#the lighting on this one is kicking my ass why is there both green AND red in one pov and then cyan that will burn your eyes in the other?

[bitchofdarkness]

Father Peter & Dr. Lim, as requested by Anonymous. (Part 1/?)

[lee-laurent]

Little Green Monster - Luke Hughes

Summary: Riley wants his dad. And Luke is not his dad

content: children, tantrums (child punching, kicking, screaming), doubts about relationship, kissing, past oc x ex!john marino

wc: 3.3k

notes: the highly anticipated part 6!! this one is a bit of domestic life, but also dramaaaa. maybe luke wasn't as ready for a relationship with a mom as he thought (hehehe) ENJOY

"What does a cow say?" Luke asked as Riley handed him a plastic cow.

"Moooooooo!" Riley laughed, clapping his hands together as he put his plastic sheep in his little barn.

"Good job, Ri! You're so smart."

This was the first time that Luke had spent unsupervised time alone with Riley. Tori had gone to the basement of the building to do some laundry and had asked her boyfriend to stay and watch Riley for ten minutes. Riley was quick to rope Luke into playing farm animals with him, but Luke was enjoying it to be honest.

"Moo! Moo!" Riley took the cow back, bouncing it up and down like it was walking. "'Ockey."

"Hockey? What about hockey?"

"'Uke play 'ockey."

"I do, that's right."

Riley shook his head, frustrated that Luke wasn't understanding what he was saying. "No. 'Uke play 'ockey?"

"You want to play hockey?"

He shook his head again, standing up and toddling over to the coffee table. He grabbed the TV remote, shoving it at Luke's chest. "'Uke play 'ockey!"

"Ohhhhh, you want to watch hockey?"

Riley finally nodded, sitting down in Luke's lap as he sat criss-cross on the floor.

"I don't know if Mama would be happy if we watched TV right now," Luke sighed, knowing that Tori was pretty strict about the screen time. She didn't want to raise an iPad baby.

"'Ockey?" he tilted his head to the side, waiting for Luke to turn on the TV.

"Okay. What hockey should we watch?"

Luke flipped through the watched videos on YouTube, noticing that most of them were highlights of John or Sidney Crosby. He knew that Riley really looked up to his dad, so he wasn't surprised. But that didn't mean it stung any less.

"Dada!"

"You wanna watch you dad?"

"Dada!" Riley clapped, picking up his toy cow again.

"Alright."

Luke clicked on one of the fan made highlight videos of John, watching Riley's face light up when he heard the announcers say "Marino." Was that Riley's last name too? He didn't really ask Victoria much about that kinda stuff. He could tell she didn't like talking about her past with John.

"Mama's home!"

"Mama! 'Ockey!"

"Are you watching hockey with Luke? That's so fun, baby!" she smiled, pressing a kiss to both of their heads.

"How was the laundry room?" Luke asked, setting Riley down on the couch.

"Super exciting," she rolled her eyes, smiling at him playfully. Luke shook his head, leaning down to kiss her. "You resorted to the TV that fast?"

"No," Luke laughed. "We were playing farm animals but then he decided he wanted to watch his dad play hockey."

"So you're a push over?"

"Rude," he placed a hand over his heart, feigning a hurt expression.

"I'm joking. He loves watching John play. Almost as much as he loves seeing him in general."

Luke nodded, leaning down to kiss her again.

"What're your plans today?" she asked, pouring Riley a bottle for his snack before nap.

"Not sure. Might go to the gym with Jack for a bit. He's pissed I've been sleeping here. After that... nothing? Come back here and make out with my hot ass girlfriend."

"Not gonna happen, bud. Your 'hot ass girlfriend' has a playdate with her baby daddy."

"You're seeing John? Why didn't you tell me? I would've come."

"Because it's for Riley to have some proper family time."

"But the three of us hang out all the time," he frowned.

But Tori continued, not realizing how much her words were hurting him. "He needs some... regular family time. My therapist said it's a good thing to do. So, we're giving it a try."

"Your therapist? Why am I so out of the loop, V?"

"I just... I didn't want to stress you out, Luke. I'm doing fine, I just need some guidance when it comes to managing co-parenting."

"Oh. Well, I'm gonna go home and shower. Enjoy your 'playdate.'"

"Luke-"

"See you later, Tori."

She sighed, shaking her head as the front door closed. She threw the towel she was holding down on the counter, resting her head in her hands. She took a few deep breaths, trying to center herself. Maybe dating wasn't the best idea after all.

Luke arrived home to the apartment he shared with Jack, his mood soured by his earlier conversation with Tori. He didn't like how she'd worded it as "proper family time." Why wasn't him spending time with them the same? And therapy. Why didn't she tell him, her boyfriend, that she was doing therapy.

Jack was sprawled on the couch, watching some stupid show he'd found on Hulu.

"Hey, man. You ready to hit the gym?" he asked, not even turning to look at Luke.

"Yeah, but can we talk for a sec. I need some advice," Luke slumped down on the sofa next to his brother.

"Sure. What's going on?" he clicked the TV off.

"It's about Tori. Well... me and Tori. She told me this morning she's having some family time with John and Riley. Said it's important for Riley to have time with his dad. And she mentioned seeing a therapist about co-parenting. I didn't even know she was struggling with that stuff. Like am I that shit of a boyfriend that I couldn't even tell my girlfriend was struggling with her kid. And now I'm questioning if I'm really cut out for this whole thing."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Cut out for what? Dating someone with a kid?"

"Yeah. It feels like no matter what I do, I'm not measuring up. I'm always in John's shadow. And with Tori so focused on making sure Riley has time with John, I'm starting to wonder if I'm even needed in their lives."

Jack leaned back, studying his brother. "You're taking on a lot, man. It's not just about being with Tori; it's about being a part of Riley's life too. And John's presence makes that even trickier."

"I know. I really do care about Tori and Riley," Luke said, rubbing his face. "But it's tough feeling like I'm never going to fit into the family like John does."

Jack looked at him thougtfully. "You gotta ask yourself if you're ready for all this. This relationship isn't just about having a girlfriend; it's about stepping up and helping with the responsibilities that come with Riley. That's a lot of work."

"I want to be ready," Luke admitted. "But sometimes it feels like I'm just the guy who's not John. It's hard to see if I'm making a difference or if I'm just background noise."

"It's a lot of stress to take on. You need to think if you're prepared for that kind of pressure. Are you ready to be there for Riley, even when it's hard? Especially since he's a toddler. You have to be consistent and supportive."

"I guess I gotta evaluate if I'm ready for that," Luke said. "I thought I was. But this is a lot more complicated than I realized."

"There's an extra layer of complexity to this, dude. But I'm here if you get overwhelmed."

"Thanks for being honest with me, Jack. I needed to hear this."

"No problem," Jack replied. "Now let's hit the gym and work through some of that stress. Sometimes a good workout is all you need to clear your mind."

Jack's perspective had helped Luke realize the gravity of his situation, now he just had to think about where to go next.

~~

Tori walked into the park with Riley in tow, his lunchbox in her hand. John was already there, sitting on a park bench with a big smile when he saw Riley running towards him. Tori waved politely but kept her distance, wanting Riley to have some time with his dad.

"Hey, Ri-Ri!" John called out. "How's my buddy?"

Riley just giggled and clung to John, clearly excited to spend time with his dad.

"Thanks for bringing him. Missed family time."

"No problem," Tori smiled. "He's always excited to see you."

John nodded, moving his gaze to Riley. "So, how's everything? You've been busy lately."

"Yeah, things are a bit hectic. I've been trying to get more hours in working," Tori admitted. "But Riley's been good. He's adjusting well. Spending time playing with Luke."

John's eyes narrowed slightly, thinking of his next words. "You know, I've been thinking. It's important for Riley to have a stable environment. And, uh, Luke... well, he's still pretty young, right?"

Tori frowned, "What d'you mean?"

John leaned forward, lowering his voice as if someone was listening in. "I've noticed he's been around a lot. But, you know, having a young boyfriend can be tricky. It's not about him hanging out when he feels like it."

Tori crossed her arms, her expression guarded. "Luke's been doing his best. He's trying to be involved."

John shrugged, "I'm sure he is. But it's a lot for someone who's still figuring out their life. I mean, Riley needs someone that's going to hang around, not someone who could just leave whenever."

"I guess..."

John reached over, ruffling Riley's curls. "It's good that you're thinking about what's best for him."

"Yeah. Always."

"Have you been watching lots of hockey, Ri?" John changed the subject, hoping he'd planted the seeds of doubt in Tori's mind.

"Dada play 'ockey!" Riley clapped, snacking on some of the cheese that Tori had packed for him.

"You watch Dada play hockey?"

"Yes! With 'Uke!"

"Oh." John wasn't sure how to react to that. Sure Riley was watching him play hockey, but he was doing it with Luke. He could be watching it with him instead.

"It's great that he likes hockey, isn't it?" Tori grinned, breaking up some more cheese for Riley.

"It's awesome that you're watching hockey, but wouldn't it be more fun to watch with Dada?"

Riley, not understanding the subtext of John's question, just giggled. "Dada play 'ockey!"

"That's right, buddy," he glanced at Tori. "You know, Tori, maybe we could make that a regular thing. Just you, me, and Riley. Watching games together on my off days. Didn't you say he should be getting time with both his parents?"

Tori hesitated, her eyes flickering to Riley as he played with his lunchbox. "I don't know, John. We've been trying to keep things... balanced. I want him to spend time with you, of course, but I also want him to get more comfortable with Luke."

"I get that. But just remember, no one can replace his dad. I'm not saying Luke's a bad guy, he's just young. And let's be real, Luke's got his whole career ahead of him. Do you really think he can handle the responsibilities of being a father figure?"

"I'm not asking Luke to be Riley's dad. He knows that. But he's trying to be there for us, and I appreciate that."

"I just don't want you to get hurt, Tori. Or for Riley to get attached to someone who might not be around for the long run."

"I appreciate your concern, John," her tone a bit sharper than before. "But I've got his under control. I'm making decisions based on what's best for Riley."

"Of course," John raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just looking out for our son. That's all."

Riley tugged on John's sleeve, oblivious to the tension between his parents. "Dada, play 'ockey?"

"Sure thing, buddy. How about we practice shooting some goals together? Think you can beat Dada?"

Riley nodded eagerly, and John jumped at the opportunity to step away from the awkward conversation but also show Tori how good of a dad he was. "Come on, let's go play!"

They moved to a small concrete area near by, Tori watching from where they were sat. She knew John was trying to do something, but she couldn't deny the importance of his relationship with Riley.

"Alright, show me what you've got, Riley!" she cheered, moving the conversation with John to the back of her mind. As Riley focused on playing hockey with his dad, Victoria couldn't shake the idea that things were about to get more complicated.

~~

"Hey, you haven't been over for a bit? Riley's been asking for you," Tori smiled into the phone, mixing Riley's oatmeal in a bowl.

"Oh, um, yeah. Just been super busy. Sorry," Luke replied, fiddling with a stray thread on his hoodie.

"Oh. That's fine. D'you wanna come over for dinner tonight?"

"I have a training session with Nico. Sorry."

"Did I do something wrong?" Tori asked nervously, setting the bowl down for Riley. "Blow on it, Ri. Hot."

"Ooo 'ot!" he waved his hand, blowing on his food.

"No, Tori. I'm just busy."

"Are you su-"

"I'm busy, Tori. Drop it. I'll talk to you later."

"Oh, bye, Lu-"

He'd hung up. Tori sighed, moving on to making her own breakfast. Just as she was turning on the coffee pot, she heard a clattering sound. She turned around to find that Riley had thrown his bowl onto the floor, oatmeal covering the floor and bottom of his chair. His face and hands were also covered, his spoon discarded next to his bowl. She sighed again. It was going to be a long day.

She grabbed a wash cloth to start washing up the mess on her kitchen floor. As she crouched down, wiping up the oatmeal, Riley started crying, his fists rubbing at his eyes.

"Ri, what's wrong?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm, though the exhaustion was already creeping in.

"Noooo!" Riley wailed, kicking his feet in frustration.

"Okay, let's get you cleaned up," Tori murmured, lifting him out of his high chair and carrying him to the sink. He squirmed in her arms, his cries growing louder as she tried to clean his face and hands.

"I know, baby, I know. We're almost done," she said, her patience wearing thin. As soon as she set him down, Riley threw himself on the floor, wailing at the top of his lungs.

Tori stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to do. She really didn't want to get a noise complaint. She had already been feeling off after the call with Luke, and now this. She needed help and Luke clearly wasn't an option right now. She picked up her phone, scrolling thorugh her favourited contacts until she got to John.

The phone rang twice before he answered.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Hey, um, are you busy right now? Riley's having a rough start to the day, and I could really use some help," she admitted, her voice dripping with desperation.

There was a pause on the other end before John responded, "Yeah, I can come over. Give me 20 minutes."

"Thank you, J. I really appreciate it."

"Don't worry about it. I'll be over soon."

Tori hung up and looked down at Riley, who had moved onto his back, his sobs becoming hiccups. She knelt beside him, brushing his curls from his eyes. "Daddy's coming, Ri. It's gonna be okay."

Riley sniffled, "Dada?"

"Yeah, Dada's coming." She knew she needed John's help today, but she couldn't help but wonder what Luke would think if he knew she hadn't called him. Surely he couldn't be upset, he'd said he was busy. He'd been "busy" a lot recently.

John arrived at Tori's apartment, the sound of Riley's wails echoed through the hallway. He could hear the frustration in Tori's voice as she tried to soothe their son. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to walk into.

"Thank God you're here," she sighed, stepping aside to let him in.

John crouched down beside Riley, trying to get his attention. "Hey, big guy. What's going on?"

"Dada!" Riley cried, reaching out for John. His face was tear-streaked, and his eyes puffy from crying.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he soothed, picking Riley up and holding him close. But Riley continued to squirm, resisting his dad's hug.

"Riley, we're here, okay? Let's take a few deep breaths."

But he wasn't listening. He kicked out, hitting John in the stomach, and trashed in his arms trying to escape.

John winched, but held on, walking around the room with him. He was gently bouncing the toddler in another attempt to soothe him. "I know you're upset, buddy. It's okay to be upset, but we need to use our words."

"Look, Ri. It's Pooh bear. Do you want to hold Pooh bear?" Tori offered, holding up his favourite stuffie.

Riley shook his head, burying his face in John's shoulder, his body trembling from the aftermath of his tantrum. "You're okay, Ri-Ri. We're right here. Daddy's here."

It took a few more minutes, but Riley's sobs finally calmed into hiccups. His grip on John's shirt loosening as exhaustion took over his body.

"I think he's finally calming down."

"Thank you, John. I really couldn't deal with that on my own today."

"It's okay. This stuff is hard. But we're in this together, remember?"

Tori sighed and sat on the couch, motioning for John to join her. "I know. I just... I wasn't ready for the terrible twos. His first real toddler tantrum, I mean. I didn't know how to calm him down. And you're his favourite person."

"You did fine," John reassured, cradling Riley. "He's just overwhelmed and didn't know how to express it. We all have days like that."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I just hate seeing him so upset."

"Me too. But he's okay now, and that's what matters."

As Riley settled into a deep sleep in John's arms, the room grew quiet. Tori watched John cradle their son, his hand gently brushing through Riley's curls. The tenderness in John's actions stirred something in her--a familiar warmth she hadn't felt in a long time. She was so grateful for John's help, but seeing him like this, being so good with Riley, brought back memories she thought she'd moved past.

John looked up and met her eyes. There was something in his gaze that made her heart skip a beat. Without thinking, Tori leaned forward, her eyes flickering to his lips. John noticed, and in the heat of the moment, he closed the gap between them. His lips pressed gently against hers. The kiss was soft, lingering, filled with longing and familiarity.

For a moment, Tori kissed him back, all the good times from their relationship flooding her mind. But as quickly as it happened, reality crashed back in. She pulled away, her mind spinning with guilt.

"I--I shouldn't have done that."

"Tori..."

She shook her head, standing up quickly. "No, John. This isn't right. I'm with Luke. I... I shouldn't be kissing you."

"Tori, I know you're with Luke, but I can't pretend I don't care about you."

"It can't mean anything, John. I'm trying to move forward, to build something new. I can't go back."

"I-"

"I think it's best if we forget this happened."

She knew she had crossed a line, one that could complicate everything with Luke, but there was no undoing that she had just done.

"If that's what you want, Vic. But you can't ignore what's still there between us."

She didn't respond.

"Let me take Riley to his room," John offered. Tori nodded, watching as John carefully carried the toddler to his room. As she heard the soft click of Riley's bedroom door closing, she sank back into the couch.

"I'll head out now. But, Tori... if you need anthing. Call me," John said, standing near the front door.

"I know, John. Thanks. I mean it."

He gave her a nod, and turned to leave her with her thoughts. She couldn't deny the kiss, or the feelings that it stirred. But she was scared--scared for what it would mean for her and Luke, and what it might mean for the future she was trying to build.

[honeipie]

I love love love your bakugou works! i was wondering if you could write something about him and like izuku, eijiro, shoto, and the reader all being firefighters. i just think ab katsuki in that black tank and the fuckin firefighter pants😋

24 HOURS

katsuki bakugo x reader

synopsis: dating your coworker can be fun sometimes

authors note: tysm!! katsuki would be such a good firefighter tbh 🌞

3:00 PM

“okay this is weird” currently you were in the passengers seat of your boyfriend’s pick up truck on the way to the fire station. luckily, you had both been called in for 24 hour shifts at the same time. katsuki rolled his eyes turning down the street.

“what?”

you motioned over to the radio which was playing your favorite playlist. the playlist that katsuki would complain so much about each time you put it on.

“you haven’t said a word about my music since we’ve gotten into this car” once he hit a stop light you leaned over the middle console getting close to his cheek “what is going on? are you mad or something?”

he turned his head giving you the smallest, quickest peck on your lips “nothin’s wrong” you squinted your eyes skeptically as the light turned green.

pulling out your phone you went to text the firehouse groupchat.

———

y/n

my boyfriend is way to happy at the moment.. what’s going on

izuku

just know that you won’t like it!

kiri

oh he’s not telling you? brutal.

—————

you had just pulled up to the station when you had read the message “katsuki, not today” there were tires, ropes, dumbbells, and ladders sitting outside and in front of the trucks. katsuki gave your thigh a strong squeeze with a smirk.

“happy drill day”

drill day. the one day out of the month where the whole station of firefighters would get together and do drills over and over for a couple of hours. this was your least favorite day considering everything it entailed. of course you knew that you had to stay in shape physically. it was just wasn’t that fun when you already have a trail of sweat running down your back and ruining whatever makeup you at least tried to do.

5:45 PM

“i hate him”

“then why are you looking at him like you want to lick the sweat off his body”

“first of all gross, second of all i may hate him but i’m not blind” you watched the man who was facing away from you. he was currently showing some of the rookies how to turn their sled pull into pulling the real hose.

his back muscles could be seen shifting quickly as he tugged on the hose from the truck. when he was at the end of the hose his arms flexed for one final tug.

he dropped the hose with a loud plop. he placed his hands on his hips and you could see his slow, heavy breaths from there.

“well? i just showed you how to do it. wrap the shit back up and show me” all of them scrambled to get the hose untangled and back into the wheel.

katsuki turned to face you immediately noticing the way you weren’t training.

“why the hell are you here?” he looked over at mina who was checking something on her nails.

“well my boyfriend and best friend work here, and i’m bored, so i think you can put together the rest of the pieces”

“don’t you got people to revive or some shit?”

mina was an emt for the local hospital. her and kirishima actually met at a fire scene when she came over to check out some of his injuries, and the rest was history.

“look at you loud and wrong. i’m not on a shift right now so i decided make myself feel better about my career decisions by watching you people workout for hours on end”

katsuki shook his head clearly fed up with her and the conversation. you just had to pick her to be your best friend.

“just standin’ here?” he asked standing directly in front of you.

“i finished” you huffed out looking up at him. the heat from outside was already kicking your ass, but him being up close made you feel hotter.

“alright, it’s time to do farmers carry. two laps around the room with a minute break in between”

a frown rested on your face when you heard he wanted you to do more. it had almost hit the two hour mark and you were ready to wrap it up.

“i don’t think i can do anymore today. my body hurts”

he scoffed hearing your words “and you know who else’s body is gonna hurt? the people dying in fires because you couldn’t carry them out”

“i’ve done it before so i feel like that doesn’t count” you reached your hand out placing it on his waist “c’mon lieutenant, go easy on me? just for today”

you’d pulled the lieutenant card. sure, that was his rank and people called him that out of respect, but you? you just did it differently. the way you enunciated the ‘t’. the way you’d touch him, because you always touched him when you said it. this was a rare pull so you must’ve been tired.

katsuki raised his eyebrow at your words. a smirk creeped onto his face before he leaned down giving you a long kiss.

mina’s face scrunched up in disgust, and the rookies just mumbled about how his demeanor switched so fast.

when he pulled away he whispered softly in your ear “you just earned yourself another lap. now get those dumbbells and get to work” he turned going back to check on the rookies’ progress.

“well that backfired” mina kicked her feet against the mat.

“yeah, ya think?”

so you the farmers carry, then worked on the stair machine for your last exercise. after that you made your way over to katsuki. he was watching the rookies start on their cooldown stretches.

“i actually finished this time so i’m going to take a shower” you gave him a sharp pat on the back and went to leave, but he grabbed you wrist dragging you back.

“you mad?”

“hm.. not if i smell okonomiyaki when i get out the shower”

you moved your hand away continuing your walk to the bathroom.

6:45

“thank you katsuki”

he only grumbled in response taking a bite of his. kirishima frowned in the corner arms crossed against his chest “why didn’t you make us any? we worked out hard too”

“not enough ingredients”

izuku sat beside you drinking his smoothie “y’know i hate liars. i restocked that pantry yesterday”

mina stood beside kirishima one arm wrapped around his waist “i could give you some of those leftovers from last night”

kiri shook his head “nah, i don’t really want that-“ he shifted his head to see mina giving him a look “oh! no yeah i want that” the two retreated back into the station with nothing more than a wave. shoto almost broke his neck watching the two go inside.

“they’re not gonna have sex in the kitchen right?..”

“no! not in the kitchen. maybe that big closet on the way, but not in the kitchen” you put the last bit of okonomiyaki in your mouth “i’m actually surprised you caught onto that”

“i know right? got the social cues of a fuckin’ boulder”

“katsuki that’s not funny” but the smile on your face gave away that it was a little funny. all was interrupted when a car pulled into the station. all four of you got up to see who it was. a woman got out of the car and made her way to the other side.

“hi! i’m sorry to cause you the trouble, but we’ve done everything and can’t get it off” she opened the door to reveal a boy, about seven years old, with his arm stuck in a water jug “i asked my dad what to do and he said you’d be able to help?”

you all had to stop yourselves from laughing when he struggled getting his arm out of the car.

“don’t worry about it ma’am. we can get that thing right off” you assured her with a smile. izuku had already went inside to get a pair of pliers.

“i know it’s stuck, but can you you still feel your arm? move it around without any pain?”

as you asked he lifted up his arm and slammed it back down into his side. the force took him by surprise and he ended up falling over “i’m okay!” he went to get up his mother assisting him.

“stop being a fool and answer the nice lady’s question please”

“my arm feels fine”

10:00 PM

“alright,” you placed your cards down onto the table and started to rise “i’m gonna head to sleep”

the crew mumbled quick goodbyes already setting up for another round. you made your way through the station until you reached one of the bedrooms. slowly, you opened the door making sure to not make too much noise. after closing it once more, you went to strip out of your clothes into something more comfortable.

