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lemonlover1110 · 4 months

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𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: Ever since you spilled coffee on your co-worker, you find yourself getting in compromising situations with him.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, co-worker Toji, office sex, oral sex (m. receiving), gagging, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, praise, semi-public sex(?? they're in the janitor's closet in the first part and there's people outside)

*Finally the last one!!! thank you all so much for 10k again🥹 I'm almost at 13k now so thank you all so much for your support, I love you all so very much

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Apart from his name, you don’t know anything about the man you work with. Toji sits next to you eight hours a day, yet you’ve never gotten to properly know him. You have no idea if he’s married, if he has kids, a pet– What waits for him when he gets home? Does he have any hobbies? The only time you ever talk is about work, and you typically wouldn’t care about knowing your coworkers if it weren’t for the fact that you constantly find yourself daydreaming over Toji.

What you like the most about Toji may be the fact that he barely speaks since it leaves you questioning everything about his personality. You make a perfect version of your co-worker in your head which has you head over heels for him. It certainly doesn’t help that Toji is exactly the type of man who you want behind you, fucking you senseless.

You hate to have those types of thoughts in the middle of the day, and worst of all, you’re mindlessly staring at him, and it’s too late to turn away when he asks you what’s wrong. He clears his throat, and you feel your face burning hot when he asks, “Is everything okay? Do I have something on my shirt?”

“Oh– No! Sorry…” You can’t play it off much since you stared at him like a lovesick teenage girl. You try to ignore the awkward interaction by looking back at your computer, trying to go back to work, trying to ignore the very embarrassing fact that Toji caught you daydreaming.

You feel his eyes on you as you turn back to your work, and you swear you could crawl in a hole and die of embarrassment. His gaze lingers on you for a moment before Toji turns his attention back to his own job. You don’t stress about it, completely forgetting about the awkward interaction after five minutes.

You work fine throughout the afternoon, and when you finally get out of your chair to take a break, you bump into him. Toji’s coffee spills all over his white button up shirt, making a gasp leave your lips. Toji doesn’t have much of a reaction even though the coffee looks hot. Your immediate reaction is to rub your long sleeve on his shirt to try to clean it up. You’re repeating, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I should watch where I’m going.”

“It’s fine. You’re fine.” Toji just holds his arms up as if he were being threatened by a gun. Toji isn’t a man that gets flustered easily but by the way you’re unintentionally touching him to clean him up, his cheeks burn. “It’s fine, really. I’ll just clean up in the bathroom–”

“I’m sorry.” You jerk back when you realize just how much you’ve been touching him without his permission. He lets out a chuckle, making it seem that it’s fine. It was an honest mistake, he surely doesn’t mind if a pretty girl bumps into him… Now, if it was one of the old guys that work in the office, it’d be a whole different story. You watch him walk away, mentally cursing at yourself for being so fucking dumb.

You notice the mess on the floor and you tiptoe around it to go to the janitor’s closet and get some stuff to clean it up. You enter the small room, turning on the light to look for some paper towels. You click your tongue, seeing that they’re on the top shelf.

You stand on your tippy toes trying to reach a roll but they’re too far back for you. Would it be too embarrassing to jump? Nobody is watching… Just when you’re about to jump, you feel a body pressed against your back. Your head slowly turns, and luckily, you find your handsome co-worker, grabbing the paper towel for you.

“Here you go.” He gives it to you when you turn around, and you awkwardly smile at him as you take it from his hand.

“Thank you, Fushiguro. Again, I’m so sorry.” You repeat. You feel your heart skip a beat when you realize just how close he is, hearing him breathe and feeling the warmth that his body gives. His dark green eyes are filled with lust, and he makes no effort in disguising it. You’re flattered, really, but this isn’t appropriate considering where you’re at.

“Please, call me Toji.” He licks his lips, and you feel as if you’re burning up. The heat his body emits really doesn’t help you cool you down either. Your eyes look at the door that’s closed for a reason… It’s locked.

You’ve imagined this scenario one too many times, and you always imagined yourself as the most confident woman in the world– But as it happens to you, you’re too shy to really do anything. “I’ve seen the way you look at me… And thought of a way your pretty face could make up for my ruined shirt.”

“Toji…” Is all that manages to leave your pathetic lips. You’re not scared, your body is practically begging for his touch. “It’s not appropriate to do what you want to do here.”

“Why not? The door is locked.” He says as he grabs your hand and puts it on his belt. His lips meet yours, his tongue going past your lips and wandering around in your mouth before it presses against yours. He’s just like you imagined, intoxicating.

Your hands begin to move on their own, undoing his belt and unbuttoning his pants. You can’t take too long since you have to get back to work soon, it’ll be quick, hopefully. You pull away from the kiss, getting on your knees. You pull down his briefs, letting his cock free from its confinement. It’s more than you expected.

You lick your lip before biting down and looking up at him. He has a smirk on his face as he waits for you to do more than just stare. Your tongue licks up from the base to the tip before fully wrapping your mouth around it, taking as much as you can get.

You bob your head slowly, starting off slow. And as Toji feels your pretty little mouth wrapped around his cock, he thinks that maybe this wasn’t his brightest idea. He lets out a breathy moan, feeling so good. Your bobs begin to pick up a bit of speed, and the man stops talking for a second to enjoy the feeling of your mouth wrapped around his cock.

“You look so pretty on your knees like that. You’re just a pretty little thing.” He sighs, relieved. He decides to bite his bottom lip, holding back moans so the whole office doesn’t hear him as you suck him off. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”

You look up at him, pleased with what you’re doing. You’re doing what you’ve always thought of doing with him– But you’re in the office. You can’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be heard. But he got a bit too caught up, enjoying the feeling of your mouth and your tongue.

He grabs the back of your head and pushes your head so you gag on his cock. It’s your punishment for ruining his shirt. Your gagging is like music to his ears, the greatest melody he has ever heard.

“Fuck– Fuck-” He moans as a couple of tears leave your eyes. He begins to move his hips, which he finds more fun than just pushing your head on his cock. “God, such a pretty girl taking my cock.”

He’s completely forgotten about the fact that you’re in the office, and he’s getting loud. He’s staring down at you, admiring just how beautiful you look with your mouth wrapped around him. He lets out a groan, filling your mouth with his cum.

He finally lets go of your head, and you take your mouth off his cock. You swallow most of his cum, but some of it manages to escape and it drips down the corners of your mouth. Toji bends down to clean it up, pressing you to open your mouth so he can wipe the remaining cum on your tongue.

“You have to fix your makeup, by the way. I’ll see you out there.” Toji says, fixing his pants before unlocking the door and leaving you to fix yourself up.

You’d definitely be mad being left alone so fast after sucking a guy off, but you can’t be mad at him. If anything, it makes you want him even more.

“Hey, can you help me with this?” Toji asks, eyes focused on the new program that you’re working with. It’s no surprise that he doesn’t know how to use it– Not that you want to be rude but it makes sense.

After your little encounter in the janitor’s closet, Toji hasn’t really tried to do anything else with you. You were slightly disappointed but you managed to move on. What really worried you was any of your co-workers hearing how he moaned while you two just managed to be locked in the janitor’s closet. What really made things confusing was the fact that you came back with no paper towels even though you were going to clean up the mess you just made.

“Yeah sure.” You’re sure that it won’t take too long. You’re off in around thirty minutes, teaching him shouldn’t take longer than five minutes.

At least that’s what you thought, it seems that Toji isn’t smart enough to catch on with it quickly. Your co-workers begin to leave one by one, and when you’re the last ones in the office, you’re convinced that Toji isn’t even qualified for the job. Until you realize that Toji isn’t even paying attention, his eyes have been ogling your cleavage the entire time… It’s not like you can even blame the poor guy since your boobs have been practically on his face the entire time.

“Should we continue this tomorrow? It seems your eyes are elsewhere.” You point out, and he lets out a chuckle.

“I agree. We should continue with that tomorrow. I need help with something else though.” Toji says, clicking out of the program.

“Can we do it tomorrow–” You begin but he shakes his head. You furrow your brows in confusion as you watch him turn off the computer. What exactly does he need help with?

Toji stands up from his chair, taking two steps to get close to you before his hand goes under your chin and he makes you look up at him. It clicks right there and then. Toji didn’t need to learn how to use the program, he just wanted to get you all alone in the office.

“I don’t think this issue can wait till tomorrow.” His voice becomes husky, and you squeeze your thighs out of reflex. You’re not planning on fighting it. He’s been flirtatious with you all morning, and you’ve been thinking of him a million different positions he can put you in… Curse your dirty mind.

“Does it really? I thought you didn’t even want me after… Well, you know, the incident in the janitor’s closet. You didn’t even try to make a move on me after.” You point out, and Toji laughs. You don’t exactly find what’s funny about this. “What’s funny?”

“Maybe you’re just not available for me. You’re always going out with everyone else, what do you want me to do? Steal you from them? Let them know I want to fuck the shit out of you?” He answers. And maybe he’s right, you have been going out with your other co-workers after work to get a drink, and when it’s not that, he’s out of the office. You really haven’t given him much of a chance to ask you out or let him fuck you after work.

You won’t admit you’re at fault, therefore you decide to move your hands to the back of his head.

“Just shut up and kiss me.” You tell him, pulling him into a kiss. It’s not worth spending time arguing any longer since you two clearly want to do something that doesn’t involve much talking. While your tongues press against each other, his hands move under your ass to lift you up and put you on his desk.

As he kisses you passionately, his hand goes to your thigh, caressing the soft flesh that your skirt exposes. His hand goes up to your panties, toying with your clothed cunt, working you up. He moves your panties to the side, running his fingers through your already slick folds. He pulls away with a smirk on his face, only to say, “You’re already so wet for me, pretty girl. But I haven’t done anything?”

“Shut up.” You sound embarrassed, and you are. Just the thought of him fucking you is enough to make you go crazy.

He pushes two fingers into your cunt, his lips landing on yours again. His tongue glides over yours while he curves his fingers, searching for your sweet spot. He knows when he finds it, feeling a moan through your tongue.

His fingers toy with you, while his free hand frees his cock. He pulls his fingers out when his cock is free. He runs the tip through your folds, and he begins to tease you. You hold your breath in anticipation, waiting ever so patiently for Toji to bury himself inside of you.

You breathe in as he pushes himself inside of you. He lets out a breathy moan as your walls wrap around his cock. Fuck, he didn’t think you would feel so tight and warm around him… Oh fuck, this is too fucking good. How did he not fuck you in the janitor’s closet immediately?

His cock slowly stretches you out, and you bite your bottom lip, holding back from being loud. There’s no one around, but you still don’t want to draw any attention to yourself.

Toji starts off slow but quickly picks up speed. You’re taking him so well, and fuck, do you look beautiful. He’s surprised he hadn’t made a move sooner– But he couldn’t, he had no way of knowing that you liked him. Not until he caught you daydreaming while staring at him.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” He tells you as his head goes to the crook of your neck. He licks it before biting down lightly. His head remains buried on your neck, where he lets his moans out so they come out muffled. “And your pussy is so fucking tight.”

