you feel better than you ever have. come on my tongue.”

one final stroke of his tongue lead you to your peak, your thighs tightening around his face. you let out incoherent babbles as you came on him. he continued to lick you as you rode out your high.

once you calmed down, you looked down at him, catching your breath. he had slick all over his face and wore a dopey smile. “are you okay?” he asked.

“never better.” you replied. “that felt so fucking good josh. thank you. so much.” you caressed his cheek.

“i hope it’s not too weird to tell you i enjoyed that.” he had a slight tint of red on his cheeks.

“oh! not at all. it was amazing. i can’t thank you enough.” you smiled, laying onto the pillow.

“no, i can’t thank you enough. you always stay by my side and always fix my messes. this is the least that i could do.” he said as he handed you a glass of water that was sitting on the nightstand, which you took.

“i’ll always be here for you, if you ever wanna do shit like this again, or even something soothing like a massage.” he added.

you put the glass of water down, hugging him. “you’re so sweet, josh. i appreciate it so much. you’re such a good person, i really hope you know that.”

“anything else you need?” he asked.

“take a nap with me for awhile?” you asked. you had gotten very sleepy.

“of course.” he get under the covers, cuddling you and stroking your hair. “i’ll do anything for you, i hope you know that.”

you nuzzled into his chest, getting comfortable. “you too, joshy.” you mumbled as you started to fall into a deep sleep.

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a/n: hi guys first(ish) post. hope u enjoyed :p pls send requests as well! i’m so bad at ideas

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Dying’s Up To Me - A No Love Lost Prologue

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: This is just straight sad angst. I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry.

Title from Dog Years by Halsey

Word Count: 4k

Summary/Warnings: A Prologue. Takes place 6ish months before Chapter 1. All the warnings. Mentions of suicide, isolation, and SA without depiction (not by Soldier Boy).

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, angst.

You escaped. You’re looking up and down the highway, at the green trees, all reaching up to the warmth of the sun, and you’re free.

You’re really, finally fucking free.

There’s soot and ash and grime covering your body, but you’re fucking free. You’ve been running for almost a day, and you’re about to collapse, but Homelander isn’t going to find you. He’s not allowed to find you. You’ll burn the whole world before you go back to the lab or the white room. You’ll figure out a way to kill yourself before you go back.

Right now, though, is about going. Just keep fucking going, until you find somewhere that hurts a little less. Not home—you don’t think you’ll ever have home again—but shelter. A place to figure out what comes immediately next, and nothing beyond that. Somewhere empty, where you can’t hurt anyone.

You really don’t want to hurt anyone. There are still the screams and pleas of the scientists and guards ringing in your ears, and their callous, arbitrary expressions had haunted your days, but their melting, flame-twisted faces would follow you into nightmares for the rest of your life. But there hadn’t been another way. You have to keep reminding yourself that there really hadn’t been another way, and you’d never do it again. If you have to, you’ll lock yourself away to never hurt anyone again.

At least this time it would be your choice. And Homelander wouldn’t be there. Nobody would touch you, and that would be fine. Anything would be better than these past few years. Loneliness would be simple, compared to eyes on you always. Cruel blue eyes, telling you that you should be lucky and grateful and to stop fucking crying. Red hands holding you down, and a cold body-

No. You won’t think about it. You won’t let him have that power over you. Another rule, nobody is allowed to have that power over you again. To consume your life like that, and tell you a single fucking thing about yourself.

You find a rest stop, and the sign on the side tells you that you’re still in upstate New York, but the highway markers say you’re at least 30 miles from where you started. And you need some food, and water, and clothing, but you don’t have any money. You don’t have fucking shit, except a foreign, painful itch under your skin and scorched cloth covering your body. You don’t even have shoes, but the heat of the pavement doesn’t hurt you, and if you’ve stepped on glass at any point, there’s no evidence of it.

But you’re still so hungry. And tired. And you just want to sit down and wear something that doesn’t smell like smoke and guts and sanitizer.

And there’s a car with the windows open, and a wallet in the cupholder. No owner in site, the lot itself practically empty.

You take the risk—only forty dollars, and the car is a Tesla, so you don’t feel that bad—and shuffle into the rest stop. You can afford some chips, and a water bottle, and so much New York themed clothing someone would think you’re a sponsor of the state. A hoodie, sweatpants, and a baseball cap and sunglasses that you wear indoors for safety. There’s a Wendy’s in the building, so you get the largest, most disgustingly greasy burger on the menu and drop yourself at one of the food court tables. Ignoring any stares in your direction, you focus on the news—playing on a high-mounted TV without sound—and eat.

Things have changed since you’ve last been outside. A lot of things have really changed. That blonde supe, with the light powers who’d only just joined the Seven before you’d died in every way that mattered, has renounced it. Vought, the Seven, the whole supe-kebab. The newscasters are talking about how she’s accused Homelander of being an abusive, manipulative psychopath, that’s a danger to America and everyone alive.

You could’ve told them that. You have three years of testimony to that very fact, plus a little more you never want to think about again.

Queen Maeve is missing. You’d take a safe bet Homelander’s got something to do with that as well, because when you’d seen him last he was sneering at you about how the only people he respected always fucking betray him, and made you promise once more to never lie to him or hurt him or pretend to know better than he did. You had, because you didn’t have a choice, and the rest of that day was locked deep inside your brain, in a place you’d never open.

Someone who’s apparently very infamous named William Butcher—you’d heard that name before, but you’re not sure where—is working with Soldier Boy, who’s somehow alive and also a threat to America. That’s interesting. Not the threat to America part—you’d take a pretty safe bet than any man with V in his body and sparkling TV persona is dangerous and shouldn’t be trusted—but the alive part. It explained Homelander’s complaints of nobody is stronger than he is last time, and his joking, menacing order to the scientists to not make you too powerful.

You didn’t care about powerful. You didn’t really care about most things anymore, and you’re not sure where you’re going from here, but it’s never within a million fucking yards of Homelander, or Vought, or anything else that might trap you and hurt you. Hopefully this William Butcher guy and Soldier Boy will kill Homelander, and he won’t be your problem again. Blondie can deal with the whole those guys are a threat to America thing after, because right now—as long as they’re only targeting Homelander—you just need it done. A dead Homelander, fast, and quick, and done, so nobody ever had to hurt like this again.

From the rest stop, you wander for a long while more. Down the highway, scratching at your skin to keep the fire in your body, never touching anyone, and stealing money out of cars to keep yourself alive. At one point, you find a public library in a small town—hidden deep in the Berkshires with tall trees that shield you in green light from anyone in the sky—and google yourself.

You’re dead. Very dead. Three years ago you’d died by suicide, leaving a note that said you were jumping off a bridge, and nobody had looked into it further beyond that. Your father had written your obituary, calling you smart, and kind, and determined. And that was it.

Nothing left to go back to.

You make two rules. One, you can never touch anyone again, because you can feel what they feel and it’s not fair.

Two, you’ll never be peaceful again, and that’s fine. You’re too broken to live any sort of normal life, and you’ll be alone, but it’s for everyone’s safety. You’re a danger, Vought’s a danger, and Homelander’s the worst danger of all.

Because Soldier Boy and William Butcher had failed you—they didn’t even fucking know you, but you were still annoyed about it—and Homelander was still fucking alive. Soldier Boy was dead himself, Queen Maeve was dead as well, and even though the news said Homelander was on trial for killing someone in broad daylight, you don’t think that will go anywhere. He was pleading innocent, like a fucking cunt, and a jury would buy it. He had—allegedly—killed that guy for his son, Ryan, who was a very sweet looking boy that you’d heard some very confusing things from Homelander about. How Ryan was strong, and he was proud to have a son, even if the son’s mother was a bitch who’d died like a fucking cockroach. How Ryan was still too human, and was being so mean to Homelander, siding with William Butcher over his own father-

Oh. That’s where you’d heard the name Butcher before. He was the guy that Homelander was always complaining about being an annoying inconvenience, ruining his perfectly good life, always trying to kill him when that was impossible.

Killing Homelander was impossible. Soldier Boy hadn’t done it, and even Blondie—you’ve learned her supe name was Starlight, and her real name is Annie January—had said she thought he could. To be fair, every news report you could find said that Soldier Boy went insane at the end, trying to kill everyone around him without remorse, but it really doesn’t matter in the long run, because Homelander is still alive, and unkillable.

You should leave. You should run and never look back, find somewhere far across the ocean with sunlight and grass and a sky that won’t ever be watching you. But you need to see your grave first. It feels important, for some stupid fucking reason, to sit at your grave and ensure that there’s some evidence you existed. Some proof that, at least before, you were loved and safe. A remnant of that part of you, that will never exist again.

It’s not a fancy gravestone. When you find it—after another week of walking and stealing and trying not to scream at the sky in case it hears—it actually looks a little pathetic. It has your name, and your birthday, and the day that you “died”. It says loving daughter and sister, and that’s it. No real epitaph, just loving daughter and sister.

And you can’t bring yourself to leave. You think you might rot away here, because you can’t actually die, but you can stop being alive. In every way that counts, you’re not alive. You’re alone and cold and the wind is biting at your ears at night, despite the suffocating heat of the day. It rains, a heavy thunderstorm that lasts two nights, and you don’t flinch or catch a cold. So you’ll stay here, and try not to think about how you weren’t a loving daughter or sister. Your mother hated you, and you saw your father once a month but barely spoke outside of that, and all your siblings might have loved you, but you’ll never forgive yourself for leaving them.

Your whole life before this had been about helping people, and all that’s left is a gravestone with a lie about how good you were. No legacy, no flowers resting on the grass in tribute. Only you in the dark, staring at a name that might not be yours anymore, and watching the pine trees in the graveyard sway in the wind of the night.

“You knew her?”

You almost jump out of your skin—nobody visits this place, and you’d come to expect solitude—whipping around to see a large, dark-skinned man with an Outkast shirt, gold chain, and leather jacket standing at your side.

“Sorry?”

The man says your name, nodding to your grave stone. “You knew her?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, keeping your face bored and tone neutral. You don’t know who the fuck this guy is, or why he’s at your grave, and you don’t trust it. You don’t trust anything anymore. “Not well, though. You?”

“Never met her.” The man shrugs. “But I’m a true crime fan, thought I’d look into whatever the fuck happened to her.”

Your nails dig into your skin as you force yourself to remain completely fucking indifferent. “I thought she killed herself. Not much true crime in that.”

“Please.” The man makes a dismissive gesture, and you blink. “Nobody ever found a body, and that’s the first fucking rule of death. You always need to see the body.”

“She jumped off a bridge-“

“Or something else happened.” The man is watching you now, studying your face carefully. You’re going to bite off your tongue. “Something more true crime. You knew her. She seem like the type to kill herself?”

You don’t hesitate to answer. “Yeah, actually. She did.”

The man gives you a frown of light surprise. “Really?”

“She wasn’t exactly a happy person.” You mutter, trying not to choke on bile. “I mean, her life was fine, but she was lonely. History of mental illness, maybe she snapped.”

You wish this man would leave. Just fucking leave you alone, so you don’t have to think about this. You had been lonely, but not like you are now. Things had been getting better before, you’d been getting better before, and now nothing would ever be better again.

But the man hums, still watching you, and stays. “Tragic shit.” He extends his hand. “Marvin Milk, by the way. You?”

You recognize that name. You don’t have a fucking clue from where, but you do. And you hesitate too long, because you can’t shake Marvin Milk’s hand, but you won’t tell him your name. So when you finally speak, you see his face twitch, and you have to get out of here.