“scoot over”

a grunt left katsuki as he rolled over to one side of the bed. it was no surprise that he was already asleep. this man worked like clockwork. exactly at 8:30pm every day he would stop whatever he was doing and head up to bed.

you crawled up next to him wrapping your arms around his torso. katsuki didn’t care about that big spoon, little spoon stuff. all he wanted to do was get comfortable and rest.

your head rested on his chest listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart.

“i hope we don’t get any calls tonight”

“me either”

4:00 AM

“i knew you’d like this one”

you had bent over laughing at the sight before you. a teen had gotten stuck in one of the baby swings, so they had to call to get him out. you were asleep when they got the call and katsuki refused to tell you what it was.

“how does this even happen?” you tried to subside your laughter walking over to go help kiri get the poor, embarrassed teen out of the swing.

“it was a dare! i couldn’t back down the stakes were too high”

you wrapped your arms under his armpits while kirishima got around his calves. you counted down from three then started to pull him out of the seat.

“what is more embarrassing than this?”

“asking my crush out in front of her whole lunch table”

“well hopefully her whole lunch table doesn’t see that recording” you nodded your head over to his friends who were videotaping the whole thing. the teens started to go back and forth as you wiggled him out.

after making sure there was no little injuries on him katsuki walked over “all of you should get home. we decided not to call the cops, but someone else might”

they all nodded their heads in understanding waiting until you turned around to whisper “i should’ve gotten myself stuck. she was bad as shit”

you cringed at the words, but katsuki let out a loud laugh. you slapped him on his arm going over to the truck “it’s not funny!”

3:00 PM

you hopped back into katsuki’s pickup with a smile on your face “another shift completed. i can’t wait to go home and get a good nights sleep”

he threw both of your bags into the backseat before getting into the driver’s seat. after the early morning call, there were a few others. a couple of bush fires, and people stuck in an elevator. safe to say, you couldn’t wait for your two days off.

“i bet you can’t. got a hot date with one of those boys? if i remember they called you bad as shit?”

you rolled your eyes at his little joke.

“shut up! you promised you wouldn’t bring that up again”

he shrugged a smug smile on his lips as he pulled out of the lot.

“can i play my music?”

“fuck no”

“katsuki!”

taglist! @sagejin 🫶🏾

lmk if you want to be added

[dixonsgirl93]

Right Person, Wrong Time

Negative Merle x Reader

(I wanna make it clear I love Merle Dixon. For anyone new to my account, I’ve written fluffy and smutty stuff for both brothers so go check them out!)

Positive Daryl x Reader

CW: Cheating, Angst, narcissistic tendencies

You meet and date Merle before ever meeting Daryl, though he spoke about him enough. When the fall of the world happened, you both went to find his brother Daryl. Upon meeting him, you’re struck by his handsome appearance, immediately feeling guilty for the thought.

The real trouble began when the two of you grew closer, having more in common than you first thought, even a mutual attraction showing in unpredictable ways, making your heart flutter guiltily.

The truth also came to light that Merle wasn’t a good boyfriend but Daryl was openly caring and even protective.

You couldn’t help yourself.

~~

Merle huffed at you and turned away.

“What?” You grumbled at his back.

He spun, his face contorted. “Why you gotta flaunt your ass at him? You’re mine, remember?”

“What?!” You couldn’t believe he was really saying that. “I didn’t flaunt my ass at him. I was just talking to him. You need to calm down.”

Merle’s face went red and he stormed right up to you. “Calm down? You’re the one being a little slut. Not happy with just me, huh?”

Despite the rage bubbling up inside you, he looked genuinely hurt at the idea and a part of you felt pity.

“It wasn’t like that at all, Merle. I wasn’t even flirting. We were just joking around.” Your voice softens, reasoning, calming.

“Looked that way to me.” His voice is lower too but still bitter.

You weren’t sure how to respond. “You want me to stop joking around with men? Avoid them altogether?”

He hesitated and you thought he was really considering that. You scoffed.

“Really?”

He shrugged as if it was actually a decent idea.

“You’re not serious?”

“Why you so desperate to talk to other men?” He retorted.

“I’m not! You can’t just- What about Rick? Or Daryl? Should I just ignore them? You don’t think they’d think something was up? That Rick wouldn’t say you were controlling me or something? You’d be kicked out, you want that?”

“Fuck Rick. And Daryl wouldn’t say shit. He’s a little virgin, what would he know?”

You throw your arms up in frustration. “You’re completely missing the point.”

“No, you are! You’re mine. I don’t want you getting too close with the guys, okay?” He wrapped his arms around your waist, a look of love in his eyes but you felt unease. “I need everyone to know you’re mine and only mine. I’ll make sure everyone knows.” He leans down to kiss your lips but it wasn’t sweet.

~~

Sitting in your cell, your argument with Merle playing on your mind, anxiety bubbling up inside you.

“Hey.”

You look up to find Daryl the one to break you from your thoughts.

“Hey.” You look back down at your hands.

“You okay?” He takes a step into your cell, careful not to invade your space. It’s such a small gesture of respect and you can’t help compare him to his brother who would just step inside, take up space, get in your space without a second thought.

You sigh heavily. “Been better.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

You look up at him. The idea of venting to him about his brother was almost comical.

“I…”

“You don’t have to.” He shrugged, leaning against the cell door.

His nonchalance broke something in you and tears welled up in your eyes. Daryl knelt in front of you in a second, hands reached out to look at your face.

“Hey. It’s okay.” His voice was soft, soothing. You looked into his green eyes that showed you only care and concern. Again, you made a comparison with his brother. Was Merle ever like this with you? You couldn’t answer. That realisation sent more tears to your eyes yet still you couldn’t bring yourself to admit Merle’s behaviour toward you.

He pulled you into a hug where you sobbed onto his shoulder. You found yourself almost clinging to Daryl.

He rubbed your back and made shushing noises until you were ready to pull away.

You sniffled and wiped your eyes, chuckling to hide your awkwardness.

“I’m sorry.” You whimper, not looking him in the eye.

“Don’t ever be sorry. I’m always here for you, okay? I know you don’t wanna talk about what’s botherin ya but I’ll be here when ya ready.” He stands up and takes one last look at you before leaving.

A moment later Merle is at your cell.

“What was that about?” He stops and notices you still dabbing at your eyes. “You been crying? Why? Was it Daryl? What’d he say?” He seemed annoyed.

“No, he was comforting me. Just…our argument earlier. I keep thinking about it.”

“Why you crying over it?” He sat down next to you. “I know what’ll make you feel better.”

You shrug his arm off your shoulder feeling gross. “I’m not in the mood.”

He sighs and dramatically slaps his arm on his leg. “You never are. You don’t want me anymore?”

“For god’s sake, Merle. Maybe I’m just too fucking upset to think about sex. Comfort me instead of thinking with your dick. Ugh.” You grumbled and stormed out of the cell. You had no idea where you were heading to, just away from Merle.

~~

A couple of weeks later, nothing had improved with Merle. In fact, it only became increasingly obvious that you didn’t want to be with him anymore. You argued more than anything and he was always twisting things to make himself the victim. It was tiring.

He had stormed off one afternoon, left the prison to ‘go on a run’, more like to find some liquor and drink himself stupid. A vicious thought struck you in the heated moment that maybe he’d be killed by walkers, ripped apart and left out there. You shook it away, the guilt heavy in your chest.

You were sitting on your bed in your cell reading a book, trying to take your mind off things when a shadow fell over the doorway. Your heart pumped rapidly, thinking Merle had come back to argue more but no, it was another, far more welcome, familiar face.

You smiled and sat up. “Hey.”

He smiled back. “I know you said you didn’t wanna talk about it, before.” He stopped, hesitating to open a door you’d kept firmly shut. “I know it’s Merle. He’s a dick, he’s never kept girlfriends long cause he…never treats ‘em right.”

Your heart hammered unexpectedly. You tried to find the right words but knew trying to defend Merle was useless. “Yeah. Promise you won’t say anything to him though.”

He frowned at you. “I’m not an idiot. I’m not even here to tell you what to do. Just want ya to know I know what he’s like and I’m here for you.” There was a silence but it looked like he wanted to say more.

You waited. He eventually made eye contact with you, sighing, he stepped closer and took a breath.

“But, if I’m honest, you should leave him. He’s not good for you.”

“I know.” You whispered. “But how?”

Daryl shrugged. “The others either left without a word, moved away, never answered his calls. Some yelled and hit him, keyed his motorbike and then left.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Why am I not surprised.”

That intrusive thought came to you again, that maybe he’d just die and you wouldn’t have to dump him.

“Fuck.” You leaned forward and put your head in your hands. “God, I hate this.”

“Come with me.” Daryl nodded away.

“Hm?”

“I wanna show you something.”

You follow him through the prison, up on the roof. It was just past noon, the sun was high in the sky, bright and hot. It hit you hard. You turned your face up to the sky, bathing in the heat. It felt amazing and for a moment you could almost ignore the walkers groaning down below, almost forget about Merle off somewhere. You could just exist, in this light, this warmth and be happy.

“I come up here at night sometimes when I can’t sleep. The walkers are quieter, I reckon. Probly cause they can’t see us as good. It’s peaceful.” Daryl confessed. You turned to look at him but his eyes and mind were off the distance, far away.

“He wasn’t always like this.” You said. “He was actually sweet and loving. A little rough around the edges still but he was mine, you know? Ever since this virus and the world crumbled, he changed. He got real protective to the point of questioning every little thing I did. Even joking with Axel a while back. Called me a slut.” Saying it out loud made you realise how stupid you’d been. Merle had changed. He wasn’t gonna be the man he was at the start. Everything had changed.

“He did what? For talking to Axel?” Daryl growled.

“I joked that I should ignore you and Rick too and he… I think he was actually thinking about it. Ridiculous. You and Rick!”

“He’s gone too far.”

You sigh and rest your head on Daryl’s shoulder. He shuffled closer and put his arm around you.

“You’ll always have me. He’s got no say in that.” His thumb grazed over the skin on your arm and a soft buzz of electricity went through you. You turned to look up at him.

“How are you both so different?” You ask rhetorically. He was even more handsome up close. A light stubble covered his chin and cheeks, his green eyes glittered softly at you and your heart raced deliciously. Suddenly, you had the urge to kiss him. He was so close, inches away. Your eyes flickered to his lips and he leaned in a little. You copied.

Within another inch and your lips were touching, gentle, soft, delicate and absolutely electric. Like a magnet you drew closer, deepening the kiss. His arm pulled you in tight.

You were craving each other in a way you’d never felt before. Sure, those first moments with Merle felt intense too, all those new feelings with someone new. It was exciting but this… With Daryl. Oh, it was something new entirely. Hot, fiery, electric, it buzzed through you intensely, leaving hardly any room for breath or thought except the feel his lips and tongue, the taste of him, his hands, big and warm holding you tightly, securely. You never wanted to leave his embrace…

A loud creak of metal broke you apart. The gate was opening, the sound of an engine rumbled in. Merle. He was back.

Your heart pounded wildly.

“Don’t say anything.” Daryl whispered, despite being too far away from him or anyone else to hear.

“But..” you started to argue as if you had fully intended to tell Merle about your kiss with his brother.

“Trust me. Please.”

You nod, already walking away. Daryl stays, watching you with wistful eyes.

This just complicated everything…

[covetyou]

best in show

ao3 ⋆ masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: dual narrative, masturbation (m), voyuerism, drug reference (our boy is sober but struggling), subby Dieter, slight humiliation kink, very brief mentions of other sex acts (anal play, PIV, cum play), reader talks Dieter through a very nervy wank. word count: 3.7k summary: The Academy Awards, the most well known, well planned, film award ceremony in the world. So why is the host missing?

A/N: @agentjackdaniels happy holidays from your space sisters secret santa! sorry if this is a bit early for you - it's the 20th in my time zone, I promise! I went the route of award show!Dieter with a twist. Welcome to the Oscars, with your eccentric host - Dieter Bravo.

the suits mentioned are from SNL (blue, we're ignoring the yellow pants), the late late show (pink) and the tonight show (green).

dividers by @saradika-graphics follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

"Bravo, you're up."

You rap your knuckles against the door again, hoping against hope that he just hasn't heard you and he isn't coked up out of his mind.

"Bravo!" you shout, knocking harder this time, as a voice blares through your in-ear. Fifteen minutes until showtime and the host is still nowhere to be seen. And it is your fault. You'd drawn the short straw and had been tasked with being his handler for the night, keeping him out of mischief and on time. Currently, it looked like you were failing at both.

"Right, I'm coming in!" You cannot be dealing with this shit. You're not paid enough.

You open the door, poking your head around to see if he's inside the dressing room, like he should be, only to find it completely empty. Stepping inside and closing the door behind you, you take in a deep breath and put your hands on your hips. Fuck. Whoever's idea to put Dieter-fucking-Bravo as the host for this years Oscars really needed a kick up the ass, and you'd be first in line to do it.

The room looks tidier than you expected. There's not an obvious illicit substance in sight. Sparkling water sits on the vanity, along with make up and haircare products. You didn't even know where his stylist is, but it was nice to know she'd at least been here. His clothes are still neatly lined on a rail - the first hanger is empty and you assume that's a good sign. It's got to be, right?

Except, Dieter Bravo is still nowhere to be found, and you've ran out of places to look for him.

The only conundrum is all the lights are still on. He'd left the room in such a hurry that he hadn't bothered to switch them off, and yet no one had reported him frantically dashing out in a drug fueled mania.

Even the bathroom light is on. And the door is ajar. You think it won't hurt to check inside, or at least turn the light off. A place like this burned through electricity like nobodies business, but your compulsion to turn off unused lights wins out and you're heading toward the bathroom on auto-pilot.

You only hear the whimper when you're already pushing the door open, and by then it's too late to stop.

That's how you find yourself stood in the doorway, watching as Dieter Bravo furiously jerks his cock with his eyes slammed closed and his head thrown back. You could back out, you should, but instead you stare transfixed as his fist moves over himself, so lost in it all that you don't even think he's noticed you standing there. You really should go before he notices.

Making a quiet retreat you -

"Stay."

Your eyes snap to his. He's looking at you now. His hand has stilled, squeezing himself tight, and you frown. You shouldn't. You shouldn't have even come in, and you definitely should not be seeing this, and you even more certainly must not be considering his offer.

"If you want. Please."

The nod of your head is so small it's practically imperceptible, but he sees it and groans deeply, resuming his strokes on his cock. It's framed in vibrant blue, and you're reminded how he wouldn't even be here if he didn't have that suit. One of the conditions he'd made on hosting was he would get to have a "more exciting" wardrobe, and the green, pink, and blue you'd seen wheeled in on his rail earlier today certainly lived up to that.

It looks good on him. He looks good. Fuck. You really should go, why did you nod your head.

You watch him swipe pre-cum from his head and draw it down his cock. He looks painfully stiff, and you wonder how long he's been at it, if this is the first time today or if he's been jerking himself every opportunity. Either way, you're mesmerized, watching as his large fist draws up and back down his length. You should do something - go, say something, tell him to stop, join in.

Instead, you just stand there, gaping at it like a fucking idiot. Why is your mouth watering.

"Please I-"

"You don't have long," you interrupt.

"I know, I know, I just - I can't -" he pants, looking at you with desperation.

"You can't what?"

"Come. I can't come."

You hold back a laugh. From what you'd heard about Dieter Bravo, that was not a problem he seemed to have very often. You don't hold it back well enough though, and a small sound escapes you, triggering a shudder that you watch run down his back.

"Oh god."

"Did you -?" like me laughing at you, you cut yourself off.

You lean against the doorframe, attempting nonchalance as Dieter tugs on his cock, watching you as you watch him.

You dismissed him earlier, regarding him with indifference and not ever really looking at him. But, appearances alone tell you he's changed. No longer is there a sunken look to his face from too many nights spent out of his mind. He looks healthy, healthier than you've ever seen him, but he looks scared. Frightened, borderline terrified even. You know the only thing standing between him and pure panic is his stiff cock in his hand.

It's probably why he can't come, but is equally desperate to. And if he liked you laughing, well, maybe you could give him a hand without actually giving him a hand.

"If you don't come soon, they're gonna catch you."

He groans, and his strokes slow, becoming more deliberate and focussed as you talk to him.

"Do you want that? Do you want to be caught with your dick in your hand?"

"F-no. No, I don't."

"Then you've gotta be quick and come."

He nods his head frantically, then looks down at his cock here it lays heavy in his hand. He spits, gliding the saliva across his length.

"If you're not careful you're gonna make a mess all over yourself."

"Fuck, don't stop. Please don't stop."

Five minutes - has anyone got eyes on Bravo.

The stage managers voice blares through your in-ear so loudly that you know Dieter has heard it. You purposefully hold the button on your mic as you watch him, making him pinch his lips shut to hold back his moan.

"I've found him," you say into your headset, releasing the button. Let it be known you are not bad at your job, and if anyone was going to find him first it would be you.

"Didn't say you could stop. You still need to come."

"I do, I do, I need to - "

You're holding down the button on your headset again, and he audibly groans this time.

"He's in the bathroom."

When you release the button for the final time, you raise an eyebrow at him. His breaths are coming in ragged and heavy, his eyebrows pinched together as his eyes threaten to flutter closed. You're no expert, but you can tell he's close, and by the movement of his hand you can tell he's still struggling to get there.

"Look at me."

Dieter looks up, pleading with his sad, pathetic eyes. You'd be lying if you said all of this wasn't turning you on. If it hadn't turned your legs to jelly and you weren't grateful for the sturdy doorframe propping you up. If your panties weren't soaked through and your core wasn't throbbing just from watching and speaking. If you weren't desperate to take him in your hand, bend yourself over the sink in front of him, anything.

But there was no time.

With four minutes to go, you do the only thing you can.

"Come, Dieter."

He's due on stage soon. He knows he is. That very thing is the reason why he shouldn't be doing this, but the very same reason why he's doing it in the first place. He needs it, something, anything, to take his mind off of it all and to take the edge off. Six months of sobriety and too many people to keep him accountable meant he couldn't - wouldn't - turn to his usual vices, so this would have to do.

He's struggling. Any other day and he would've come already, maybe to the thought of some gloriously plush tits, painting golden tan lines with his cum. Or a tongue swirling expertly around his asshole. Or the grip of something warm and wet and hot around his cock that wasn't his own fist. But today, nothing is working.

The bang on his dressing room door startles him, not only making his whole body twitch, but his dick too.

And then comes your voice, muffled but so obviously you even through two doors.

"Bravo, you're up."

Shit. He's gotta finish fast, he can't go out here like this, and he can't go out there with nothing to relieve the panic coursing through his veins. And then his mind flicks back to earlier in the day, meeting you and shaking your hand. Your hands had been soft, and you'd smelled fresh and clean. It calmed him. But then you'd listed off everything you needed him to do and told him and his team to get to it with a sharp click of your fingers before stalking off. His cock twitches again, and suddenly he has exactly the fuel he needs to get himself off.

He begins moving his hand again, stroking his balls gently in the other. You've probably gone away, stalked off with your ass jiggling in your pants just like earlier. He grunts, closing his eyes to savor the image. You'd looked good. He can remember the clip of your sensible heels on the floor now. Fuck, he'd let you step on him with those shoes given the chance.

"Bravo!" Another knock on the door and another sigh. If you stay there knocking long enough, it'll get him off. He just knows it.

"Right, I'm coming in."

He knows he should panic. Knows he should stop, tuck his cock away, pretend he was just using the bathroom and washing his hands. But he doesn't. The threat of being caught, by you, spurs him on. If only he could get closer and just fucking come already.

The door of his dressing room opens, and Dieter has to bite back a moan. When the door closes again, he has to fight back disappointment until he hears your footsteps just outside the bathroom. He never fully closed the door, and there's no time to shut it now. He's so close.

"Oh fuck," he whispers, looking down at his weeping cock where it's gripped in his hand. It's rock solid, flushed tip oozing pre-cum that trickles from his slit and coats his fingers with every jerk of his fist.

Time drags on as he hears you walk around, looking for him. And then your footsteps approach the door and he can't help but whimper at the idea of you catching him with his cock in his hand.

His eyes slam shut, his head tilting back as he bites back a louder moan. He doesn't hear the door open, but feels the air shift, blowing a cool breeze over him that makes his dick throb in his hand. If the blood wasn't pounding out of his head so hard he would have heard your small intake of breath as you took him in.

He really should stop. But he doesn't.

And when you go to leave, he really should let you go, but he doesn't do that either.

"Stay."

You're beautiful, in a way that you wouldn't even recognize in yourself, but fuck are you beautiful. Even when you frown at him, eyebrows pinching together, you're beautiful.

"If you want. Please."

Dieter Bravo is not a begging man. Outside of the bedroom. Or the bathroom. Or anywhere else where his dick can get involved really. He didn't beg for this job, they'd approached him. He tried to make himself into such a diva that they'd retract their offer, but his agent was determined for him to take it and for once get some good PR under his belt. The promise of good PR did nothing to stop his nerves.

When your head does the tiniest of nods he feels like he could cry. Knowing that you're watching him - and, fuck, how attentively you're watching him - his balls draw tight, threatening to spill themselves before backing off. It's still not enough. Why the fuck is it still not enough.

"Please I-"

"You don't have long."

Your voice. It's like it's just been drizzled over his brain and is melting him from the inside out, turning his body to goo.

"I know, I know, I just - I can't -" he pants, looking at you with desperation. He doesn't want to admit it, but he knows it's painfully obvious that he can't come if his life depended on it. And it practically does - if he didn't come and get out there as soon as possible, his career would very likely be over. He can see the headlines now - BRAVO ABANDONS OSCARS IN COKE FUELED FRENZY. If he still did coke, he wouldn't be having this problem.

"You can't what?"

"Come. I can't come."

He knows you try not to, but he hears your laugh. It's small, but coming from you, directed at him, it does things to him he didn't expect. He lurches forward as his whole body shudders.

"Oh god."

He squeezes his eyes shut again, hoping that this'll finally be it, finally be the thing that sends him over the edge.

"Did you -?"

He didn't come, that much should be obvious, he thinks. But then he's looking at you again and gets lost in your eyes as you watch him with such nonchalance that it makes him ache down to his bones.

"If you don't come soon, they're gonna catch you."

He groans, desperate strokes becoming slow and more deliberate as he listens to your voice. If you just keep talking to him he'll get there, and this will all be over and he can get out there and do his damn job.

"Do you want that? Do you want to be caught with your dick in your hand?"

"F-no. No, I don't." Liar.

"Then you've gotta be quick and come."

He nods his head frantically, and spits down onto his cock, watching as his hand glides up and down. He imagines it's your hand for a moment, smaller more delicate fingers pulling at his cock, smoothly moving back and forth in an attempt to get him off.

"If you're not careful you're gonna make a mess all over yourself."

Dieter doesn't give a shit about that right now. Just a little longer and he'll be there, he knows it. He just needs you to keep going.

"Fuck, don't stop. Please don't stop."

Five minutes - has anyone got eyes on Bravo.

It's muffled, but he can hear the words clear as day through your in-ear. The stage manager sounds pissed, and the devilish look in your eye as you reach to press the button to respond has him biting back a moan and stilling his hand on his cock.

"I've found him."

He lets out a shaky breath when you finally release the button again, his cock feeling red hot and angry in his hand.

"Didn't say you could stop. You still need to come."

Looking to you, he starts jerking his cock again and nods. "I do, I do, I need to - "

And then you're pressing down the button to speak into your headset again and he's groaning before you even speak.

"He's in the bathroom."

He doesn't give a shit if they heard. His knees feel weak and his eyes are ready to clamp closed, but he can't resist staring at you and that cocky look on your face as you release the button again. Your eyebrow quirks at him and he knows in that moment he'd get on his knees and beg you for something, anything, if only he had the time.

"Look at me."