He’s too lost in pleasure to even have noticed how your hand had gone down and now you’re playing with your clit. He hears your sweet moans in the air, which is truly the best music that has ever graced his ears. Fuck, he could ask you to marry him right then and there just to hear that every morning and night.

“Oh fuck, Toji–” Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. Toji’s hitting just the right spot, and he doesn’t even know it. You’re squeezing around him as your orgasm nears. You had many ideas on how your work day would end, but you truly didn’t expect to be on cloud nine when it ended.

Thank the heavens for Toji. That’s all you can think about when you reach your high, loudly moaning his name which echoes in the empty office building.

Toji’s breath gets caught up in his chest, his thrusts getting sloppy as his release approaches. He doesn’t want this to end yet– But maybe he could invite you out to dinner and then take you back to his place. The night doesn’t have to end so soon…

His nails dig into the soft flesh of your thighs as he reaches his release, his hot cum filling you up. Toji remains buried inside of you for a moment, while you both take a moment to regulate your breath. He pulls out and fixes your panties quickly before his cum gets everywhere.

You’re both quiet as you gather your stuff to leave. You wait for each other to go to the elevator, and even when you’re inside the lift, you’re awfully quiet for a pair of people that just had sex.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” You smile at Toji when you get to your floor. He grabs your hand before you can walk away and he proposes,

“Let’s actually grab a drink.”

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fans4wga · 10 months

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26 July update from WGA's Chris Keyser

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From the WGA: With SAG-AFTRA now on strike and new levels of solidarity across all Hollywood unions, we are witnessing the spectacular failure of the AMPTP’s negotiating strategy. In this video, WGA Negotiating Committee Co-Chair Chris Keyser lays out what this moment means and how we move forward. To learn more about the WGA strike, visit https://www.wgastrike.org.

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Fellow members of the WGA East and West. It's been a while since our last video and quite a bit has happened in the meantime. So on behalf of the negotiating committee and leadership, I wanted to give you an update on where we are and what the near future at least is likely to bring.

We've been walking side by side on picket lines in New York and Los Angeles for a little over 12 weeks now. Only now we're joined by thousands upon thousands of members of SAG-AFTRA who, like us, have finally had enough.

This is the endpoint and the fruit of the AMPTP’s game plan. For 11 weeks, they negotiated with everyone but us. They claimed it was just practicality, that they could only do one thing at a time, which is not normally a point of pride. But events have made clear what we knew from the start: that not only was it a strategy, it was their only strategy. Negotiate a deal with a single guild and impose that deal on every other guild and union in Hollywood, whether it addresses the needs of those unions or not, all with the implicit threat: if you want more, strike for it.

Wow. It’s their 2007-8 playbook applied to 2023 as if nothing has changed, as if the accumulation of economic insults and injuries inflicted on us over the past decade would be borne in perpetual silence, as if the giant of labor had not awakened. But it has. And you only need to look as far as the front gates of every studio in LA and New York to see the evidence.

Two unions on strike willing to exercise their power, despite the pain, to ensure their members get the contract they deserve. For us, that means addressing the relentless mistreatment of screenwriters, which has only been exacerbated by the move to streaming; the continued denial of full MBA protection to comedy variety and other appendix A writers when they work in streaming; and the self-destructive unsustainable dismantling of the process by which episodic television is made and episodic television writers are paid.

It means addressing the existential threat of AI and the insufficiency of streaming residual formulas, including the need for transparency and a success-based component. All of these will need to be addressed for there to be a deal because in this strike it is our power and not their pattern that matters, not their strategy. Their strategy has failed them. Now they're in the midst of a streaming war with each other, an admittedly difficult transition. And as they face the future, their interests and business models could not be more different from Disney to Sony to Netflix to Amazon.

We root for their success, all of them. They root for each other's failure. We are the creative ammunition through which they will succeed. They are each other's apex predators. And yet, in a singular shared dedication to denying labor, they have shackled themselves together in what increasingly seems like a mutual suicide pact, as the 2023-24 broadcast season and the 2024-25 movie schedule and its streaming shows disappear, melt away week by week.

So what does this mean? What does it mean going forward? How do you play chess against an opponent who insists on screaming checkmate at every move regardless of how the board looks and the game is going?

You stay firm, you stay resolved, because our cause is no less existential than when we started and our leverage is increasing every day. Alone we withheld our labor with the support of our union siblings and the Teamsters and IATSE and the Crafts, we were able to delay the vast majority of production. Now with SAG-AFTRA on strike, those few studio projects that remained have also shut down. And it's not just the obvious delays. If this strike drags on, it's the actors with conflicting obligations and the directors and the double-booked studio facilities and release date chaos that the companies must now also contend with. Some of their most valuable product could well be delayed for years.

Add to that, no promotion of movies or television shows and famous faces on the picket lines and social media speaking directly to their customers. For the tech companies and the mega corporations, that should be their nightmare scenario: WGA and SAG-AFTRA side by side. Our bargaining agenda may not be identical, but our cause is the same. Our army of labor, defending labor has increased 17-fold in the past two weeks alone.

Even so, even with all this wind at our backs this negotiation won't happen overnight. It's not because the negotiations themselves are so complex. Once the companies fully engage, it could go very quickly, but because their strategy of many decades has just fallen apart and they didn't see it coming, and it's going to take them a minute to regroup, 'cause the companies have things to work out internally, and saying no to labor in unison is a lot easier than saying yes. So either together or separately, as their divergent interests might suggest, they will come back to us, despite their understandable concern about how they've navigated this transition to streaming, which is on their heads and not ours; and their worries about costs and their worries about Wall Street; despite this being a season of doom and gloom, none of them are walking away from the riches of this business, and certainly not over the equitable minimum compensation to writers.

They didn't get the deal they wanted; that's fine, it happens all the time. They're not taking their ball and going home over it. And since we know they come from union families themselves, and since they've denied that “even-in-Hollywood-you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me” ugliness of threatening to starve us out and leave us homeless (which we assume they understand also means making our children homeless,) they will come back to us. Although I will say they took a long time to deny that statement, longer than I would have had it been ascribed to me.

But what does it matter? You can starve a labor force slowly or quickly. The effect is the same. It's not like day rates for comedy variety writers and endless free drafts for screenwriters in exchange for a single paid one in four-week mini-rooms isn't cruelty. It's just cruelty written in contract language instead of a press quote.

So what can we expect from the companies as all of this plays itself out? They will try to convince Wall Street that taking a strike, prolonging it unnecessarily, losing their content stream in the process—that all of that is just smart business and no reason for investor concern. We will be talking to Wall Street too, and reminding them that for all these companies, all of 'em including Netflix, the bill, the price for making nothing, will eventually come due. And Wall Street is listening already. Here's Michael Pachter, managing director of equity research at Wedbush on Yahoo Finance the other day: “I think the studios are completely wrong on this one. Content is their lifeblood. They're feeling really foolish about this."

Wall Street isn't the only one listening. We've been talking to union pension funds too about the risks the companies are taking. We talked to CalPERS, the largest public pension plan in the country, talked about the loss of programming and the cost to the industry, and we heard strong support from its board for our struggle and the promise that the companies will be hearing from them, from CalPERS, and demanding answers on behalf of its 2 million members.

To us, of course, they will continue to plead temporary poverty, but we know the drill. These companies support billions into the streaming wars and taken short-term losses these past three years, because they know that to the winner will go the spoils. We're patient, will they share that with us when the time comes? What are the chances?

Since 2017, the last time the studios negotiated with us outside of COVID, the big six companies alone have made $150 billion in profits off our work, while they slashed our pay and degraded our working conditions. Maybe if they had shared a tiny piece of that then, made $1 billion or so less, this year wouldn't seem so costly. As it is, there is no iron law that these companies are entitled to record profits every year, and it isn't some great travesty if their shareholders or their CEOs get a slightly smaller slice of the massive profits we helped create if some balance is restored.

Look, no one denies that corporations exist to make a profit and no one wants our employers to be profitable more than we do, but the singular pursuit of corporate profits to the exclusion of their social and human cost is a real problem in this country—it’s a real problem. A corporation's bottom line is not the same as the world’s, and there is nothing in our studio's bottom lines today that accounts for the quality of our lives or for our dignity, for the comfort of our retirement or the security of our families. Their numbers have no conscience, but the people who report them as victories ought to.

In their refusal to recognize that, these companies have also extracted an awful price, which is laid at their feet and for which they are responsible. Losses to the economies of New York and Los Angeles and everywhere that film and television are made, terrible losses that mount every day, thousands of people out of work; not just us, all the crews, the crafts, the janitors, the drivers, the businesses that thrive when Hollywood thrives, the restaurants, the stores—for what? For nothing. So they could avoid coming to the table to negotiate the deal they will one day give us. Measured today that is the painfully mixed legacy of our employers, weighed against every beautiful piece of work we have made with them.

And if history is a guide, they have only temporary stewardship over a kind of national trust, which is Hollywood. Our story, our sometimes conscience, our public conversation, our diversion of the worst and best of times, our greatest export, the repository of our imagination. They have some obligation to more than just their shareholders to behave accordingly.

Unfortunately, it seems big tech, mega corporations, and some of the people who run them, as the saying goes know the price of everything and the value of nothing. So they have built a business model that no longer works for human beings who cannot be paid minimum for 10 to 20 weeks a year and make a career out of that, be paid for one draft of a screenplay that demands a year of labor, be paid a few episodic fees for a show about which to take years to decide be paid a daily rate.

And now we have a first glimpse of what they offered our actor colleagues. We are not 170,000 Willy Lomans to be used and then discarded. We know what the companies believe they have the power to do. We know what they think machines can do and do without any of us. Oh yeah, we've seen the writing on the wall and it's plagiarized.

The thing is this: the difference between what you CAN do and what you SHOULD do is the greatest single difference in the world. Knowing that is the only real protection we have against a dystopian future. And if the companies sometimes forget that, writers will do it for them.

I can't know exactly how long it will take this revolutionary moment, and you've heard again and again what is happening today has not happened in 63 years, but I know that's not always how it feels, revolutionary and defining, even though we celebrate that on picket lines together, which is the right thing to do. That's not always how it feels when you go home at night. I know how tough this is: to strike, to hold the line. I know it gets tougher every day even with SAG-AFTRA marching beside us, how hard it is to face the uncertainty of when it will end, when we'll get back to work, how we'll pay the bills. I know it's hardest for those who've just gotten started, for those for whom the world opens doors more reluctantly, battled their whole life just to get here; but hard too for those struggling to maintain their long careers, who find work tougher and tougher to come by, or those with families with children or parents to take care of.

These companies understand the cruelty of what they're doing. It's their plan to starve us just a little, to exact as much pain as they can so that we wish more for the pain to end than for the better life we dreamed up. That we're more afraid of the uncertainty of the present than the certain devastation of the future. It's societally acceptable economic torture inflicted by management on labor every day, then blamed on labor for daring to fight back, for refusing to be complicit in its own mistreatment.