“I’m nobody,” you say, and cross your arms. A clear, plain signal that you won’t shake his hand. “And I actually have somewhere to be-“

“Fuckin hell, that’s it.”

Whatever painfully British voice said that came from behind you, and Marvin Milk’s eyes widen.

You haven’t fully turned when something large and explosive hits you, launching your right through your own gravestone and yanking any control over the fire away from your grasp.

You’re burning. The whole fucking world is flame, and there’s no purpose to it. It’s just pain and anger and fire. Trying to find what hurt you—or tried to hurt you, you don’t have a scratch on your body—and hurt it.

You don’t want to hurt it. Your hand has moved to your throat, and you’re gripping yourself with white-knuckles, trying to yank all the fire back into your body. You hate this, and you don’t want to hurt anyone, and people are yelling around you and you’ll never be safe again-

You have to run. Try to get around them, away from them, away from everyone. If Vought, if Homelander, sent them to collect you, you’ll bury yourself so deep in the earth they’ll have to spend a lifetime digging to find you. If they’re the government, they can choke on the fire and smoke—rushing from you like a hurricane, scorching the dirt and grass and night around you—and pass out until you’re far, far away from anyone who will ever know you.

Third rule. The world is burning around you, several voices are shouting Anomaly and it’s making the fire slip further from your grasp, and nobody will be allowed to know you again. Just to be safe, nobody will be allowed past the layer of your appearance and the words that you calculate before they leave your mouth.

People who know you call you weak. And you can’t afford to be weak anymore. There’s so much fucking pain in your body, and you can’t let it control you. You’re moving on pure instinct, trying to just go, fucking run, get away and hide for a million years until this heals itself, but these people are trying to stop you. Through the haze of flame and smoke and pain you can count six of them, but their features are blurred with the rest of the world. They seem to be yelling at each other more than you, scrambling around to try and keep you in the graveyard but away from their bodies. Three of them are running at you, two smaller women and a man, and all of them shouting at the man in particular.

He’s raising something you’re not lucid enough to recognize, but you know it’s aimed at you, and everyone is screaming and shouting and everything hurts-

Something crashes over your body, and the whole world starts to hiss. It’s water—ice-cold fucking water—that’s steaming off your still burning, almost naked body, and it’s brought you down.

But you’re still angry. Everything is sharp and in focus, and now you’re fucking angry. You can see the man clearly before you—Hawaiian shirt, black trench coat, bearded face in a crude smirk that you want to punch—and you’re going to get out of here.

“Pleasure to meet you, Love-“

The man—he’s the British cunt who blasted you through your grave—never gets to finish his greeting. Your punch to his jaw is weak—wrath and a bitter, hollow hole forming in your body from the contact—but your whole body is still alight with flame so it does the trick. You manage push down the guilt that eats you from the twist and sizzle of his flesh, he’ll live, hopefully, and fucking run.

You’re halfway to the graveyard gate when someone tackles you, knocking you to the ground. They’re strong—filled with determination and focus—and you’re burning but they’re not moving off of you. You’re screaming and thrashing, you need to go, this person is touching you and people can’t touch you, can’t hold you, can’t be near you to keep you under them ever again, never fucking again-

“Mon Coeur, you are burning-“

“Unless you got a better plan to keep the human fuckin wildfire down, Frenchie, Kimiko’s gonna be sittin on her until she calms her bloody tits.”

That gets through. They’ll let you go if you calm down.

You don’t know how to calm down. Everything is burning and you can’t calm down, so your hand creeps back to your throat. That’s helped before, yanking yourself down by a brutal anchor, but the fire is out and you can’t pull it back in.

The person above you is suddenly gone, and you think the world might be ending. Everything is burning, but you can’t control your legs or body or brain. Your own screams are hollow in your head, exhaustion settles in your bones, your body aching, and the fire goes dark with your consciousness.

When you wake up—the world a blur you have to blink away—that determination that doesn’t belong to you is still all over your skin, and someone is pinning your arms behind your back. You’re still in the graveyard, kneeling on the grass as dawn cracks the horizon, and there are five people with varying levels of weariness on their faces before you. Watching as you shake yourself awake, their bodies braced as if you might attack them like a feral animal.

You won’t. Right now. You’ll find out who they are, and what they want, then adapt to whatever the situation calls for.

In the breaching daylight, it’s easier to see their faces. Marvin Milk is still there, his jacket slightly scorched—you feel a little bad, it was a nice jacket—and he’s standing next to a shorter, twitchy and wild-eyed man who’s mostly looking behind you. At whoever is holding you. Next to the shorter man is another taller, skinny, anxious looking man, who’s running his hands through his hair and looking around the rest of the group with a nervous expression.

And his side is Blondie. Starlight. Fucking Starlight, in normal people clothing, studying you with a drawn focus and glaring at the man right before you.

William Butcher. You hadn’t recognized him in the haze of your fear and the flame, in the shadows of the night, but that’s him. His face is twisted with a burn, but you’ve seen enough of the news to recognize the fucker.

They’re not with Vought or Homelander. And you still don’t fucking trust it.

You cough, forcing yourself to speak. “What do you want.”

“Look who’s gotten up from her fuckin nap-“

“Shut up,” you mutter, looking over their odd group with narrowed eyes. “I know you idiots, I’ve seen the news. What the fuck do you want from me.”

“That depends,” Marvin Milk crosses his arms, looking you up and down. “You want to tell us who the hell you are, without any lies?”

“Are you going to hit me with a rocket launcher again?”

William Butcher looks like he’s going to sneer something at you, but Starlight cuts him off.

“We won’t. We shouldn’t have,” she shoots Butcher a glare. “In the first place. Please just tell us who you are.”

You chew on your cheek, still not ready to show your cards. “Who do you think I am?”

“We don’t got the faintest idea-“

“Wrong.” You snap. “You clearly have some idea, if you’re bringing weapons and making someone hold me down.” You twist around, and find the owner of the alien determination crossing your skin—a dark-haired, pretty asian woman with an unwavering face—watching you. “You don’t have to restrain me, by the way. I won’t run, and you shouldn’t touch me.”

The woman looks over your shoulder, and Butcher scoffs. “You just tried to bloody kill us, Love, forgive us for making sure you ain’t able to do it again-“

“If I am who you think I am,” you drawl. “Then we both know I could kill you if I wanted to. I’ll talk, but she shouldn’t touch me.”

The wild-eyed man swallows, and speaks with the heaviest French accent you’ve ever heard. “Why may she not touch you-“

“She may,” you shrug best you can with the woman still gripping your arms. “But she shouldn’t. I can feel you,” you turn to the woman once more. “And I can’t help it.”

“The fuck you mean feel her-“

You cut off Milk with a flat look. “I’ll tell you if she lets me go.”

They all exchange looks, Starlight nods to the woman, and when she lets go you’re left alone in your body once more. Empty and tired and alone.

“Awesome,” you rub your wrists, remaining on the ground as the woman rejoins her group. “So? What’s up, cunts?”

They all stare at you, and the tall, nervous one speaks first, rubbing the back of his neck.

“We’re, um, looking for you? I think?”

“And who am I?”

They all exchange frowns again. It’s starting to get annoying.

“You’re the fuckin Anomaly,” Butcher grunts, looking over you and saying your name. Your full, real name. “Dead three years ago, clearly bloody alive in front of us, escaped Vought captivity a few months back.”

“Wrong.” You mutter. “Wasn’t Vought.”

Starlight frowns. “But-“

“Was Vought funded. But not Vought.”

“Homelander, ain’t it?” Butcher smirks. “Maeve said you got an agenda-“

“I don’t have anything,” you snap. “What do you want.”

They want you. To fight for them. To kill Homelander.

You can’t kill Homelander. He needs to die, but you can’t kill him. The sky is becoming blue, and you’re becoming cold in the sunlight, and you can’t fight or kill Homelander.

But you can help. You tell them—almost—all your powers. Fire. Feelings. Fucking healing. You even display that last one, placing a light hand on Butcher’s face and manage not to flinch at the hatred and unending fury in his body, or the way everyone faces curl into disgust and horror as your own face morphs and contorts into burn scars, healing within the same second.

You flinch back from Butcher, and they exchange another set of fucking looks before offering you something. You don’t have to fight Homelander, but that healing thing will be useful, and they don’t want to just leave you for Homelander to find. You can go with them—provided you tell them what happened to you and work with them—and you don’t have to decay into a hollow vessel of pain and fire in the graveyard.

You look at your grave, and it's only ruins. Someone might repair it, but you think it might just stay like that. And you don’t want to stick around to find out. There’s birds singing in the trees, and the sounds of life waking with the day, and you won’t fail yourself. You won’t go back, but you want to be the last person who is reduced to a broken grave by Homelander’s hands.

It’s not like you have anything else to waste what might be immortality on.

So you dig your nails into your skin, and agree to their terms. You leave the graveyard with the Boys—that’s a stupid fucking name for a team, but you don’t tell them that—and make a fourth rule. The first three can be inherent. Don’t touch anyone, never rest, and never let anyone know you are all for survival. They’ll ring in the back of your head without reminder, because they’ll be instinct. Stay free, keep breathing, don’t stop moving or lose control. You don’t have to be alive, but you need to survive. At least until you’ve played your part, you need to keep going.

And that’s the fourth rule. Whatever it takes. You’ll never be alive again, so you need to do whatever it takes. You’ll be whatever you need to be, and Homelander will die. Homelander has to fucking die, and then you can go back to wasting away in the lonely, hollow cold.

But for now, whatever it fucking takes.

End Note: Very silly of me to publish the prologue over halfway through the series.

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@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles @brtodd

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

Mercs x gn reader who’s blind? They’re not a fighter or something but they help around keeping the base in check or something, they have really good hearing.

Can tell the guys apart from their footsteps, even catching Spy off guard when they noticed him sneaking about.

One thing they want to familiarize with the Mercs are their face shapes. They may not see them with their eyes but they picture them to match their voices. GN Reader adores being around these noisy men.

TF2 Mercs with a blind reader (Most notably Spy..)

Warning: Brainless imbeciles

EDIT: I MISREAD THIS ASK IM SORRY THE BLIND READER IS A MERC AAAAAAA

Scout:

-He is wracked at first with the misinformation surrounding blindness. At first, he thinks your world is completely dark. Night-time type of darkness and you have no ways of seeing his shape whatsoever. Which might be half true for some of you, but imagine his awe when you look directly at him after being spoken to. You could hear this idiot nagging from a mile away.

- “Wait, so do you know i’m white?” “I’m blind, Scout. Not stupid.”

- He’s clearly been unsocialized to those with vision impairment. It shows in his borderline stupid behavior. Waves his bat in front of your face and then winces when you angrily grab it and yank it away from him. Thats when he discovers that blind people typically don’t enjoy that. Gee, you learn something new everyday!

- Runs really fast by you on the battlefield and your face follows the exact direction from where he came from to where he was going. He saw this for a split second and needless to say, he envies your heightened hearing. You had a mildly interested expression the entire time. As if trying to discern if that was an enemy scout or not. Hmm, no. It’s definitely your scout. Nobody else uses that pretentious ass expensive cologne from tuefort’s strip mall. You wanted to gag.

- You could hear him easier than any other merc. His footsteps were simply too evident and easy to identify due to the rhythmic fast-pace. Like an annoying fly buzzing past your ear. (In all honesty, you’re not too far off.) Scout gave himself away way too easily and it concerned you a bit.