Dieter looks up, feeling the desperation roll off himself in waves. He wonders if you can feel it, and if any of this is having any affect on you at all. Fuck, he hopes it is. He's going to come. He's really, actually, going to come.

Time's ticking, he knows it is, and his balls are getting tight and tighter again, he can feel them pulling up but he still can't -

"Come, Dieter."

And his vision goes white as he explodes in his palm.

You're staring at him. He can't believe he just did that and you can't believe you stayed to watch. And you talked him through it.

More specifically, you're staring at the cum splashed all over his shirt and how it's slowly but steadily trickling down the fabric. He's lucky he opened his jacket before pulling his cock out, or the whole outfit would be ruined. Dieter is so blissed out that he doesn't even notice, softening cock still in his hand and eyes still closed.

Until rapidly cooling cum drips onto the back of his hand and he's opening his eyes, looking down to the crime scene splattered across his shirt.

"Fuck."

The panic in his voice is obvious. People will be bursting in to collect him any moment, and there's one hell of a mess to clean up. But, you're a problem solver by nature, it's why you're so good at your job.

"Take it off!" you tell him, snapping out of your cock induced trance and gesturing to the ruined shirt.

"What? I didn't think there was time to-"

"I'm not fucking you right now," you hiss. "You've got two minutes, take it off, I'll grab another. You've got other outfits, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah the shirt with the pink suit should work. My stylist is gonna fucking kill me - wait did you say right now - "

He's alone in the bathroom, tucking his dick away, throwing his jacket aside and peeling the soiled shirt from his shoulders before you can answer. Usually he hides the evidence, but there's not time to stash the extra shirt anywhere when there's another sudden knock on the door. The best he can do is throw his jacket back on over his bare shoulders so at least he's not seen to be topless and alone with you as he steps into his dressing room.

The door swings open just as you reach for the hanger of the pink suit, stopping you in your tracks.

"Dee. They're looking for you," his stylist walks in, looking at her phone. She spots you first, before flicking her eyes to Dieter and pointing in confusion. "Oh, hi. Where's your shirt?"

He shrugs, shoulders rising high as you stare at the exposed section of his chest now on full display beneath his jacket. "Changed my mind about it. Looks good enough like this, right?" He checks himself out in the mirror and adjusts his hair a fraction as if nothing untoward had just happened.

You're starting to understand how he won his own Oscar all those years ago.

His stylist seems to be just as eccentric as he is, and is thrilled by the choice to go shirtless. You're not sure your boss will be, but before you can offer a different shirt, Dieter is being whisked away by the production crew, all with confused looks on their faces as they take in his outfit. Dieter takes one last look back at you, mouthing a quick thank you as he's dragged off to begin the show.

The 96th Academy Awards go off without a hitch. You're already hearing reports from online that Dieter Bravo is a hit, his opening outfit being lauded as unique and a breath of fresh air for a sometimes stuffy and overly serious award ceremony. You watch him out of the corner of your eye through two costume changes - both times watching as he leaves wearing a shirt under each of his bold colored jackets.

It's a chaotic, well oiled machine, and by the time all is said and done and after parties are in full swing, you're winding down and saying thank yous and goodnight to the crew who made it all happen. One last sweep of the dressing rooms and you'll be on your way home too.

Empty, empty, empty. And then you're opening the door to Dieter's dressing room, ready to flick the light off and put the building to bed.

Except, Dieter Bravo is there, a vision in deep emerald green, holding the messed shirt from earlier in the evening in one hand and scribbling a note onto the back of a small card with the other. He sees you enter, and looks as stunned to see you as you are to see him.

"No after party?"

He looks sheepish, almost embarrassed when he answers.

"Not any more."

Admittedly, it was perhaps a stupid question to ask a recovering addict. "Oh."

You both awkwardly stand for a moment, Dieter keeping his eyes locked on the card in his hand before he's walking toward you and shoving it in front of you. You take it just as he edges past you out of the dressing room.

There's a note addressed to you and a number, scribbled hastily in Dieter's messy handwriting.

"I didn't want to be too forward, I know these things are..." he trails off with a wave of his hand. "Was just gonna leave that here and leave it up to you."

I owe you my life. Let me take you for coffee. Call me? D x

Looking up from the note, you can see him hesitantly make an exit. Calling after him, he stops in his tracks, spinning on his heel to look at you with more hope than you expect he intended.

"I'm just about to close up, if you wanted to go grab that coffee?"

And so, at 11pm on the night of the 96th Academy Awards, you find yourself in an empty diner, drinking bad coffee with Dieter-fucking-Bravo.

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

[coeurify]

𝐈𝐟 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤

pairing & wc : ellie williams x fem!reader. wc: 6.8k

description: a new girl sets her eyes on you, and ellie has no patience for it. you both pay the price for her attitude.. but oh if walls could fucking talk.

warnings: listen to if walls could talk by 5sos. harsh language, drinking, jealous!ellie. name calling, spit, oral!r receiving, fingering!e receiving. the nickname pup is used, dom/sub dynamics.

The air in Jackson was sweet tonight. You can taste the spring wind on the tip of your tongue as you laugh— the early may breeze filling your lungs with something crisp enough to freshen you. Something that settles on your skin with the same dewiness as the petals of flowers that bloom near the doors lining the main street.

Dirt from the gravel road kicks up into the settling sky as Jesse makes a move with his boot, pulling another chuckle from your lips. Your cheeks are as pink as the evening sky already, caused by the laughter that spills between your friend group. Four noisy twenty-somethings clambering toward the Tipsy Bison, spitting jokes between yourselves.

You find your focus setting on the pink and orange hues in the sky, looking much more painting-like than anything of reality. Your eyes follow each brush stroke with curiosity, the pre-game sips of liquor stolen from a house’s cabinet sitting low in your belly.

Dina appears next to you and pushes her shoulder into yours, bare skin pressed against each other. It was finally warm enough to rid yourself of the scratchy long sleeves tucked in your closet, and you were taking full advantage. A low-cut and thin short sleeve tucked against your body, which gained you whistles when you showed Dina earlier. The slam forces your head to tilt down from its place in the clouds. “There's a new group Maria let in,” your friend says, pulling your interest directly into her brown eyes. Those brown eyes shift to the girl walking beside you, who stares between the two of you with a smile. “You hear about them El? All I know is some of them are around our age.”

Ellie’s shoulders shrug, green eyes flicking from you and then back to where Jesse was now knocking through the door of the Tipsy Bison as he owned it. “Heard Tommy says it's about 6 of them, two around our ages, the others older. Seems like they caught wind of us and fought to get here.”

Dina nods along as Ellie speaks, bumping into you slightly as all three press through the wooden doors of the establishment. Jesse has already made his way to the bar up front, waving all of you over with one short movement that points to the empty stools beside him.

“Maybe we’ll make some new friends?” You suggest. You watch as Dina and Ellie both take seats on either side of Jesse, yourself sliding into the stool next to the auburn-haired girl.

The soft glow of fading lights above your heads paints everyone in a sweet orange tinge, flushed cheeks set on four faces from the quick walk across town. A soft song plays that you can’t quite make out, just a hum against the decoration-covered walls as the group begins chattering again.

“New friends?” Jesse asks, hand already wrapped around a drink he must have ordered the second he sat down.

“You would know what we were talking about if you didn’t run off in front of us,” Ellie muttered, nodding her head toward the familiar face behind the bar as he asked what she wanted.

“You know how Jesse gets, El. No mind on that one,” Dina smiles, hand coming up to mess his hair from its place. “There's a new group in town, some our age,” she explains to the man, who nods and makes an ooo noise.

“We don’t need more friends. Plus Jesse’s already frustrating enough to deal with,” Ellie cut into the conversation again, lips fighting back a grin.

“Why are you so on my ass tonight, Williams?” Jesse asked, a hand reaching to his chest in faux hurt.

“You just get that out of me,” Ellie shrugs.

“C’mon, you just don't wanna share your girlfriend with anyone else,” Dina motions to you, earning a very obvious eye roll from the girl beside you. “You barely let us get time with her.”

“Yea,” you nod, “Ellie’s just obsessed with me, aren’t you?”

“I am not,” Ellie mumbles into the glass that had just been pushed in front of her. Your eyes linger on her a little too long after her comment. They then fall back into their position staring at the bottles behind the bar, choosing between what you want. It doesn’t last long, your usual drink coming to mind.

Jesse and Dina bicker to your side, over something as ridiculous as the color of the sky outside, as usual. You don't pay it much mind, your head falling to rest on Ellie’s shoulder, glancing up at her as she takes a sip of what you assume to be whiskey.

“Order me a drink,” you hum, batting your pretty eyelashes at your girlfriend. She shifts a bit in her seat, looking down at you.

“Can I get a please?” She requests, eyes swiping away from your own as the words come from her lips. You make a face, eyebrows pinching together. “No?”

Ellie treats you to another eye roll, pretty emerald flashes that make you lift your head away from her shoulder, knowing you won. Ellie motions the bartender over, muttering the drink order she knew by heart.

You grin, placing a few loud kisses on her cheek. The act scrunches up her nose and brings the bickering couple’s attention back to you, embarrassing Ellie further. Jesse purses his lips together to make obnoxious smooching noises, rewarding him with a harsh shove from Ellie.

The drink is placed in front of you as Ellie and Jesse delve into another low-stakes argument, which you pay no mind to. You raise the glass for a sip, which is cut short by the door pushing open, gaining your interest.

Two young-looking people walk in, followed by Maria. She says something to the man and woman that you can’t make out. The man seems roughed up, and your mind seems to tug a string between him and the earlier conversation with Dina and Ellie. The girl beside him looks a little less nervous and less fucked up. Her eyes search the bar curiously, feet bouncing.

Maria sends them off with a short pat on the back, likely after some spiel about interacting with the residents. Dina seems to be watching the same show, already having hopped out of her seat to skip to you, grabbing your arm.

“That’s them,” Dina says, ignoring your partners who are still acting like children, now demanding the other can’t drink as much.

You nod, taking another long sip from your glass before slipping from the barstool to follow her. There isn’t even a whisper of apprehension on her features as she walks toward the two, but your feet drag slightly behind.

“Hi! You’re the new ones right?” She greets both, through her eyes fall on the bruised cheek of the man first. “Shit, you already get fucked up?”

Beside her your throat clears, warning Dina to not push too far. She doesn’t seem to get the hint, still reaching out to shake his hand. The man accepts, shrugging gently as his eyes shift around.

“Ran into a group right before we made it here, one of your patrol groups found em’ and us. They shot both of us till we told them what we were here for.”

Dina nods, “Well, guess you got a warm Jackson welcome,” she grins like she’s the funniest person in the world as she says it, quickly introducing both herself and you.

“Will,” the man says in response, grinning. You can see Will relaxing slightly at the seemingly easy welcome he was receiving in the closely-knit town. You didn’t have the heart to tell him Dina was just like that, so you flash a smile back at him before your eyes follow the new voice. It was the girl, her eyes dead set on your face.

“Pretty name,” she comments, her blonde hair flipping behind her shoulder as her head tilts lightly. You glance away, hoping it was directed instead to Dina. Though the gaze that doesn’t break from your face seems to challenge that.

“I’m Jess,” the blonde adds quickly after, saving you from any embarrassment as Dina quickly jumps in.

“Oh! My boyfriend’s name is Jesse, how funny. Come on you have to meet them,” Dina nods her head toward the bar, where you can feel two sets of eyes burning into the side of your face. It seems Jesse and Ellie noticed your disappearance, chins tilted up in confusion as they watched the conversation unfold. For a moment you meet Ellie’s eyes, hoping she hadn’t heard Jess’s ballsy remark. But the way her jaw clicked told you she was already in a mood about the girl next to you either way.

Your shoes press into the wood floor, dreading the attitude you knew was about to come from your girlfriend regarding the two new bodies that followed you back to the seats. Ellie was always unsure of new faces and never bit back remarks that conjured up due to this. A tough face thrown on top of a slightly anxious body, Ellie believed the spitting words were just protection. It was a disastrous mix, one that often ended in arguments.

More familiar faces flood into the bar as the sun sets outside, the open space becoming slightly louder as people settle in. You hope it brings a sense of attitude suppressant to the auburn-haired girl you sit next to. A larger crowd usually shut her down. Some of this hope shrivels into a ball in your throat as Jess picks to sit on the other side of you. If you could tell the new girl she just sat on a fucking match you would have, but Ellie beats you to it.

Her arm stretches out behind you, the inked-on leaves now on display, sleeves bunched to her elbow. Her eyes meet Jess’s, but you know who the gaze is really directed at. Her arm purposefully presses into your back as she introduces herself, looking for a handshake. You can feel the fake confidence melting off of the skin that touches you.

“I’m Ellie, and she is my-” your girlfriend begins, nodding her head toward you.

In a move that stuns you both, Jess stares Ellie right back, cutting her words off. “I’m Jess. And she already introduced herself.”

It almost amuses you, the way Jess doesn’t shy under Ellie’s obvious glare and doesn’t bother picking up her hand to shake Ellie’s. Most people waltzing into a brand new haven wouldn’t exactly be keen on having such an attitude with the residents, but Jess was. The smug look on her face pisses you off just as much, glancing at the mouthy newcomer with furrowed eyebrows. She doesn’t pay any mind to it.

It takes a moment for those pretty green eyes next to you to look a little less eager to fight, leaning forward again and dropping her hand back to her side in defeat.

You let the small act go, eyeing Ellie once in a sign only you two understood. Her lips busy themself on the almost empty glass before her. “Nice to meet you, Jess.”

You can see Dina biting her lip, fighting back that laugh you are sure bubbles in her throat at the all-too-loud interaction next to them. Jesse pretends he didn’t see it, and you nearly thank the stars above when he speaks.

“Hey, let me order you guys drinks,” He offers as Will settles next to his friend.

Both nod, eager to get something other than water in their throats. You find yourself tuning out the conversation that follows, finishing off your drink with a few more gulps. Ellie beside you also falls silent, though that is a little more expected following what just happened. You trail along the various pictures and signs on the walls as you welcome the warmth in your belly brought on by the drinks.

You resort to nods and hums in response for the next while, only paying full attention when Jesse brings up Ellie’s name. “Most of us do patrols, I’m sure one of you will get put with Ellie or Dina on the first few, to show you the way.”

“Ah, you guys been on a lot?” Will questions, leaning in more to see all the different faces

Ellie nods, trying her best to be less bitter to Will, who hadn't done anything to create the redness on her face. “Yea, kinda all we do,” she answers with a slight shrug. A piece of her hair falls to her cheek and you bite back the urge to move forward and brush it away, twirling your finger around the strand like you would in private. Ellie was already embarrassed enough though, so your fingernails make patterns in the wood top of the bar instead.

Dina calls your name next, eyes falling onto you, “She works with the farm though, all the animals and crops.”

“Oh,” Jess budges in, tilting her head toward you. “Maria mentioned that being an option, do you like it?”

“Yea,” you shrug, finger following the rim of your now empty cup. “It’s fine, boring sometimes.”

The slightest bit of attention you had given the blonde had an immediate effect on Ellie next to you, who sighs loud enough for only you to hear. The next moment you feel a hand on your back, fingers dancing over where the shirt you wear meets your pants. They grip around your side like a child looking for attention, squeezing gently to tug your stool impossibly closer. Quickly you swat the hand away, denying eye contact with the girl beside you.

Ellie doesn’t take the defeat, placing the shooed-away hand on your thigh next, burning with what you can only assume is possessiveness. You can hear her gulp another drink down next to you in another plea for your attention. You let this hand stay, finding comfort in the small circles that Ellie’s thumb draws over your jeans, but refuse to meet her eyes. You can feel annoyance chipping away at your chest, its nasty claws digging over the softer wanted feeling that appeared from your girlfriend’s acts.

Jess seems to notice the show, glancing away for a moment to regain a sense of comfort as Ellie finally pulls away. Her elbows make their appearance on the bartop as she leans her chin into her palms. “Hm.. can’t be too boring with people you know around… I’ll have to tell Maria I’m interested.”

There’s a slight tilt to her voice, one you can’t decipher between friendliness and .. more. It sends your head spinning in confusion. She saw Ellie’s hand on you, heard Jesse clear his throat at the words, and still smiled gently at you. Dina interrupted quickly with some bullshit about stables— but it was already too late. The tension drips from the air and right into your empty cup, filling it with a stronger burn than alcohol.

The bluntest edge of Ellie’s nails digs into your pants, drawing a small noise from your mouth as your head snaps her way. Neither of you looks away for a long second, the game ending when her hand finally falls back to her lap.

Soon Ellie’s leaning in, trying you again as she becomes touchy. The usual unnerved energy that pulses in the girl when trying to give you affection in public is gone, lips pressing to your cheek and jaw in a showy way that brings Jess’s eyes on and off of you two. You can feel your cheeks redden at the act, biting back any urge to turn and slap her lips away. You hope ignoring it is enough of a sign, but Ellie only ends when she can see the flush on your face herself.

The next few minutes go too fast for you to make much sense of. Ellie has fallen completely silent, whether from anger or embarrassment, you aren’t sure. Jesse and Dina have started a much more lightweight conversation about Will and Jess’s travels here, which Will happily chats about over his drink.

There's a loud hum to the bar, mixing voices from all angles of the small building swirling in an annoying sort of way that have you tapping the empty cup. “Do you want another drink? I can order you one when I ask for my own,” a voice asks.

It’s not Ellie’s, instead, brown eyes meet your own. It was Jess, a small yet all too confident smile on her face as her fingers brush against yours that rest on the cup. It’s soft enough to be passed as friendly, as were all her words on the outside— but it doesn’t matter. You all knew.

Hell breaks loose the moment Ellie’s eyes see the touch. You can feel the flames licking your cheek as the much more familiar tone of Ellie filters into your ears. “Are you serious?”

“Ellie-“ you warn, ignoring the blonde’s words to find the flushed and freckled face of your girlfriend. Ellie is too far gone in her little ball of anger to listen.

“Are you stupid or really just that fucking ballsy?”

“Excuse me?” Jess blinks innocently, “Was just bein nice?”

The question sends the whole group silent, five sets of eyes falling on Ellie. A shocked sort of laugh bubbles from Jesse’s mouth, who is quickly elbowed by Dina. You take the comment as your cue to go, stumbling off your stool as you grip Ellie’s arm, forcing her off her own as she continues grumbling insults about Jess’s apparent flirting.

“She doesn’t even fucking like blondes by the way, she-” and then your hand is slapping over Ellie’s mouth before she can get loud enough for more patrons to hear, nails digging nastily into the fat of her cheek.

She pushes the handoff, grabbing your arm, “Mine, you got it? She’s mine. I'm the one taking her home to--” Ellie starts again, cut off by a yelp as you slap her arm hard enough to cause the quick death of that sentence.

“I'm gonna take her home,” you explain with an apologetic grin as you step. Then your face dims a little as you look at Jess, shooting her one of your confused glares before twisting away. With your arms wrapping around Ellie, you pull her through the crowd. Dina’s muffled voice saying something along the lines of, “Don't try it again,” is the last thing you hear.

Ellie continues to speak into your hand, mumbling nonsense of repeated, “mine,” “fucking fuck,” and other jealous blabbering as you step out into the now dark street.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

The walk home was eerily quiet, both of you having untangled yourselves from the position you pushed out of the Tipsy Bison in to instead walk alone. You mull over your next choices for the night as lightning bugs play their part in distracting Ellie. You can still feel the anger radiating off of her as she harshly slams the door of her garage home open, flooding you both with the dim lights that hang from her walls.

“You are so fucking lucky I didn’t do something in public,” a voice seethes, walking the opposite body back against the now-shut door.

But it’s not Ellie leading the movements, nor saying the words. She is the one backing against the shut door as your mouth falls open to continue the rant.

“Acting like that in front of everyone? Grabbing at me and talking like you own me?” You scoff, a familiar feeling inking into your skin as Ellie shys under you just slightly. The power trip was already building inside of you, making you feel ten feet taller as you stare at the girl under the golden lighting.

“That .. that fucking girl was flirting with you!” Ellie argues, arms crossing over her chest in a way that made your eyes fall on the deliciously flexed muscles there.

“And so you treat me like a piece of meat to stake your claim over?”

Ellie blinks a few times, shaking her head to try and answer your biting remark, “That isn’t-“

You step even closer, breath fanning against Ellie’s nose and lips as you speak. You like how the small act has Ellie shivering beside you, pretty soft skin gaining a pink tint. “You have no idea how badly I want to parade around what happens behind closed doors Ellie. Because god, do you like to act like you’re the one with any control.”

Ellie doesn’t dare reply as you continue speaking, instead trying to look anywhere but your face. “Palming at my thigh.. kissing me like you’re some needy bitch, declaring mine in front of our whole friend group? And then implying you were gonna take me home and fuck me? All because some girl couldn’t take a hint?”

Ellie, still against the door— shakes her head. You watch as her throat moves in a gulping motion. “She was all over you, you can’t be mad I got upset,” she says after a moment of building confidence, making a move you both knew would end badly by pushing through your body to pace around the small space. One of her hands comes to play with a finger on her opposite palm, comforting herself.

“I’m not mad at you for getting upset, Ellie. I’m mad you act like you have any ownership over me. I’m mad you had the nerve to say that shit knowing perfectly fucking well who does what when the door closes.”

Ellie won’t look at you, unsurprisingly so as she moves to a more bratty-sounding tone. “Oh, Jesus Christ how awful someone may think you bottom, babe. You’ll survive. Maybe you should try it.”

For a moment you say nothing, toeing the incredibly thin line the two of you are walking on. You know Ellie well enough to see through the game she’s beginning to play, searching for reassurance and attention with chipped remarks and arguments. You also know Ellie’s ego was sore from tonight’s events, creating an even brattier version of herself. The last comment is an open invitation to make her regret the words.. regret her touchy attitude tonight.

Of course, you take it. Of course, you bite on the bait Ellie had set before you with sharp teeth, licking your lips.

“And you’ll survive not touching me tonight,” you shrug, kicking off your shoes as you walk to the bed you spend nearly every night in. You plant yourself directly on the edge, following the sound of Ellie’s shoes dragging. There's a slight sweat building on the nape of your neck as you recount the events from earlier, perfectly clear images of your needy girlfriend coming to the forefront of your mind as you continue your half-hearted anger.

“What?” Ellie mutters, finally meeting your eyes.

“You did plenty of fucking touching with the show you put on tonight, think you met your limit,” you answer with a sigh, peeling the jeans from your legs in a slow movement, knowing it will catch the attention of green eyes. There is no ignoring the immediate hitch in her breath that follows. Ellie was easy to get worked up, no matter how much she would deny that if you ever told her so. You already knew tonight was going to be so much fun.

“C’mon that’s not fair,” Ellie mumbles, emphasizing each word in an attempt to stump any building whines.

“I'm tired Ellie,” you answer with a small fake-sounding yawn. “I don't want to argue, come lay down,” you pat the spot next to you on the bed, innocently enough that Ellie actually trudges over and sits next to you.

“I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have. Imagine a girl flirting with me, how would you react?” Ellie muttered, knowing full well she would not get an answer she liked.

“Not act like a jealous bitch in front of everyone, woulda just left,” you criticize softly, though there isn’t too much bite, you both know you were just as jealous as her. “Would’ve taken you home..” you sigh, fingers finding the buttons of her shirt, “remind you who you belong to..”

Your hands move to her front, unbuttoning the flannel that she wears, pulling a shiver from her after your words. It's a simple act you two had fallen into the routine of ages ago. Undressing each other before bed, grabbing pajamas, pressing kisses to sore spots after a day of work, massaging muscles. A small sign of affection that was often done over comforting silence. Today’s silence however was a little more charged.