Here's how I know that's not going to work. Not with us, not with the writers, because we haven't come all this way, fought to have these careers in the first place, all the adversity, and marched together for all these months, only to let it slip away on our watch—because there is no point in rushing back to jobs that may not be there in a year or two anyway. Because the business, as the companies have twisted it, is now untenable, unsurvivable for so many of us, because even success is not enough to keep going, because this guild is younger than it's ever been and more diverse. And this young diverse membership knows from hard personal experience the system is broken and that it will not be fixed unless they fix it. And those of us who came before them will not let them down, because we and the writer's guild are the beneficiaries of all those who came before us who gave up everything for us.

Like the writers of 1960, the year I was born, who struck for 22 weeks and who gave away all the TV residuals for all the movies they had ever written so that we could have a health insurance and pension plan and residuals from that date forward. $15 billion flowed to writers and their benefit plans because of that sacrifice. Because writers are brave, because now it's our turn.

So what's our job? Even as we welcome SAG-AFTRA to our side, we are still responsible for our own deal, and so we must remain focused and diligent. We must continue to march, picket signs in hand. But we should also remember this and with pride, that before there was SAG-AFTRA, before even the Teamsters and IATSE and the laborers and the electrical workers and the musicians and the plasterers came to our side, there was the writers. Alone then, we looked at the blank page and began to imagine the future. With no net but each other we typed the words, what if?

And then we took a step into the darkness and found that it was light. And then we were joined by the crews and the drivers and the actors. The actors got a bit more fanfare when they showed up, but that's okay, we wrote the script. The WGA, still small, not alone anymore after all these decades. Hollywood labor has finally linked arms and found its voice, and that voice says enough. There is no road to longterm prosperity that burns a path through your own workforce. We are not your enemies. We are not merely a cost to be borne. We are your partners and your greatest asset. And we are, as you acknowledge yourselves, irreplaceable, but by accident or design and it doesn't really matter anymore, the business you are running no longer works for those who work for you.

What is the point in continuing to deny that? Why deny it when everyone else in the business to a person tells you it's true? Do you think it's a coincidence that two unions are on strike against you for the first time since Eisenhower was president? You can't exactly accuse us of being quick on the trigger. The effect has a cause, it has a cause. And there is no profit in insisting on the answers to the past for the questions of the future.

But if you want instead to invest in something that will reap you fortunes, I have a tip. And if you are visionaries, envision a solution, not a stalemate. Because this isn't a war we're in, it's a negotiation, it's just a negotiation. There is no face-saving here for either side, because there is no winner or loser. It's just a deal. And when you come to remember that again we will be here as we have been here all along.

And at this point with 170,000 writers and actors aligned against your intransigence, that is as generous as I can be, as close to an olive branch as I can offer. But if you insist instead on the same threatening rhetoric, on saying you would rather starve us than pay us, I would remind you of this: You are fighting for a dollar, we are fighting for survival. We are fighting for our home: writing is where we live, and we will defend that home with a bravery and stamina and ferocity that you will come to understand someday, which is why you cannot break us. You cannot outlast us, you cannot.

And not just because we have the will, because we have power. Nothing in this business happens until we start to write. And we will not start to write until we are paid.

Union now. Union forever.

#sag-aftra strike #sag strike #actors strike #union solidarity #i stand with the wga #wga strong #wga solidarity #fans4wga #Youtube #wga strike #writers strike

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hoshifighting · 15 days

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Stripper! Reader x Business Man! Lee Chan

Synopsis: Workaholic Lee Chan's Friday night takes an unexpected turn when he joins friends at a strip club, only to find himself captivated by you, a dancer he can't seem to stay away from. Despite his reservations, Chan finds himself drawn to your company, booking time with you night after night.

Word Count: 8.8k

Warnings: Strangers to lovers, smut, mentions of alcohol, strip clubs, money throwing, booking, fluff, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, fingering, oral (f. receiving), riding, g'spot stimulation, clit stimulation, male sensitivity.

Request: Yes

Lee Chan held the weight of being the CEO of the imperium that his dad left at a very young age. Frat parties, hanging out, late-night talks? Nah, not for him. He had to take care of the company and honor the inheritance that fell into his lap. His co-workers could remember very well the times that Chan walked around and around his office, shoulders tense as if he carried the world on them.

His days started early and ended late, filled with back-to-back meetings, strategy sessions, and endless paperwork. The once carefree and spirited young man had transformed into a focused and driven leader, his every move calculated to ensure the success and stability of the company.

Chan's office was a testament to his dedication—shelves lined with business books, awards, and framed photos of his father, a constant reminder of the legacy he was determined to uphold. The large windows offered a panoramic view of the city skyline, but Chan rarely had time to enjoy it. He was always too engrossed in his work, too preoccupied with the responsibilities that consumed his every waking moment.

Even though his life felt like being stuck in traffic on a rainy day, Chan couldn't deny that he loved the results of his hard work. He looked at the luxurious cars parked in his garage—sleek, powerful machines that represented the pinnacle of automotive engineering.

His closet was a veritable treasure trove of sartorial excellence. Different types of watches, ties, suits, and shoes from every high-end brand imaginable filled the space, each piece carefully chosen to reflect his impeccable taste and status. The feel of finely crafted leather shoes, the weight of a bespoke suit on his shoulders, the precision of an intricate timepiece on his wrist—all these were constant reminders of what he had achieved.

Chan's wealth allowed him to indulge in the kind of extravagances most people could only dream of. He could spend an exaggerated amount of money in a matter of seconds on something completely futile, like a super shaver with a gold coating—exotic and utterly unnecessary.

The week was ending, and Chan listened to the fuss inside his friend group about hanging out this Friday. Jeonghan, seeing his colleagues leaving their desks, noticed Chan still at his desk, tapping his fingers on the glass table. With his bag slung over his shoulder, Jeonghan approached him.

"I know it's a stupid question, but will you come with us?" he asked. Chan was usually seen only at corporate events. Jeonghan couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed a beer with his friend.

Chan looked up, a hint of surprise flickering across his face. He opened his mouth to respond, the automatic refusal ready on his tongue, but something made him pause. He glanced around the office, now emptying out as people headed off to start their weekends. The thought of another solitary night of work made him feel a twinge of longing for something different.

"Come on, man," Jeonghan urged, sensing the hesitation. "Just one night. It’ll be fun. You need a break."

Chan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew Jeonghan was right. The constant grind was wearing him down, and maybe, just maybe, a night out with friends was exactly what he needed.

"Alright," Chan finally said, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'll come."

Jeonghan's eyes widened in surprise. "Seriously?"

Chan nodded, standing up and grabbing his jacket. "Yeah, let's do it."

Jeonghan grinned, clapping him on the back. "That's the spirit! You won't regret it."

Before they left the building, Chan paused and asked, "Jeonghan?"

"Yes?" Jeonghan answered, turning to face him.

"Where are we going?" Chan inquired, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Jeonghan just smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You'll see," he said, leaving Chan to wonder what the night had in store for him.

[...]

"A strip club? You must be kidding me!" Chan exclaimed as he took in the sight of the half-dark establishment. Neon lights flickered and danced around the room, casting colorful glows on the walls. Music blasted from speakers, filling the air with a pulsating beat.

He could see several women with different curves, colors, and hairstyles, dressed in scanty outfits—or sometimes nothing at all. The atmosphere was electric, a stark contrast to the corporate environment he was used to.

Jeonghan laughed, clapping Chan on the back. "Come on, man, loosen up! It's just for fun."

Chan hesitated, his eyes darting around the room. He felt a mix of discomfort and curiosity. "I don't know, Jeonghan..."

"Relax," Jeonghan said, guiding him further inside. "We all need a break sometimes. Just enjoy the night. You deserve it."

Chan took a deep breath, deciding to go along with it. Maybe Jeonghan was right—maybe he did need this. As they found a spot to sit, Chan tried to shake off his reservations.

His friends immediately ordered bottles and bottles of soju, beer, whiskey—whatever the bar had. Chan downed his whiskey in a single gulp, exclaiming, "If my dad knew I was here..."

Chan's eyes widened in surprise. "You're kidding."

"Nope," Jeonghan replied, pouring more whiskey into Chan's glass. "He said every hardworking man deserves a break. Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, huh?"

Chan couldn't help but laugh at that. The thought of his father, the man he idolized for his strict work ethic, letting loose in a place like this was almost too surreal.

As some of his friends disappeared one by one, Chan found himself alone on the couch they had booked. "Great," he muttered under his breath, feeling a twinge of discomfort at being left alone in such a place.

Just as he was about to sink further into the cushions, the little stage that he hadn't even noticed until now suddenly lit up. A tall pole stood in the middle, and Chan tilted his head in curiosity.

Then, a pair of really, really high heels appeared, and Chan's throat went dry. You emerged onto the stage, your skin shining under the purple light. The outfit you wore was scandalous, barely covering anything, and Chan couldn't help but notice the little glitters spread on your skin, catching the light as you moved.

You took hold of the pole and began to dance around it, moving with a grace and confidence that left Chan mesmerized. Your movements were fluid and controlled, every sway of your hips and arch of your back drawing him in deeper. It was as if you were performing just for him, and Chan felt like he could get lost in the rhythm of your dance forever.

As you held yourself up on the pole like a pro, Chan couldn't tear his eyes away. He felt like he was being swallowed by the couch, completely captivated by the sight before him. In that moment, nothing else mattered but you and the hypnotic spell you cast over him with your dance.

As you made eye contact with Chan, a devilish smile played on your lips. He looked like a new piece of meat, a pretty young man who had never been seen before in the club. You got down from the stage, the sway of your hips drawing all eyes to you as you walked towards him.

"First time here, sweetie?" you asked, laying your hands on his shoulders. Chan felt like he couldn't breathe with the view of your tits practically in his face.

"My eyes are up here," you said, chuckling as you caught him ogling your chest.

Chan blinked, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. "Uh, yeah," he stammered, tearing his gaze away from your cleavage. "First time."

You chuckled, running a hand through your hair as you leaned in closer. "Well, lucky for you, you've got me to show you the ropes," you said, your voice low and sultry.

"You're tense," you observe, noticing the stiffness in Chan's shoulders. Without waiting for a response, you step behind him and begin to massage his shoulders, your fingers working their magic as you knead the tension away.

Chan lets out a sigh of relief, his muscles melting under your skilled touch. "Yeah," he admits, his voice soft. "Work's been... stressful lately."

You nod in understanding, continuing to work out the knots in his shoulders. "I get it," you say, your voice soothing. "But you're here now, and tonight is all about letting go of that stress and just enjoying yourself."

Chan leans back into your touch, closing his eyes as he relaxes into the sensation. "I guess you're right," he murmurs, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You smile too, glad to see him starting to unwind. "That's better," you say, your fingers tracing soothing circles on his skin. "Just focus on the here and now. Forget about everything else for a while."

Chan nods.