——————————————————————-

Soldier:

- “LOOK ME IN THE EYES WHEN I’M SPEAKING TO YOU, ROOKIE!” Soldier says confidently. You glare and say “Well I’d do that if I could see where your fucking eyes are.” aaaaand cue soldier’s immediate realization and instant guilt. These men seriously just speak out of their ass impulsively like babies.

- Bumps into you on accident in the hallway a few times and you certainly don’t need vision to know he opens his mouth in protest before immediately closing it and apologizing profusely for not being mindful enough toward your position. In fact this is beginning to happen a lot more than the other mercs for some reason.. The other ones EASILY move out of your way or make space politely. Yes, even Spy and Medic.

- You approach him one day; and you ask him if he might consider he has vision problems as well. Soldier quietly ponders the thought before audibly shrugging. You shake your head and ask him if he has any blurry vision, blind spots and whatnot. He mentions the top half of his eyes are pretty much dark. You blink for a second, then reach out to touch his head. Feeling something hard and metal.. You pull it off his head and he’s like “HOLY MOLY MARY MOTHER OF ROCKET JUMPING CHRIST! YOU FIXED MY BLINDNESS, PRIVATE! YOU MUST BE A DESCENDANT OF THE GOOD LORD JESUS!” Yes, it was his oversized helmet.

- You rub the bridge of your nose for a moment, utterly fucking tired and it’s not even ten yet.

——————————————————————

Demoman:

- SAME HAT! Sort of. Demoman is missing an eye, and his blind spot is annoying. You’ve both sort of unintentionally bonded over your poor eyes and after memorizing where his blind spot was, you make sure to walk up behind him in that exact area to startle him. Which usually results in both of you howling in laughter.

- You nervously ask demoman to be your eyes on the battlefield one day while anxiety is quite intense. Demoman shakes his head in irritation. “Ye do know I have horrible depth perception, everybody and der mother is movin at mach 10!?” and you respond “Great! We’re fucked.” You were indeed not fucked. Both of you managed to tough it out by ears alone. You make a great team and demoman is blessed to have you. You protect each other expertly.

- If you happen to have a white cane by any chance, prepare to do childish pretend sword battles with him during dinner time. Don’t worry, he’s using a broom. God knows that eyelander would actually try to kill you and everyone else in the room. Miss pauling is very displeased by your guys’ table manners.

————————————————————————

Engineer:

- You inspire him a bit. He was always a bit secretly doubtful of his own abilities after losing his hand in battle. It gave him a nagging insecurity that he’d fuck up in some way, or was no longer qualified due to his disability. You completely destroyed that insecure side of him. The way you effortlessly kill and complete your missions has made him feel better.

- You’re in his workshop one night, and you’ve memorized pretty much the entire layout of the room as this point. Minus maybe a few annoying bolts on the ground here and there that you dance over. You approach him and put your hands on his shoulder. Which he responds to by rubbing your left hand. “So uh, are you making some weird contraption that’ll fix my eyesight or something?” You ask as a joke.

- Engineer sounds offended by such a thing. “You don’t feel broken, do you? I’m not doing that.” He says sternly. “You’re not broken, Y/N. If you want I can make somethin’ partner but there’s nothing wrong with you and I don’t want you to feel that way. You’re no toy to be fixed so that everyone else is somehow comfortable! If ‘em boys are bothering you why I oughta—“

- You sigh in slight exasperation from the random dad rant but in the inside you’re thankful for his words. You hug him tightly in gratitude to shut him up and then feel a cold metal touch your arm. You look down, unable to discern the shape of the object. But it’s undoubtedly robotic-feeling. “Whats that?” You ask. Engineer pauses. Realizing he had taken his glove off. He realizes now’s a good time to remind you he’s on your side. He strokes you with his metal hand to soothe you. “Let’s just say we aren’t too different in some respects, sugar.” And his words is what makes you realize what it is.

- You drag the metal hand to your cheek and feel the cool claws against your skin. The thumb of the machinery rubs your chin.

————————————————————————-

Heavy:

- He figures out you’re blind right away and he genuinely doesn’t give a shit. He finds everybody equally annoying, like I said beforehand. You’ll notice as aforementioned he moves out of your way in the hallway however and aids you around the building whenever you ask him. He seems to care.

- He asks you how big he is from your perspective. You can answer that pretty confidently. The truth of the matter is that he’s the most recognizable due to his large body, rumbling voice, and massive footsteps. He nods and slightly smiles with reassurance. Good. Even those with eyesight problems know he’s dangerous. excellent. Just the way he likes it.

- Heavy fully trusts in your abilities and makes no attempts to help you in battle unless you ask. He’s seen you bash heads in one too many times without much thought and it’s safe to say they made a great call hiring you. Clearly you don’t let being blind affect your work whatsoever. In a weird sort of way, he feels oddly proud of you but won’t ever voice it outloud.

- You save him from a Spy and this causes a distant, disheveled look in his eyes as you run off and he stops whirling his gun. It isn’t often his kindness is rewarded like this. (Also now he’s wondering if he should ask Medic to give him supersonic hearing.)

———————————————————————-

Pyro:

- Pyro doesn’t realize you’re blind at all at first. It’s just not something they think much about when accessing new friends. His mind isn’t on scoping out their inherent “flaws” but rather scoping out how well you treat the others around you. Which is an odd thing for Pyro considering they’re quite content on vandalizing shit, disregarding people’s worldly positions and their feelings on it, and overall being an unforgiving nutcase who’d 100% bite off all the heads of their animal crackers and put them back in the box.

- Once they figure out you’re actually not here to cause damage, they seem to warm up fast. Pun intended. I think the moment they realize something’s wrong is when they silently point out a sniper around the corner with their pointer finger and you don’t even flinch. In their stead, Soldier audibly reminds you. This causes pyro to re-think how you might perceive some stuff.

- They begin to psychoanalyze you more out of habit. You seem to disregard a lot of certain visual stimuli in favor of sound. Without even asking you they figure out after a while that you’re blind and quickly adjust their behavior to better accommodate you. Instead of pointing at danger for example, they grab your hand and make you point at it… Which works, I mean. But he could just speak, y’know? It’s not like you can’t hear them better than anyone else over that gas mask.

- Pyro figures out how to convey signals to you without having to do the hard task of speaking. Two taps on your shoulder meant spy, one tap meant sentry around corner, and so on. Not only did this hide his intentions from the enemy team but helped you team up with them quickly.

————————————————————————

Sniper:

- Ugh.. Sniper is much like Scout in the sense that he has no clue how to respond to a blind person. He quickly assumes you’re inept at first and begins prioritizing your position on the battlefield more than anyone else. Shooting down key targets that get too close to you; or get in a quarrel with you. It’s flattering really but you can hold your own in a fight just fine. This is affecting your performance.

- You admittedly lose your mind and yell at him. But to be honest he had it coming with his stupid assumptions. Sniper doesn’t even complain nor move a muscle as you shout at him and storm off. He immediately feels regretful and tips his hat forward. Once again he’s lost another potential friend to his own behavior. “I was only trying to keep you alive.” He mutters to himself as he turns away. Unbeknownst to him, you heard it.

- Convinced, you sigh and walk back to him and run down the fact that you’re independent, and that you appreciated it but it’s important you complete things by yourself. Then you bitterly apologize for yelling at him. You could have swore you heard a soft “Sorry too…”

- This unexpected softness from a hard rough and tough guy like Sniper is what makes you reconsider him. He’s willing to fess up and apologize for having a bias. He just sucks at it. You forgive him hesitantly and you learn to not regret that later. Because he soon learns that you’re simply equal to all the other mercs and treats you as such.

———————————————————————-

Medic:

- Come on now, really? He already has his hands on your medical history the moment you walk through the door. He doesn’t skip a beat whenever idly scanning for things he should keep note of. Medic never even asks you if you’re blind. He simply acts as though he’s always known. Opening doors for you, directing you if you truly need it. Aggressively shoving the other mercs out of the way to make way for you so he doesn’t need to tend to BOTH your wounds.

- At first you suspected him to go crazy over time and check your eyesight curiously like a wet specimen in a jar. But his indifference is.. Slightly unnerving. You decide to enter his office and hesitantly remind him that you’re blind. Because you genuinely don’t know at this rate.

- “So..?” He asks. Rather rudely at that. You want to exhale loudly in anger so badly. Why was everyone in this fuckin’ place so mean?? Medic takes his glasses off and readjusts the position of his desk papers. “Should I act upon this more and enforce more adjustments?”

- “No—“ You say slowly. “I didn’t know you even knew. Normally you’d go crazy with curiosity whenever someone is even mildly different than you in an attempt to understand them.” You tell him. This causes him to sort of put his fist to his lips and snort. Holding back a laugh. “What? You think I haven’t met a blind person before? You’re forgetting i’m a doctor. Plus that just means we’re safer with you around. I’d rather not be backstabbed a thousand times each round anymore.”

- Agh.. That explains it. That yellow folder on the table with the blurry photo of your image also explains it.

—————————————————————————-

Spy:

- FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- His poor pride is in pieces on the ground whenever you’re nearby. The other mercs can visibly see his fists clench into a ball and swear they see his eye twitch. Scout especially wonders if you’re going to be the one who finally blows his lid. Why? JUST WHY? Why can you hear him when nobody else can? He’s like a magician the way he disappears into the shadows. So why does it not affect you?

- He’s superior in every way and he knows it. So why is it whenever he’s lightly walking along the hallway to have a smoke break that you turn around and greet him? Truly, nobody else walks as gently and lightly as he does. His footwork to your ears is like a tiptoeing predator in the bushes the way he walks so slowly to achieve stealth. He freezes in place and grits his teeth everytime you do this… Then suppresses his own unholy wrath and stumbles away.

- .. You’re making him needlessly paranoid. He can’t work under these conditions. If you can sense him, then surely eventually the other team will? Congratulations on singlehandedly causing this old man work related silent panic attacks. His hair is falling out more than usual and he’s staring at himself in the mirror, with a dead gone expression. Staring into the void. He’s dissociating now.

- Tries to outsmart your own heightened senses in any way he can. The closest he’s gotten is maybe sneaking into your room while you were asleep to check your drawer and you woke up due to the sound of the drawer opening. After rolling around to face him, his cat-like eyes in the darkness disappeared as fast as they came in. WHOOOOSHHHhh went his cloak. You could even hear him tapping his watch in the process. Really, you didn’t understand how he was such a huge threat to the other team.

[nnaviee]

Hey Navie! (idk if its weird to use your name lol) I was wondering if you'd do a Natasha Romanoff x Fem reader? Maybe about a prank? I love pranks that have angst and then end in fluff so so much. I also love reading different writers' takes on a prank. If you don't like it that's totally fine. Love ya!! :3

seemingly harmless-natasha romanoff x fem!reader

“Любовь моя” = my love

warnings: guns, swearing, i think that’s it?

words: 3k

———————————————————————————

you slowly turned your key in the lock, opening the door to her apartment. you entered cautiously as you took in your surroundings. dark, and quiet. you had just come back from a mission, a long one. you were excited to see your girlfriend, but also felt like a prank was in order.

you slowly crept down the hallway and slowly opened her bedroom door, taking a moment to admire her peaceful, sleeping form. nobody ever really saw such a vulnerable side of her, yet you were one of the few select people who were given the privilege.

you’d seen a lot together, and you’d seen every side of each other. you made your way around the bed, pulling the sharpie you brought out of your pocket as you leaned next to the bed. you carefully lifted her arm, you had barely begun to write your name on her skin before you felt her jolt awake.

the next thing you knew, you were pressed against the wall, natasha standing behind you with a gun to your head. you knew she kept one near the bed, but this was not the outcome you expected from this seemingly harmless joke.