Of course, you had already pulled your pants off in a sign to Ellie that you were not joking about the no-touching statement, not allowing her any whisper of her fingers against your own. The flannel pools down her arms, letting you toss it into the small hamper near the window. The outside air commands it warm enough to also tug Ellie’s undershirt off, and she hums in approval when your fingers linger on the bare skin over her ribs, leaving only the fitted sports bra left. Next is her jeans, purposefully pressing your hands a little harshly into her hips, hoping to catch a small hint of Ellie squirming from it. She does, of course. The motion presses a heat in between your thighs, one that had been growing since Ellie and you had gotten home.

“Go grab stuff to sleep in?” You ask, though Ellie knows it isn’t a question. She stands, rummaging through the unorganized dresser near her bed to pull out a pair of sweatpants for herself and a larger shirt she wore often for you. Your shirt is quickly discarded, gaining the attention of Ellie’s wandering eyes as she holds the clothes close to her chest. The way she bites the inside of her cheek is enough of a sign that she’s frustrated you did it yourself, but no words follow the action.

El tosses you the shirt, one that smells like her in all the right ways as you tug it over your head, watching it bunch up at your hips. The second part of the plan building in your mind dictated no sleep shorts would follow, but Ellie seemed to not have grabbed you any pants, likely for her own pleasure of looking at your bare thighs. You press back into the bed, head finding the cold pillow at the tip of it as Ellie pulls on her sweatpants. The sight of her fingers curling around the fabric alone is enough to tighten your lower stomach again, slightly regretting your no-touching decision. Soon she follows your lead, climbing under the blankets to your left, small breaths of air leaving her lips as she looks over at you. “Can I at least lay against you?”

You shake your head in answer, watching Ellie shift uncomfortably next to you. “Baby-” she tries again, finding your eyes in the soft light. Your lips pull into a straight line with another sign of no, leading to groans from your girlfriend as a flash of auburn hair pushed back into the pillow dramatically.

The room falls into quiet again, the only noise that of shuffling sheets and the crickets that lay in the growing grass outside. When Ellie’s breath calms into a more tired sounding pull, you glance up to the ceiling. You let your mind fall into the building plan laid out in the dark ceiling above you. Your eyes press closed, cloudy paintings of Ellie leaning against you, Ellie grabbing at your thigh in the bar, kissing you, her angry little breaths that built as Jess spoke more— they all flood into your mind. You could act mad all you want, and maybe you were a bit angry at how Ellie liked to put out this image of her holding the power, but really the jealousy had you feeling warm all over.

Your palm presses against your chest, the pads of your fingers denting into the cotton of the shirt you wore, dragging down in a way that had you squirm just slightly. You would much rather it was Ellie’s hand that found your panties next, looking up at you from her knees as she waited for the next command. But it wasn’t, and you were much too stubborn.

Your fingers dipped under the elastic of the lace, shimmying them down slightly. Ellie stirred just a bit beside you but didn’t seem to notice what was happening yet. “Are we really just gonna lay here in silence?” she asks. Too focused on the pad of your fingers running along the slightly wet slit, all you do is hum in response. The wetness that dashes your finger is used as a helper as you rub circles on your clit.

The almost silent response seems to finally draw Ellie’s eyes to you, though the only light of the strings near her wall leaves little to be seen. What Ellie does notice, dim lights or not, is your eyes squeezing close. She noticed the motion of your arm, following it down to where your fingers are moving between your thighs. It sends her sitting straight up, which you can feel in the dip of the old mattress.

“What are you doing?” Ellie begins, cut off but the shush that you respond with. “Makin’ myself feel good,” you grumbled, as if it was annoying you that she watched. In reality, it just made the tightness in your stomach further, a tightly knotted rope that tugged in all the right ways when you felt green eyes searching over your body.

Ellie doesn’t answer for a few more moments, transfixed by the motion of your fingers, unable to put an end to the whine that finally sounds, reaching your ear right as you press a particularly hard swirl to your bud. “Let me,” Ellie croaks, moving to settle toward the end of the bed. From this angle you are sure she can see everything, even more so when you press your thighs open more, your glistening center on full display for your squirming girlfriend. The plan was working just as you assumed it would, her bratty mouth quieted by the sight.

“No,” you deny her, a small gasp following the words as you look at her. The sight is enough to bring another pool of wetness to your slit, which your fingers dip down into, pushing one digit into yourself. Ellie whines even louder than you at the sight, “Please, I’ll be good,” she tried again, a sweeter twinge to her voice that you knew was all an act. One you wouldn’t buy into despite how you imagined it was her fingers as you added another.

Your mind struggles to find the right words, but Ellie waits patiently. “Good?” you criticized, “Were you good when you acted like a brat out tonight? Were you good when you argued with me?”

The words are as stern as you can make them, urging your gaze to stay on her instead of falling back against the pillow. “Told you no touching, that’s the end of it,” you mumble. The wet noises of your fingers moving in and out of your center have Ellie salivating, licking her lips quickly as she eyes you. You can see the way her pupils dilate, you watch as her body goes a little less stiff. The earlier anger and insecurity that has been building against her freckled cheeks and sore muscles dissolving just like you wanted them to. You needed her to forget about the annoying girl earlier, and focus instead on you. on you two. You needed to carve away the brattiness in the only way you knew how making her beg for you.

You let a few moans pass your lips, hips bucking gently. You can feel the fire building in your core, knowing soon you will reach your peak.

“Please, I'm- sorry, I'm sorry baby please let me touch you. need to touch you,” Ellie rattled on.

You let her continue for a moment, her babbles filling the now thick air of her garage, pounding against your mind as it slipped away. When you finally feel yourself reaching the wave of pleasure in your lower belly, you stop, effectively edging yourself away from an orgasm.

“You wanna help me feel good?” You question, fighting the urge to squeeze your thighs closed to ease the ache as you stare at Ellie. She nods quickly, strands of hair following messily in the movement’s wake. “Still don’t-“ you breathe out, “Still can't touch me, but you can use your mouth. Hands to yourself baby,” you begin, but before you can even finish the sentence Ellie is laying between your thighs, hands balled together against the blanket, her hot mouth pressing into you before you can even process the action.

It draws a surprised noise from you, your head pressing back against the pillowcase, teeth digging into your bottom lip. Ellie listened, of course, she did, her hands staying put against the fabric of the sheets. Her mouth dug into your pussy like she was starving, nose bumping into your clit messily, licking up all of the slick that had drooled from you from your own fingers, now gushing out more and more regularly from her ministrations.

“Fuck,” you moan, flushing as your lip quivers. “You were fucking born for this Ellie, such a good mouth, so much— much better using it to do this than bein’ a brat,” you spit, fingers finding the short strands of her hair, pressing her face even closer into your folds as you searched for your release. Ellie whined against you, and you watched as her knuckles flexed, obviously fighting against grabbing at the flesh of your thighs.

“Put them.. put them behind your back,” you grit through your teeth, allowing no wavering to your words. Ellie knew what you meant immediately, green eyes looking up at you as she did as she was told, wrists grasping each other behind her back.

It’s a little mean, the way she has to shimmy around with no arms. The way you can see her blunt nails fig unto her skin to keep it from trying to find your skin like her body was begging to have you. Your own body was gasping for something similar, over-sensitive from your previous work on your clit.

“Such a good girl, Els” you breathe out, hips bucking into her face. “Gonna come, you’re taking it so well, pup.”

The pet name seems to render her almost useless, freezing up against you as you grind down into her mouth. She comes back a moment later, tripling her efforts as her lips come to wrap around your clit, sucking harshly.

You let a loud, messy sounding moan out, not caring who may hear outside. Not caring if it gave away too much of how you felt. With a girl as pretty as Ellie between your thighs, who would care?

She doesn’t allow herself more than a few panicked breaths, solely focused on making more noises empty your lips. She suckles against you particularly hard after you shift, and that’s the feeling that sends you toppling over the edge. A choked noise rips past your mouth before you can stop it, slick spilling all over Ellie as she desperately tries to collect it all. Your still moving hips leave that difficult, getting her lips and cheeks glossy as well. Your nails don't leave her scalp, scratching gently in a repeated motion. It has her pulling back from your core, blinking slowly, dazed as she stares at you.

“You’re being so good for me, baby,” you gush, riding out the leftover feelings from your orgasm. Your wall is breaking, craving your pretty girlfriend’s hands on you too much to keep up with the punishment for much longer. “Could never want anyone but you, y’know that right?” You huff, hand grasping her hair in a sign for her to lift up. She does so easily, hands on either side of the bed as she hovers above you, her lips ghosting over your own.

“No one could compare to my needy girl,” you coo, brushing your lips against hers. The words drive home a point you hadn’t yet made clear. Jess had no chance, no one did. No one could ever be Ellie. Your Ellie.

There’s nothing else around you now. No light, no sounds. The world is silent and dark, Ellie being the only source of light in your eyesight, in your ears, and your mind. Nothing deviated away from her as her lip trembled. The look of her has you quickly flipping your positions, settling nicely straddling over her, and finally blessing her with your hands against her as you lean over her. Your fingers find her jaw, pressing her mouth open in a soft motion. She wastes no time parting her lips further, tongue lolling out for you like she knew what was coming. When a string of spit falls from your lips and onto her waiting tongue, she accepts it gladly. “so good,” you uttered, shivering as she swallows.

“What do you want, baby?” You ask next, deeming she has listened nice enough to be rewarded.

“Let me kiss you,” Ellie whispers, sniffling gently as she adds a soft, “please.” You grant her wish, leaning to press a kiss to her waiting lips, the sound of approval she gives reverberating against your connected mouths.

“Such a perfect girl,” you blabber, stomach swirling as you watch her slip into that delicious space you always brought her to, whiney and wordless— looking at you like you were the only person in the whole damn world. Your words die off with another kiss, hand finding her boxers, dipping into the fabric. It greets you with a large wet spot, the dripping core of your girlfriend the obvious culprit. Ellie whimpers against your lips, and you swallow it like it's the most delicious thing you’ve ever been given, kissing her harshly, biting at the bottom lip.

When one finger sinks easily into her folds, you hum against her, lips dragging to her ear to mumble against it. “This is what you wanted the whole time, hm?” You ask, another finger dipping into the mix as you feel her walls grip around you. Like it was made for you. “Wanted me to get mad at you for acting like a needy whore.. wanted me to take you home and fuck you, let you know you’re the only one I want?” You accuse, nipping at her ear lobe as your digits curl, pulling another whine from your girlfriend.

The words are as true as they can be, and Ellie knows that. She acknowledges this with a nod of her head, and you don’t push much further. “Fit perfectly around my fingers, pup. Fuckin made for me,” your voice calls against her neck as you bite into the skin, a yelp from above you following it. She grinds into your fingers, and you allow it, following the rolls of her hips as you hit that spot that left her gasping.

“No one could ever get me like this, even as bratty as you are,” you promise, twisting your hand in a way that has her thighs moving without much permission from her mind, thrusting up into you. “Want you to soak my fingers, baby,” you nip at the nape of her neck, hot breath wetting the skin as you pull back. The quickening pace of your fingers has her delirious, mouth dropping open to pant.

You swear it may be the prettiest sight, and you pull back to get a full view. Your hair falls from its place, sticking to your sticky forehead, eyes focused sharply on Ellie as her cheeks became a deep cherry red, freckles disappearing into the red flesh. You want to reach forward, want to feel her gasp against your lips as you continue to hit her sweet spot over and over, but the way she pushes out sweet little moans is a much more gorgeous sight.

“What would our friends think?” You ask lowly, pressing into her harshly. “If they knew you were the whining whore under me hm?” Ellie cries out in response, shaking her head gently.

“Think it’d be funny. Them knowing that tough little Ellie is really just a bratty little bitch,” you croon, tone sickly sweet.

“Baby,” she cries, nose wrinkling as she pulls her eyes shut, “Please let me come, ‘m so close.”

The air around you is sticky, collecting on the skin of your arms and back as your wrist burns, quickening your movements with twists and scissoring movements. Ellie becomes too loud for her own good, teeth sinking into her lip to quiet it at least a little before she wakes the animals or people outside of these walls. Part of you wants them to hear, wants them to find the little pathetic sounding noises that pour from Ellie. Want someone to know it you who gets Ellie like this. Gets her squirming against you, begging for, “more,” and “harder.”

Who were you to deny such a handsome girl after all? With another thrust of your fingers, you feel her clench around you, her chest pausing as the feeling overwhelms her. The wetness spills over your fingers soon thereafter, leaving them even slicker as you continue. You were far from done with Ellie.

Ellie lifts her head, staring down at your fingers that disappear in and out of her clenching pussy, “please, no more.”

“You were actin needy all night,” you push, words partnered with another thrust into the wet center. The sound it makes is filthy, a devilish grin finding a place on your lips. “So you can take as much as I want to give you.”

The may night covers around any sounds that spill from the small garage, walls acting as protectors for what really happens behind them.

perm taglist: @rxllingstones @hrtsellie @elliewlums @callmekittenandyourmajesty @gr1mreaperbarbie @imyour-favouritegirl @haiixo @dankpunks @machetegirl109

tags for this fic: @anchoeritic @dyk3ification @prrimordiais @totheblood @shesluxurious @jakesullyslongshlong

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ch.3

rick x reader, prime rick x reader

𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴: 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘥, 𝘥𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘯𝘰 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘶𝘣𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 & 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴: 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘥𝘯𝘪, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘸𝘤: 3.0𝘬

The room swayed as you navigated the blurred edges of reality. Laughter echoed in disjointed fragments, and your senses danced in a kaleidoscope of emotions. The world, usually anchored in coherence, now floated in a hazy sea of intoxication. Your laughter bubbled up uncontrollably, a symphony of uninhibited joy. Yet, beneath the surface, a subtle vulnerability lingered, as if the alcohol had unraveled the tightly wound threads of your composure. There was a fleeting sense of detachment, a reminder that the intoxicating elixir could distort both the present and your perception of self.

“D-didn’t I tell you-you…? This shit is fu-fucking good”, Rick took another sip of the glittery green substance. You already forgot what it was called and from where it was – honestly, you didn’t even care. One glass after another has been poured down your throat, five different drinks from five different planets. You were anything but sober just like Rick. Both of you sat crisscrossed on the bed in front of each other. Why did you hate him again? Who gives a shit.

“You’re right, yeah, you’re right”, you giggled as you leaned forward, your hands grabbing into the soft white mattress. Loose strands of hair were falling onto your face as you look up at Rick. Even sitting down, he was more than a head taller than you. “Feels like…hm…feels like I’m on some other fucking planet.”

By your switch of position Rick had a wonderful view before him. Your top was revealing and tight, pressing your tits together, your soft skin glistening in the dim light. His eyes wandered done to your hips and legs. Fucking hell, what a fine piece of ass. Maybe it was the alcohol talking or maybe he was just fucking horny. Lust and desire filled his senses, but Rick didn’t want to do anything…yet. “I am the smartest man alive after a-all. You gotta trust-trust me on this sh-shit, y/n. And you haven’t even tried space weed, y/n, it’s going to bl-blow your fucking mind.” Should be blowing me instead. He watched as you started cackling once again, he didn’t know who was more wasted – you or him.

“Mhm”, you cooed, “Rick Sanchez is the smartest man alive. Be my bartender instead of a scientist, Rick.”

Slowly he laid his hand on yours as he got closer. His touch made your skin burn, goosebumps forming on your neck. He still doesn’t give a fuck about personal space. Quickly you pulled your hand away, a strange feeling clouding your senses and creeping down your body. “I-I could be something completely dif-different than your bartender, little one.” How could his voice sound teasing and seductive simultaneously? Why did his touch feel so familiar every time?

In all honesty, you wouldn’t mind giving yourself to him right now. Both of you were more than just drunk and a little sex would certainly help you destress after this hard, nerve-wrecking day. Something in the back of your head though begged you not to do it. You also had some doubts – What if you’re actually a virgin? What if this is a test? What if it’s a trap and you’ll be kicked out afterwards? Rick would be egoistic enough to do something like that. So, you chose to simply ignore this last comment.

“Tell me more about space-weed, pretty please?”, big doe eyes met his gaze. 

Beg for it more. “Never seem to g-get enough, huh?”, swiftly he took a baggie out of his lab coat. Your eyes widened. the containment possessed vibrant colors, exotic patterns, and unique properties that contribute to its intergalactic allure. Grinning he opened the baggy and let the weed fall into his hand. “Wh-what type of girl are you? Bong? Joint? C-can’t bake some br-brownies for you now, princess.”

“Bong sounds like a vibe”, it didn’t take long for you to catch your composure. Rick also seemed to just ignore what happened a fee seconds ago.

Carefully packing the bowl with space-weed, Rick adjusted the water level in the bong. With a flick, he sparked the lighter, bringing the flame to the bowl's edge. Inhaling deeply, he brings the bong to his lips, igniting the substance and creating a milky swirl of smoke. As Ruck pulled, his eyes focused on you. Right after the bong left his lips and was placed on the bed, Rick grabbed you by your neck and forced you closer to him. His lips were almost touching yours. “Wait, what, Rick?!” Rick blew smoke into your mouth, coating your mouth with a sweet yet earth taste.

“It’s c-called shot gunning, baby”, his hand, which was previously grabbing your neck, was now tucking your hair behind your ear, “Wish you could see your slutty expression right n-now, y/n.”

Every cell in your body was yearning for more, your brain on the other hand “Stop fucking around, old man.” It wasn’t teasingly, you were stone cold and serious.

All of a sudden Rick seized you, his grip unyielding as he forcefully pinned you down onto the bed. The air crackled with tension as his eyes bore into yours, filled with a raw, primal hunger. You gasped, caught off guard by the sudden ferocity of his actions, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement. Rick’s touch was rough, his body pressed against yours with a commanding urgency. In that moment, you realized the depth of his desire, as Rick claimed you with an undeniable passion that left you breathless and powerless to resist. “D-Didn’t I tell you that next time you call me an ol-old man, I’ll make you scream it, dumb brat?”

Only now did you realize in what kind of position you were. One hand was gripping your throat while the other was groping your ass. He was lying between your legs and something hard – and big – was pressing against you. “Fu-fuck, look at your fucking f-face. Needy girl. Makes me want to ruin you.” 

His fingers almost dug into the soft skin of your buttocks as he finally placed his lips on yours. His tongue quickly found its way into your mouth as soon as you wanted to protest his behavior. The kiss was chaotic, full of desire and lust. His tongue closed around yours again and again and he began to roll his hips against you. His hard cock rubbed against your yoga pants-covered vagina. It caused the perfect friction for your clit, you felt how wet you were getting. After what felt like an eternity his lips parted from yours.

“What are you doing, R-Rick?!” Your intention was to sound angry or at least not as excited as you actually were. Instead, your voice sounded breathy and even worse, like you loved what was happening. Ashamed of your own arousal, you bit down on your lip and hoped Rick wouldn’t notice how fucking horny you were.

"Ri-Rick? No. You must call me sir, master or Mr. Sanchez, dirty-dirty whore," he let go of your throat and ass to literally rip the white tank top off your body. In one quick motion, he pulled your breasts out of your bra. "Do y-you think I'm stupid? Senile? Have you for-forgotten that I'm the smartest man alive? I know exactly what you want, little one, even before you realized it." The whole time he was talking he didn’t stop dry humping against your pussy.

His lips enveloped one of the nipples, sucking and sucking on them while the other tit was squeezed by his hand. It was all too much for you, it was overstimulating. Your tits were extremely sensitive to Rick's tongue and hand. You moaned louder and louder, unable to form words, let alone sentences. “wai-…ah, w-wai-…plea-“

Rick's cock seemed to get even harder as your sugary moans fell on his ears. "Y-You like that, don't you? This old man makes you moan-moan like a bitch in fucking heat. You dirty little slut. Have you been provoking me all-all this time to make it end like this? Did you want to be punished, li-little one?" You could do nothing but shake your head. He was the one who had provoked and embarrassed you all this time, right?

"Are-are you really innocent o-or are you just pretending? I can see the looks you give me during our…hot mo-moments. The way your c-cheeks turn bright re-red, your heavy breathing and those eyes filled-filled with dirty fantasies. I've already noticed. I warned you…y-you didn't listen, so now you have to obey. Take your clothes off." He ordered while sitting up.

Tears filled your eyes. Was it the situation or was it the fact that Rick's fat cock was no longer pressing against your clit and sending your body into a state of ecstasy? You weren't sure of the answer yourself. Your brain and body were at odds - your pussy craved Rick while your brain begged you to leave the room. His power-hungry eyes stared at you as if he was waiting for your reaction to further assess the situation. Are you going to play along or are you going to stop? "Did you not hear me, whore? Undress, now."

"Y-yes..."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

Maybe it was wrong, maybe not. Maybe it was the alcohol or weed, maybe you just wanted to keep being touched by this disrespectful man. While you threw your bra and pants as well as your thong on the floor, Rick undressed as well. The two of you watched each other. Rick took in every curve of your body – you were exactly what he wanted. Rick was thin but fit at the same time and – oh God – his cock... His cock was huge.

"Do you like what you see, p-princess?" a dirty grin graced his lips. "I like the sight too. Lie-lie down again and spread your legs. I want to see your little cunt." This time he didn't have to repeat his command twice. Slowly (and somewhat reluctantly) you lay back down and spread your trembling legs, not sure if you wanted his cock inside you. Shyly, you looked up at him and your breathing hitched. Rick's hand was around the tip of his member, moving it up and down as he eyed your most intimate area.

“Fu-fucking hell, you’re so fucking wet already. Jesus. I-I didn’t even touch you for real an-and yet you’re soaking. Desperate little thing.”

Out of nowhere and without any warning, Rick grabbed you by your thighs and pulled you effortlessly towards him. "Wh-wait! Please...please don't go in..." You were aware of how your voice was shaking and there was still a hint of absolute desire in it, you were ashamed of it. Would Rick even listen to your plea?

"I-inside? My cock inside you?" He threw your legs over his shoulders and slapped his hard member several times on your clit. “Do you really think th-that you’re actually worthy of my fucking cock?! I’m not rewarding you, this is a punishment, sl-slut. Even if you end up begging me to r-ram my cock inside your lil-little cunt, I won’t.” Mixed emotions filled your heart – relief and sadness. This man was driving you insane.

Rick took his cock into his hand once again and rubbed his tip and and down between your pussy lips, feeling your wetness. “F-Fuuuck, baby, that’s what I do to you, huh? Some dry humping and nipple play and you’re all hot and bo-bothered for this old man.” His cock never touched your clit and you felt yourself almost begging for it. Subconsciously you moved your hips, hoping it would somehow help.

“Lo-look at that. What a little greedy who-whore you fucking are”, Rick understood what you wanted, and he was kind enough to grant you wish. This pre-cum leaking tip circled your clit, causing you to whimper and moan beneath him. “You love this old man’s cock, do-don’t you? Mr. Sanchez is taking such good care of you.”

He leaned down, his chest hovering above yours as he started to grind against you. How could it be that his cock was satisfying you without actually being inside you? He kept rocking his hips – hard and aggressive – your wetness served as some kind of lube as his shaft kept rubbing over your clit again and again and again. It was driving you crazy.

“You’re such a fucking wh-whore”, he hissed into your ear, his hand smacking your ass red, “I bet-bet you want me inside you now, huh? Want-want me to abuse that small cunt and put you to some go-good fucking use. Mmh…fuck, fucking shit…”

He was right. Rick was always right. You wanted him, no you needed him buried deep inside your clenching, pulsating walls. He was rough and dominant. Choking you, spanking your ass, slapping your cute face while staring deeply into your eyes and calling you a worthless whore. 

“Please, sir, I-I’m begging you…”

“Oh, sweetheart, didn’t I tell you this was a punishment?”