You walk around Chan again, swaying your hips seductively in front of him. His mind races, unsure of what to do next, but before he can even think, you're sitting on his lap, circling your hips against his.

Chan smiles shyly, feeling the heat from your body as you move against him. He can't help but notice the money tucked into the sides of your little shorts, a reminder of where he is and what's expected of him.

It's exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once, but there's something undeniably thrilling about having you so close, your body pressed against his.

As you continue to dance, Chan's hands hover uncertainly over your hips, unsure of where to touch or how to respond. He feels a flush of embarrassment at his own inexperience, but he's determined not to let it show. Instead, he focuses on the way your body moves against his.

And you smile knowingly, sensing his hesitation, and guide his hands to your waist, encouraging him.

Chan's hands move from your waist to your hips and then down to your thigh, his fingers grazing the soft skin as he explores the contours of your body. His pulse quickens as he feels the warmth of your thigh pressed against his pocket, and he can't resist the urge to reach into his wallet and retrieve a pouch of money.

With a mischievous grin, Chan brings his hand to the top of your head, letting the notes rain down on you like confetti. You laugh, delighted by the unexpected gesture, and give him a big smile.

"What's your name?" you ask, your voice playful.

"Chan," he replies, feeling a surge of confidence.

You lick your lips, your gaze lingering on his. "Nice to meet you, Channie," you purr, the nickname, and Chan blushes.

[...]

The next Monday, Chan sat at his desk, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular. His mind raced with a million thoughts, his thoughts still consumed by the events of that night. He was lost in his own thoughts, replaying every moment, every touch, every glance.

A knock on his door startled him out of his trance, and he quickly tried to compose himself, pretending to be engrossed in some papers spread out on his desk.

"Come in," Chan called, his voice slightly shaky.

The door opened, and Jeonghan stepped inside, giving Chan a knowing smile. "Hey there, sleepyhead," he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Chan felt a flush of embarrassment heat his cheeks. "Oh, hey Jeonghan," he replied, trying to sound casual.

Jeonghan chuckled, walking over to Chan's desk and leaning against it casually. "So, how was your night?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

Chan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a suitable response. "Um, it was... interesting," he finally managed, his voice trailing off uncertainly.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Interesting, huh?" he said, his tone teasing. "Well, if you ever need any pointers on how to navigate the world of strip clubs, you know who to ask."

Chan's cheeks burned even hotter, and he couldn't help but laugh at Jeonghan's playful teasing. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass," he said, relieved to have the topic of conversation shifted away from his night of unexpected adventure.

Chan spent the entire weekend consumed by thoughts of you, unable to shake the memories of your encounter at the club. As Monday rolled around, he found himself itching to see you again, the usual routine of work feeling dull and uninspired.

Deciding that today was not the day for extra hours at the office, Chan made his way to the club, a sense of anticipation building in his chest. He arrived at the club, his eyes scanning the room eagerly in search of you.

As he looked around, a receptionist approached him, sensing his lost expression. "Can I help you?" she asked, her voice polite and friendly.

Chan nodded, grateful for the assistance. "Yes, I'm looking for a girl with hair like this," he said, mimicking the length and curl of your hair with his hands.

The receptionist's eyes lit up with recognition. "Ah, you must be looking for Y/N," she said, a smile playing on her lips. "Follow me, I'll take you to her."

There you were, dancing around the pole with a big smile on your face, as if you were truly enjoying every second of it. Chan watched from the corner of the room, his arms crossed and a big smile on his face as he observed you.

The club was crowded, with many people gathered around you, admiring your performance. Chan felt a pang of jealousy as he watched others vying for your attention, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from you.

As the night wore on and people began to leave, Chan noticed you finally catching sight of him. Your eyes met his, and you gave him a playful wink, rolling your hips as you glanced at him over your shoulder.

Chan's heart skipped a beat at your playful gesture, and he couldn't help but grin back at you. Despite the crowd around you, it felt like you were dancing just for him, and in that moment, Chan felt a surge of warmth and connection unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

As you took a break from dancing, you bent down to pick up some notes from the stage floor. Before you could gather them all, Chan approached, leaning on the stage with a playful grin.

"Leave it on the ground," he said, extending a big wad of money towards you. "Take it."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I didn't even have time for you today," you teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Did I ask?" Chan replied, his smile widening. "Take it."

You couldn't help but laugh at his playful response, taking the money from his hand. "You liked me that much, huh?" you asked, knowing full well the answer. You were well aware of the power you held.

"Hmm, I think I need to see more," Chan teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You giggled, enjoying the banter between you. "Well, if you want me all to yourself, you'll have to book," you replied with a playful wink.

Chan's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "Can I book all of your agenda?" he asked eagerly.

You stood up, giving him a coy smile. "Don't be greedy, Channie," you teased, enjoying the way he looked at you with eager anticipation.

You glanced down at the wad of money in your hand, barely able to fit into your shorts, and then looked back up at Chan with a playful smile.

"Well, I think I can spare some time for you," you said, glancing over at the clock on the wall. "But just a little while."

Chan's face lit up with excitement as he nodded eagerly. "That's all I need," he replied, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

[...]

As Chan began appearing almost every day, he became a familiar face at the club, a quiet yet eager client of yours. The receptionist would often give you a knowing look, silently conveying that Chan had arrived and had booked time with you once again.

Of course, there were other loyal clients who frequented the club, but none seemed to hold the same level of fascination for you as Chan did. There was a certain shine in his eyes whenever he entered the club, a distinct aura of anticipation and eagerness that set him apart from the other customers.

You couldn't help but wonder why you had let him know about the option to book time with you. Perhaps it was the way he looked at you with such genuine interest and excitement, or maybe it was the thrill of having someone so captivated by your presence. Whatever the reason, you found yourself looking forward to his visits, eager to see where each encounter would lead.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of surprise when Chan didn't show up for his usual visit. It was as if a small piece of the excitement and anticipation that had become a part of your routine was suddenly missing. Without even realizing it, you found yourself scanning the crowd, searching for his familiar face.

Then, just as you were starting to wonder where he was, you spotted him entering the club. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him make his way to his special seat, right in front of you. His genuine smile lit up his face, and you couldn't help but smile back, the warmth of his presence washing over you like a wave.

With renewed energy and enthusiasm, you danced with even more passion and heart than before. You knew that Chan was watching, appreciating every move, every moment.

Over the following weeks, Chan's visits became a cherished routine. Each time he arrived, you could sense the anticipation in his eyes, the unspoken hope that maybe tonight would be different.

One evening, as you were finishing your performance and making your way to his table, he finally mustered the courage to ask. "Hey, would you like to grab a drink with me sometime? Outside of here, I mean," he said, his voice full of genuine warmth and a hint of nervousness.

You smiled softly, appreciating his boldness but knowing you had to set boundaries. "I'm flattered, Chan, but I don't hang out with customers outside of work," you replied, your tone gentle yet firm.

A few nights later, he tried again, this time with a different approach. "There's this amazing new restaurant that just opened up downtown. I'd love to take you there," he offered, his eyes hopeful.

You shook your head slightly, maintaining your friendly demeanor. "I appreciate the invite, but I have a policy about not mixing my work life with my personal life," you explained, hoping he would understand.

Undeterred, Chan continued to ask, each time finding new ways to express his interest. "There's a gallery opening this weekend. I thought it might be fun to check it out together," he suggested one night, his enthusiasm palpable.

Once again, you gently declined. "That sounds lovely, but I really can't. I have to keep things professional with my clients," you said, feeling a pang of regret at having to turn him down yet again.

Each time he asked, you could see the slight disappointment in his eyes, but he always respected your boundaries. And despite your refusals, he never stopped coming back, never stopped watching you with that same genuine admiration and respect.

Tonight, you made sure every detail was perfect. Your hair cascaded in flawless waves, and you wore your best outfit, accentuating every curve just right. You were eager to dance for Chan, feeling a flutter of excitement as you anticipated his arrival. Sure enough, Chan appeared, booking the rest of the night with you as he had been doing lately.

When he approached, you greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, a small gesture that had become part of your interactions. "Hey, Channie," you said with a playful smile. "So, what’s it gonna be tonight? Shorts or no shorts?"

Chan smiled warmly, a bit of that usual nervous energy in his eyes. "Actually," he began, his tone softer than usual, "I just want to talk tonight. I want to spend time with you."

You blinked, taken aback. No customer had ever asked for just your company before. "You... you just want to talk?" you repeated, making sure you heard him right.

He nodded, a sincere expression on his face. "Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love watching you dance. But tonight, I just want to get to know you better. You know, beyond all this," he gestured vaguely around the club.

Still processing his request, you motioned to the couch. "Alright, let's sit then." You both settled onto the plush seats, the atmosphere suddenly feeling more intimate and less transactional.

"So, what do you want to know?" you asked, trying to mask your nervousness with a casual tone.

Chan leaned forward slightly, his eyes earnest. "Everything. What's your favorite color? What's your dream vacation? What do you do when you're not here?" He paused, then added with a chuckle, "I know it sounds silly, but I really want to know the real you."

You smiled, touched by his genuine curiosity. "Well, my favorite color is …" you began, feeling a bit shy. "As for a dream vacation, I've always wanted to visit Santorini. The pictures look so beautiful, like a place out of a fairytale."

Chan listened intently, his focus unwavering. "Santorini sounds amazing. I can picture you there."

You chuckled, the image of you in Santorini bringing a warm feeling to your chest. "And when I'm not here, I love to paint. It's my way of unwinding, letting my creativity flow."

His eyes lit up. "Painting? That's incredible. What kind of things do you paint?"

You shrugged lightly, feeling more comfortable as the conversation flowed. "Mostly landscapes and abstract pieces. It's like putting a piece of my soul onto the canvas."

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence, both of you absorbing the depth of the conversation. Chan finally broke it, his voice soft. "You know, I've always admired how dedicated you are to what you do, I know it's now easy at all. But hearing about your passions and dreams, it makes me admire you even more."

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you found yourself opening up more than you had with anyone in a long time. "Thank you, Chan. It means a lot to hear that."

He reached out, gently squeezing your hand. "Thank you for sharing with me. I know this isn’t what you usually do, but it means a lot to me."

Chan observed the small figurine on the table, curiosity lighting up his eyes. “Where do you get these?” he asked, leaning closer to get a better look.

You smiled, a bit shyly. “I make them myself,” you said, enjoying the surprise that flickered across his face.

“Really? That’s amazing,” he praised, his admiration evident. You shrugged modestly.

“It’s not that hard,” you replied, still smiling. “They’re always small.”

Chan chuckled, a warm sound that made you feel even more at ease. He started to remove his blazer, and before you knew it, he placed it gently around your shoulders, covering a good part of you. The gesture was so kind and considerate that it made you feel even more comfortable, despite usually feeling at ease in your usual skimpy outfits.

As you nestled into the blazer, you couldn’t help but notice how much more at ease you felt. Chan’s presence was different; it wasn’t just about the physical attraction or the lavish spending. There was a gentleness, a genuine care that made you feel safe and valued.