“nat! nat, please. it’s me.” you cried out without thinking, squeezing your eyes shut as they filled with unshed tears. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you.” you felt her grip on your arm loosen slightly as she slowly came back to reality.

she let go of your arm, turning you around to look at your face. “jesus fucking christ! where did you- when did you get home?” she was out of breath, the incident making her chest rise and fall rapidly as she processed what happened in her half-awake moment of adrenaline.

“about an hour or so ago…i think.” you were equally out of breath, your wide eyes flitting down to the weapon she still held in her white-knucked grip. she followed your gaze, looking down and quickly scrambling to put it away.

“god, i’m so sorry. i thought you…” she trailed off, lightly holding your fingers as she looked down between you. “i’m sorry.” she whispered it, barely audible. you reluctantly squeezed her fingers back, leaning your head down slightly to look at her.

“i’m sorry, too. i shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that. are you…you know, okay?” you reached a hand up to tuck a hair behind her ear as she slowly lifted her head to look at you. “i’m not the one who just had a gun to my head.” she choked out the words. “love, are you okay?” she brought a hand up and cupped your cheek, lightly tracing her thumb back and forth.

you inhaled and exhaled slowly, shaking slightly. “yeah. i’m alright. i’m tired, though.” you held her hand as your other hand rested on her shoulder. she looked at you, her eyes showing every ounce of guilt and disbelief she felt.

“let’s go to bed. the gun is safely put away, i promise.” she said slowly as she walked backwards, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling you to sit next to her. you both sat on the edge of the bed, your hands interlocked. you leaned your head on her shoulder. “i’m sorry i scared you, nat.”

she brought a hand up, running it through your hair. “i would never intentionally hurt you. you know that, right?” you wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her close to you as you buried your head in the crook of her neck.

“i know.” you whispered as both laid down, finding solace in each other’s arms as you settled beneath the covers. you rested your head on her chest and she continued to play with your hair. your breathing began to sync with hers as the two of you lay in comfortable silence. “i love you so much, Любовь моя.” she whispered into the quiet room.

“i love you more.” you responded as you closed your eyes and settled in closer to her, both of you drifting off to sleep.

———————————————————————————

A/N: ty so much for reading and suggesting!!! i hope yall enjoyed this. like i said, i’m pretty out of practice when it comes to writing things other than plays or poems, so this might be lowkey terrible lmao. also i’ll usually be writing in lowercase bc i’m too lazy to turn my autocaps on.

<3, navie.

[thatsdemko]

desperate - c.sainz

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: carlos sainz x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw + not intended for minors + mentions of nudity + mentions of oral + harsh language + teasing + long(v sorry) + google translated Spanish(that I don’t remember the translations to so I’m sorry)

italics= past

a/n: I wish I was lying when I say I’d let carlos fuck me into oblivion 🤭

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

two months. it’s been a long two months since you’ve been touched by your boyfriend. traveling, racing, training, etc. was all part of the job, but did it ever have to mean your sex life had to be jeopardized?

you barely had time to see him most days. he would come back at night, and he’d either be too tired or you already fell asleep. your friends bought a traveling gift to help ease and mend your pleasures, but nothing was the same to Carlos’ dick inside of you.

you weren’t sure how the other wives or girlfriends were able to hold smiles and be kissed so passionately without the feeling the numbness in between their legs. you knew it had to have been just you who hadn’t come in a long time.

“oh sweet girl, it’s been two months?” the whispered conversation was embarrassing, but you needed to share this with somebody on the paddock who could keep their mouth shut.

“you guys have time?” you ask, your head snapping in many directions to make sure nobody else was picking up on the conversation, it was too public, but you couldn’t hold it back anymore. you were going insane.

“hardly, but enough for a quick one.” she chuckles giving you the run down of last night, she left out as much details as possible to not make you envious of their lives. they were trying, and you both were just having fun, so there was a difference.

“mi amor, there you are!” the pet name could’ve been just enough for something to spill out of you as you tried to hold back a groan at the name, she watched you laughing at your head tilting back in pleasure.

“yeah I’m right here!” you spun around on your heel being greeted to a sweaty Carlos with his tracksuit hung around his waist. you licked your lips feeling butterflies scatter your stomach.

“I know that look, we don’t have time.” his whisper was more like a growl, as he pulled you to the side making sure the public and press were not listening. he would be lying if he hadn’t felt it too, he missed the nights of endless sex. but his performance for Ferrari came first, even if it meant having to jerk off by himself for two months.

“we never have time anymore, carlos. I’m starting to get wet at just the sight of you. I need you.” your finger tips ran up and down his muscles watching him let out a breathy sigh. oh the things you were doing to him right now, if it wasn’t for the location he would’ve had you on your knees already.

“I know, I notice, but I owe my best to Ferrari. can you go on a little longer?” he’s practically begging at this point, your hands cupped in his giving you his puppy dog eyes.

you sigh in annoyance, “fine, I’ll just keep using my vibrator.” the words roll of your tongue like a tease, but it was the truth after all. your friends gift unfortunately was coming more in handy than you would’ve wanted it to be.

you watched his eyes fill darker and his knuckles turn whiter as he balls his hands into a fist, “I promise, I’ll be better than that stupid toy.”

“you better be.”

—

he’s sleepless after having interrupted your alone time. he heard the light moans from outside of the hotel room, thankful for lando’s voice echoing the halls so no one else had to hear you. he knew it was purposeful that you waited this long to get off by yourself. he couldn’t stand hearing that toy make you act the way you were right now on the other side of the door.

he waits for Charles to enter his room before carefully placing the keycard against the pad. watching the light turn green, he’s gentle opening the door hearing your moans grow louder, he slips inside making sure the door closes just as quietly as he entered.

he can feel his cock growing hard catching a glimpse of your face in the mirror on the wall. he sees your head pressed against the pillow, hair in disarray against it. your face was scrunched up, while your mouth hung slightly open allowing soft moans to escape.

he licks his lips watching your body relax and the toy has done it’s job once again. it gave you a temporary satisfaction, but it was nothing like Carlos—who by now had moved into the room further.

“like what you see, sainz?” you asked, he moves to the nightstand grabbing the towel you set out for yourself. you took the cloth from him wiping yourself up before he could get to it. you weren’t going to let him touch you down there if he was asking you to hold off a little longer.

he swallows the lump in his throat watching you. oh what a mess you were making him. he wishes that his lips were taking in your sweet cum and tasting you, not the stupid cloth against your body.

you went to get up from the bed, his hands grabbed ahold of your body pushing you back down. he couldn’t do this anymore, he needed you just as much as you needed him.

his lips met yours before trailing down your neck. as much as you enjoyed this, you had a point to prove. you pushed his weight off of you, “what are you doing, Carlos? You need to focus on Ferrari.”

“no mi amor, I need you.” he tries to kiss you once more, but you just push him away getting up from the bed.

“no Carlos, you said you need to focus on Ferrari. another time, baby.”

—

the team noticed his test performance was slacking. he wasn’t adding pressure when he should, and he wasn’t listening to any advice or tips from anyone. his mind kept replaying the previous night. your body glued next to him, finger nails trailing down his chest. he was just as weak as you, but he was trying his best to compose himself.

“how long has it been?” Charles asks watching Carlos throw his helmet down into the seat between them both. he’d heard the rumors around the paddock that you were a tease, but he’s known the truth that Carlos was trying to hold himself out a little longer to stay focused. the only problem, was his lack of having sex was now clouding his judgment.

“two months and counting.” the words sent shock waves through the younger man, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t pounced like an animal already at you. Charles had noticed your irritation around Carlos. every time he came close to touch you or kiss you, you moved or didn’t reciprocate the touches like you used to.

“and counting? man oh man.” Charles shakes his head, his eyes catching you come into the garage saying your hellos. the typical glow you carried, was vanishing and he knew why, everyone on the paddock knew why.

“you have time tonight, why don’t you guys you know?” he whistles like that would help cover the conversation but it only draws attention to the two. your head snapping in their direction, you made your way over to them both.

“hello Charles.” you smiled, watching him stand up and give you a hug, he quickly left saying he had something to do, but in reality there was nothing, Carlos knew that.

“how was the track today?” you asked trying to make normal conversation, but it was awkward. with what happened yesterday and the elephant in the room, you couldn’t be normal.

“fine, smooth.” he gives short answers to your questions. there was nothing else you could talk about without wanting to run your hands through his messed up hair and take him as he was now.

“okay, well I think I’ll just go find one of the girls and we can chat later?” you offer watching him nod his head, standing up to press an innocent kiss to your forehead.

“how about tonight? you free?” he asks just before you were about take off. you nod your head as your response before running off like a school girl giggling to go tell your friends.

—

he arrives to the hotel room thirty minutes later than he promises. he got caught up with Charles and the team, but he was finally at the room. his key card in hand, he presses it against the pad and instantly when it turns green he whips open the door.

when you hear it slam shut you got up from the bed to see his shirt, shoes, and pants were tossed everywhere in front of the door. you had been sitting there waiting in nothing but your bra and panties, he had forgot what he was missing for two months.

“Mierda,” he breathes out picking your body up and throwing you onto the bed, you didn’t care for the harsh action, you needed this just as much as he did.

his hands roam your body grabbing every bit of skin he hadn’t see in months,“I know, I’ve missed you.” you say watching him rip your panties off and discarding them somewhere in the room, he does the same with his boxers and before you even knew it he went down on you.

he was so eager there was no kissing involved, how could he? for the past two months all he wanted was to hear you scream his name while he rocked your body and mind. he couldn’t stop picturing you naked underneath him, pulling his on locks.

“Carlos,” you whisper out, fingers in his hair feeling his hands push your legs further apart while he went deeper inside of you, his hips grinding against yours getting into his rhythm.

you could’ve came the first time, but you held off watching him above you. you couldn’t believe just how soft his skin was, your nail marks from months ago had finally healed allowing you to create new ones.

you could barely breathe when he pulled out, he dragged your body to the floor and you sat on your knees taking his cock in your mouth. there was no need for him to tell you what he wanted, you knew exactly.

you watched his head tilt back while he whispered dirty words in Spanish. you found it sexy hearing him practically scream your name while your tongue swirled around his tip.

“me vas a matar.” he moans tugging on your hair, your mouth met with cum and there was no time to take it all on before he was giving you what you wanted for the past two months.

he lifted you back on to the bed, much more gently, spreading your legs open once more. you could feel them shaking, they were so out of practice from this. you weren’t used to going this long, but you both needed it. your sex drive was off the walls.

“Esto es para tí mi amor.” his words soft against your skin while he nibbles at your neck before moving down to where the wetness was. it has been that way since a month ago, and it hadn’t stopped growing.

“all for me?” he asks licking his lips before his tongue barely touched your inner thighs hearing you moan louder than you did for that toy.

his tongue lapped your folds taking in all of you. your nails dug into his skull trying to pull him closer down there. you missed the feeling of his face nuzzled between your thighs and the way his tongue danced around your clit before he hit the spot.

no matter how many times he’d done it, your body reacted the same way. moan after moan, tug after tug, until his tongue hit the spot allowing cum to meet his face. and that’s exactly how it went tonight, after dancing around and teasing you more, when his tongue just nudged the spot he was met with all of you.

“Carlos.” you breathed out feeling your body and pussy relax, finally. it was two months too long for your liking, and same for him. both of you needed that.