And then he was gone, his back leaning against the wall as he sat on the other edge of the bed. No, he can’t be serious. “I actually w-wanted you to scream old man but I think denying you to cum is faaar worse for a dirty bitch like you.” He is actually serious.

“You’re an absolute fucking asshole! O my God!”, rage took over your body and shame slowly crept up. Instead of replying to you, Rick started to put his clothes on again. Even though he was still hard as a rock. Lazily he tossed your clothes over to you.

“Listen, princess, I-I told you I was going to punish you. How would it be pun-punishment if I let you squirt all over my dick? Besides”, he paused for a moment, “You were so fucking wet and begging for my cock that I was about to pound you like so-some fucked up wild animal. Wouldn’t want that now…or maybe you would, right, little one?” Yes, Rick was one second away from ramming his shaft inside your soaking pussy and fuck you to oblivion and back without giving two flying shits about your feelings. The angel on his shoulder – which barely showed up – advised him not to. He didn’t want to break your mind after all he just wanted to tame you and make you his fucktoy.

“Oh…”, dumbfounded you pulled your thong over your ass and your tank top over your head, didn’t really need anything else. You understood where Rick was coming from but you also senses that he wasn’t telling you the whole truth. Awkwardly you pulled the covers over your lower body and lowered your gaze.

A sigh fell from Rick’s lips, “y/n, chill out. I didn’t even fuck you. Here, take the bong.” He really didn’t have to tell you twice. In hopes to forget what just happened, even if it’s just for a fleeting moment, you first took a big gulp of some space-alcohol which was next to you on the workbench before taking a hit of the bong.

“We got five drinks down, another five to go!”

“What the actual f-fuck do you mean another five?! It’s like 2am, Rick!”

“I t-told you, y/n, we’re-we’re getting wasted tonight! No sleep just drinking and smoking, y/n! Let’s fucking goooo!”

His eyes narrowed with an unsettling intensity as he watched you, the woman he desired, moaning for C-137 on a large monitor. A surge of jealousy and possessiveness gripped him like a vice, his heart pounding with a mixture of anger and despair. Every fiber of his being screamed in protest, unable to bear the sight of you in the arms of another – whimpering and squirming, needy and horny. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought to control the seething jealousy that threatened to consume him whole. With each passing moment, his obsession with you intensified, his mind swirling with thoughts of reclaiming what he believed to be rightfully his. He couldn't bear to see you with anyone else, couldn't fathom the idea of you belonging to another. In his eyes, you were his and his alone.

“How could you?! How the fuck could you?!”

With fury blazing in his eyes, he slammed his fists down onto the table with a force that reverberated through the room. The sharp sound of his anger echoed off the walls, punctuating the tense silence that enveloped the space. Each blow echoed his frustration, the intensity of his rage palpable in the way his knuckles whitened with each strike. His jaw clenched, muscles tensed, as he unleashed a torrent of pent-up emotions, his entire being consumed by a fiery wrath that threatened to consume him whole. The table trembled under the force of his fury, bearing the brunt of his unleashed rage as he struggled to contain the tempest raging within him. In that moment, he was a man possessed, his anger a primal force that demanded to be heard, leaving no doubt of the depth of his turmoil.

Maybe it was his fault. Maybe he should have fucked your brains out before sending you off. Maybe he should have written in his notes that you are his. Maybe he shouldn’t have given you a last chance at all. He always yearned to see the face that you made just a minute ago. He wanted to beg you beg for his cock, soaking wet and desperate enough to not refuse him.

How did C-137 get that far within a few hours?! “Maybe her subconscious is bound to me”, he whispered to himself. That must be it. After all you were his and C-137 just happened to be a version of him. For a split second he thought about bringing you back to him, so that C-137 would never touch you again or fuck you right in front of that bastard to show him who you belong to. But he couldn’t do that – not yet. C-137 didn’t achieve what he wanted him to. Sex was something which could also be taken by force (or under dubious circumstances like C-137 did), what he wanted could not be forced onto you.

“I will kill you for this, C-137.”

[negans-lucille-tblr]

Go Easy | Sam Winchester Oneshot

Summary: Sam’s hiding a part of himself from his new, inexperienced girlfriend, but maybe he doesn’t have to. 

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Tags: teasing, flirting, mentions of virginity, mentions of liking younger women, angst, mentions of BDSM, Dom/sub vibes, mild BDSM, bondage, fingering, p in v

WC: ± 2.8K A/Ns: This was commissioned by someone who would like to remain anonymous! Hope you like it!

Sam Winchester Masterlist

“So, how did you two meet again?” 

There’s a sparkle in Dean’s green eyes that Sam knows only too well means that Dean hasn’t forgotten at all, and he’s only asking the question for one reason; to tease the living fuck out of him. 

“Urm, at the college library,” Y/N replies softly, clearing her throat and offering his brother a polite smile as she reaches for her glass of wine. 

“Of course you did,” Dean chuckles, “so you’re one of these brainy young professors too?” 

“Urr…” Y/N glances nervously at him, and Sam knows it’s his turn to step in and save her. 

“No, actually, Y/N is a student,” Sam needlessly reminds his brother, unashamedly. 

The smirk instantly curls over Dean’s lips as he chuckles, shaking his head. “A student, Sammy? You’ve been working there for two months and you’re already sleeping with the students, why am I not surprised?” 

Sam’s brow instantly pulls into a frown as he shakes his head. “No, it’s not like that, De,” he protests, looking over to see Y/N is also confused by Dean’s comment. 

“What does he mean?” she asks, blinking at him. 

“Nothing,” Sam insists. “He’s just being an ass.” 

Dean continues to chuckle, reaching for his beer and taking a long swig before swallowing hard and licking his lips. “Listen, we can just address the elephant in the room, okay?” he grins, looking between them. 

“Dean, no,” Sam warns, hoping his brother will realise he is barking up the wrong tree completely right now and will back off. 

“Oh c’mon, Sammy, we shared a bedroom wall long enough for me to know what you’re into. You’re hardly shy about it. And we’re all adults here… at least…” his eyes land back on Y/N, and Sam’s jaw clenches. 

“Jesus, Dean, she’s more than legal,” Sam grunts, wishing his legs were just a few inches longer so he could kick his brother under the table. 

“Relax, I’m teasing you both,” Dean laughs easily, lounging back in his chair with his beer in hand. 

Sam glares over at his older brother for a moment, before looking across at Y/N to make sure she’s okay. She seems a little flustered, but before he can reach out to take her hand in hopes of relaxing her a little, she rises to her feet and softly excuses herself. Sam watches her leave, heading towards the bathroom, and then turns his attentions back to his brother. 

“Seriously, dude?” he huffs. “Now she probably thinks I’m some pervert.” 

“Well, from what I’ve heard–” 

“Dean, I’m serious,” Sam interrupts. 

“Oh, c’mon Sammy, you’re not exactly quiet about your… tastes,” Dean argues, smirking slightly. “I’m just saying that she’s exactly the kind of girl I thought you’d date.” 

“It’s not like that, De,” Sam protests, “not with her.” 

Dean cocks an eyebrow as if he doesn’t believe him. “So you’re telling me you’re not dating a younger woman who’s all quiet and reserved because she’s exactly the kind of girl who obeys your every command?” he mocks. 

“She’s not like that,” Sam continues to argue, and he thinks maybe Dean is finally believing him, because a small frown pulls on his brow.

“Wait… really? This isn’t one of your… kinky things?” 

“No, Dean,” Sam scoffs, still amused by Dean’s naivety even after all this time. Sam’s tried on more than one occasion to educate his brother on the lifestyle, but Dean couldn’t be further from Sam when it comes to things like this. “We’re actually dating, she’s actually my girlfriend,” he explains. “My very inexperienced girlfriend you’ve probably completely freaked out, so thanks for that.” 

“Inexperienced?” Dean blinks, but then another cheeky smile lights up his face. “Sammy, you dirty dog!” 

“Dean–” 

“Well, in my defense, dude, you don’t date much.” 

“You didn’t think it was weird I’d asked you to meet her?” Sam questions. 

“I don’t know what happens between you and these girls,” Dean protests, shrugging. He’s quiet for a moment, but then he seems to get a little more serious, playing with his beer bottle. “So, is she open to what you like, or…”

Sam can tell that it’s a genuine question, so he doesn’t roll his eyes or complain, instead he takes a deep breath and decides to answer honestly. “I doubt it, we’ve never talked about it.” 

“So you’d pack it all in for her?” he asks next. “Do you like her enough to do that?”

“Yeah, I think I would,” Sam nods honestly. 

“Well then, I’m sorry dude, didn’t mean to freak her out.” 

Sam looks towards the door leading down the hallway towards the bathroom and takes a deep breath. “I’m sure she’s fine,” he tells his brother, realising he’s only trying to convince himself more than Dean. 

Y/N has been even more quiet than usual as they clean up after dinner. With Dean now gone, Sam was hoping she’d be a little more confident, like he’d noticed her becoming in the recent weeks, but she doesn’t say much as she clears away plates and carries them out into the kitchen, placing them alongside the sink. He watches her begin to run the hot tap, filling the sink up with warm, soapy water, and leans in the doorway just observing for a moment or two, wondering how he’s going to approach this. 

“Hey, let me do that, it’s my place,” he protests, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her middle. 

“It’s fine,” she insists softly. Sam places a soft kiss to the back of her head, and he watches as her movements slow and she clears her throat. “Sam, what did your brother mean when he said he’s not surprised that I’m a student?” 

“Nothing,” Sam half lies. “He was just being an older brother and trying to embarrass me.” 

“So you’ve not been with other students?” she checks, turning herself around and stepping out of his embrace to face him. 

“No, not since I was a student myself,” he tells her honestly this time. 

“Students your own age?” she asks next, almost challengingly. 

“Pretty much,” he nods. “Y/N, I’m not into young girls or anything,” he laughs awkwardly. “There’s not even ten years between us, it’s not about that for me. Look… can we just forget the whole dinner, please?” he pleads, already exasperated. 

She’s been spooked enough for one night, she doesn’t need to hear all about Sam’s twisted, kinky fetishes too. He’s kept those a secret for a reason. He didn’t know it when he first started dating her, but Y/N had been a virgin before they met, and he could still count on one hand how many times they’ve had sex. If he was ever going to show her that side of him, it wouldn’t be now. 

“So you’re not into young virgin girls?” she asks bluntly, blinking at him. 

“No, absolutely not,” Sam protests immediately, the very implication making his skin crawl. “Firstly, I didn’t even know you were a virgin when we met. Secondly, you’re twenty two, you’re not even a teenager anymore–” 

“Okay,” Y/N interrupts. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to accuse you of being a perv or anything, I just… when Dean said he knows what you’re into…” 

“He didn’t mean that,” Sam tries to explain. 

“Then what did he mean?” she presses, blinking at him again. 

Sam sighs heavily, not sure he can answer that honestly if he wants to keep her in the dark about his fantasies and desires. 

“Is it bad? Is that why you won’t tell me?” she implores. 

“No, it’s not bad,” he argues weakly, shaking his head. “I just don’t wanna freak you out, I know you’re new to all this.” 

“Maybe physically, but one of the perks to being late in the game means I’ve done a lot of research,” Y/N admits coyly. “So I’m not as naive as you think.” Sam’s eyebrows rise at her implication. “Just tell me, Sam, please?” she begs softly, a lot more seriously than before. 

Sam huffs a breath and licks his lips for a second, gathering his thoughts. 

“Usually, I like a certain… dynamic in the bedroom,” he tries to explain briefly. “But, I would never expect that from you, so I’ve never brought it up. I’m fine with the way things are between us,” he rushes to add for reassurance. 

“What kind of dynamic?” Y/N asks, seeming to ignore the second half of his comment. 

“Urm… me in charge… in control… y’know, pain for pleasure kind of thing,” he admits, feeling his cheeks heating up at his admission. Normally he’s a lot more sure of  himself, oozing confidence as he explains exactly how he expects it to go down between him and the girl he’s about to fuck. But Y/N is different, and he doesn’t want her running for the hills because of this. 

“So BDSM stuff?” she clarifies, biting her bottom lip. 

“Yeah, that stuff,” he nods. “So are you freaked out?” he asks, unable to stop himself. 

Y/N doesn’t answer at first, she just stares at him and swallows hard, and Sam’s pretty sure she’s about to break up with him, leave and never come back. But what actually happens takes him off guard, as his eyes follow her as she drops to her knees at his feet and settles into a kneeling position, looking up at him through her lashes. 

“What… What are you doing?” he stammers out, afraid that maybe she feels like she has to do this for him. 

“Something like this?” she checks. 

“You don’t have to–” 

“You don’t think I don’t know exactly what you want… Sir?” she asks softly, a tiny smirk beginning to spread over her lips. 

Instantly Sam’s cock begins to harden behind his jeans. It’s been a while since he’s seen a girl on her knees at his feet, and while he hears people call him Sir a lot thanks to his job, it feels so different hearing it come from her lips in that tone. 

“A-are you sure?” Sam checks sincerely for a moment. 

She doesn’t reply to begin with, she just reaches out, softly running her hand up his leg, over his thigh and towards the now obvious bulge in his pants. 

“Like I said, I’ve done my research, I know what I like the look of,” she explains, her hand now cupping his cock through the denim, making Sam’s head a little foggier. “I wanna know if it’s as good as it looks, I want you to teach me,” she purrs, blinking at him seductively. “Just go easy on me?” 

Sam reaches forward, cupping the side of her face. “I’ve got you, baby girl,” he confirms, feeling her lean into his touch. “I’ll guide you through it.” 

Your POV

Holy fuck. 

Sam’s teeth drag down your throat, his large hands finally releasing your wrists above your head, smoothing down your arms. 

“Leave them there,” he growls against your skin, his hands now finding your breasts, fondling them for a moment or two before reaching around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You moan, arching your back into him, your hands finding his long hair so you can card your fingers through it. “I said, leave them there,” Sam growls, instantly pinning your hands above your head once more. “Don’t make me tie them up.” 

Just the very thought of him tying you to the bed, making you completely at his mercy makes your insides flutter with even more arousal that pools between your bare legs. 

“Please do,” you find yourself gasping, your brain foggy with arousal and desperation. 

“You’d like that, hm?” he smirks, leaning back to look at you. “You’d like me tying you up, using you however I want?” You instantly nod, desperate for just that. “Use your words, baby girl… always use your words with me,” he commands. 

“Y-yes I want that,” you confirm verbally. 

“Sir,” he adds for you. 

“Sir,” you also add, breathlessly. You’d always liked the idea of calling a guy Sir in the bedroom, but you never thought it would be this much of a turn on.

You watch him climb off of you, now standing at the foot of his bed as he reaches down for his jeans on the floor, and without taking his eyes off of you, he grabs the belt still in the loops and pulls it free. The sight is near enough orgasmic as you once again arch your back and moan, desperate for some attention between your legs. 

Sam uses the tail of his belt to trail up your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake as you squirm underneath him. 

“Maybe one day we can use this for something a little more entertaining,” he ponders, a wicked smirk curling over his lips. “But for now, we can make good use of it in other ways.” 

You feel him wrap the leather around both your wrists, and with only a few tugs, you find yourself bound to the headboard, unable to move your hands very far; unable to touch him anymore. And suddenly, you want nothing more. His cock is hard and practically dripping with precum on your thigh, and you want to wrap your hand around it, to give him some relief. But he seems unfazed by the lack of attention it’s receiving, instead focused on your body, and the way it’s writhing underneath him. 

His hazel eyes scan over what feels like every single inch, and he hums in appreciation, his hands beginning to ghost over your skin. When his touch begins to trail lower than your belly button, you find your legs widening as if to encourage him between them. He seems to oblige without any further teasing, which you’re grateful for, because you’re not sure how much longer you can take this. Your head feels like it’s going to explode. Being at someone’s mercy is so much better than it had been in your head all those times you’d gotten yourself off to the fantasy, or touched yourself to those videos you used to be so ashamed about liking. 

“Someone’s wet,” he notes, a smug grin on his lips at the fact. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” 

You nod desperately, bucking your hips against his fingers, feeling him rub your clit as you begin to moan. 

“Yes, Sir,” you rush to confirm, just about mustering enough sanity to remember to use your words like he’d commanded. 

“If you like this, wait until I train you to be the perfect little slut for me,” he growls, and you gasp for air as his fingers push inside you with his words, your head spinning with the mixture of the sensation and the very thought of his words. “This body is perfect, and it’s all mine, isn’t it?” he asks, his eyes landing on yours. 

“All yours, Sir,” you confirm, breathlessly. “Please… please fuck me,” you find yourself begging, unable to take much more. You just want to feel him inside you; it’s a feeling you’ve grown to love, and you only wish you’d have met him sooner. 

“That’s not how you beg,” Sam growls, curling his fingers and making you cry out in pleasure. “Ask nicely, or I won’t fuck you at all.” 

“Please, Sir. Please will you fuck me? I need you to fuck me, please.” 

“That’s better,” Sam hums, removing his fingers and stroking his cock, slicking it with your juices from his fingers. “Such a good girl, I can tell you’re going to do so well,” he praises. 

He leans over you, teasing the tip of his cock through your arousal, softly pressing against your opening as he chuckles at your desperation. You buck your hips in hopes that he’ll slide deeper, but he holds back, smirking almost evilly down at you, clearly relishing in just what he’s driven you to. 

“Please, Sir,” you beg one last time, barely audible through your gasps for breath. 

Sam leans down, bringing his mouth close to your ear, his cock still only just inside you. “I love the way that sounds on your lips,” he breathes out, his cock throbbing as if to prove his point. “I can’t wait to show you exactly how I like it.” And just the thought of this getting even better, has you on the edge.

[45622211111]

the description fits this sukuna drawn by @cuviz . i'll commission (they're open!) a fitting piece to this story, so stay tuned.

"…field worker of food enterprise »yūjiocha« has collapsed on the 24th of this august. health officials have shared that the 52-year-old suffered from breathing difficulties up to a heat stroke. following this shocking incident, the company has been under fire due to its low payment of field and indoor workers in rural sendai. the company's domicile in tokyo has been blocked by strikers as we speak, demanding fair working conditions. what makes citizens worry is the CEO-"

"anotha day with the same ol' stories," the taxi-driver mumbles, his head cowering under the windshield to examine the billboards.

you follow his direction and are greeted with the shiny exterior of ads over ads, raging from fashion brands to promotional thumbnails for upcoming movies. they contrast wonderfully with the grey and damp weather, the vividness too intense for this early traffic jam.

orange plus green letters of the said brand appear with a 3d animation of a rotating matcha tea packet. the name alone makes you swallow, your shoulders knotted as rain drops glide down the window. "hm, unfortunately."

"headin' there, aren't ya? ya're with dose devils?" you are quick to pick out his sarcasm but don't hold back from covering your chest with sweaty hands. "no, no! i'm here for the press conference! have to step in for my colleague, that's why."

"ya nervous?" from the backseat you hear the lightness in his tone. if he can sense it, than what's the point of trying to make excuses? really, it was a mixture of both excitement and nauseau. if it weren't for your co-worker telling you last minute, you would've had to wait for the next blue moon. it couldn't be compared to the never-ending online researches at home - this was a once in a life time opportunity for your career.

your thoughts come to an abrupt stop when the car pulls over. "kick their asses, yeah?"

"… queries are only allowed within your designated time. please refrain from shouting out," after half an hour of a protracted introduction with the help of a slide-show, the lady in glasses puts the microphone down - especially painful when your view is blocked by loads of technical equipment and tall backs of men in suits.

"good morning, shibuya network speaking here. we're interested in hearing the opinion of the CEO himself." the reporter sits down and the action builds anticipation in you with how swift this already works. nothing like what's shown on edited broadcasts or 30 pages of transcript for homework.

you raise your chin from the back of the spacious room. the two men at the podium exchange expressions. at first you don't understand their worrisome looks, until a screeching vibration echoes in the hall, as if an object is being dragged along something sharp. you squeeze your eyes open to the third person in the middle.

"you wanna hear my opinion?" your gaze dances across the room, trying to search for a reaction in the several women and men around you. have they just heard the exact same thing as you or are you caught in the sketch of some sadistic comedian?

"yes sir, your opinion."

the silence doesn't drag on for long, "of what?"

"sir, one of your worker-"

"i'm aware of that."

"after he collapsed-"

"yeah?"

"what exactly are you-"

"what are you aiming at?" a quasy feeling settles in your stomach.

"sir, what measures are you going to take?" the man finally snaps with rushed words, as anyone else would naturally do so.

"doin' as always." his face is cold, his movements solid.

"next question please," the spokesperson on the left side states.

you mouth goes dry. you recall why you've been hesitant when you got the call from your fever-plagued office partner, nobara kugisaki.

a few journalists and news outlets survey general questions relating to the company itself which makes your legs bounce with thin patience. can't they postpone these for another public gathering? at this state you weren't even sure if everyone would get a turn.

"in the last five years ryomen sukuna has held back from providing the public with clarifications on the many rumors he has been involved in… mr ryomen, would you be so kind and enlighten us?" a tall, white-haired woman sits down. some part of your brain tells you that she is grinning, although her voice has been stagnant despite some alarmed countenances on the stage.

the addressed man leans back - not without a chuckle though.

the next participant takes the mic. you are confused.

you reread your notes. is it worth asking when this conference has either denied or made fun of the press inquiries this far? you aren't one to defend gossip magazines who survive off his or anyone's questionable past, but this was too out-of-place for your own liking. simply put: it is disrespectful.

"good stories osaka, mr ryomen, please tell us about your alco-"

"we don't entertain this type of output from here on. please focus on recent activities or refrain from speaking."

you follow the white bow. "good morning, kyoto today here. sir, have you already been in contact with the victim's family? and how will you compensate your workers in the future? thank you for your cooperation." your ears perk up and you immediately cross out one scribbled line.

"that man is out of the hospital. i don't see a need to compensate anyone."

gasps and whispers spread throughout the tense air. right now, you can observe the only positive: the reporter's stance - how she confidently protrudes among the hushed outbreak, her grip on the microphone unwavering.

"so i'll take you don't intend on raising the standard of your worker's conditions anytime soon?"

"never planned to."

honestly, you aren't sure what to do when the room errupts with audible complaints and writers violently pressing down on their keyboards. "is this legal?" a reporter with a green notepad wants to know. others demand their camera men to "get everything on camera! no, zoom in!" and give them a slap on the back to get closer.

"please keep it quiet for the last contendors - if not, we are obligated to cancel this session."

your heart picks up at an uncomfortable frequency. you take deep breaths.

"from the daily press - mr ryomen, how will you deal with the recent protest in front of this very building?"

the men around him have long ago loosened their ties, sitting back in their chairs, handkerchiefs pressed against their red temples. by reading them you understand their missing courage to talk some sense into the CEO. even if, is this man capable of seeing his own faults?

"i'd like to see how long they'll drag this out - prolly not long."

the lady's arm points upward, "but sir! you are aware the people outside are your employees, right?!" it wasn't the first time during this knot garden that an interviewer has sounded like they are on the edge of insanity.

"so? there are enough volunteers who will take their places."

the woman near you sinks down without another word. your wrinkly page has ended up as a muddy ball of paper. you could theoratically get up and leave at any given time but with the cramped up space around you, you'd have to sit through this until the end.

thanks to your inner monologue you almost miss the black object pocking into your panorama.

now or never.

when you take the mic into your hand, you wince at the short self-noise. "kanagawa news… sir, i'll be brief: what's your purpose at yūjiocha?"

you can't unsee the way his knuckles push against the side of his cheek with the most uninterested glare - pierced brow not moving an ounce while you are mentally fluctuating for his answer.

"you tell me what my purpose is. you journalists love to pretend to know everything. isn't that so…"

you raise your brows. his derisive layer of throwing you and other hard-working writers into the same pot with gossipers leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.