“I don’t usually do this,” you admitted, looking at him with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Chan smiled back, his eyes soft. “It’s my pleasure. You deserve to feel comfortable.”

The conversation flowed easily as Chan began to share bits and pieces of his life. He spoke about his responsibilities as CEO, the pressure of living up to his father’s legacy, and the sacrifices he had to make. His words were carefully chosen, mindful of not coming across as boastful despite his affluent lifestyle. You could tell he was trying to be as honest as possible while downplaying the extravagance.

“And that’s pretty much my life,” Chan concluded with a slight sigh. “It’s demanding, but it’s what I have to do.”

You admired his humility, realizing how grounded he remained despite his wealth. “It sounds like a lot to handle,” you said softly, your eyes reflecting your newfound respect for him. “But you do it so well. It’s impressive.”

Chan’s expression softened, a mixture of gratitude and weariness in his eyes. “Thank you. It’s not always easy, but I try.”

“You’re more than just a pretty boy,” you teased lightly, wanting to lift the mood. “You’re a hardworking, humble man.”

He laughed, the sound filling the space between you with warmth. “And you’re not just a beautiful dancer. You’re talented and creative.”

[...]

The next morning, you were chatting with the girls—your coworkers—as they finished their hair for the night.

“And he just wanted to talk,” you said, a bit incredulously. “He even asked about my favorite color.”

The girls collectively let out a heartfelt “Awww,” their eyes wide with interest and affection.

“Seriously?” one of them, Mina, asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “That’s so sweet.”

“He seems different,” another added, giggling.

“Yeah,” you nodded, still a bit surprised yourself. “We just talked. It was...nice.”

Before the conversation could continue, the receptionist entered the room, a knowing smile on her face. “Ya! Y/N-nie! Your Channie is here,” she announced, her tone teasing.

It was unusual for any customer to visit on a Saturday morning, a time usually reserved for the staff to unwind and prepare for the week ahead.

“It’s Saturday morning,” Mina whispered, nudging you playfully. “No customers come in unless they lost something.”

“Let him in,” you said, trying to keep your tone casual but feeling the flutter of anticipation.

As Chan walked in, he was met with a scene unlike the usual vibrant atmosphere of the club. The girls were dressed in comfortable clothes, some with bobs in their hair, others doing their nails or simply lounging around.

You were drying a glass behind the bar. He looked around, slightly surprised but smiling.

“Good morning, girls,” he greeted, his voice cheerful. "Good morning Y/N…" He says in a special and tender tone, just for you.

“Good morning,” the girls chimed back in unison, their eyes following his every move.

You put down the glass and walked over to him, a wide smile on your face. “Channie, what are you doing here?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I wanted to see you,” he replied, his gaze soft and sincere. He seemed a bit out of place in the relaxed environment, but his presence was a welcome one. You could feel the girls watching the exchange with rapt attention, like they were watching an opera unfold.

Chan noticed that you didn’t have bobs in your hair like some of the other girls. Gesturing toward your hair, he asked, “No bobs for you today?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “It’s my day off. I’m not dancing today.”

The girls exchanged knowing looks, some stifling giggles. One of them, Lisa, leaned over and whispered loudly enough for you to hear, “Looks like someone’s here to see you even when you’re not performing.”

You blushed, glancing at Chan, who seemed equally flustered but amused by the comment. He recovered quickly, his smile returning.

Chan stood there, his eyes filled with hope and a hint of nervousness. "Would you like to spend the day with me?" he asked, his tone gentle and inviting.

You chuckled, a playful glint in your eye. "Hmm, I've already told you about hanging out with my customers," you teased, enjoying the banter.

Before Chan could respond, Mina chimed in from the background, her voice filled with encouragement. "Oh, come on! You should accept it!"

Chan seized the opportunity, smiling wider. "You’re not on your work schedule now, are you?"

That shut your mouth, leaving you momentarily speechless. The girls burst into giggles, clearly enjoying the exchange.

“Well, when you put it that way…” you trailed off, pretending to think it over.

Chan’s smile grew, sensing victory. “So, is that a yes?”

You sighed theatrically, then grinned. “Fine, you win. I’ll spend the day with you.”

“Great!” Chan said, visibly relieved and excited. “I promise it’ll be fun.”

You nodded, your smile widening. “Let me just finish up here, and we can go.”

As you gathered your things, the girls couldn’t resist a few more teasing comments, but it was all in good fun, as Chan waited patiently.

As the day unfolded, Chan took you to places you hadn't had the time to visit in years. You sipped coffee at a cozy café, strolled through the park, and even caught a movie at the cinema. With each passing moment, you found yourself enjoying his company more and more, feeling a sense of freedom and joy you hadn't experienced in a long time.

"This has been the best day off ever," you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement as you walked side by side with Chan.

His heart swelled with happiness at your words, his smile growing wider. He could have taken you to a luxurious restaurant or shopping for designer labels, but he sensed that wasn't what you wanted. Instead, he decided to let you choose how to spend the rest of the day.

Careful to open doors for you and ensure your comfort, Chan drove you around in his luxurious car, enjoying each other's company and the simplicity of the moment. As he glanced at you from the driver's seat, he couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him.

"Where to next?" he asked, his voice filled with anticipation.

You playfully pretended to ponder your options, teasing him about having more surprises up his sleeve. Chan laughed, shrugging his shoulders as he drove. You noticed that you were nearing your apartment, and the idea popped into your head.

"How about we go to my place?" you suggested, surprising even yourself with the invitation.

Chan's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he quickly masked it with a smile. "Your place? Are you sure?"

You nodded, feeling a sense of excitement building in your chest. "Yeah, why not? I'd love for you to see where I live."

Chan couldn't hide his delight at your invitation, his curiosity piqued. He parked the car and walked with you to your apartment building, taking in the surroundings with interest.

Chan's eyes wandered around the apartment, taking in the details of your life that adorned the walls. He saw framed photographs capturing cherished memories – graduations, family gatherings, outings with friends. The images painted a picture of a life rich in experiences and relationships.

His gaze shifted to the plushies scattered across the couch, a playful and endearing touch that brought a smile to his face. It was clear to him that you had a warmth and sweetness that extended beyond the confines of the club where he first met you.

As you disappeared into the kitchen, Chan took a moment to soak in the atmosphere of your home. The tranquility of the space, combined with the personal touches that reflected your personality, made him feel strangely at ease.

In that moment, he realized that he was seeing a side of you that few others had the privilege of witnessing – the real you, beyond the glamorous facade of the club.

As you settled back onto the couch with snacks in hand, Chan joined you, his presence filling the space with warmth. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he began recounting his visit to the strip club earlier that day.

You listened intently, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as he shared the details of his adventure. When he mentioned Jeonghan's involvement, you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards your friend for unknowingly setting this day in motion.

"Looks like I owe Jeonghan a big thank you," you said, your voice muffled as you took a bite of your snack.

Chan raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So, Jeonghan is the reason we met, huh?" he teased, leaning closer to you.

You chuckled, feeling a playful energy between you. "Looks like it," you replied, unable to suppress a smile.

Chan's teasing grin widened at your response, and he leaned in closer, his playful demeanor evident. "Oh, so you're thanking Jeonghan, but not me?" he teased, raising an eyebrow in mock indignation.

With a soft smile, you turned to Chan, gratitude evident in your eyes. "Thank you, Channie," you said, your voice sincere as you expressed your appreciation.

Chan returned your smile, his gaze warm as he listened to your words. "For what?" he asked, though he already had a feeling of what you meant.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before replying. "For everything," you began, your tone heartfelt. "For the moments we've shared, the conversations we've had... Even on the nights you booked me, we talked more than danced," you admitted, a fondness evident in your voice.

Chan's smile widened at your words, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Well, I guess I'm just a talkative guy," he joked, though there was a hint of sincerity in his tone.

Chan's touch was tender as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze lingering on your lips with a mixture of hesitation and longing. You could feel the tension building between you, an unspoken desire hanging in the air.

When he spoke your name, you couldn't help but respond with a soft sound of acknowledgment, your heart fluttering with anticipation. His next words sent a shiver down your spine, his voice barely above a whisper as he confessed his thoughts.

"I know it's not allowed to kiss the dancers in the club," he began, his words laden with a sense of urgency, "but... we're not in the club right?"

His question hung in the air, heavy with possibility. In that moment, the boundaries that had separated you in the club seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, alone in the intimacy of your shared space.

You met Chan's gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as you considered his words. Despite the rules and restrictions that governed your interactions in the club, here, in this moment, you felt a freedom that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

With a hesitant smile, you leaned in closer to him, your breath mingling with his as you whispered, "No, we're not in the club." And in that simple acknowledgment, you gave voice to the unspoken truth that had been lingering between you all along.

Chan's hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips crashed into yours. His tongue explored your mouth with a fervent passion, and you found yourself breathing hard, your fingers clutching the collar of his shirt to deepen the kiss.

The truth was, the more you refused Chan's invitations to dinner, the more you denied the gifts he insisted on giving you, the more you avoided his attempts to kiss you—his feelings for you only grew stronger. And now, seeing his insistence on simply having your company, and not just as the girl who would entertain him at night, made you feel all your girlhood feelings again.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, you looked into his eyes, your breath mingling with his. "Chan..." you whispered "Why do you keep coming back? Why do you keep trying so hard?"

He held your gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and tenderness. "Because you matter to me, Y/N. More than just a dancer, more than just a pretty face. I see you, the real you, and I want to know you better."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt a rush of warmth and affection for this man who saw beyond the surface. "But I'm not used to this," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not used to someone caring this much."

Chan's grip on your neck tightened slightly, a comforting reassurance. "Then let me show you how it feels. Let me show you that you deserve to be cared for, to be cherished."

"Show me," you whisper, your eyes locked on Chan's lips. He captures your mouth in a passionate kiss, his lips trailing down to your neck. His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he pulls it over your head. You pull him closer, desperate to feel him, your hands sliding under his shirt to caress his warm skin.

His hands slide to your thighs, lifting you onto his lap, your breasts now level with his face. He glances at the pretty lace bra you’re wearing and lowers the cups, exposing your nipples. He kisses each one tenderly before sucking on one and pinching the other. You melt into him, your hips grinding against his automatically, drawing a groan from deep within his chest.

"Do you know how hard it was to control myself when you grinded on my cock like this?" he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with desire.

A wicked smile crosses your lips as you continue to grind against him, feeling his erection growing beneath you. "I could feel it, Chan," you purr, your voice dripping with seduction. "I could feel how much you wanted me. I wanted you just as badly."

His hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements as he presses you harder against him. "God, Y/N, you drive me crazy," he groans, his eyes darkening with lust.

You lean in, your breath hot against his ear. "I want to feel you inside me, Chan. I want you to lose control. Show me how much you want me."

His control snaps, and he flips you onto your back, his body pressing you into the couch. "You don’t know what you’re asking for," he growls, his hand sliding down to unbutton your pants.