“I know, amor. never again.” he whispered pressing a soft gentle kiss to your forehead before reaching for the towel to clean up what was left.

[spiderlandry]

can you please do “there’s only one bed” trope with Ethan Landry and it’s pure fluff but reader and Ethan are just “friends”, pretty please and thank you 🩷🤗

i’ve always wanted to do a one bed trope but never really had a reason so here’s my chance! hope you like it anon :)) also this ethan gif is so cute i canMt i love him so bad im never getting over this man

100 follower event

warnings: tiny bit of angst/insecurity but it’s sandwiched between pure fluff, also sexual innuendos but not that bad

space — ethan landry

The car sputters to a stop, and you grumble, pulling over to the closest parking space. “Stupid piece of shit!” You yell at the steering wheel, taking your anger out on the horn, likely waking up any of the houses nearby.

Ethan had never seen you this angry, not even when your professor refused to give you an extension after you’d never handed in anything late. Then, you just got ice cream and your mood was alright. But now? He’s sure you’re going to rip his head off for breathing when you glare at him in the passenger seat.

“You told me…” you took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “…that your car was fixed, Landry.”

Oh, yeah. The said stupid piece of shit is his car.

“I—I thought it was,” He mumbles, shrugging.

“This is the fifth time it has broken down.”

“I know, I know,” he puts his head in his hands, ashamed. “I’m really sorry. Like, genuinely.”

There’s nobody on the road. You take a look at the time, and it’s almost three am.

“Fuck, Ethan.” You rub your eyes.

He tries to ignore something stirring inside him when you said his name. “Look, we can just get a motel. I’ll pay. And we can take a rental, or something. I’ll cover it.”

God, you think. He sounds like a kicked puppy.

You take another deep breath. “It’s not your fault, it’s fine. We can split it.” You soften, finally getting a glance at him and he looks like a kicked puppy with those doe eyes.

“O—okay,” he nods. “I’ll look up motels.”

There’s a moment of silence and while Ethan is focused on his phone, you take the time to admire him.

He’s pretty. Annoyingly pretty.

When you’d met him, he seemed intimidated by you. He couldn’t talk to you until you talked to him first. You wanted to be more open, be more inviting, but the friendship was progressing slowly. You didn’t mind, though. It was a good challenge. But being so angry definitely isn’t helping, so you try your best to calm down.

“I found one,” he says, head snapping up at you when he finally feels your gaze. You’re definitely mad, he thinks.

“Alright, let’s go.”

The man at the front desk doesn’t even look the least bit apologetic when he says, “It’s the only room.”

You turn to Ethan for guidance, not knowing what to do.

The only room. One queen-sized bed.

When he doesn’t answer, you turn back to the man again.

“Are there any other hotels or motels near here? Like, within walking distance.”

Ouch. Are you really that desperate not to sleep in the same bed as him? Ethan can’t help but take it to heart.

“The closest is two miles,” The man answers, almost smug.

Ethan can tell you’re trying not to do something drastic.

“Fine,” you sigh. “Give us the room key.”

Ethan speaks when you both reach the room, opening it and seeing the only bed in the room. “I can sleep on the floor.”

Your head snaps toward him, eyes wide despite your lack of sleep. “Does being in the same bed as me actually repulse you that much, Landry?”

As the two of you enter and close the door, he starts shaking his head profusely. “No! Why—why would you think that?” It’s literally the opposite of how he’s feeling. It excites him, and it’s worrying.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Nothing?! Why is that nothing? Do you think he doesn’t want to be around you?

There are only two pillows, and since you need them to sleep, you can’t even put one between you. He can read the unease on your face.

“Really, I can sleep on the—”

You hold you hand up and he snaps his mouth shut.

“Just. Just get in the bed, Ethan. I’m tired.”

Butterflies swarm his stomach at the prospect of actually getting in bed with you. You sounded so gentle. For a short moment, he imagines a world where you’re saying that because you have a home with him, sleep in the same bed every night.

He’s not aware of how true it will become in the future. He’s not even giving himself a chance to think about it.

He can feel your warmth radiating from your side. It's dark, you’re turned away from him, while he’s facing the ceiling unable to close his eyes, wanting to savor the moment.

You’re both under the same comforter. You’re inches away. God, help him.

“You’re awake, aren’t you?” Your voice is quiet, but he hears.

Should he answer? “…Yeah.” Well.

There’s a rustling beside him, and it sounds like you’ve turned your body toward him. He wants to do nothing more than turn on the lights and see your face as you lay there.

“Ethan,” you say. “Are you scared of me?”

“What? Why would I be scared of you?”

“You seem scared of me.” Maybe it’s the way the silence plagues you both, the darkness making it hard to see, that it feels easier to talk.

“I am scared,” he admits. “Just not of you.”

“Then what?”

“I’m scared that I’ll make myself look like an idiot.”

“What?” You almost sound scandalized. “In front of me, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“You can figure that out,” He wants to laugh, but his nerves consume him. You’re smart, he’s sure you’re just asking this to tease him, you’ve likely figured it out the moment you met and he stammered while saying his name.

It’s so quiet that he thinks you might have fallen asleep, but you surprise him by saying, “Can I touch you?”

What?! “What?!”

“It’s—!” You slap his arm lightly. “It’s not like that, perv.”

Now he actually laughs. He’s a bit more at ease now. So much that he has the courage to ask, “Are you suggesting we cuddle?”

“You can figure that out,” you reply, mocking him.

Instead of responding, he reaches out for you cautiously until he finds your waist. Where the hell did this confidence come from?

His hands are what you need to make that final step, scooting closer to him to encourage him to snuggle closer.

“Come here,” You whisper, almost scared to break the spell. “Closer.”

He clings to you like a koala desperate not to fall off a branch, and though it feels a little awkward with the amount of muscles he has, his head perfectly against your neck.

“I feel the same way, you know.” You stroke his curls, hands resting at the nape of his neck. He’d be purring if he were able to, he’s sure.

The next morning, you share a laugh when you both realize that you’ve switched places, and you’re now the one clinging to him.

[blacktobackmesa]

SO I MADE A PROOF OF CONCEPT.

music used: kirby's epic yarn, mort garson's plantasia

voices: my beautiful self

Transcript:

GORDON

“Am I the asshole if I yelled at a clown?” Now I’m gonna pre-empt here. I’m gonna say it first, nobody else gets the satisfaction: What’s Gordon doing yelling at a mirror? Ha ha. Ha ha ha ha.

BUBBY

What-- Gordon, don’t be so hard on yourself!

TOMMY

We’re not gonna call you a clown, Mister Freeman. 

BENREY

Yeah, I like clowns. 

GORDON

Is “I like clowns” your way of saying I’m not a clown? Or are you just saying it? Just saying it to say it? [Beat.]

Benrey, do you not like me?

[Beat.]

BENREY

Clowns are cool, I don’t know what else to tell you. 

[SFX: The Banjo-Kazooie Jiggy Collection Jingle plays. This is Gordon’s stream donation alert.]

COOMER

Gordon, please tell us a story.

GORDON

So! “So I live in Brazil--”

[SFX: The Brazilian Football/soccer goal fanfare. An echoing voice shouts “BRASIL!” and is followed by upbeat music. The sound cuts off abruptly.]

GORDON

Thank you, Benrey. “I live in Brazil, and it’s a little common to have people in clown attire and makeup trying to sell you stuff at the subway entrance, and they can be a little annoying. They even started carrying a credit card machine so people can’t use the old excuse of ‘I don’t have any cash on me’.

DARNOLD

I love the wording of the singular credit card machine for all Brazilian clowns. 

GORDON

[rereading]

“Started carrying a--” I didn’t even notice that.

COOMER

They’re sharing!

BUBBY

“When I was your age, we only had ONE credit card reader, and we had to go all the way to São Paulo to borrow it for ONE customer!”

TOMMY

That must be why they hang out at the train station! 

BUBBY

Right! They have to travel!

GORDON

Come on, guys. Are you really gonna do this to someone who speaks English as their second language?

TOMMY

Oh no! We don’t want to make fun of them. We’re, we just like their words!

BENREY

English is hard. You gotta embrace when you say wrong shit. It’s like art.

COOMER

Gordon, we are creating derivative works from the words of the clown yeller. 

GORDON

Alright, fair enough. “I was walking to the subway that I usually go to. It was early for me, nine in the morning. I was going to work because my boss asked me to go early so the cleaning lady had someone there.”

BUBBY

Nine A.M. is EARLY work hours in Brazil? What the hell are we doing here?

DARNOLD

If I showed up to the Mixology department at nine in the morning, I’d be demoted back down to working at the gift shop!

COOMER

Doctor Freeman was able to hold down his position in spite of his frequent tardiness! 

DARNOLD

Doctor Freeman started the end of the world. 

COOMER

Darnold, that sounds like a skill issue.

GORDON

[beginning with a raised voice to restore order]

“Keep in mind that I was at work until midnight the night before and was going to work until midnight again, so I was a little tired and thinking about my day.”

DARNOLD

You guys got to go home between shifts?

Okay, that-- that sounds a little closer to my work schedule.

BUBBY

GORDON

“Getting close to the subway, I saw the clown and-- [laughs]

[SFX: Gordon’s stream alert faintly goes off. It is followed by the Geraint TTS voice, which says “BRASIL CAMPEÃO DO MUNDO”.]

GORDON

 --I saw the clown and immediately thought, ‘Oh fuck. He’s going to stop me’.”

COOMER

Gordon, I can award you one PlayCoin for every time I have heard that arrangement of words in that order.

GORDON

“‘He’s going to stop me to try to sell me stuff.’ So when I was approaching him, and he already started to talk before I even finished crossing the street, I was already putting my hand up and saying, ‘Sorry man, I’m good’.

BENREY

“No thanks. I already ate.”

GORDON

Exactly. “He tried to make me stop, even though I was on my third ‘dude, I’m good.’ And when he was still trying to make me stop, something came over me.”

BENREY

Lust.

GORDON

No.

Tommy, Darnold, Coomer and Bubby break into laughter. Gordon eventually laughs as well. 

GORDON

No-- [clears throat] “Something came over me, and I just yelled, ‘DUDE!’ and looked at him while I was still walking.” Presumably in Portuguese, so the tone might be a little different from “Dude”.

DARNOLD

Does anyone here know how you say “dude” in Portuguese?

BENREY

You don’t. 

TOMMY

Probably Mano.

GORDON

Chat says “cara or mano”. What was that, Tommy?

TOMMY

Mano.

GORDON

Mano. Good to know. “He looked fucking pissed, and when I was a few good steps away from him, he yelled: ‘I’M JUST WORKING! FUCK!’ And I yelled--”

TOMMY

He broke the clown code!

GORDON

--And I yelled back, ‘FUCK, AND I’M GOING TO WORK!”

BUBBY

A traditional call and response.

GORDON

And it closes with “Did I just create the Joker? Lol.”

DARNOLD

I dunno. I think the Joker would be pretty embarrassed if his entire backstory was getting yelled at once at the train station. 

BUBBY

“You wanna know how I got these scars?”

TOMMY

Yeah. Brazilian Joker-- 

BUBBY

“From sharing one credit card reader!”

[SFX: Gordon’s stream alert goes off once again, followed by the TTS voice saying “Five months. Lust.”]

TOMMY

--he would be a lot cooler than that.

GORDON

So aside from that, is OP the asshole for yelling at a clown?   

COOMER

I think they made a friend!

GORDON

You do? By yelling?

COOMER

These two working class heroes shared an important bonding moment about the difficulties of earning a living.