"sir, i didn't assume anything. my question is: what's your personal ambition - you don't give the impression of having a goal as the chairman of your own company." you're at loss for words by none other than your own self. from the edges of your vista you find heads sticking together. the camera directed at you doesn't go unnoticed either.

that was the harmless part - not when his eyelids drop at your comment. in a flash, you question your own professionality. are you wrong?

"oh, so now you're telling me what to do?"

you huff. "that is not my intention, sir. i'm wondering why this - when you're acting reckless with the company of your-"

"a nobody from the gutter press is seriously teaching me about my business? tch."

"next one," the spokesperson moves on.

you remember the prominent throb in your throat, blurring out the last back-and-forths until everyone, one by one, started to exit the hall. his team is the first one to do so and you fear that this belittling memory will never fully dissolve.

the next day doesn't reward you for your rookie service either. the brown-haired woman walks up and down, prior to sitting down and repeating the same pattern anew.

"…means i can't use it?"

nobara, your senior of two years with more experience in the world of critical writing supports her head with her right palm. "hold on," the corner of her mouth twists in annoyance as she analyzes the screen of her pink tablet.

"these sons of bitches have not only imposed a copyright restriction because of a goddamn power point presentation but also threaten us with cutting our money!?" it was only a question of time when she would go berserk. you weren't going to risk calming her down when she had all the right in the world - unfortunately copyrights excluded - to complain about the supergiant's legal terms.

as you found out - just hours ago after terrible five hours of sleep - the press is not allowed to share the conference recording on any platform. on top of that, the financial pressure of withdrawing advertising money is pushed down your throats in case companies release a - as quoted - smear campaign against their precious CEO.

"i don't get it… why attempt hiding it? the media already knows," you chew on your lip at the thought of having to let your very first citation go to waste. you weren't going to allow your own sweat and (almost) tears go down the drain. not when they are the ones in the wrong on so many levels.

"i'll tell you why… these pigs can't risk more damage! knuckles-deep in the mud and they still have the audacity to stop journalism! over my dead body!" the aroma of berries floats your nostrils when she raises her steamy mug.

"what's the plan?"

"(name). see this as your first main quest from your kugisaki girl herself, 'kay? WE'RE GOING TO FINISH THIS NO MATTER WHAT! EVEN IF THEY WERE TO FLOAT THIS OFFICE! those recordings aren't going anywhere!" her arm cramps up when the coughing fit returns.

you immediately begin your text, fueled with fire from her motivational speech. as your job requires, you are here in the first place because you've promised to reveal the shady side of the business world. you wouldn't want to let your partner in crime down - not when you were entrusted with this important task.

"thank you, nobara-san."

"that's the spirit, rookie. let's end those wretched capitalists! they better be grateful that i had a fever… i would've jumped them all!"

the yellowish light of your overly bright display blinds you in the shades. the blue logo of the daily press dissapears. your thumb enters the key words and urgently scrolls down the black on white.

user8653346

another nepo baby who gets away with THEIR usual egotistic IDIOCITY. we live in a rich man's world everyone!

anonymous

I'm dissapointed with the amount televison and CO publicize. Why do they downplay the traumatizing event of a victim and make traces of the protest dissapear.... inhumane. Thank you and anyone else who has covered this evil crime for us.

z.9999

Why act surprised? He has a bunch of illegal acts held against him yet he gets away!!? I'm more concerned for the people who've lost their jobs!

anonymous

threathening journalists shocks me the least... what has daddy’s company become? ヾ(´∀｀)

a notification from nobara pops up, showing screenshots of hilarious responses under other tokyo-based publications over the last days. it's quite a relief they haven't held back either.

but the happiness wouldn't last long of course.

"utahime-senpai just emailed me. (name), you can't imagine how enraged i am. meet me at the office." the green and red symbols dissapear along her name.

your heart pounds as you run down the busy streets. no time to take a bite or look in the mirror. at the crosswalk, you weigh if you should get a quick meal and later hop into a taxi or train.

the neon green window display of the convenience store finds you at the right time. after paying for food and a bottle of water you're about to run to the next station, however, the magazine stand catches your attention instead. you should sprint to your office as soon as possible yet you're curious about one thing.

you turn the pages and eventually find your own article. you quiver at the touch of the physical copy. it hasn't vanished. you let out a relieved groan and with the satisfied exploration, you flee through the automatic doors.

"i would like to have a word with the manager regarding the supply of non-updated newspaper in here."

"nobara…"

the said woman is leaning her arms against the top of her cluttered desk. without any remark you place your bag down.

her lids are shut.

minutes pass.

"these fuckers have taken down utahime-senpai's entry," striking back this early? "legal protection for copyright violation! copyright violation?! - they can't be serious!" her skin slams against the wood, twice. she lets out another yell, "gahhh!"

"she hasn't inserted the entire video material on her website," you can't find a reason why on god's green earth there should be any dilemma with her senior's article. it's not like writers aren't familiar with the rules in connection to giving credits, likewise with how and when to use correct quotations and other sources.

"ah you see, three minutes out of 2 hours crisis communication is too long! hah! how dare we forget about proprietary visuals! that half-assed presentation and ugly logo are allegedly commercialization!" she clears her throat in a dramatic manner, "now they limit distributions unless certain parts are changed. exploitation of underlying speech my ass!"

you curse under your breath. "what about us? have we exploited proprietary materials?" you cringe at the terms.

she shares the same sentiment, although now more wearisome. "that's why i've invited you over. just got a message from the pitiful sons themselves," she rolls the computer mouse with her index. "i'm not surprised anymore," she lets out. "we consider filing for legal action regarding the article written and published by your media press journalist (fn) (name) in case it is not taken offline within the next 12 hours,"

you bump into her side and continue to read out loud, "the content of the article titled »fair payment for hard labour: executive ryomen sukuna's biggest income or greatest weakness?« on the 28th of this month includes reputation-damaging conspiracy on behalf of CEO ryomen sukuna's private and professional credibility. our chief executive officer has suffered great harm to his public image in recent days through burgeoning cyber harassment and thus financial destabilization.

the usage of »[…] he's shamelessly open about his lacking empathy for his own work force.«, »[...] getting his position handed (and maintained) on a silver platter […]« and the last paragraph in your text, »what does mr ryomen intend to achieve? one can only look at the priviliged offspring with the empathy he seems to miss whenever he makes an appearance on national TV […]« are missleading accusations without official proof. throughout his career as an executive chief, ryomen sukuna has worked hard for his responsibilities no matter what grand force he is facing.

we must also remind you that mr ryomen has fairly earned his position as the heir of the late wasuke itadori. his accomplishments as a widely-accepted humanitarian representative can be reached via the links provided below. we request you take your article offline or we are duty-bound to take legal proceedings against your company »kanagawa news« and journalist (fn). we are looking forward to a quick response."

you are torn between laughing and touching grass outside. "isn't that funny?" the brunette turns to you but you shake your head in disbelief. "this must be a sick joke."

"not gonna lie, i was a click away from sharing this on my socials. should've send it to every single media channel in this damn prefecture. hah… what a circus… humanitarian? pff…"

your fingers poke at your forehead. you never had to deal with this before, not when you had already covered big names once or twice without any backlash on how angelic their respective nepo babies are. a brat disguised as a grown man… making his minions do the dirty job while he is getting payed millions for exploiting farmers and factory workers.

you can't believe it.

the difficultty of trying to swallow is suffocating. besides just giving up and doing as they preach, this is surrendering - falling down on your knees to get spared by his hierarchic superiority. is this how the rest gets treated behind the scenes? - getting their own principals deranged by some power-hungry maniacs? oh, you have truly underestimated them.

another pause befalls the small office. you see colleagues from the other department pass by the huge pane. the broken light bulb above is twitching. you huff in exhaustion. nobara should tell you what to do since any decisison today will be regretted in one way or another.

"we can't give those bastards the satisfaction," she finally breaks the silence, "let's make them shake longer and solve this pile of shit in the evening, i'm too tired for this freak show. also… we can't delete your oscar-worthy exposure just yet, can we?"

purples and oranges bleed between the mild blue patches. when you step out, the town is dipped in a desaturated shade. at least the sun isn't fully up so you can escape the heat in the confinement of your four walls.

with every step you fall deeper into a spiral: a dark abyss of humiliation and utter disgust in the face of your new reality. what wong-doing outside of wanting to serve justice have you commited? you want to scream to your heart's content but even that is prohibited to you.

damned be that disgusting man.

what makes his horrible soul deserving of power when he's shamelessly spitting at workers? just because he doesn't consider them worth his while?

your skin burns with anger whenever you revisit his responses. a nobody. you shouldn't let it get to you but experiencing it first hand leaves you with wishing him the absolute worst. your article could only express one-sixth of your honest opinion on a self-centered bitch like him. you can't wrap your head around the fact that he still stands proud as the official CEO. no consequences for him.

"ahh!"

the numbness is abruptly replaced by a mild ache in your nose.

"oh i'm sorry!" you are still busy holding your face when you catch a glimpse of your opposite. the novelty of the stranger's face feels weirdly soothing the exact moment you meet his blue orbs.

"my bad! hey, are you hurt?" his limbs spread out with a respectful distance, his concern tangible.

"it's okay!" you wave your hand, "should've looked where i go and not space out, hih," you try to lighten the situation with a chuckle. it does its wonder as he drops his long arms to his sides.

"you're from here?" you are taken back by the asudden quizzing. "uh, yes," you manage to respond back after just starting to slip by him. you are not in the mood to start a conversation with a male stranger so you stride with the same heaviness again.

"(fn) (name). i quite enjoyed reading your article. what was it again? - big executive who doesn't pay his employees?"

you throw a glance over your shoulder. should you be on high alert in his presence? who is this white-haired man and how does he know it's you? you don't have any official pictures- oh. the press conference. don't tell me he's one of his men? as expected, a pinch of fear gets in your way, yet you can't let that stop you.

"yeah, that's me. want to enlighten me to whom i owe the pleasure of speaking?" your arms stick to your body like magnets. as much as you want to appear strong, on the inside you try your best to not freak out.

white teeth manifest as he lets out a playful laugh at your irony. "huh, if you insist this early - gojo satoru," he does a slight bow which you accept with rolling eyes. what a player. "hope your majesty is in a joyful mood," he goes on. shouldn't you feel threatened like you've preached seconds ago?

"oh, don't escape me!" he launches forward and you pick up your pace. "what?!"

"but you didn't let me finish!" he puffs his cheeks out and you don't know how to reply to that. is he being serious? are you trapped in a money laundering scheme from nearby, perhaps?

"nuh uh, i don't need your money! on the contrary, give me a minute to introduce myself!" you try your best to stand your ground despite his childish antics. "you have to trust me for that though…" his index beckons you, "would you do a favour for me? - with recompensation, of course," he grins.

commissions, support: ko-fi 🍥

[willyoubemycherryy]

❁𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖...𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕋𝕚𝕘𝕖𝕣’𝕤 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕙 𝕊𝕌ℙ𝔼ℝ-ℙℝ𝕆𝕋𝔼ℂ𝕋𝕀𝕍𝔼 𝕘𝕗??

@ my bestie lil miss westie(^‿^✿) @eymie

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤🜚ミ★𖤐✬.• 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐨✊🏽, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐱 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞, 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐨, 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐇𝐈𝐌 ⚠︎︎MDNI⚠︎︎

“𝑺𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒅𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈...“

You honestly don’t know how he let people try him.

Tiger doesn’t even look like the pushover type. Tattoos, wild green hair, stoic face and stone jawline, 6 foot fucking 2, ripped jeans and muscle tees. He rarely even looked approachable. Punk rock and pissed off.

But… turns out he’s a sweetheart. Gentle eskimo kisses, slow kisses, helpful with the most menial tasks. Plus the adoring way he looks at you, to how tender and calmly he treats you; even when you’re upset…so it pisses you off when you see short, half court hairline, bald spot eyebrow ugglies talking down to him.

Like now when you look up from your seat in the car, waiting for him to come out of the gas station just to see some dirty old crypt keeper yelling in his face while your poor sweet darling Tiger just nods and looks uncomfortable. You do not hesitate to get out the car and march over there in your Chanel heels to stomp on fucking business bitch.

Tiger hears a door slam and looks up. Paling once he sees that it’s you…and that you do not look happy. He knows how this is going to end before it even starts as you stand in front of him, pushing the angry man back with one of your pretty manicured fingers.

“Who the fuck are you talking to?! Because I KNOOOOW it’s not him!” You’re yelling off the bat and the man is red in the face as he yells back,

“So what if I am! He needs to learn how to apologize after he bumps into people!”

Oh bitch.

“Are the people in the room with us??? Because all I see in front of me is the ghost of Father Time’s ashes.” Tiger bites his lip to stifle the laugh that bubbles up at your jab. Feisty as ever.

“Why you prissy little bit-“, you cut him off before he can even attempt to try it.

“Even if he completely knocked your ass over, he wouldn’t have to apologize for SHIT but I’ll tell you what,” voice low, blood hot, rushing so fast you look downright murderous as you stand chest to chest with the man.

“Talk to him like that again…and I’ll kick your nuts so far up your asshole that they’ll be acorns when they come out your mouth. I’ll turn you and every witness around into stains and mail them to your wife and kids.” He gulps at the dead look on your face and quickly shifts his eyes to Tiger.

“So, apologize right now and walk away from us before I decide to really rock your world.” You feel Tiger stiffen at the same time the asshole does before he mumbles a swift apology, he’s jumping into his car and peels off just as fast.

Grabbing Tiger’s hand you lead him to the car, to your door so he can open it and after he gets in himself, he looks at you. Amused.

“You’re a little bully? Y’know that?”, chuckling at you as you pout.

“You don’t always need to come to my rescue. Some people are just assholes and that’s okay”. He mumbles, pulling you from your seat to straddle his lap.

You roll your eyes before you lean down to kiss him languidly. Capturing his top lip between yours then his bottom lip, both your lips alternating with light sucks and you tilt your head and lick the seam of his mouth, making him moan as your tongues caress each other. Warm puffs of air wash over your faces as you kiss him senseless.

Heat licks up your body, a wet moan bursting out when you feel him aggressively suck on your tongue, his hand on the back of your head holding you in place. Reaching up you pull lightly at his hair until he breaks away with a smack and you peck his lips a few more times to calm down.

“Some people are assholes, you’re right. But if they think they can be an asshole to you on my watch? They’re dead wrong.” panting against his mouth as you give him your verdict.

“Now, let’s go home,” you whisper against his lips.

“I’m wet”.

Grinding down on him for emphasis then swinging back down to your seat to watch his reaction.

Tiger looks down at where you were previously sat and notices the dark spot on his jeans, and looking back at you pupils completely blown.

“Oh fuck”, he groans. Hissing when you start palming him through his ripped jeans.

Squealing as Tiger speeds off so fast he almost leaves the tires.

[lucerothings1]

New Neighbor

Young Brad Pitt x male reader smut

PSA brad is not an actor in this fic he is just a random regular guy. 

Warnings: gay sex, oral, top brad, bottom reader, doggy style, ass eating.

Summary: You go over to meet your new neighbor in the apartment complex and he seems to like you a lot.

It had already been a week of your new neighbor moving to the vacant apartment next door. You had guessed you know how he looked like since you topped into a stranger not two days ago in the elevator. So you found yourself in a position of having to make a good impression and be known as the nice neighbor or make a bad impression by not even saying hello and be known as the rude one.

And just as you knew yourself you where a people pleaser so here you found yourself changing into a simple but effective outfit from your work clothes just a simple white t-shirt your pants and some converse shoes.

As you got out your apartment it wasn’t much moving since he lived in the apartment in front of yours. As you knocked you seemed to hear a voice yell out “It’s open come on in” as you walked you where meet with a familiar face just as you thought it was the guy from the elevator.

“Hello um you know it might not be the safest option to let your door unlocked in a place you don’t know much about” you said to the stranger “Okay will take that into consideration but how I’m I gonna do that if it’s gonna stop people as cute as you from coming in” he said to you causing to to feel hot and blush at the face.

“Hello my name is Brad” he said to you giving you his hand to shake, “Hello Brad my name is M/n I’m your front neighbor nice to meet you” you said to him taking his hand in yours. “Well nice to meet you too M/n”.

“So what brings you to New York City handsome” you told him. “Awww thank you M/n and I wanted something new in my life so I choose here” he said with a smirk looking you up and down.

“Well looks like you could use help I don’t mind helping out” you said “Really thank but I can’t let you do that” “No don’t worry I insist I’ll help” “Okay then thanks” he said smiling.

*Timeskip

Soon from what started as helping was long gone and turned into brad pushing you into the wall when you finished helping and crashing his lips onto yours as you gave him access to your mouth and also kissed back.

You then found yourself being picked up from the legs still making out heavily and being taken and thrown onto what you would assume to be his bed. He was now in between your legs and as he started by taking of his shirt in a hurry.

As you where staring onto his fine chiseled abs. All he did was look at you for a minute and tell you “Why don’t I help you get rid of this as well” he said getting a hold of the bottom hem of your shirt. “Yes please” you responded.

As he took off your shirt you started to work on taking of his belt and kick off your shoes. After successfully getting you both naked now just a thin piece of fabric separating both of your manhood.

At that moment you took a hold of him from his waist and throw him onto the bed beginning to strip him of his briefs and to be met with his hard eight inch cock as you looked at him for approval he looked at you nodding giving you the green light.

As you where sucking him off all that could be heard was the sweet sounds of slurping and moans coming from brad. “ Oh fu-ck stop” he said pulling you off his cock.

“What” you said confused “I didn’t want the fun to be over just yet come on get up here on your knees” he said getting up and letting you go on all fours for him.

“Oh that a really pretty hole you got there honey” he said removing your briefs and tossing them aside. “Oh look at that” he said putting spit onto his finger and circling your twitching entrances with his finger tips sending you shivers.

Soon that sensation was replaced with one even better his tongue starting to work you open for him. “Mm-hmm baby you taste so good” he said getting up for air.

“I’m gonna put my finger in okay” he said “okay” you said reassuring him to go further soon one finger became two then three “Okay you well open now he said getting up from the floor now onto of the bed.

“ Okay give me a minute” he said reaching for a condom on his nightstand and rolling it on. “Okay I’m going in” “okay ahh oh that feels good” you said feeling him sinking in one inch by one until all his eight inches where in you.

He waited giving you time to adjust “Okay you can move now go ahead” you said turning your face to face his “Okay” he said smirking and starting to roll his hips in a rhythm. “Oh fuck you tight baby” he said.

“Ah mm-hmm go faster” you asked him and he obliged “yeah take my fucking dick baby yeah” he said and at the same time reaching down to your own aching hard on and pumping it.

“Oh fuck I’ma cum SHIT” you yelled “Yeah cum for me baby” he said in your ear sending you over the edge and releasing a lover his hand and sheets. “Oh fuck I’ma CUM” Brad shouted pulling out and taking off his condom and releasing his warm liquid all over your back.

“Oh fuck that was amazing” he said collapsing on the side of you and reaching to kiss you “Yeah it was” you agreed “we should do this again sometime” you said looking at him in the eyes “Oh hell yeah” he said nodding in agreement.

[hanasnx]

green in the eye

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 0.6k SUMMARY: jealousy causes anakin’s spite to reveal itself to those you toy with. NOTES: mostly a conversation between you and hunter, and then anakin and hunter. very lightly smutty. this piece was a warm up, and i think ill write a follow up to it some other time, this was honestly kind of a prequel to a bigger project later on that i havent figured out how to make work yet. but hey if you like it and want more lmk :) jealous ani is my fave WARNINGS: anakin x reader x hunter | you flirting with hunter | anakin being an asshole | no actual smut, no implied smut either, just adult conversations ab sex ig | rex trying to help | wrecker and hunter checking out your ass | established fwb relationship with anakin | commander!reader

It was in your nature to flirt. It wasn’t like you were exclusive with your General ANAKIN SKYWALKER. Regardless of that fact, it seemed as though he encouraged faithfulness, but would refuse to explain why he expected it. It pissed you off to no end, especially because you observed how Anakin always got what he wanted, and you weren’t just going to roll over for him. Warming your bed was a privilege, not a right, and treating it so carelessly only pushed you further away. 

Working with both Anakin and Clone Force 99 killed two birds with one stone. 

“I like your tattoo. Got any more?” you asked HUNTER, your current object of fascination. Generously, you scanned him, noting how well he fit into his uniform. How it glinted in the warmth of the bonfire. 

Hunter didn’t seem to register your flirt yet, and answered honestly while he sharpened his knife. “Yeah, underneath all this armor.” If only he stopped to process it a second longer, he would’ve realized how invitational he came off. 

“Oh,” you replied, intrigued, as you bit your bottom lip. At the words, Hunter’s eyes curiously swept over to meet your sultry gaze, sharpening slowing to a halt. “Maybe you can show me sometime.” Your tone betrayed the context you referred to. Hunter gulped. It’s not often he’s spoken to so forward. He liked it. Perhaps a little too much. 

Shyly nodding, he held your eye contact, and returned to his work once he realized how public this conversation was. His bashfulness only made you smile, kicking him playfully with the side of your foot and a light blush dusted his cheeks. 

Anakin grit his teeth, a few feet from the fire. He’d held up his hand to Rex to signal his silence so the General could listen in, having heard your shameless flirting. Rex furrowed his brows at Anakin sticking his nose into something he shouldn’t, following when Anakin trekked over to sit near Hunter. 

As casual as ever— even while knowing full well the jealous nature of Anakin Skywalker— you sighed. “I’ll go grab more firewood. We’re close to running out.” Picking yourself up, dusting your hands off, you passed by the two men. Despite their fronts facing the fire, their backs burned from the remnants of your presence as you walked by them. “Wrecker, with me. I’ll need your help to carry.” 

“You got it, Commander!” he said enthusiastically as he trailed behind you. Unbeknownst to you, both Wrecker and Hunter watched your hips sway. Anakin kept his suspicious eyes on the pair until you were out of view. When Hunter noticed how unwavering the General’s gaze on him was, he cleared his throat to break the uncomfortable silence. 

“She’s trouble.” he scoffed, the scrape of his stone against his knife filling the air with white noise. 

“More trouble than she’s worth, I can assure you.” Anakin spoke from experience, but he didn’t realize how obvious he just made that secret. Hunter’s head tilted from the minute discovery, narrowing his eyes to himself. The General’s jealousy was rearing its ugly head, and clouded his judgment. 

Rex, hoping to change the subject, faked a cough as he patted Anakin’s shoulder harshly. “The tea, sir, it smells like it’s burning.” 

Anakin didn’t correct him to say it wasn’t— that tea didn’t burn— but he was grateful for the reminder. He pushed forward and stirred the ladle in the pot. The herbs Anakin had handpicked swirling around in the boiling opaque green liquid. 

His chronic inability to let things go caused him to continue digging. “Perhaps if you’re lucky, she’ll invite you in her tent for a roll in the sack.” he told Hunter, gauging his reaction carefully.

Abashedly, Hunter shook his head, chuckling wryly, to disguise his suffocation in this atmosphere. “Oh, no, sir. I wouldn’t distract myself on a mission like that.” 

Distrustful, and stooping lower, Anakin mused as disingenuously as possible, “How noble.” It ended the conversation.

[dreadsuitsamus]

If possible, can I ask for prompt 52 with Broly? SFW preferably, please.

#52- "Don't be afraid, it's just me."

author's note: i wanted to do something different than the usual broly works i've done lol also the end of this has me thinking about a potential star-crossed lovers through all of eternity fic... 🤔

pairing: broly x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, college!au

A hand is clutched to your chest as you work through the crowded party, eager for some reprieve. You can't stop your housemates from throwing parties, and to an extent you like attending them. You're in college! This is what college people do! It's… Supposed to be fun?