"I know exactly what I want," you whisper back, your eyes burning with the same desire. "I want you, all of you."

Chan's lips crash into yours again, more fiercely this time, as his hands work to remove the rest of your clothing.

In a blur of movement, clothes are discarded, and his skin is pressed against yours. He pauses to look into your eyes. "Tell me you want this," he demands, his voice rough with need.

"I want you, Chan," you breathe out, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer.

Chan giggles softly, his breath hot against your skin. "Wait for me to prepare you," he whispers, his voice laced with anticipation. He opens your legs wide, his eyes dark with desire as he lowers himself between your thighs. His lips find your wet folds, kissing them gently before his tongue delves deeper.

The sensation sends shivers through your body, and you let out a soft moan. Chan's mouth works expertly, sucking on your clit while his tongue teases and explores. As you gasp his name, "Channie," he responds with a moan of his own, the vibrations adding to your pleasure.

His hand slides up your thigh, and you feel the gentle pressure of his finger at your entrance. He slips it inside you slowly, his finger curling to find that perfect spot. Your back arches off the couch, your hands gripping the cushions as he continues to worship your body with his mouth and fingers.

"Oh, Chan," you breathe, your voice quivering with need. The way his tongue moves, the way his finger pumps in and out of you—it's all too much. Your hips begin to move on their own, seeking more of the intense pleasure he's giving you.

He adds another finger, stretching you gently, and your moans grow louder. His mouth never leaves your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue in a rhythm that drives you wild. You can feel your orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside you.

Chan's free hand comes up to hold your hip, steadying you as you writhe beneath him. He looks up at you, his eyes full of lust and admiration, and the sight of him between your legs pushes you closer to the edge.

"Channie, I’m so close," you manage to say, your voice barely a whisper.

He doubles his efforts, his fingers moving faster, his mouth more insistent on your clit. The world fades away, and all you can focus on is the overwhelming pleasure building within you.

With a final, deep moan, you come undone. Your body trembles, your muscles clench around his fingers, and a powerful wave of ecstasy crashes over you. Chan doesn't stop, drawing out your orgasm until you're completely spent, every nerve ending tingling with satisfaction.

Finally, he pulls away, his fingers and mouth glistening with your arousal. He looks up at you with a triumphant smile, his own need evident in his eyes. "You taste so good," he murmurs, crawling up your body to capture your lips in a heated kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it only fuels the fire between you.

"Now," he says, positioning himself at your entrance, "I think you're ready."

You nod, wrapping your legs around his waist, and with one smooth thrust, he fills you completely.

Your pussy was wet enough, spasming, welcoming him perfectly. Chan's eyes were closed, his face contorting as he tried to compose himself. You reached up and gently held his face, and he opened his eyes, scoffing softly, trying to pretend he didn't almost cum right then and there from the sensation of your sopping cunt wrapping so perfectly around him and the pornographic moan that just left your mouth.

"Fuck, Y/N," he breathed, his voice thick with lust. "You feel so good."

You smiled, your own arousal mirrored in his gaze. "Don't hold back, Channie," you whispered, your fingers brushing through his hair. "I want all of you."

He groaned, his hips starting to move, slowly at first, savoring the way you clenched around him with each thrust. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, the connection between you deepening with every movement.

"You're so tight," he murmured, his hands gripping your hips as he picked up the pace. "So perfect for me."

You bit your lip, your body responding to his every word, his every touch. "Chan," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he hit that sweet spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Don't stop."

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he rolled his hips, stopping momentarily before hitting your g'spot with a sharp thrust. He repeated this motion, each thrust more deliberate, and the most sinful moans left your mouth. "Yes, Channie," you gasped, your voice trembling with pleasure, "fuck this pussy with that big fucking cock. Yes, yes!"

Chan groaned, the sound deep and guttural, spurred on by your words. "You like that? Hm?" he panted, his pace quickening as he watched the ecstasy play out on your face. "You like how I fuck you?"

"Yes," you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders. "God, yes, I love it. I love how you fuck me– ah! Channie."

"So wet... all for me."

Your body arched beneath him, your hips moving to meet his thrusts, chasing the pleasure that was building to an overwhelming peak. "Only for you," you whispered, your voice breaking with a whimper as he drove you closer to the edge. "No one else, just you, Channie."

He growled, the possessiveness in your words igniting something primal in him. His thrusts became harder, faster, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. "Say it again," he demanded, his breath hot against your ear. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," you cried out, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. "I'm yours, Channie, only yours."

His hips snapped forward with even more intensity, and you could feel the coil tightening in your core, ready to snap. "Cum for me," he urged, his voice a low growl. "Cum all over my cock, baby."

Your pussy throbbed as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you, your eyes closing tightly, mouth falling open in a silent scream. You wrapped your legs around Chan's waist, locking him in place as you rode out every wave of pleasure. Chan hissed, his abdomen trembling, signaling that he was on the brink of release but unable to escape your grip.

You opened your eyes to find Chan watching you intently, taking in every reaction. "Sit," you commanded, your voice breathless yet authoritative.

"Hm?" Chan responded, his expression a mix of curiosity and lingering pleasure.

"Sit," you repeated, firmer this time. He complied, a small laugh escaping his lips.

"Are you going to dom me?" he teased, scoffing lightly.

Instead of answering, you simply lowered yourself onto his cock, making him flinch and let out a whiny moan in your ear, your legs trembling from the intensity of your recent orgasm.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. "You like that, Channie? You like when I take control?"

"Yes," he gasped, his breath hitching as you began to move, rolling your hips slowly at first. "God, yes."

You smirked, picking up the pace, each movement sending shivers of pleasure through both of you. "You look so good like this," you whispered, your voice low and sultry. "So desperate, so needy. You want to cum, don't you?"

"Yes," he admitted, his voice barely more than a whimper. "Please, let me cum."

You tightened your grip on his shoulders, riding him harder. "Not yet," you commanded, enjoying the power you held over him. "Not until I say so."

Chan's eyes fluttered closed, his body trembling as he tried to hold back. "Please," he begged, his voice raw with need. "I can't... I can't hold on much longer."

"Look at me," you ordered, your tone firm. His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours. "You’re going to cum when I tell you to, understand?"

"Yes," he panted, nodding eagerly. "Yes, I understand."

You imagined riding him since the moment he entered that club, young, hot, with his sleeves rolled up, the scent of masculine fragrance mingling with whiskey on his breath. Feeling this man, needy and sly, with his cock buried deep inside your pussy, spilling all that pre-cum, and fighting his demons not to cum, made you so horny.

You licked your fingers, circling your clit to help yourself climax, making you clench around him again. A strangled moan escaped his mouth, his eyes were rolling back.

You leaned in close, your voice husky with desire. "You're so close, Channie," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. "I can feel how badly you want to cum inside me. Do it, baby. Give it to me. Fill me up with your cum."

Chan's hips bucked against yours, his grip on your hips tightening. "Fuck," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "I need to cum, please..."

You smirked, your fingers still working furiously on your clit. "You want to empty those balls for me, make me feel every drop of your cum inside me? Hm?"

Chan nodded frantically, his eyes glazed with lust. "Yes, god, yes. Please, let me cum. I can't hold on much longer."

With a wicked grin, you increased the pressure on your clit, feeling the tension building inside you. "Then cum for me, Channie," you urged, your voice a sultry whisper. "Cum deep inside my pussy."

Chan's entire body tensed, his breath hitching as he finally let go, his cum flooding you with warmth. You cried out in pleasure, feeling your own orgasm crashing over you in waves as you rode out the ecstasy together.

As you collapsed against his chest, Chan wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. You could feel your legs trembling in soreness, his cum still dripping from your pussy, and both of your bodies slick with sweat. Despite the exhaustion, Chan's embrace felt comforting and secure.

He ran his hands soothingly over your back, his touch gentle yet firm, as if trying to convey all his affection through his fingertips. You raised your head to meet his gaze, finding him looking back at you with a mixture of satisfaction and tenderness in his eyes.

You pressed a series of soft kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his jawline, savoring the warmth and intimacy of the moment. Chan smiled in response, his own lips curved upwards in a contented –fucked out– expression.

You summoned the last vestiges of your strength just to tease Chan, circling your hips ever so slightly, just enough to elicit a reaction from his sensitive body.

"Wait, wait," Chan gasped, his voice strained with sensitivity. "I can't... I can't take it."

He held you firmly against him, his grip almost desperate as he tried to steady himself. The sensation of your hips circling against his heightened his arousal to a point where he felt like he might lose control at any moment.

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. Despite the exhaustion and the intensity of your encounter, you found his vulnerability endearing.

"Sorry," you chuckled softly, the sound mingling with his labored breaths. "I couldn't resist teasing you a little."

Chan let out a breathless laugh, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to regain his composure. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss against your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment before he spoke again.

"You're... you're something else, you know that?" he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "I don't know how you do it."

You grinned up at him, feeling a surge of warmth at his words. Despite the intense physical connection between you, there was an undeniable emotional bond that had formed, deepening your connection even further.

"I guess I just have a way with you," you replied playfully, winking at him before snuggling closer into his embrace.

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rboooks · 1 year

Text

DC X DP fic idea: Congratulations! It's Triplets!

Jason Todd can't remember half the crazy shit he did when he returned from the dead. There were a few years when his memory gaps were so significant lost he honestly forgot what year it was.

So he's not surprised he did some dumb shit where he was less weapon and more power-hungry teen.

He doesn't remember Jazz Fenton that well, but he does remember waking up next to her, making her breakfast as a thank-you for the fun night, and slipping away before she could ask too many questions. Logically he knows that leaving before she woke up was a bit of a asshole move but he hadn't cared back then.

He had thought he would never see her again.

Imagine his surprise when she enters a youth space program WE is running five years later. By this point, he had calmed most of his pit rage and had reconnected with his family. Bruce had even legally made him alive again so he's there as Brucie's second oldest.

Tim had practically shoved him as one of the heads of the program since Jason had rapidly developed the image of being the most Charity drive Wayne.

The point was to help city kids go on clear sky trips and co-work with NASA to help children who love the stars get closer to them.

Jason knew that Jazz, a woman of twenty-three, would have no reason to be present since the program was for kids ages four to twelve.

But the three dark hair blue, eye triplets that were dragging her around the booths indeed did.

By the looks of the triplets, they were five to six-year Olds.

Jason also noticed another thing about them. They were exact copies of himself and five years ago was the last time he saw Jazz before slipping away.

It wasn't possible right?

Trying not to bring attention to himself, he followed them through the event, noting every little gesture the children made. With each passing second he saw more and more of himself in them. Once the lights were dimmed for the crew to project an exploding star on the walls and ceiling, he could creep close enough and steals three hair samples.

Later he would test the DNA against his own and find himself staring at the results with slight horror.

He's a father to triplets and left their mother alone to raise them on her own. Jason needed to fix this as soon as he could.