BUBBY

Yeah, some days you just need someone to scream the Fuck word at.

GORDON

Well, shit. 

BUBBY

OP made that clown’s day.

GORDON

I’m convinced. Yeah, all agreed?

TOMMY

Yeah.

DARNOLD

Yeah, no harm done.

BENREY

It’s part of that circle of life.

GORDON

Well, there we go. Not the asshole.

COOMER

The real clown was capitalism.

[SFX: A fanfare noise plays. This is followed once again by the Brazil Football fanfare, this time played in full without a cutoff.]

[theemporium]

Hi, I just read your Remus fic and omg, oh my actual god, I loved it, you’re so talented. Could you by any chance do another slightly subby Remus fic again, I’m just in love with Remus being all nervous around the person he likes and you write it so well. Could it be smutty please x

thank you, darling!!!🖤okay this is more like established relationship but sub!remus is slowly becoming my obsession🤠

.

You knew the days following the full moon were rough for your boyfriend. 

You knew it long before you were ever together, on the days you would patiently await to see him at breakfast. The days where he would saunter into the Great Hall, head down and shuffling as he slumped into his seat and ate whatever James or Sirius shoved onto his plate. The days where he wouldn’t talk as much in class, content to just listen rather than scribbling down notes like he usually did. The days where he would disappear for bed before nine because he needed the rest. 

The full moons drained him, both mentally and physically and even emotionally. The Remus you knew—the one with dry, witty remarks and a charm that seemed to get him out of trouble more times than either James or Sirius could compute—was barely a shell of himself on the days after a full moon. 

He was also clingier, needier than he usually was. And maybe you liked that he needed you more on those days, and maybe that made you a bad girlfriend. But you liked those days you were able to comfort him, to make him feel the same way he makes you feel the other thirty odd days in the moon cycle.

“Remus,” you murmured with a soft sigh, smiling a little at the way the boy nuzzled himself against the crook of your neck. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, words slightly muffled and the skin on his cheeks tinted pink when you laughed softly. “You just…smell nice, s’all.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” you mused, fingers combing through his sandy brown hair and scratching his scalp in a way that almost had him purring under your touch. 

“Fuck,” he whined softly, shuffling a little. You were both curled up on an armchair in the common room, tucked away in the corner with you on his lap and a book you were both previously reading abandoned on the blanket laying over you both. 

Your lips pressed together when you felt his arms tighten around you, a huffed noise of frustration leaving his lips as he continued to wiggle in his seat underneath you. 

“Remus,” you repeated, trying to catch the boy’s attention. 

“Just need you,” he muttered, turning his head so his cheek was resting on your shoulder and you could catch the look on his face. He looked tired as he always did on the days following a full moon, but you could see the hints of something else in those brown eyes. Exhaustion and desire and exasperation. 

“There’s people around us,” you reminded him. Though the common room was not bustling by any means, groups of people dotted around the room but nobody sitting close enough around you to hear your conversation. 

“I-I know,” Remus’ cheeks burned red, a small hint of desperation in his voice as he squeezed your hips. “I just…it’s fine, it’s nothing. Just keep reading, love.” 

Your head tilted, your lips twitching upwards in amusement. “Do you want me, Remus? Do you want me to help?”

His breath hitched a little before he nodded. 

“Words, darling.”

“Please,” he choked out, stuttering over the word when you just smiled at him. 

“That’s my boy,” you murmured as you ducked your head down, pressing your lips against his and smiling at the way he sighed happily into the kiss. 

You shuffled a little under the blanket, whispering for him to stay quiet as your hand slipped under the waistband of his trousers and cupped him through the fabric of his boxers. Remus hissed under his breath, his head falling back against the back of the armchair as you slowly stroked him through the material. 

“More,” he let out a quiet whimper. “Please.”

“Patience,” you murmured in response. “Gotta stay quiet f’me, yeah?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed, nodding as his hooded gaze stayed locked on your face. He didn’t care about the other people in the common room, just you.

You watched the expression on his face as you pulled his cock out of his trousers, hand stroking him at a pace that was making his lips part in a silent moan. You watched the way he bit down on his lower lip, cheeks flushed and chest panting as you continued to stroke him under the blanket. 

“Need to be inside you,” he choked out between moans, his hands tightening around your waist and you took pity on the boy. 

You didn’t tear your eyes away from the boy as you tucked the fabric of your skirt into the waistband, panties pushed to the side before you slowly sunk down on his cock. You wanted the way he let out a heavy sigh, breathing out through his nose and his hips bucking in response. 

“My pretty boy,” you whispered, clenching around his cock when he let out a slightly pathetic whimper. 

“Fuck,” he hissed as you leaned back against his chest, his face nuzzled into your shoulder as you sat on his lap. 

“A shame there’s so many people here,” you murmured as you reached for your book, biting back the smirk growing on your face. “Could’ve fucked my handsome boy like he wants me to.” 

“Darling,” he whined, his voice a little breathy as he did.

“Shh, Remus, ‘m reading,” you murmured in response. “Just sit there and keep looking pretty f’me, yeah? Just relax.”

.

[zenxvii]

hellooo can you make a kyungjun fic where it is a happy ending😭💢 thank you sm

Hiii! Okay okay okay sorry for the last one here’s a happy one🙏🏻

-

Character: Kyung-Jun x fem!reader

Kdrama: night has come

!!: thoughts are in italics

🫶🏻: -

-

-

y/n pov

-

I walked thru to corridors making my way to my classmates. Jun-Hee hd told me to come down and meet others.

I arrived down seeing I was the last one there. “Now that everyone is here I think we have a solution how to survive.” Jun-Hee started and many heads were turn to his way.

“We know that if we vote someone dies, but if we don’t it should guarantee nobody dying.” What a stupid plan. We can’t be 100% it would work.

“What do you mean. We can’t be sure no one would vote! What is someone votes in secret!” A girl from our class said and I nodded along.

“We’ll gather the phones so nobody could vote.” “What if the holder changes their mind and votes!”

Some people against Jun-Hees plan and others with him. “Shut up! For once the class president has a good idea.” A voice stopped everyone.

Kyung-Jun walked with his minions following him. He walked in the middle with a yellow dumpster(?) “Be reasonable and listen when I’m being nice.” He told and glanced at everyone his glaze stopping at me.

“We’ll put our phones here so nobody can take then and put the bin in the middle.” He said and started to walk around getting the phones with his minions telling everyone the be quick.

I was the last one and he looked straight at my eyes. “Put your phone here princess.” So annoying.

I sighed and handed my phone.

-

The yellow bin was put on the middle with white clothing around it and nobody didn’t have permission to cross over it.

I could sense everyone being tense and just waiting the clock tick. It was 11.50pm and the ten minute wait would be like hell. I sighed and decided to sit on the ground tired from all the standing.

I eyed everyone, people were quiet no one talking. It was a bit too quiet for my liking, but I didn’t feel like saying anything when everyone was so tense.

11.55pm the five minute wait still there. It felt like eternal waiting for the clock strike 12. I played with my thumbs just waiving them around waiting for the time pass.

The five minutes had now passed even tho it felt like hours. Nobody moved. “We did it!” Someone yelled as the clock struck 12.01am. Now everyone was hugging each others and smiling.

I let out a breath of relief even tho I had a feeling this wasn’t over yet. When people were celebrating the fucking purge sound started again. I knew it.

“Players must identifyand vote out the Mafia!”

“Players must identifyand vote out the Mafia!”

“Players must identifyand vote out the Mafia!”

“Players must identifyand vote out the Mafia!”

People tried to go for their phones but were stopped by the class president telling them it may not mean they would die.

It was before a body fell. And another one.

“For breaking the rules Lee Soo Bia and Park Ji Hoon have been eliminated.”

“Lee Soo Bia and Park Ju Hoon were civilians.”

People were in shock just standing there nobody moving. I had fell into a complete shock, the bodies had fell just few meters from me.

I was still on the ground as I saw the red spilling towards me. Now the purge sound had gotten louder and the lights turned to red.

Everyone were rushing to find their phones to vote. I couldn’t do anything because of the shock. I just sat on the ground.

I knew I needed to find my phone so I used all the strength that I gad and pushed myself off of the ground and started to look for my phone with a wave of people looking for theirs.

The bin had fallen and all the phones were scattered around the ground as people were panicking. I couldn’t find my phone anywhere. I started to panic. More and more people started to get eliminated and some to vote.

I felt a hand tug me. “Haven’t you found phone yet!” Kyung-Jun stood in front of me. “No!” I yelled at him with a slight panic in my voice. “Fuck.” He muttered and started to look for something. I’m gonna die.

I saw as Kyung-Jun motion his minions over and said something to them and they all started to look for something. There!

I saw my phone in the floor but just as I tried to grab it someone accidentally kicked my hand and my phone in the same. “Fuck!” I cried out in pain and watched my phone slide. I held my hand in pain. It was a strong and hard kick.

Just as I got up to get my phone Kyung-Jun was standing in front of me with my phone nodding to Jun-Ha who was standing were my phone hand sled.

“Vote!” He told me and shoved my phone to my hands. I yelped as he shoved it to my hurting hand. “But for whom!” I said I didn’t have tome to think and I couldn’t think straight.

“Vote for me. Now!” Was all he said as he opened his phone too.

I gulped and voted.

“l/n y/n voted for Go Kyung-Jun”

“Go Kyung-Jun voted for l/n y/n”

I felt my heart pounding in my ears with all the ringing from the purge sound. My hand was hurting bad. I used my flashlight on my phone and saw my hand turning a bit purple. Fuck.

Many people had voted and the timer told us it was time.

“Baek Eun-Ha vill be eliminated with the most votes of 10.”

“Baek Eun-Ha was a civilian.”

“I told you it’s not me!” The girl screamed I turned my gaze to her. She cried on the floor looking straight ant So-Mi.

She cried and cried, yelling at people who voted for her telling them she was telling the truth.

I looked back at my hand and saw Kyung-Jun looking it too. “That’s bad.” He said and shook his head with anger. “Yeah.” Was all I could say. “Sorry.” I said and leaned my head against Kyung-Juns chest.

He didn’t say anything but slightly wrapped his one arm around my shoulders. This might’ve looked weird to others. Me leaning on him. But to us it was okay. I guess.

The ‘lullaby’ started ringing and I felt my body going limp and my eyes closing.

-

I woke up the next morning. My hand sore as I opened my eyes I saw Kyung-Jun in front of me with his eyes closed. He looked peaceful. His hand was supporting my head. what a lucky way we fell.

I sat up and poked him. People started to wake up with groans and some sobs. Kyung-Hun sat up and immediately stood up after to go to his minions.

I looked at my hand seeing it purple, it wasn’t broken. But a big bruise on it. It was sore and I couldn’t move it much, but it was good that it wasn’t broken.

- (sorry i’ll skip the morning😞)

I arrived at the cafe after Kyung-Jun had told me to meet him there. Jin-Ha neither Seung-Bin weren’t there. “Why did you wanna meet?” I asked just standing at the door. “Come closer I don’t bite.” He said and motioned a chair next to him.

I sat next to him. “Ah! I never got to say this. But thank you, you saved my life yesterday.” I said and looked at him. He didn’t say anything but pulled a med kit under the table and sat it on the table.

“Show me your hand.” He told me and I did. I showed my hand to him and he gently grabbed it. “You should be more careful.” He said and wrapped a bandage around my hand. He was surprisingly gently.

“Thank you again.” I told him as he was finished with the wrapping. “Don’t fall for me now.” He said and patted my head and left. I just might..