But if one more person touches your ass, you're gonna start throwing punches.

The music pounds at your temples like a drum, a migraine starting to form as you storm down the crowded stairs, pushing a hand to the chest of a random person approaching you. "Not the time, man!" You're already one foot out the door by the time you hear their insulting call of "bitch", but the fresh air settles your nerves enough to just let it go.

It's dark and cold out, cars piled up and down both sides of the street. You just had to be roommates with Bulma Briefs… "I'm dropping out." You grumble to yourself, kicking a rock aside while walking to the backyard; it's cold, so the party is almost entirely inside, leaving you peacefully alone. There's an old swing set out back, so that's where you perch your rear as your thoughts start to collect.

Finals are on the way… Your parents have been bugging you about visiting home… There's a bunch of drunk strangers in your home… You have to work in the morning…

"I'm just gonna become a stripper, fuck it."

"You'd be the most intelligent stripper in the world." You jump at the sudden voice, turning to see none other than your favorite man in the world.

Broly holds his hands out innocently, his features bashful under the lights of the tiki torches Bulma just had to have. "Don't be afraid, it's just me."

You smile the closer he gets, meeting his lips as he leans down for a quick kiss. "Hey handsome. How was work?"

"Long." Broly's large jacket is over your shoulders before he settles on the ground before you, gently pushing at your legs so you can swing a little. "How's the party?"

"I think I'm gonna crash at your place tonight."

Your boyfriend nods. "So it's just like any other Briefs party."

"She and Vegeta just broke up again, so it's even worse." You shake your head. They break up so often that you can't wrap your head around it; you've been with Broly since high school and can't even imagine having such a strenuous relationship.

Broly just shakes his head, continuing to lightly push your swing. You snuggle into his worn jacket, the green of it slightly faded from the once nearly neon color it used to be. His smile is so soft, so pure as he looks up at you, his hair still in the braid he ties for his long shifts at the shipyard. "My boss approved my time off, so we can go on that trip."

"Yay." You coo, blowing him a kiss. "I'm excited to go to Hershey with you."

"Are you excited for the chocolate or for the time with me?" He teases, stopping the momentum of your swing, holding your calves in his large hands, massaging gently. He's worked a long, twelve hour shift, and here he is massaging you.

What an amazing man.

You scoff, flicking his nose gently. "Why can't it be both, hm?"

Broly's nose scrunches and he laughs softly. His shining eyes match his small, beautiful smile as the flickering embers give a beautiful glow to his tanned skin. He's gorgeous and all yours.

"I guess I can settle with that." He presses a kiss to your knee. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah, let me get my work clothes and let Bulma know I'm leaving."

After a quick "yes ma'am", Broly's up on his feet and walking you through the house, his hand squeezing yours tightly as the loud noises and bumping bodies already start irking his nerves. Your room, which has thankfully been locked to prevent strangers fucking in your bed and stealing your things, is a quick safe haven for his anger to relax.

"You gonna finish up your last year staying with Bulma?" He asks absentmindedly, fiddling with a Rubik's Cube you'll never solve.

"Honestly, as much as I love her, I don't think so. I want peace for my last year. My semester ends in a few weeks, so I'll see if either the coffee shop or the bar will give me some more hours." You explain while pulling your uniform together, dreading the return to the barista station in the morning. "Hopefully I can find a cheap apartment."

"I don't wanna be pushy…" Broly pauses, considering his words carefully. "But… Why don't you just move in with me?"

"You… Think we're ready for that?" It's never come up even once in conversation; your relationship has always been slow and steady, very carefully handled and treated with the utmost caution and respect for one another as individuals.

"I mean… Yeah. I really do." He shrugs. "We've been together a long time now, you're there half the time anyway… But if you don't want to-"

"I want to." You grin, coming to slink your arms around his waist. "It'll make a lot of things easier for us."

Broly's large, calloused hands rest on your hips. "I'll get to see you more." He says gently, his smile enough to drown out the sounds of the party from your ears.

"Definitely the best perk." You get on your tiptoes, lips out and waiting for a smooch, Broly's impressive height only ever a hindrance in this one scenario.

"I stiiiiink." He teases, leaning down to meet your pouty, perfect lips.

"Don't care." You murmur against him, humming through the sweet, lengthy kiss. He tastes like mangoes, his favorite snack. Broly groans, the deep vibration through his chest buzzing wonderfully against your hands that have started to wander that lovely, thick, muscled body.

The door bursts open, a drunken sophomore stumbling in. Broly huffs and breaks away from you, glaring at the intruder with a tightly set jaw and angry eyes. "Get out."

You bite your lip, admittedly loving his intimidating demeanor more than you should, given his history with his anger management. But the way that drunk scrambles out, damn near pissing himself before slamming the door shut again, you just can't help but admire your boyfriend even more. Broly takes a calming breath and you take the opportunity to finish collecting your things.

Bulma is luckily by the door, smoking with a gaggle of hopeless men around her, and she waves you and Broly goodbye as you leave the house. You smile when your boyfriend repositions you to the inside of the sidewalk, his arm protectively around your shoulders as you walk into the night. His car is parked nearly two blocks away and your eyes widen with every car you pass.

"It sure doesn't feel like there's that many people at Bulma's…"

"I'm sure they're either doping or fucking in rooms you don't even go in." He shakes his head and finally, you reach his SUV. A gentleman as always, he opens the door for you and helps you inside the lifted vehicle, having to have special accomodations for his size.

Broly holds your hand during the ride, his apartment building about a twenty minute drive from the neighborhood Bulma's house is in. He carries your bag inside and pulls his thick, dark hair out of his braid. His hair, waved from the braid, fans out across his shoulders and back. "I don't wanna wash my hair." He whines and rubs at his forehead, tension slowly relieving itself.

"Lemme smell." You stand on the coffee table, catching a quick whiff of his dark locks. "Still fresh; smells like strawberries."

"Oh thank god." Broly mutters, tying his hair in a quick top knot and disappearing into the bathroom.

You prepare a quick meal for him and plate it on the small dining table, waiting politely for him to finish getting cleaned up before digging into the pancakes. When he emerges, he's fresh and clean, hair loose once again and looking snugly in a pair of sweats and a tight, impossibly tight black t-shirt.

"Thank you, baby." He murmurs, hiding a yawn into the crook of his elbow. Dinner is eaten in companionable silence, his socked foot occasionally bumping yours while he feigns innocence. Several giggles are hidden in your hand every time, and after dinner you cuddle together on the couch.

Broly's got a six year streak in of never letting your ass touch a couch cushion while he's near, and tonight is no exception as he yanks you down on top of his lap to smother your face in sweet kisses. You laugh through his flurry attack, your fingers soon tangled in those thick locks. His lips swoop in on yours, capping them with a full, heated kiss.

"Can't wait for you to move in…" He murmurs through the kiss.

"Me neither…" Your reply is quickly drowned out by another passionate kiss before Broly settles his face into your neck, holding you in a near bone-crushing hug.

"I love you." He murmurs. He's ready to move you out of Bulma's place already; as soon as you say the word, he'll be there with cardboard boxes and his muscles ready to go.

"I love you too." You whisper, playing with his hair. Broly's kitten-like against you, purring softly at the touches your nails leave on his scalp. It amazes you daily that he's all yours and has dedicated himself to you entirely; he moved out of state with you after high school, getting a grueling job just to afford staying nearby during your time at college. "So much. I see everything you do, all the sacrifices you've ever made. I love you, Broly. You are my world."

"I'd do it all again, you know." He murmurs. "This life or the next."

[lutawolf]

The Sign Commentary Review Ep 5

I'm going to link to my episode 3 commentary because I gave a lot of Thailand mythology information. While I will be watching the show for the first time now and giving you my commentary. I've been Ask a question that gave me heads up that a lot of mythology will show up in this episode. So let's go!

We start the series off with this guy who has a Naga back tat. Then we see the front with him dripping water down himself. I got to hand it to Saint, he really knows how to visually stimulate. Is he the killer?

Are we really gonna ignore that Tharn sees visions? 2. Phaya has gotten his period. I mean, I get it. Nobody wants the love of their life thinking they're crazy, but this has the hallmark of hormonal rage versus righteous anger. Maybe the lack of sleep is starting to get to him. 3. Where do we stand with the physical assault? Do we label this domestic or everyone else feeling that maybe something is off here? Like when a werewolf gets all testosterone before their first change. I mean, you can literally see the freak-out in his face after he realized he has hit Tharn. Which honestly makes me feel better.

Oh, so we now understand why Tharn saw the female and how she relates. And Yai proves once again just how special he is. He really put on that clown mask. That's just wrong.

There are two! Honestly, didn't see that coming. Ahh, well now it's more understandable why they were getting their ass kicked. It's Wit.

I mean, I'm having a hard time caring that he might be killed. Just go ahead and let him go. Tharn sees him getting hit by a truck. I'm so okay with that.

I mean, I get the logic of no vigilante justice. But... People who sexually assault rarely deal with serious consequences. Only about 6% of Sexual Offenders ever serve a day in jail. If an assault is reported (this is rare due to fear factors), there is a 50% chance of an arrest. If an arrest is made, there is an 80% chance of prosecution. If there is a prosecution, there is only a 58% chance of conviction. If convicted, there is only a 16% chance that they will go to prison.

Well, that was therapeutic. The parental guidance warning made me chuckle.

They found him! Now I'm nervous! Ahhh, don't save him Tharn, go save Phaya. Don't judge me, people. I'm a little blood thirty when it comes to this.

A Naga. Not good. He is using his power for the fight, and it looks like it's overpowering Tharn's. Surprisingly, Phaya is keeping pace though, despite the break out of power. Well, until he gets a rope wrapped around him, that is. I was in full support of you dude until you started hurting Phaya and Tharn. Now ya gotta go.

Shit! A lot happened fast!

Tharn steps in front of Phaya and gets stabbed. You can tell from home dudes face that he had never meant to actually hurt Tharn. Which means he knows he is a fellow Naga. Then why is he okay with hurting Phaya? Then we see combined powers. Both Phaya's and Tharn, with Tharn's being green, which is Naga colors. Golden red is a distinct color clue.

Garuda: Is a mythical bird-man creature that is the half sibling to the nage, but they are sworn enemies. The feud started when both he Garuda's mother and Nagas' mother married the same husband. The husband gave each wife one wish. The Nagas' mother asked for a thousand children, while Garuda's mother wished for two children superior to the Naga. The feud grew until Garuda's mother lost a bet ad became the servant of the Nagas' mother. Eventually she was freed, but her children swore vengeance.

The Garuda represents royalty, strength, and divine knowledge. With its fierce loyalty and warrior nature, the Garuda serves a protective function. It adorns shields, swords, and armor as a guardian symbol. The Garuda’s golden wings are believed to shine light on the darkness of evil and ignorance.

Soooo, right now I'm thinking our Phaya is a Garuda. It also explains why in their past life he rejected Tharn for being a Naga. There are some stories of Naga and Garuda that aren't enemy, though. These few stories are about devote Buddhist Nagas and as protectors of the faith, Garudas are unable to kill these particular Nagas.

Poor Phaya is flipping out while Tharn is very calm. You can literally watch Phaya's brain go into a "does not compute point." All because Tharn is glad his is safe and gently wipes his face. It's a stark contrast to the violence that Phaya has been giving him. This whole thing cools him down in the same way that a bucket of cold water would. Despite others showing up, they cling to each other.

Tharn is now cleaned up and very calm. Meanwhile, his other half is losing his shit. Dragging him away to try and get some answers. Finally, some much-needed communication and touchy-feely. I love the way Tharn looks at Phaya when he asks him not to leave him.

Look, he is all soft and gooey like a chocolate chip cookie. He might be talking about work, but his body language is saying something else. This boy is clearly touched, starved. Ahhh, I'm getting all the feels with this scene.

The nurses pausing and kind of turning back to them and then them breaking apart. Hahahaha!

This cute little micro smile. It means everything to have cleared things up with Phaya.

Guys... Someone on this show is an actual survivor. Cause this shit is too accurate. Yeah, they could have talked to a survivor but add it with other things, it's there. This is someone's therapeutic art. The writer? The scriptwriter? I haven't read the book, so I don't know.

Ohhhh, we're digging into his parent's case now.

Phaya staying the night with Tharn again. Slumber party! Yes, you absolutely should play a game of Doctor. Silly boy, he is cute though.

Oh! Another dream. Damn it! I want the real deal but... I mean, at least they are feeding us something. At least the dreams tell us that these boys clearly want each other. Oh, a daydream. Damn boy. Keep it together 🤣🤣🤣 He's trying so hard. I'm dead. I love these two. He is planning ahead, telling Yai to bring him lots of clothes. He'll probably have to crash there more in the future.

But nope, it's the stupid doctor. Who is clearly some kind of naga since Phaya's touch bothers him. He gives a strong kickback. So as I mentioned earlier, Garuda can't harm followers of Buddhism, but they can and will harm those that worship the serpent.

Nobody is buying your shit Phaya, but I'm with you on saying what ever you got to. This dude is creepy. He feels like he owns Tharn and I wanna know why. And we're playing doctor again! Which ends in cuddle time. OMG, I love Phaya so much. That is the fastest count to three that I've ever heard. Love it! Touch starved, Tharn is very handsy when he is sleeping. Phaya does not appear to mind.

Too cute!!!

Apparently, all that love goes out the window when he wakes up. 🤣🤣🤣

Ummm, home dude might be your adoptive dad, but he isn't a cop. Stop talking shop!

The precepts are rules or guidelines to develop mind and character to make progress on the path to enlightenment… The first precept consists of a prohibition of killing, both humans and all animals. The second precept prohibits theft and related activities such as fraud and forgery. The third precept refers to sexual misconduct, and has been defined with terms such as sexual responsibility and long-term commitment. The fourth precept involves falsehood spoken or committed to by action, as well as malicious speech, harsh speech and gossip. The fifth precept prohibits intoxication through alcohol, drugs, or other means.

Damn, Phaya over here tattling. Oh, no! Grandma is sick! Ha, he was tricked.

He is a cop. Of course, it's dangerous. This is why I'm oh so excited that two of my kids want to go into law enforcement. (said in complete sarcasm.) We do a tight focus of the eagle, he has wings on his back. I'm really thinking I'm right here. Damn, he is obsessed.

There is past life Tharn. Water and sky, the places where their other half reside. And there he is. Ahh, I get more and more excited with each one. I can't wait. 💜💜💜

[catslvrr]

heaven sent — 03. ice skating + arcade

previous | next

You drummed your fingers on the steering wheel, glancing at Danielle who was humming to whatever song was currently playing on the radio.

“So,” you said, shifting your attention back to the road as the light turned green. “What’s on for today?”

“Ice skating!” She declared enthusiastically, pausing Subway Surfers to see your reaction.

“Ice skating?” You repeated, baffled. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not the athletic type. That’s Minji’s job.”

“I know,” she grinned, tapping back into the game. “But there’s a first time for everything.”

You’d never felt so out of place as you entered the ice rink. On one side of the spectrum, there were kids shakily walking forward while holding their parents’ hands. On the other side, there were professional figure skaters showing off their skills. 

Danielle was part of the latter.

You scoffed as you leaned against the rails, watching her gracefully glide across the ice. “Of course you’d be good at this. God’s messenger and all.”

“I think you’re just jealous,” she smirked. She slid to a stop right in front of you, holding out her hand. “Come here. You look like a loser.”

“I’m gonna look like an even bigger loser when I slip and fall on my ass.” You clutched her hand tightly as you clumsily walked on the ice.

“You look constipated,” Danielle laughed. “Relax, I’ve got you. Just bend your knees slightly and imagine you’re drawing a V with your legs.”

You were too focused on not falling to retort back, but slowly and surely, you started to get the hang of it. She was still holding on to you, skating backward, leading the way.

You looked up from your feet, only to see her already staring at you.

“You’re doing it,” she smiled softly. You quickly averted your gaze, trying to ignore the goosebumps on your skin. It’s the air conditioning. And the ice.

“Thanks,” you murmured.

“Race you a lap around the rink?”

Out of all the parallel universes, none existed where you would win. You knew this. But it was hard to resist her eyes that were glimmering with anticipation.

You responded by pushing off your feet, rushing forward, not giving her time to react. It was barely five seconds before you felt a gust of wind brush against you, and you saw her already lightyears ahead of you.

It was a while before you caught up.

“I can already feel blisters forming,” you winced as you finally reached Danielle, who was slowly skating towards you. 

Just as she opened her mouth, you saw a kid in your peripheral vision zoom past you, slamming right into her. They both fell on the ice with a loud thud, but the kid swiftly recovered and got up, not even sparing a glance or offering an apology as they skated away.

You looked at Danielle, who was still on her ass, absolutely flabbergasted, and you couldn’t contain your laughter. You expected her to be embarrassed, or angry, but your laughter died down as she just stared at you, a satisfied smile on her face.

“Did you hit your head?” You frowned. “Why are you smiling like an idiot?”

She shook her head, her smile only widening as she stood up. “Nothing, let’s go to the arcade.”

Both of you made your way to the arcade next to the rink, and you stared at the machine that traded coins for tokens. You sent a knowing glance to Danielle.

“No,” she folded her arms, looking away. “Absolutely not.”

“Spawning in some arcade tokens won’t collapse our economy,” you said. “Just do it.”

“...Fine.” She bit her cheek anxiously as she fished out a handful of tokens out of her pocket.

“Excellent,” you grinned, dragging her to the claw machine. “We are going all out today.”

(You were eventually kicked out after winning too many prizes. You hoped the staff didn’t check the surveillance recordings. Or maybe God would somehow edit it and make it seem like the two of you were just incredibly lucky.)

The two of you struggled to enter the apartment, arms full of plushies and toys. You threw them all on the couch, but picked the puppy one back up, handing it to Danielle. You made a note to yourself to leave the bear one in Minji’s room.

“Is this a thanks for today? You shouldn’t have,” she cooed, hugging the plushie tightly. 

“As if,” you clicked your tongue to hide your smile. “It’s a consolation prize for losing to me in DDR.”

“You chose that one on purpose,” she whined. “You didn’t tell me that you had a DDR phase.”

You stuck your tongue out. “In your own words: I think you’re just jealous.”

You both chuckled lightly, before Danielle spoke again.

“How was today?”

You leaned the small of your back on the counter.

“It was more fun than expected,” you confessed begrudgingly. “I haven’t been to the arcade in a while.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said, reaching out to squeeze your arm. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’ll see you.”

Again, she spun and disappeared, leaving behind nothing but dust and an uncomfortable flutter that settled in between your ribs.

previous | next

[whenthesnowfelloverwinterfell]

Vatic - Chapter XVI " Threads "

Series Description :The youngest daughter of King Viserys and Queen Alicent grows up split between the two sides of her family. With dreams plaguing her sleep of people she does not know, and a war looming ahead of her. She will be forced to choose between the two sides of her family, between the love for her brother, and the loyalty for her sister. 

Chapter Description : Y/n has a nightmare that she cannot seem to stop thinking about.

A/n : Merry fucking Christmas. hope ya’ll enjoy, this chapter kicked my ass

Warnings : Y/n is beginning to have subconscious feelings for Aemond, other than that I don’t think there’s anything, taking glee in someone else’s misery ig, tourney violence, absolutely not beta read or edited ( ya’ll been waiting close to two months idk )

Pairing : Eventual Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader ( cannon typical targcest idk what to tell you )

Word Count : 6.2 K

The throne room was empty. No lord, lady, king or queen gathered. The columns supporting the ceiling were a far cry from the ones Y/n knew. Instead of the king’s prior to Viserys, they were now a warm beige with leaves  carved out to look as though they were twisting around the pillars, and they were painted green. She recognized the room. . . but it felt empty. And then she was finally able to understand why. 

The swords that had been melted into the ground surrounding the throne weren’t there and the throne itself looked smaller, more presentable and organized. 

The very stone beneath her feet was not the rough stone tiles she’d always known. No, it was instead a polished stone, and as she took a step forward from one edge of the great hall towards the throne, the sound of her shoes against it were far different.

The window behind the throne was different. It was stained glass instead of the usual clear. The Targaryen banners on either side of the  window were gone. There were no banners. 

Y/n continued to walk towards the throne, and as she did, she could hear other footfalls throughout the hall, however saw no one. And as she went to take another step, she found she could not, with a tugging on her shoulders she turned to look and see what it was. The Targaryen banner seemingly stitched into the fabric of her dress on both shoulders, and then suddenly, a banner unfurled from right beside it, Targaryen. And then another from the other side. Stark. 

But both banners had appeared to be ripped at the bottom, with loose threads hanging. 

Y/n felt a sudden wave of panic hit her, her heart beginning to hammer against her ribcage as she began to tug on against the banner stitched to her dress. Crying out in fear as it suddenly ripped from her gown, sending her flying to the ground, the upper half of her gown torn from her body, leaving her in her stays and shift underneath with her skirts staying in place, but as she turned to look at the banners, the green fabric from her clothing was hanging from the banner. 

“Mother!” She shouted, gripping the skirt of her dress in her fists so tight that her knuckles were beginning to turn white. No response came. “Aemond!” She tried once more, to no avail. No one came. 

Y/n approached the banner, grabbing the green fabric and tugging at it to get it off of the banner.  As it finally ripped off from the black banner, she could hear as the sound of flames began to become clear. Metal stands where fire light would be offered in the night were ignited around the great hall. And the other Targaryen banner turned from black and red, to green and gold. 

The field of it was first, threads slowly turning green, and the then the threads of red turning gold in front of her very eyes, and the loose threads began to extend, as though it were growing as did the now loose threads of the banner that had held her captive to itself. The two threads eventually met and as though it were growing ivy, the meeting threads crawled up the wall to the ceiling, right beside the green and gold banner, that of the traditional Targaryen banner, but only a second later, a very sheer banner dropped down right in front of the new banner, so sheer you could make out the three headed dragon underneath. It was the sheer banner of House Reyne. 

One of the footfalls made itself clear as a woman walked past  Y/n to the new banners, and stood under it, turning her body to face Y/n. The woman had striking violet eyes. Her pale skin was freckled across her cheeks, and her red hair was pulled back into an intricate style, and draped over her shoulder with a ribbon intertwined into one of the small rope braids. Her dress was red with white embellishments. 

Then she heard more footfalls approaching, and she turned to look at who they belonged to. The Stark and the Targaryen banner she had been connected to began to intertwine their threads as well, and another woman came to stand under the Stark banner, wearing grey colors that of house Stark. Her dark brown hair in cascading waves down her back and over her shoulders, her pale skin and gray eyes were captivating, and the necklace she wore, was that of sapphires. It was familiar to Y/n. 

These two women must have been the most beautiful she’d ever seen. 

But it did not seem to end. No. More banners continued to unfurl from the wall, revealing different houses. And under each banner stood a different woman. On the side where the Stark banner was, the threads from each banner connected. 

Y/n did not understand. 

After Stark came Cerwyn, then Slate, Blackwood, Flint, and then Stark again, and once more. At the last stark banner, Y/n watched as a young woman, possibly only a few years her senior, came to stand under it. She was slim, a wild beauty could be attributed to her. A long face that was so frequently found with the Starks. Her dark hair was in a braid, and her brown eyes followed Y/n’s. The blue winter rose laurel she held in her hands seemed to look dry. As though it were weeks old. 

and as Y/n looked to the other wall, she watched as the Targaryen banner under the sheer Reyne one began to intertwine it’s threads with the next one, and that one with the next. It went Targaryen, Parren, Drox, Lydden, Prester, and the next threewere all Lannister, but the last one had a sheer banner over it as well. That of house Baratheon. And the woman who stood under it must have only been a few year older she was. 