(Danny, Dani and Dan get de-age after a misguided attempt to take the throne from Danny by a ghost whose extraordinary power was to revert people into a weaker stage and attack them. Luckily even as small children, they were able to defeat her. Unfortunately, they would have to regrow the human way to return to their ages.

Clockwork offers them a different dimension for them to age in, explaining it run crazy slow compared to thier own. One year in the other world would be a week back home.

They talk to Jazz who agrees to take emergency leave from work after faking a terrible accident with her brother, and she hopes over to Earth-slightly-to-the-left to find a house suitable for re-raising her siblings. There she realizes this is her chance to enjoy her youth too.

She has her first one-night stand.

She doesn't tell them when they hope over, and all of them go about life as simply as they can in a city as dangerous as Gotham.

They find out later that there is even a slight version of their family here though it's primarily due to someone on their dads' side of the family messing up the family tree by marrying someone different than their great-grandfather

Instead of Fentons, the versions of their family name is, Evans. Crazy.

Even more Crazy is that they return home after a week-long camping trip through a NASA-based program to find Bruce Wayne at their doorstep, a team of lawyers behind him, and Jason Todd holding flowers next to him.

He thinks he's the father of the three because that's what the DNA pulls since it's a version of them and when Jazz is so worried about collapsing the timeline and getting on Clockworks bad side she plays along.

She later finds out from a very calm Danny that Jason is not related to them. It's just that their comeback from the dead rearranged all three of their DNAs, so Jason was merely matching there. Jazz testing herself against Jason proves this to be true.

Dan and Dani? They just wanted a rich dad who showered them with gifts in an attempt to make up for missing six years of their lives.

Danny just wants Jazz to admit she's in love with Jason.

Abd Jazz? Well, she just wants to be a good guardian for them and hopes she can pretend to be Jason's baby mamma until they can hope back home.)

#dc x dp crossover #Jazz/Jason #misunderstandings #de-ages #Jazz freaks for a sec that she pulled a luke Skywalker #buts shes good #Jason is excited to be a dad

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

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AITA for asking my partner not to talk about how happy he is that Ghandi was assassinated?

I hope this doesn't get too long! 🍀

I (26, F) am Irish Australian, my partner (33, M) is Sikh. He's shared many beautiful things about his culture with me, and has a thoughtful way of describing the relationship between Sikh history and current culture.

However I get a bit uncomfortable when he talks about how Gandhi was assassinated by a Sikh person. I know enough about Gandhi to be aware that while he might've had some good impact, he had plenty of underreported bad too. But I don't pretend to understand the extent of it all.

I also understand what a complex thing that sort of cultural history is, my family joke about being proud of the assassination of Mountbatten by the IRA. But we keep that talk behind closed doors, it requires more understanding of the Troubles than the average person has. Also, joking about death is a bit nasty unless you know everyone is comfortable

My issue with my partner is that when he talks about Gandhi's death he's not speaking with a historical context. He gets very serious and sits up all tall and says proudly that Sikhs are a warrior race and they fucking delivered. He has done this in company and in private and it's always very intense and a mood killer, he is not joking at all. I think that level of confident pride in the death of another is kinda messed up

So, I asked him to not talk about it in such a full on way. He refused to apologise because he is proud of it and he said that he's glad they did it (I appreciate his honestly there). I asked if he would be pleased to see a similar event play out today, a Sikh assassinating a major political influencer. He said he would be happy and asked the same of me regarding Mountbatten (this had come up in the conversation, obviously I'm paraphrasing, the whole thing was pretty upsetting tbh) and I said no cos it's not an active war. Also, that I don't actually stand behind that I'm just comfortable with the complexity of it to joke with my family and still know people understand where I stand. Like, the IRA killed his kids too. The whole time was fucked.

He said he's not joking. He, gently, said I was being a bit of a hypocrite. He didn't promise to not talk about Gandhi, but hasn't brought it up since. I feel like he's pretty unhappy about it

I dunno, I asked him without really thinking about it all and I think he makes a good point about the Mountbatten parallel. I'm not sure if the difference in my feelings is my own ethics or just me being a bit racist. And it's not his job to make me not be racist if I've got some stuff to work through. But still, I think if it was any culture I'd be uncomfortable with that much aggressive pride in murder. Like, I've grown up in a country without a death penalty, death is not something people can dole out imo, and his approval of it is so absolute and genuine, there's no pulling the punch. Unlike my way of talking about Mountbatten.

So, AITA for asking my partner to stop talking about his pride in a Sikh person assassinating Gandhi?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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bunicate · 4 months

Text

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ 𐙚 ₊˚ BOUNDED TO. belphie x fem reader

warnings ꒱ྀི incest. mild dub-con. blowjob. minor hairpulling. jealousy. sis-con belphie. repost / 18+

“luci says you’re not supposed to come in my room anymore.”

you kept your position on the bed. you lay on your slightly exposed belly with your back facing the door. you didn’t see the point in directing your gaze behind you when you were expecting this very moment to happen.

it’s been a few days since your last exchange, and it was only a matter of time before he’d seek you out once more. still, you maintained your weak show of defiance.

belphie chuckles dryly, amused at your attempt.

"well, for one, luci isn’t even here," he sneers.

he recoils at the nickname, annoyed at how sweetly it rolls off your tongue while he spits it out of his. jealousy hangs off the fringes at the mention of his elder brother, and it’s only quelled when he remembers his access to you. it dampens his anger, though only by a bit.

“and why am i not allowed here? did you tell him all the dirty things i did to you?”

you tense up at the words he utters, saturated with taunt, and your face begins to warm.

he watches as you become rigid, knowing that memories from just a mere few nights ago were running around in your head, and he took that as his invitation to keep going.

“did you tell him how i sucked your fat little cunt until you squirted?”

and incoming—you chuck a pillow at him with your demonic strength hoping that it would somehow drive a hole through his head for being so crude.

“shut up! you said you wouldn’t make fun of me for it."

belphie smirks as he catches the pillow with ease and he tucks it under his arm.

regret settles in the pit of your stomach, but more importantly, embarrassment.

you recall that night in such vivid detail. he parted your folds, in awe at the puffy thickness. he sucked at your chubby mound, flicking his tongue against your lips until he delved in deeper, warming your hole with his mouth. he used such sensual descriptors, calling your cunt succulent and sweet until your cream coated not only his tongue but the entire lower half of his face.

you feel ashamed that even recalling the event begins to arouse you. your thighs squish together without your permission, and you hope it snuffs out the remaining desire.

"it's nothing to be embarrassed about. it was sexy—cute even.”

belphie teases, and you audibly groan.

he was different from beel in many ways, and you questioned how he could be the twin of such a sweet and friendly glutton until you realized the extent of belphie's insatiability.

he would never admit it, but he inexplicably craved you. his utter desire to pull you apart and put you back together for his own pleasure. he wanted you all to himself, which struck you as odd.

he’s mean; he teases you, pulls your hair, calls you names, and then, when you’re on precipice of exploding, suddenly you’re his ‘darling little sister.’ he'd whisper praise against your lips, making you forget why you were mad in the first place. he’s mastered riling you up and talking you back down, but it was exhausting—he's exhausting.

you settle on ignoring him, preferring to kick your feet back and forth on the bed while you busied yourself with whatever had your attention.

he lowers his head to peek underneath your oversized shirt and perversely looks between your bare thighs before locking the door behind him.

he walks towards your relaxed frame, remaining a good distance away but close enough to peer over and glance at what had you so occupied.

“are you mad at me?” he questions, tossing the pillow to the side.

“when am i not?”

you shrug off his pathetic attempt to ease your anger, as you are used to his patterns by now. you hum the measly tune playing and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, refusing to look at him. “what do you want, belphie?”

“who says i want anything? can’t a big brother hang out with his little sister?”

you scoff.

“nice try, but we don't 'hang out' and no, co-napping doesn't count.” you lock your phone and put it on the nightstand.

“just tell me what you want.”

his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.

“is that any way to talk to your big brother?”

he reels back some of his attitude hoping it comes across as playful. he didn’t want you to be too upset because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to calm you back down. thankfully, you didn’t seem angry—just bothered, and somehow belphie hated that more.

“you’re only older than me by like a month and that’s not anything to brag about.”

he sucked his teeth. always eager to remind him that, while he was older, it was just barely –as if he cared.

“doesn’t matter. i’m still your big brother.”

there’s a brief moment of silence before you sigh. “whatever you say.”

you're appeasing him; it's like you didn’t actually believe it yourself. his annoyance spiked, and you enjoyed it. it was nice to give him a taste of his own medicine for a change, and see him so worked up , especially over something so trivial.

“look at me when i’m talking to you.”

you choose to play coy and ignore his demand until you're suddenly startled.

the bed abruptly dips as he settles on top of you.

you finally turn around to protest, but he barely gives you a chance. your bewildered eyes meets his firm gaze. his mouth connects to the spot just under your ear, his breath fans your skin, and a shock travels down your spine, resting in your lower back.

his hands weaves around you and digs into the sheets, trapping you against the bed.

“don’t be like that.” his voice is much lower and more inviting, but still authoritative.

he takes his other hand to lift up your shirt to your surprise. he admires the cute and skimpy pajamas and how the shape of your slit was visible as you futilely kicked at him.

embarrassed, you reach to pull your shirt down.

“b-belphie! stop !” you shriek.

he snickers at your expression. his lean and languid body drapes over you as he burrows into you. his nose and lips caress your skin, inciting goosebumps. it prods you lightly, making you shift from being abashed to giggly.

you can’t stop the laugh from bubbling up inside; you bite your lips to muffle them, but when he licks at your neck, you can no longer hide it.

“that tickles,”

“yeah?”

the skin around your eyes wrinkle and your body twitches from his teasing.

“if that’s the case . . .”

he moves too quickly for you to process. his knees settle on either side of your hips, his chest to your back, while his hands pin your wrists down. you’re so used to seeing belphie so idle that his agility catches you by surprise.

his mouth latches on the back of your neck and begins to plant spit-covered hickeys on your skin.

“n’more marks . . .” you whine, but he doesn’t listen. he hoped lucifer would see them.

if there was one thing he hated more than lucifer, it was the relationship you had with him.

you were different around each other. the lucifer he knows is cold and calculating, except when he speaks to you. It’s gentle, reassuring, and sickeningly tender—it's disgusting. he babies you, and you lapped up his affection like a puppy.

belphie supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. you’re the youngest and the only girl—the only sister—and you’re lucifer’s favorite. you're docile and soft-spoken around him and lucifer treated you like you were as fragile as a quaint flowers. he’s always careful— worried that if he were too rough, he’d pluck you from the ground and you’d wilt.

you were a demon; you could withstand much more, but the avatar of pride didn't care.

he didn't care that you were spoiled, bratty, and foul-mouthed, and maybe lucifer was blind to it. he couldn’t realize that about his precious sister when he was too busy fucking her.

dinners were especially tortuous. he wonders if you can feel him staring daggers at you when you obediently take your seat next to lucifer and proceed to give him all of your attention.

he hates how you play with your hair and cross and uncross your legs, like you’re nervous. what could you possibly be talking about with him that turns you into a fidgeting mess?

why should he even care? he doesn't care; actually, it didn't matter. you can pretend all you want; he knows what type of girl you are and the naughty things you likes

belphie's teeth scrape and lightly prick your skin to prove a point —it’s not deep enough to bleed but just enough to bruise and hear your mewl. he’s so close that his lashes gently feather your cheek. the smell of your hair and faint perfume lingering cause belphie to become feverish. it annoyed him to see how his body reacted to yours.

his cock pulsates against his pants, and he presses into your behind. you’re soft and pretty and sweet enough to taint.