——

End😳

yes yes I know kinda copied the hyun-ho and na-hee scene but it was just so cute😞🙏🏻

[loveactionsspeaklouder]

every hole is a goal

Warning: the following contains smut.

Jude was happy to finally be on vacation. It had been a long and tiring season; losing the championship on the final day was hard, having to leave the same club a couple of weeks later was even harder. He had just signed for Real Madrid and was now looking forward to celebrating with his friends in Mykonos.

“I think this could be the holiday bro,” Toby beamed. Jude turned to face him and raised one eyebrow. “You might meet the one.”

Jude rolled his eyes and chuckled. He was widely known within his friendship group for the countless women he liked to enjoy. The twenty-year-old wasn’t looking to settle down just yet. As they walked along the beach he could see the variety of talent on show, a petite blonde caught Toby and Jobe’s attention. He laughed and watched as the boys walked over to her.

“Excuse me Mr,” Jude spun his head to meet the owner of the voice. He stilled for a second, felt his heart race faster. Wow, she was beautiful. “Could you please step aside, you are blocking the sun.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. He heard her softly laugh, taking a quick drink of water. He watched her wave towards the blonde that was occupying his friends, before lying back down. “Is that your friend over there?” She nodded. “Well they are mine, can I please join you?” She nodded again.

“So, Mr sun-blocker, what’s your name?”

“Jude,” he moved his eyes up and down her body, appreciating every curve he ran over. “Yours?”

“Y/N.”

Jude nodded, licking his lips. He moved his focus back to his friends and brother, he quietly laughed at the giant smile on Jobe’s face. “Your friend seems to have my boys in a trance.”

“She likes all her holes filled,” she laughed and turned to face Jude, a smirk present. “Looks like those boys are in for a wild night.”

Jude gasped. He shook his head and glared at the flamboyant girl. “One of them is my brother!”

“Which one?”

He pointed to Jobe. She hummed, nodded her head and faced him. “Unfortunately for him, he’s getting the least best hole.”

Jude swallowed. “Which is?”

“Her mouth obviously.”

With them words he wanted, no needed, to know her order. “Which is your order?”

“Ah, not so innocent,” she smirked. “Obviously, the arse is number one. The (because we are in public I won’t be so rude) second one is the vagina and the third is the mouth.”

“Explain.”

“Well the first two give me pleasure, the third one I have to get pleasure on my own,” she shrugged. Jude took a big swallow. “Don’t get me wrong, when I do it I do get pleasure. But I’m lazy, I don’t want to have to get there myself.”

Jude was star-stuck. And hard. Painfully, excruciatingly hard. It took him a second to realise his surroundings and his choice of clothing; the little swim-shorts he was sporting were not going to cover his very public erection.

“I need your help,” he choked out. She noticed his complexion change; slight embarrassment, but majorly aroused. “The cameras can’t capture this. You did this, you can fix it.”

She chuckled, raising her head to hold his eyes. Jude gulped, fuck was she intimidating. “Which hole do you require, Jude?”

Fuck. That definitely wasn’t going to help. He didn’t think it was possible, but his cock got slightly harder. “If I wanted to appear on a porn site then I would ask you jump on my cock and ride me like the dirty girl I know you are. But I don’t. Stop making it worse and help me.”

“Babe,” she cooed, lightly stroking his abs. He was now rolled impossibly close that nobody could see her actions, the towel perfectly placed over his bottom half. “Use your words and tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,” he huffed. He widened his eyes when he realised what he said. “No. Fuck, I mean yes that is what I want. But right now, I desperately want your hand on my cock.”

She smiled. They had only been taking for thirty minutes; but she had already loosened him up so much, he was seconds away from cumming in his pants.

She trailed her fingers down his happy trial and into his shorts, carefully pulling out his rock-hard erection. He hissed and dropped his head to her shoulders. Fuck it, he was going to have to deal with the articles about his ‘mystery woman.’ It was a lot better than the near ‘Jude with giant erection’ ones.

“You are going to pay when I finally get you alone,” he breathed. His entire body filled with pleasure as her dainty hands wrapped around his cock. She ran a thumb across his tip, collecting the drops of pre-cum. He hissed and nibbled her shoulder. “I’m not going to last long, but I promise you I will make it up to you.”

She laughed and teasingly moved her hand slowly up and down his cock, making sure to lightly squeeze the head. “Oh Jude. Once I get you alone, I’m going to give you a thorough experience of my list. But, we’ll work backwards.”

Jude sucked in a breath. He was mesmerised. He was completely lost in the moment. He couldn’t see his friends and brother move closer. He couldn’t see the other people on the beach. He definitely couldn’t see the hidden cameras. But he didn’t care. For once, he truly let go and got lost in the moment.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned. Her hand felt unbelievable. It was the perfect size, the perfect speed, the perfect grip. She was perfect. “Fuck, I think I love you.”

Shit.

Fuckity fuck.

Okay, maybe he was to lost in the moment. But she didn’t mind. She sniggered and placed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “There I was thinking you didn’t kiss on a first date. Oh no, you get your cock pleasured then you whisper you love them.”

“I… I didn’t mean that,” he gulped. Jude never froze. Not when he played for England or Dortmund. Not even when he was asked a difficult question from reporters. But right now, he rivalled a statue. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

“I’m sure you’ve had the birds and the bees explained to you,” she winked. She could feel him tighten up, his breaths getting faster and loud. She pulled his head to her shoulder to muffle the sounds. “I like it when you let go, come for me.”

And he did. Wildly. He shuck vigorously as he spurted streams and streams of cum onto her hand. Fuck, he had never cum like that before. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder to steady him, lightly scratching her fingers over his chiselled back.

“Better?” She questioned. A teasing tint in her eyes. Jude laughed and pulled her in for a kiss. He truly didn’t care about the photos now. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Jude slipped his tongue into her mouth. Yes, she was delicious. He was falling. Fuck, was that even possible? What was going on with him? “Please can we go back to your room. I need to experience these holes. I’m already hard thinking about them and I definitely can’t get caught with two erections in the space of ten minutes.”

“Oh, this is my favourite photo of us!” Jude turned his head at his fiancé’s squeal. Had he been daydreaming? Yes. Had he been caught? Oh yes. “Baby, are you thinking about the story that goes with this picture?”

He wasn’t even looking at the picture, but he knew what one she was on about. He also knew how big the smirk on her face would be. He thought he hadn’t got caught; but fortunately for the newly signed Real Madrid midfielder, he was able to spin the photo to his parents. He didn’t need a scandal in his first week at the Spanish club.

He finally looked into the bright blue eyes of his fiancé. Damn, she still took his breath away. Five years later and he still remembered that feeling he got when he first noticed her, he also remembered the amazing hand-job she gave him. He knew then he was destined to marry her.

“Never mind the story love, I still agree with your order.”

[acaciusbride]

A Breath Of Fresh Air ( Veracruz x AFAB!F!Reader )

Summary: you get caught outside after curfew. Luckily for you, Veracruz is open to … negotiations. (This is basically a transcription of a dream I had. Whoops.)

CWs: DUBCON / Overstimulation / Double Penetration / Impact Play (Slapping & Spanking) / Degradation / Rough sex / Anal play / Unsafe PIV Sex / Oral Sex (M!Recieving) / Squirting / Extremely dirty talk / Transactional sex / Bordering on Dead Dove.

Notes: please read the warnings and consume content at your own risk & responsibility. Credit for giving Veracruz his first name goes to @ezras--moon & @ariundercovers 🩷

You just wanted some fresh air. A breather from the stuffy house you’d been confined to with the rest of your group. Generally, when a militia takes over town, you stay out of their way.

You’ve never been the smartest; rounding the corner of the alleyway, you almost walk right into him. Not just any asshole with a gun, but the leader of the unit. Fuck.

Leandro Veracruz isn’t a patient man, not really. He saves all limited patience for his job, to keep control over his unit and appear to be the cold, calculated leader that he is. You don’t rise to the rank he holds at the age he is, without being a little ruthless.

You’ve heard of his reputation. The way he doesn’t seem to care about cutting down anyone who gets in his way. You’re certain there has to be some sort of driving motive behind how he is; it’s rare for people to be the way he is without motive, but still.

“You’re out after curfew.”

You know that he is, undeniably, a bad guy, but nonetheless, that heavily accented, dark tone sends a shiver down your spine for all the wrong reasons. Maybe it’s that stupid, primal reaction that makes you choose honesty, rather than trying to craft a feasible lie.

“I know. I’m sorry, I just. I really needed some air.” As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you realise how stupid you sound. It only serves to sink in further when he raises an eyebrow at you.

“You needed some air? After curfew? Did you consider maybe opening a window?” He’s tired; it’s late, and one of his people has come down with the flu, so he’s covering his patrol instead of sleeping. It’s made him a little more short tempered than usual. “You know you could be shot for this, yes?”

You visibly shrink in on yourself, and Leo almost feels bad. Almost. He knows what it’s like to be cooped up in a small space, can’t really blame you for wanting to get out, but the rules are the rules, and he has a reputation to protect.

“Are you going to shoot me?” You ask finally.

He shakes his head, rolls his eyes. “If I was going to shoot you, pajarito, I would have done so by now. I am going to have to arrest you, though.”

You shiver again, thinking of the overcrowded cells in the local station, the lawlessness that goes on in there. You could be assaulted, stabbed, beaten, and nobody would blink an eye. Absolutely not. Which leaves…

“Maybe we can work out some sort of compromise?” The way you say the last word, the way you pause before you deliver it in a somewhat suggestive tone, makes it entirely clear to him what you mean.

Leandro has absolutely no trouble getting women; he knows he’s attractive, knows the right things to say and do. He’s not above paying for company, either. It’s been a while, though, given the latest operation, and frankly? You offering as a bribe is entertaining him… entertaining him and intriguing him.

He looks you up and down, then nods.

“I’m sure we could come up with some sort of deal, yes.” A lazy smirk crosses his face as his hand moves to almost caress the cuffs at his belt. “Do I need to cuff you, or are you going to follow me quietly?”

It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s armed; a handgun, a rifle, and a wicked looking knife sheathed in his belt.

“No, I’ll be good.”

“Good answer.” He nods approvingly, beckons you forward. He leads you through the alleyway, through a back gate into the little house he’s taken over as base; his people are inside, but his command centre outside is set up in a tent. It’s a durable, triple canvas layer thing built to withstand pretty much any weather.

Lit by a lantern swinging from the roof, it’s a practical, spartan, and yet somehow still cosy place. It doesn’t need to be furnished or fancy; he’s got a table, a gun locker, a duffle bag, and his bed in there. That’s all he needs.

The bed is a foam travel mattress laid out on stacked and nailed together pallets. No point carting a proper bed around on deployment. It’s not the most comfortable, but it’ll do. It serves his purpose just fine, and given the circumstances, you aren’t about to complain.

You’ve seen him shoot people in the centre of town before. Seen the way his people handle things. The fact that he’s even taking this rather than just outright punishing you for breaking the law is a good sign… you think.

He puts both the handgun and the rifle in the gun locker, then turns back to you.

“Strip.” He moves past you to flop down onto the bed, folding his arms behind his head and watching you lazily. For a moment, you consider running. You’d have a head start. But then he’d probably find you, and definitely shoot you. Besides, this was your idea.

You take your time removing each layer, trying to at least make it look somewhat enticing rather than awkward. You never quite know how people in movies manage to make stripping down for sex look enticing. Maybe you’re just clumsy.

When you’re entirely bare to his gaze, he beckons you over.