She was so familiar. Her hair golden and in a similar style to the woman before her. Her gown red and gold. 

This was the young woman she’d seen so often in her dreams. Standing before her with a house attributed to her. But what was she? Lannister? Baratheon? Neither? And while nearly every looked directly at Y/n, the young woman stared straight ahead. An enamored look upon her face. And so, Y/n turned to look as well, and found the only man standing there. Under a new banner connected to the last Stark banner. 

It was once more Targaryen, this also with a sheet one over top it. That of Stark. He also stared straight at the woman. This was a man Y/n had seen once before. 

In her dreams where she saw the northern wall. She’d only ever seen it once, the after King Viserys had sentenced three rapers and five theives to the wall to repay for their crimes. 

He looked exactly how Y/n vaguely remembered him from years ago when her sire was not rotting from the very inside out. His dark hair curled around his face, a light stubble along his jaw and cheeks. Warm brown eyes filled with nothing less than love for the woman he stared at across from him.

She’d seen the look before, directed at her everyday. But the look she received was not from brown eyes, but that of violet. 

Was this a dream? Y/n did not know. Who these women and a singular man in front of her. And why was the great hall so different? Why did their eyes follow her so intently? 

She could not answer any of the questions as a final banner unfurled directly in front of the dais the iron throne sat upon. split into four sections. The top two, Stark and Lannister, the bottom two, Targaryen and Tyrell, but stags were stitched into each corner. 

A child walked down the steps from the lifted walkway of the great hall. Her skin freckled from the sun, her giggles echoing off the walls, her dark curls bouncing as she hopped down each step. Her brown eyes shone with an innocence only ever found in a child. She could not have been more than six as she bounded towards the dais. Her clothing was thick. That of a northerner, but it was a deep crimson, embroidery of the same color thread of the fabric contained the Tyrell rose, and the Lannister lion. The fur peeking from the collar of her clothing was a warm cream. It mimicked gold. 

It happened quickly after that, The banners began to fall to the ground, erupting in flames, the other women disappearing like ashes in the wind as even bricks of the great hall began to collapse, letting in light and ash from the sky, and as the banner of many houses erupted in flames, the small girl screamed and ran from it, and as it fell to the ground in flames, Y/n watched as the throne melted, fire licking at the rusted and blackened blades, the steel and iron of old swords beginning to pull down the dais, dripping onto each step as it formed a large molten puddle. 

“Aemond! Brother!” She screamed once more. 

The only two left that weren’t the girl was the last Lannister, or was she Baratheon? And the Targaryen, or was he a Stark? 

Where was Aemond? Her mother? Aegon or Helaena? Where was Rhaenyra? Why was their home crumbling to the ground in front of her, why was she the only one there to witness it? “Rhaenyra! Aemond!” Her screams were so guttural and blood curdling that this were not a dream, it would have strained her throat. 

But as each boring red brick fell, so did the reality of the dream. She was in the great hall. . . and then, she was in her dark bedchambers as Aemond held a lantern and looked down at her from the side of the bed, a boyish grin on his face. 

She leapt from her bed, throwing herself into his arms. The sudden action caused Aemond to stumble back, pulling her off the bed by how tight her grip around him was. But once he had regained his footing, he had quickly wrapped his own arms around her as tightly as he could in return. 

He was fully dressed, even wearing his riding boots. She was on her tiptoes atop the toe box of his boots. But he did not complain. 

“What’s wrong little sister?” He questioned gently, one hand on the small of her back, holding her steady, and the other one around her upper back. 

“A bad dream.” She said simply. Her face was buried in the crook of his neck. Finding comfort in his warmth, smelling the fresh scent of dragon on him. Her eyes squeezed shut so tightly that she was only getting snippets of the terrible dream that had crept its evil self into her slumber. 

The first two women were etched into her sight. Red hair and violet eyes, dark brown hair and grey eyes. And the last man and woman, and the child. She could not get their faces out of her memory. 

She felt him nod against the side of her head as he dipped his head to press a firm kiss onto her shoulder. “What happened? In you dream?” 

Y/n sniffled a bit, her nails digging into the leather of his riding clothes. “I. . . I can’t remember most of it.” She told him. It was the truth. Lannister, Stark, Targaryen, Baratheon. “But I was afraid. I kept calling for you. . . and you did not come.” 

She felt a low hum in his chest that rumbled into her own The hand on her upper back went to rest firmly on her hip, and he moved his head so his lips were by her ear. “I would always come when you call. If you are to have another one of those dreams and I do not come running to you? Then you should take comfort in the fact that it is not reality, little sister.” 

Y/n could only nod as she continued to hold onto him. “I was scared that you didn’t come to my aid.” The confession was whispered, but he still heard it. 

He pulled back from her, placing the lantern down, and holding her cheeks in his gloved hands, resting his forehead against hers. Y/n’s eyes were still shut, but she could feel his eyelashes against her brow bone everytime he blinked. “Look at me,” Aemond told her firmly. Almost a command. 

So she did. She opened her eyes and met his gaze, so close to her she felt dizzy, and her eyes were straining to focus on him.

“I will always come to your aid.” He professed. “I will travel however far I must to be there. You should never allow fear to plague you as long as I am breathing, Y/n. So you understand that?” Aemond urged. 

Y/n nodded with fervor, her hands coming to grip the back of his arms as he continued to hold her face. 

“You are not afraid.”

“I am not afraid.” The younger one agreed.

The old library was dimmer than most other rooms in the Keep., It was the oldest library in the keep, and it was hardly visite. Old stories and legends that had long been rewritten and pressed into fresh copies that were easier to read. These were books whose ink were fading, the binding was coming apart, and the leather of the covers was peeling away from years of use. But the youngest daughter of Queen Alicent and  Alicent’s favorite son favored this library to others. 

They preferred the dim lighting that forced them to light the candles and bring lanterns, the enjoyed being away from others. 

“I heard Rhaenyra keeps writing to you.” Aemond’s voice was cold as he said it and pulled a book from the shelves, opening it and reading the first page as Y/n sat in the large armchair by one of the windows, her legs curled in so all of her was on the cushion. Aemond oft said that she looked like a fawn when she sat that way. 

Y/n rolled her eyes, continuing her sketch in the well lit corner. “She merely wished me a good name day, Aemond.” She explained as she continued on with the woman she was drawing. “She told me about the ghost of Dragonstone.” Y/n added with a small grin. “A white shadow darting across the sky, supposedly alongside Grey Ghost” 

Aemond hummed from the book shelf he stood in front of, clearly unimpressed. “That’ wild dragon’ is a figment of drunk sailor’s imaginations, and the whores of the villages below the dragonmont wish to feel more important than they are, and report false sightings.”

Y/n looked up from her drawing, watching as Aemond remained unfazed by his words. They were harsh words, cruel words. 

“You don’t think the ghost exists?” She pondered aloud, resting the stick of charcoal she’d been using to draw down on the paper that was clipped to her clipboard, watching as Aemond peered over his own shoulder at her, his hair swiftly moving with every motion of his body. He still had not quite settled on a style he preferred to wear. Still, he wore it down. And Y/n knew why he did such things, he was still somehow embarrassed of his wound. 

“Why would I?” He questioned. “The tales say it’s a large beast only spotted in recent years. You expect me to believe that such a large beast went unnoticed until now?” 

Y/n chuckled a bit, shaking her head at his response. “People didn’t think Grey Ghost was real either. Not until Rhaenyra’s own guards saw him.” She grinned, so sure of her own words as Aemond now fully turned around to face her, leaning against the bookshelf now behind him, an amused grin on his face as he shook his head and continued reading from the book. 

But as Y/n stared at her brother, she realized just how truly beautiful he was in the moment. The dim light casting harsh shadows across his face, accentuating the already sharp features he possessed, his white silver hair draped over his shoulders, his sapphire and scar on full display for her to see. His eyepatch was beside her on the arm of the chair. 

She had taken to doing that more often now. Whenever they were alone, she’d walk straight up to him and pull the leather strap off of his head and take it with her. The princess wished to see him in all that he was. As she had seen him all her life. She did not wish for him to hide his face from her, and so he did not. 

“Grandsire has been talking more about Ser Raymond.” 

Y/n rolled her eyes, looking back down at the drawing in her lap, picking up the charcoal and continuing on with the rough sketch lines of it, the hilt of the sword she held was too intricate that she could not get every detail onto the parchment, but she tried never the less. 

“I do not like it.” Aemond confessed gruffly. 

Now she chuckled again. “Do you like anything, Brother?” She teased. 

“Of course I do,” He stated. “I like reading, training with a sword, dragon riding, sugarplums, wine from Oldtown, and of course I love you and our family. I however do not like Ser Raymond, nor his family.”

Aemond certainly had always loved sugarplums. Ever since they were young children. Y/n would pretend she enjoyed them more than she did, because Rhaenyra would always gift them to her as a surprise, and not long after she and Aemond had eaten them all. However, Y/n always let Aemond have the majority of them, just as he always allowed her to have the most lemon cakes. It was a fact that made her smile. 

“Why do you not like the Reynes? They seem perfectly kind. Perhaps a bit over ambitious, but kind. And Ser Raymond is chivalrous to be sure.” She responded, attempting to persuade her older brother, but it was clear just from his tense shoulders and uninterested ‘hmm’ that he had no intention to be persuaded. 

“That’s exactly why I do not like him.” Aemond grumbled as he soon made his way over to her taking his spot on the ground right in front of her, one of his hands coming up to grab her ankle that was poking out from her dress in the position she was sat in, pulling on it to bring one of her legs to rest over his shoulder as he rested his head against her knee. 

How he was able to still read while maintaining a conversation was truly beyond her. 

“You do not like that a potential suitor is kind to me? Or chivalrous? I had figured that was the sort of suitor I was supposed to find.” Y/n told him, reaching a hand out to run her fingers through his silk like hair, allowing her nails to run across his scalp. 

Aemond did not respond for a moment, and yet, it did not look like he was reading the words on the page either. But rather stuck staring at the crease between the two pages in front of him. 

But he answered soon enough. “If you were to marry Ser Raymond you’d be in the Westerlands. Future ‘Lady Reyne’ and ‘Lady of Castamere.’ And only the gods would know when we’d next see one another. I do not wish for you to go.” 

It was Y/n’s turn to hum as she set her clipboard and charcoal aside on the table next to her, fully leaning forward to rest her cheek on the top of his head, resting an arm over his shoulder, her palm against his chest. “That’s not how it works.” She said simply. “I am a woman of higher status than him. Daughter of a king, though I’m sure Viserys often forgets I exist, but nevertheless, I am a princess. I would maintain my own name, I would still be Y/n Targaryen, and I would never be called Lady Reyne, though. . . If I were to marry Ser Raymond I would one day be Lady of Castamere, just as Princess Rhaenys is the Lady of Driftmark. But I’m sure we have more time before Grandsire insists on my marriage” The argument they’d once heard through stone walls in the secret passages plagued her in that moment. 

“She must be married before the King’s health declines to the point where he cannot effectively rule.”

Viserys no longer ruled in truth. He was given so much milk of the poppy to keep his pain at bay that Y/n did not remember the last time she had seen their kingly father. It must have been many moons at this point. And she did not find herself missing him. 

“You remember as well as I what Grandsire said.”

The night of her eleventh name day was flooding every thought she had. The sounds of Alicent and Otto arguing through the wall as she and Aemond made their way to the waters, and what Aemond had said that night as well. 

“The King’s health has declined to where he no longer rules. I do not wish for you to make the wrong decision in a husband.” 

The gossip of the court was insidious. And as each year passed, she understood just how vile even the most noble of lords were. 

She learned just how cruel even Aegon was. The gossips in corridors echoed, and the youngest princess had excellent hearing. She knew what the maids who cleaned up Aegon’s chambers had said the day after Helaena and Aegon’s wedding. The sheets with blood, and Helaena curled up in a corner, wearing Aegon’s robe, and even Aegon looking ashamed of what he had done. 

Y/n shrugged with a hum. Beginning to pick up Aemond’s habit of humming whenever she was about to speak, or when she did not have an answer to something. This was something she did not have an answer for. 

She was afraid she did not know how to choose a husband. She had, in truth, not been putting much effort into it. Y/n spent more time with Aemond, or practicing with Theobrand than she had with any suitors. She was prepared to just tell Otto to pick a husband for her. 

Otto Hightower did not show strength in arranging happy marriages. Their mother and father were a good example of such a thing. Viserys had never cared much for Alicent, and Alicent resented Viserys. 

But perhaps, it would save her the trouble. 

Y/n had always been good at talking to Aemond, but in this moment, she truly was at a loss. What could she possibly say to ease his fears?

But it not appear that he needed such fears to be placated, as he then flipped to the next page of his book, and began to trace shapes and patterns into the red fabric of her stocking with his thumb. 

He only ever showed this much affection to her in private. He only ever became this touchy when they were behind closed doors. The princess did not mind that their affection was more oft than not private. She found comfort in it. Both of them being able to show the other exactly how much they cared for the other. 

Y/n relied on her elder brother so heavily. His presence kept her from a soul crushing lonely solitude she would have been left in otherwise after Rhaenyra left. 

Y/n loved her family. There was no hidden secret behind it. She loved Helaena and her spouting of nonsense, her mother and her obsessive prayers, Rhaenyra despite having not seen her in many years, even Aegon and his lecherous behavior, he was nevertheless her brother. But out of all of her siblings, Rhaenyra and Aemond had cared for her and been the very most affectionate. She was grateful to the gods for her elder brother. 

The uneven stone floors they walked on behind Maester Orwyle made a clicking noise every time Maris and Y/n took a step behind him. The people they passed by all talking to whoever they were with, though when they had passed Maris’ brother, he had given them a suspicious look as to what exactly they were doing. But in truth, they were doing nothing wrong. Not unless you considered curiosity to be a sin, or shameful. 

It was not a frequent occurrence for both Y/n and Maris to both get an idea at the same time, so once it had happened, they acted on it quickly. Searching out Maester Orwyle near the king’s quarters. Even from just outside the door, you could smell how the king was rotting from within the confines of his chambers. You could smell rot, ointment, stale air, and milk of the poppy as it crawled its way through the air to come out in waves when the doors opened to the chambers. Y/n was sure that if smells had an appearance when they entered the air, it would look like the smoke that comes from candles when you blow out the flame from the wick. And whenever someone opened the doors to the King’s chambers, it would look like when one of the cooks accidentally burns something, and everyone attempted to get the smoke out of the kitchen, opening all doors and windows, allowing the smoke to billow out in ribbon like shapes. 

Even the maester stank of the chambers as they followed him from a safe distance. Far enough away to not get a full whiff of him, but close enough to not appear rude.

Orwyle seemed happy enough to have guests in his study when they had ambushed him as he was leaving the King. And as they neared his study, Orwyle pulled keys from deep within the pocket in his robes and slotted one of the many keys into the keyhole and turned it, a clicking sound heard quite loudly as the two girls stopped and watched as he opened the door, moving to allow them both to go inside before him. 

It was a room with high ceilings. She had never really known that the Grand Maester’s study was on one of the lower floors. And she had never been aware of the beautiful lighting of the room. The large windows allowed beams of sunlight to filter in through gaps between the lemon trees right outside the window. The room smelled of incense and medicinal liquids stored away in glass vials that were on the shelves above the hearth. 

Maris was the one to fully venture in before Y/n did. The silver haired girl was in awe of the beautiful view from the window. Yes, it only had the view of the gardens, but it must have been nothing short of enchanting to study in such accommodations. What must it be like when it was raining? 

Y/n had always found the rain to be a calming thing. The sound of it hittings the glass windows, going ‘tap’ ‘tap’ ‘tap.’ The sound of it hitting the stone of the balcony that overlooked the city could always lull her to sleep on her most restless nights. With such tall and magnificent glass windows here, it must have been like a lullaby sung by the heavens. 

Stepping further into the study, she found herself approaching the windows, gently resting her hand on one of the frosted tiles of glass that was at the bottom of the tall window. The windows started roughly around the height of Y/n’s waist, and went to the ceiling. 

“I’ve never noticed that we had lemon trees.” 

Maris giggled a bit from where she was, examining some of the beautiful plants that grew in the corner in clay pots. “Of course we do, Princess. We cannot always have lemons brought from The Reach. It’s how they make sure to have lemon cakes at royal events, or when their Princess decides she wants lemon cakes in the middle of the day.” Maris teased, now looking over her shoulder to gaze and Y/n who turned her head to look at Maris with a playful glare. 

“Lady Maris, please don’t touch the plant with the red leaves.” Maester Orwyle advised as he sat down in a wooden chair at a desks with a heavy sigh. 

“Of course Maester,” Maris said quickly, taking her hand away from the plant and stepping back from the pot. “But may I ask why?” 

Orwyle glanced at Maris and then to Y/n at the question. He then stood up from the chair, approaching Maris, and waving Y/n over to the pot. 

At a brisk pace, Y/n approached the two, watching as Orwyle picked up the clay pot, placing it on the table directly in front of the window, allowing the sunlight to hit the plant directly. In an instant, both girls were fascinated by the plant. 

The red leaves practically sparkled in the sunlight, the red turning a deep purple in response to the light. The shade of purple was almost that of some of the gowns Y/n had worn in the past, or had seen other women wear at court. 

“It’s gorgeous!” Maris exclaimed. 

“It’s deadly”

At Orwyle’s words, both girls now looked at him. 

“Pardon?” Y/n stuttered out. 

Orwyle then looked down at Y/n and then to Maris, a grin now forming on his round face. “I must confess, Princess, Lady Maris, I have never had people be truly interested in what I have in here. . . This is a Raven Violet.” He informed. “It is used to make a poison.” 

Y/n looked back down at the plant. It was beautiful. Even in the shaded corner it had been placed in it was beautiful with its red leaves, and now, with the purple leaves in the sun, and the sparkle of the leaves made Y/n skeptical. 

Could it truly be a poison? How could something so beautiful and unassuming be so dangerous?

“It works similarly to the strangler. It’s even the same color. . . but this is far more common. You receive air from breathing it in through your throat. You give someone this. . . it closes their throat, strangling them. But unlike the strangler, this is a plant based poison, and its strangling properties is not what usually kills you.”

“Then what does?” 

“More oft than not, the poison stops your heart before it strangles you.” The Maester informed, placing the plant back down on the shelf it had been on in the corner, the leaves slowly turning back to its deep red from the purple shade. 

Y/n continued to stare at it however. Who would ever need such a thing? Y/n had read history books all of her childhood, and had them read to her as well from Aemond. She knew the ancient legends of kings and rulers having someone killed. She had always found it to be so cowardly. Men were meant to fight battles. Its the reason boys were trained with swords and bows. Taught how to ride a horse at such a fast pace. It was honorable to go out as a soldier, fighting. Not being killed in such an unsuspecting environment. Perhaps not even knowing who their killer was. 

“What’s ‘The Strangler’, Maester?”Maris suddenly asked, pulling Y/n from her thoughts. 

Orwyle seemed to hesitate to answer as he looked up at them from the other plants. “It’s a purple crystal, it almost looks like an amethyst. . . it dissolves in fluids. It’s far worse than a Raven Violet. It truly does strangle you.” 

Y/n didn’t have much to say as she looked back out the window at the lemon trees. The bright yellow fruit ready to be picked and made into something delicious that would surly have both her and her mother asking for more. If Rhaenyra was there, they’d go through it twice as fast. Y/n wasn’t even sure if Rhaenyra ate most of them whenever she had taken them onto her plate, or saved a majority of them to give to Y/n later. 

Rhaenyra had never been caught by Alicent doing such things. Rather the oldest of Viserys’ children would wait until it was just the two of them and sneak small lemon cakes to her. Sometimes it would be while Y/n sought her sister out for company while the boys went to the dragon pit, or were in the training yard. Those were moments that Y/n yearned to have back. 

The oldest and the youngest princesses would sit alone in Rhaenyra’s chambers, lounging on the couch, or even on Rhaenyra's bed, and read.  Y/n had always been the one who took the highest interest in learning High Valyrian other than Aemond, however, Aemond never asked Rhaenyra to teach him, but Y/n did. She’d sit with Rhaenyra for hours, looking through old books with translations, and meanings for Valyrian words, and practice them. Y/n was the most adept out of all the children in the Keep with the language by the time she was six. It likely helped that while she was still beginning to learn, Rhaenyra only spoke to her in the language. 

One of those moments came to mind as she stood there. She must have been five, sitting in Rhaenyra’s lap. She’d asked a simple question, “How was your day, Sister?” and the woman had begun to speak in Valyrian, at a normal pace, explaining how the day had gone as Y/n stared up at her sister in confusion until Rhaenyra had said “Sȳz,” It was the praise Rhaenyra had always given her when she’d done something well. Y/n smiled as she recalled what she had done next. 

Getting up in Rhaenyra’s face laughing, and grabbing her cheeks. “Good?” She had questioned. She swore she could almost hear Rhaenyra’s laugh now as she nodded in agreement and repeated it “Sȳz.”

Y/n longed for her sister’s presence. 

There was noise from outside of the study that had caught Y/n’s attention. Watching the open doorway as stewards, maids, and low lords made their way away from the noises. And then two men passed the doorway, carrying a wood and glass decoration so large it required two men. The seven pointed star, with each point being a different color of glass. 

Y/n approached the door, and peered her head out in the direction they had gone, watching as a large wooden ladder was placed against one of the stone walls beside the tapestries. 

Taking a step out into the corridor, Y/n finally noticed her mother, speaking to a man dressed rather plainly who was motioning towards the stone wall, a hammer and pick in hand as he did. Otto was not too far away either, standing near another corridor with his hands behind his back, a haughty look upon his face as he gazed at the tapestry. 

“Mother,” Y/n called. 

Alicent looked down the hall towards Y/n, a warm smile gracing her face as she beckoned for Y/n to come closer. “Come,” She called. 

the girl picked up her pace, finally reaching the center of the commotion, the two men sat the statue down on the ground propped up against a wall as Alicent reached out to grab Y/n’s shoulder and bring her close. 

“ I think you will find that I put my best men to work on this. I would never allow subpar work for the Queen.” 

Y/n watched as a man climbed up the ladder, and grabbed one corner of the tapestry and lifted it up from the wall, dropping it quickly, allowing it to fall to the red stone floor where dust flew off of it as it landed. 

Her jaw dropped in shock while another ladder was placed against the wall, and a few servants quickly grabbed the tapestry and took it away, rolling it up before they scurried away. The two men who had carried the statue down the hall, picked it up and brought it to the wall, both of them beginning to climb the ladders, both having a firm grip on the statue with one hand, cautiously climbing up as two other held the ladders steady. The two men then placed the statue on the wall, allowing it to be held up by the old fastens that had held the tapestry there for many years. 

“It’s beautiful, Addam. Thank you.” Her mother spoke. “I thought it was time for a change in scenery. Those tapestries were. . . improper.” 

Y/n then turned her head to look at Otto, and watched as a smug grin graced his lips. The kind he thought no one would notice. 

The Princess allowed her gaze to drop to the floor. Examining over every bump and groove in the stone below their feet, the grout between stone tiles that desperately needed to be refilled, and then, black threads that had fallen off of the tapestry  laying on the ground. There was a trail of them leaving down the hall where they had taken it. 

Black thread. 

Lannister, Stark, Baratheon, Targaryen.

For only an instant, the awful dream she’d had days ago came to mind once more. And the sight of the first two woman flashed before her eyes. Red hair, violet eyes. Brown hair, grey eyes. 

Targaryen, Reyne, Stark. 

Add yourself to the taglist ! 

@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers  @winxschester @blissfulbluenights @ghostlypineappl @dreaming-of-the-reality @strangersunghoon @shesjustanothergeek @floralsightings @watercolorskyy