“Come here, tímida, I’m not going to hurt you… much.” A wicked grin crosses his stupidly handsome face as you nervously do as you’re told, letting him pull you onto his lap. A tiny squeak leaves you when you feel how hard he is against your core, the rough material of his cargo pants brushing against your sensitive skin.

Fuck. You’re terrified of him, yes, but you want him, you realise. Badly.

“Much?” You raise an eyebrow at him, “I thought the deal was you don’t hurt me at all.”

There’s that wicked grin again, sinfully smug this time.

“I won’t do anything you don’t beg me for.” His fingers grip your hips roughly, making you acutely aware of how much bigger than you he is. That does absolutely nothing to curb the desire that’s starting to build in you; this was supposed to be a transaction, a way to get yourself out of trouble, but you’re starting to get the feeling that you’re going to enjoy this far more than you first expected.

“Is that right?” You manage a little smirk, lips parting in an embarrassingly needy moan when he deliberately grinds you down against the length of his cock. The very, very obvious length of him. Fuck.

His fingers wander inwards, splay across your thighs, thumbs rubbing across your skin.

“Careful…” he warns, but his voice is softer than he intended. Still, it does the trick, and you nod, pliable and submissive to his touch once more.

“That’s better…” He nods approvingly, keeps one hand holding you firmly in place while the other wanders almost lazily between your thighs, finding your swollen, aching clit and rubbing firmly. It’s not the touch of someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing, and briefly, a pang of envy strikes you as you think of how many other countless, nameless women have been turned to pliant mush under his touch.

“I’ll make it good for you,” he almost purrs it as he leans up so you’re chest to chest, “though it seems like you’re more than willing as it is…”

His fingers lazily drag through your slick, teasing your core, barely slipping inside. You whimper again, louder and needy at the feeling of the very tips of his callused fingers pressing inside you. You can feel your slick dripping onto his fingers, down his hand, coating his pants. Slowly, he presses his fingers in deeper, curling them enough to make you cry out, before he’s pulling them out, spreading your thighs wider, fingertips teasing your other hole, wet with your own slick.

You shiver under the touch, but you don’t flinch away.

“Knew it,” he almost mutters to himself, leaning in to drag his teeth down your throat. “Knew you were a dirty little whore. Bet you’re going to cum the second I slide my cock into this pretty little cunt.” He punctuates the last word with a sharp slap to your clit, making you cry out and flinch away. You don’t hate it, though, it just surprises you.

“Well? Are you just going to sit here and look pathetic?” His hands seize your wrists, drag your hands to his belt buckle and settle them there, leaving you no doubt as to what he wants you to do. You’d only been waiting for express permission, really, your hands making short work of the belt, unzipping his pants and reaching in to wrap your fingers around his cock, freeing his length from its confines.

You have to bite down on your lip to keep your jaw from dropping. Fuck, he’s huge. Thick and curved and fuck, how is he going to fit? You run your fingers up and down his cock, thumb teasing at the tip before you meet his narrow eyed gaze.

“Stop fucking around.” He almost growls it at you, yanking you closer to him again, lifting you effortlessly so he can wrap his hand around his cock and notch it at your dripping entrance. “Montarlo, bebita.”

Ride it, baby. Oh, fuck, how you intend to.

The words are surprisingly soft as he guides you down onto him, inch by inch, letting you sink down onto him slowly. Your lips part in a filthy moan as you wriggle your hips, flush against him now. Taking a moment to breathe, you start to move, knowing he won’t just let you sit still for long.

You lift yourself up, slowly at first, then sink back down, getting faster with each movement until you’re bouncing on his cock, a string of little moans falling from your lips as one of his big hands seizes a fistful of your ass and squeezes tight, then slaps, hard enough to leave a mark.

Your cunt tightens painfully around him with each slap, knowing an imprint of his hand will be left there. Just when the slaps are really starting to hurt, he draws his hand away, settles both on your hips and guides you up and down his cock, rough and needy as his hips buck to meet you.

When he’s got you in a rhythm that he likes, he moves to rub at your clit again, clearly rewarding you for doing something that he likes. Veracruz doesn’t bother pretending he isn’t enjoying this, the way your eyes drop closed, the way you tighten around him every time he rocks his hips up.

You move your hands to brace on his chest as you ride him, lost in the feeling of him buried to the hilt inside you. Fuck, he feels so good, you don’t even care about the circumstances in which you ended up here, all that matters is the overwhelming feeling of pleasure building in you as you ride him.

“Fuck, please, give me more,” you beg him, desperate and needy and forgetting your place entirely. He’s not a good man, is allowing you to think you’re in charge because it amuses him, but the idea that he isn’t giving you enough somehow? Fine. He’ll see whether you can handle him.

He seizes your wrists in one hand, pushes you backwards and pins you beneath him, caging you in. You whine pathetically at the sudden emptiness where he’s pulled out of you.

“Greedy little slut, aren’t you? I bet if I cuffed you to this bed and stuffed my cock down your throat you’d thank me for it, wouldn’t you?”

You whimper beneath him, rubbing your thighs together, desperate for some sort of friction on your aching clit, cunt pulsing with sheer need.

“But that’s not what you want, is it?”

You shake your head, and his open palm lightly collides with your cheek.

“Answer me. That’s not what you want, is it? So tell me what it is that you want, and maybe, maybe I’ll give it to you.” He drags the tip of his cock through your soaked folds, practising every step of self control he possesses not to just pin your thighs up under your chin and fuck you senseless.

“N-no, that’s not what I want.” Your cheek stings from the slap, but you love it, want him to be rough with you, want to feel him all over for days to come. And somehow, you know, that all you have to do is ask, and he’ll give it to you.

“Tell. Me.” He growls, leaning down to devour your lips in a heated kiss, knotting his fingers into your hair to yank your head to the side so he can suck a deep purple mark into the soft skin above your collarbone.

“I want you everywhere,” you tell him; he releases your wrists and immediately you move to undo his shirt, help him discard it before you drag your nails lightly up his back, “I want your beautiful fat cock stuffed inside me and your fingers in my ass. I want you to make it hurt, make it hurt so good I don’t want anyone else.”

Fuck. He practically growls at the words. Roughly spreads your thighs, hooks them up over his shoulders, lines himself up and plunges into you, making no effort to be slow, bottoming out almost immediately. The sting of your nails on the muscle of his back makes him think you’ve drawn blood, but he doesn’t give a shit. All that matters is the way your eyes roll back slightly as he fills you, the way your tight, wet little cunt seemingly sucks him in deeper, molding to every curve in his cock as your body adjusts to him again.

“Is that all?” Veracruz demands as he rocks his hips slowly, drawing another tantalising moan from your lips.

“I want you to keep going, even when it’s too much.” You reply, arching your back up to get closer to him. You don’t care whether he’s a bad man, whether he could kill you, all that matters is how he feels inside you.

“Greedy,” he pulls almost entirely out of you and slams back in, throbbing painfully at the obscene mewl you make, “fucking,” he repeats the motion, “whore.”

He slams into you, hard and fast, the tent echoing with the sound of skin roughly slapping together, your needy moans and his growls and grunts of pleasure. His teeth graze your throat, the curve of your tits, sucking greedily at your hardened nipples and biting down lightly. Almost without warning, you tighten around him, milking his cock as you gush and soak his cock, your slick dripping out of your abused cunt, down his cock, dripping down his balls as he fucks you.

“Fuck, that’s it, bebita, give me another one, go on~” he tilts his hips just so, the velvet soft head of his cock hitting your sweet spot with each and every thrust, making you scream out for him, soak him again, convulsing slightly beneath him.

“That’s it,” he groans, pulls out of you briefly just so he can flip you onto your front, pausing onto to stuff a pillow beneath you to prop you up at the angle he wants you.

“Fuck,” he draws it out into a long, drawn out groan as he sinks back into you, loving the way you feel on all fours, “look at you.”

One hand fists into your hair, yanking you up into position.

“You’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You’re still dazed from two back to back orgasms, but you nod as best you can. You hear the impact of his free hand on your ass before you feel it, a sharp crack that echoes through the tent.

“You answer me when I speak to you.”

“Y-yes. I’ll be good.” You almost whimper it as he starts to move, releasing your hair and rubbing soothing circles on your bruised ass.

You can feel your own slick still between your ass cheeks, unbothered when his big hands spread them gently as he fucks into you slowly.

“Does my pretty, pathetic little whore still want all of her holes filled?” His voice is slightly mocking as he teases his finger around the tight ring of muscle, making you shiver. “Is my cock not enough?”

“It is,” you whimper as he slams into you again, “but please… ‘m greedy, just wanna be filled up, please~”

You’re babbling, but neither of you care. You’re too cock drunk, and he fucking loves it.

“Such a good girl for me, you should have what you want…”

As he speaks, he presses a single finger into your ass, knuckle deep, slow enough to let you adjust. When you moan and try to press yourself back against him, wanting both his cock and his finger deeper, he chuckles low in his chest, draws his finger out only to press two back in.

You moan, loud, obscene, feeling so wonderfully, deliciously full as he starts to move his fingers in rhythm with his cock, scissoring them slightly to make you mewl and wriggle beneath him.

The hand that isn’t occupied with fucking your ass moves around to roughly palm at your tits, pinching and teasing your nipples as he fucks you, harder and faster, hand moving down to tease your clit.

It’s too much, but exactly what you wanted, tears springing to your eyes as you tighten and gush around his cock again and again, his fingers insistently plucking at your clit like a practised guitarist until you collapse on the bed, unable to hold yourself up.

“Please, I need~” you simultaneously want him to stop, and don’t, because you want him to come, want him to fill you up and make you ache with need.

“Does my little whore need something?” His voice is low, breathing slightly labored with the effort of keeping his own release at bay.

“Do you want to be filled with my cum? I’m not stupid, princesa, you can have it in your mouth or your ass, I’ll be generous and let you decide.”

Slowly he draws his fingers out of your ass, slowing his thrusts to torturously languid, giving you time to decide.

“My mouth, please,” you beg him, “I wanna taste you…”

He groans, pulls out of you and smirks slightly at the sight; your cunt is swollen from how roughly he’s fucked you, drenched in your own slick and fluids and his pre cum.

“Hands and knees.” He instructs as he gets up off the bed, beckons you to the edge of it as you obey, crawling to him on shaking limbs.

You part your lips obediently, let him feed every inch of his cock into your mouth, tongue flicking at the soft head briefly before you take him, nose brushing the soft curls at the base of him.

He moans, a loud, drawn out grunt as he rocks his hips. He’s so fucking close, you barely need to do anything, but you do, sucking him greedily, working your tongue around him as his fingers curl into your hair, roughly guiding you.

“Fuck, that’s it, bebita, my pretty little whore, you have such a filthy mouth, ‘m gonna cum down this pretty mouth, you’re gonna take it, take all of it…” he groans, trailing off into broken Spanish as his hips stutter, spilling hot, thick ropes of his spend into your mouth, down your throat.

Greedily you drink him down, make a show of licking him clean, and he groans in appreciation at the sight.

When he eventually pulls his slowly softening cock from your mouth, you look up at him with a slightly cheeky smile on your face.

“So… I’m guessing you’re not gonna shoot me?”

“No.” He agrees, and then a slightly wicked grin curves his face, “but I’m not letting you go, either.”

Maybe it’s the hormones, maybe you’re just cock drunk, or maybe you’ve never been the smartest. Either way, you look him up and down with a sleepy smile.

“Seems okay to me.”

Like you have a choice. Like you really mind, either way.