“I need you to do something for me, baby sis.”

he struggles to ask. he didn't want what you believed to be about him to be true. he's only around you when he needs something, but he swears you are a drug. he can’t help the tent in his pants and how aroused he gets when you’re angry and pissed off at him.

you twist your neck as much as he’d allow to look at the demon behind you.

“w-what?” you stutter, too focused on the way his hips grind against your ass.

your shirt rides up, but this time from his movement. you can feel his eyes burning on the skin of your butt, and you couldn’t pull the fabric back down to hide.

"you know what i want.”

belphie leaves a trail of kisses on your body. tugging down your collar, he nibbles on your shoulder.

“I need your pretty little mouth,” he whispers right by the shell of your ear. his nose digs into you, tracing vertical lines while he inhales your scent. “i want to feel it around my cock.”

you tutted.

"we can’t anymore. we’ll get in trouble.” you wiggle against him, attempting to shut your legs to ease the throb in your lower region.

“we won’t.” he promises. “I just need to cum in my little sister’s throat.” he eyes the length of your neck, eyes hazy like he was imagining it. “i need to fuck it.”

you blush profusely at the demand. “nuh-uh” was your defiant reply.

in response, belphie unpins one of your wrists and instead tangles his fingers in your hair to pull it. your head is thrown back from the force, and you cry out. “hurts..”

yeah, of course it does. he wonders how angry lucifer would be if he saw how he roughhoused you.

your plump lips are slightly parted, and your eyes are glossy. he looks between the two of them.

with an open mouth, his lips find yours to press a sloppy wet kiss. he couldn’t resist you, and he wouldn’t even try to.

“we won’t get in trouble as long as you don’t tell anyone, okay?”

he knew someone would notice the number he did on your nape, but you didn’t need to fret about that, at least not now. he loosens his grip on your strands while his hips still move at a slow pace, cock-humping your backside for his gratification and to encourage you.

“b-but—”

“but nothing. you’re going to suck me off because i’m your big brother and you love me, right?" the exalting feelings you possess for him can’t be questioned, but you remain hesitant. you know it’s wrong, and yet you nod anyway.

“ i love you so much, belphie.”

he smiles at your obedience. you’re always more likely to listen when your cunt is weeping for him. he didn’t have to see it to know that you’re soaked.

“good.” he pats the side of your cheek.

you study him with glossy and affectionate eyes. your lips are pursed and trembling like you want another kiss. he’s learned how to read your silent pleas, and so he grants you another peck.

“love you.” you say it again, but with the innocence that belphie craves. you hope he melts at the sound of your voice, but he doesn’t. he crumbles.

“love you too. i love you so fucking much, you have no idea,” he mumbles it against your soft lips, his orbs staring deep into yours with such desire and fondness. he kisses you once more and then twice, rubbing your chin softly.

“my perfect little sister isn’t that right? you're going to do what your big brother says.”

and his mouth is hot against yours. his tongue, used to such venom, felt sweet for a change and it makes you wet.

your back arches as he continues to kiss you. his tongue caresses the roof of your mouth; it's messy and audible, and you croon at the sensation. you felt sensitive; even your nipples brushing against the cotton of your shirt were enough to draw out tiny squeaks.

“big brother...” you mewl it against his mouth, and belphie fucking groans.

“f-fuck.” he’s zipping down his pants.

“i'm so fucked up. you have no idea how fucking hard that makes me.”

he spanks you on your ass and removes his body from on top of you. he lays on his back, crossing his arms behind his head to rest on your pillows.

he’s relieved when your dainty hands pull down his pants and his cock springs free. slender and long, tilting slightly with thin veins on the sides, a rosy pink tip coated in a thin layer of pearlescent white.

your mouth puckers and sucks on his leaky slit for a few seconds before you bury him in your throat. the friction is familiar, and the burn forces you to produce more spit. your drooling mouth deepthroats him, suctioning around his shaft with your tongue flicking on any vein it comes across.

you keep going even as his cock kisses the back of your throat. when he hears you gag, his hand rests on your head to keep you still.

“I want to feel you choke, baby. cmon suck it.”

bucking into the vice that was your mouth, your hair fans out around his thighs. belphie thinks to tug on it when he wants to fuck your face even harder.

“gonna empty my cum in my little sister’s throat,” he groans gutturally just as soon as your lips touch his coarse hairs. your tears threaten to spill.

he calls out to you, continuing to hump your warm mouth.

“call me big brother again.”

you look up at him with that precious, messy cock-sucking face as you swallow around him.

you try to straighten your back , attempting to remove his length from the slick opening of your throat, but the firm hand on your head keeps you still.

“say it.”

you feel a wave of anxiety. you try to keep the drooling from overwhelming you, but it doesn’t stop. you swallowed around him reactively, aware of how much he was stuffing and stretching your mouth. you’re careful to prevent yourself from choking as you struggle to speak, but you gag a few more times.

“b-bwig b-bwother.”

filthy ribbons of spit and cum drip for your mouth ruining your clothes and sticking to your chest.

your tiny mouth struggles to take him. it’s far from perfect, it’s sloppy and messy, but belphie thinks you never looked more beautiful.

#૮꒰ ๑´ତ `๑ ꒱ྀིა #kinda abrupt ending oopsie :<#tw:incest #belphie x reader smut #belphie x reader #belphegor x reader #belphegor x reader smut #obey me smut #obey me #obey me x reader #female reader

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elordilover · 4 months

Note

Hii! Could you write a walker scobell x actress reader fic where she's new to acting and her first acting role is in the pjo show? Thank you!!

i love this!! thanks so much for the request! 💐

more than best friends

pairing: walker scobell x fem!reader

summary: you are casted as annabeth for the pjo series and become best friends with your co-star, walker.

warnings: nothing really! not proof read, reader plays annabeth in the seires, half social media

————————————————————————

yourusername- i am so honored to finally tell you that am part of this project! this cast has become family. i’m so excited for everyone to watch it, meet you at camp half-blood: december 20th 🌩️⚡️🌊

walkerscobell- so honored to be able to work with you, and call you my best friend 💐♥️

percyjacksonseries- ⚡️⚡️⚡️

view more comments……..

—————

everyone on the cast just announced their spots in the series, it was your first time doing this so you were a bit nervous. you watched your phone as all the positive comments started to roll in.

you heard the door to your trailer open and saw a familiar face, walker. you would never admit this to anyone, but you did sort of have a crush on him. but you had to put the admiration to the side now that he was your co-star.

“Y/N, do you want to go grab food since we’re done shooting for the day?”, he asked you.

“sure! where are we going?”, you replied as you got up and started exiting your trailer.

“i don’t know, in-n-out?”

“yeah, sure”, you said as you walked to the car.

the whole car ride was filled with scream-singing to one direction songs, it was amazing. the light that shined through his hair made you admire him even more. how the sunshine made his eyes sparkle. the way his smile grew when you were both singing along to the music that shaped both of your childhoods. you had always dreamed of nights like this, now they became your reality. your only wish was that he would see you as more than a friend.

—————

the next day you arrived to set early and we r straight to the hair and makeup trailer, which was were walker was also. you couldn’t wait to see him.

“hey Y/N, how are you?” walker asked as you walked through the door.

“i’m good, a little tired tho, how about you?” you replied.

“i’m good!”, he said.

you two fell into easy conversation while getting makeup done, or getting your hair fixed. it was always easy with him, you always felt safe and at home while you were with walker. it was just something about him.

—————

“action!”, you heard and immediately started to act out your scene with walker. it was going to be in the finale episode, where you place your necklace around his neck. it was supposed to be a little romantic, but it shouldn’t have affected you this much.

walker’s deep blue eyes stared you down, your cheeks immediately turned a deep shade of red. it was embarrassing, everyone on set would notice your admiration toward walker.

walker started laughing, most likely from your eye contact. almost every scene you guys shot together ended up like this, you and walker would burst out laughing. almost every scene had to be reshot many many times.

you shot the scene again and again until it was perfect. your cheeks still burning many minutes after.

—————

after many long hours of shooting, walker entered into your trailer to hang out with you. it had become a nightly ritual for you guys. you would lay on your couch and scroll on tiktok, showing each other the funniest ones.

after minutes of scrolling walker tilted his phone toward you. you noticed the tiktok featured you and walker. it was an edit shipping you two. it used clips from different moments from the press tour, and red carpet events.

“i mean… it’s a good edit”, you said nervously. you secretly loved seeing tiktok’s like these.

“yeah i agree, it’s one of the better ones i’ve seen. we look pretty good together, we make a great team”, walker replied not knowing how that last sentence would effect you.

“we sure do”, you agreed as both you and walker’s cheeks turned red.

—————

the other members of the cast had noticed how close you and walker had gotten, when you weren’t together, you guys were texting, and if you weren’t texting, you were probably asleep. aryan had brought it up to you last week, he said how everyone saw how you guys looked at each other, and how you were both always blushing when you had scenes together. you didn’t believe him though.

—————

filming had come to an end and you were definitely going to miss your new best friends, especially walker. you two had agreed to call and text as much as you could till you could be back together for the press tour.

—————

yourusername- filming this show was the best experience of my life, thank you to everyone who was involved in creating this amazing series. love you all ♥️

the first two episodes are out now! 🌩️⚡️🌊

walkerscobell- SO EXCITED‼️‼️‼️

percyjacksonseries- oh my god

walkerfan- Y/N’s feeding us with this bts content

Y/Nfan- it’s sooooooo good

walkerscobell- first two episodes. out now. 🌩️🌊

i love everyone on this cast so much, they have become my family, so so so thankful for everyone who got me here

yourusername- GO BEST FRIEND ‼️‼️‼️

percyjacksonseries- watching rn.

walkerfan13- PERCYBETH 😭😭😭

Y/Nfan- Y/N X WALKER CONTENT 🎉

—————

after the cast party, you decided to go over to walker’s place before your parents came and got you.

“hey Y/N, i kind of wanted to tell you something”, walker said nervously, “ever since i first met you you’ve inspired me so much and i just wanted to say that i really like you, in more than a friend way”, he rambled out.

you thought you were dreaming, no way he just said that. you stared at him for a second before kissing him, it was just a simple peck but you hope it got your point across.

“wait, you like me too?”

“of course, of course i do” you replied, noticing how red walker’s cheeks were.

he leaned in and gave you another kiss, you couldn’t believe this was real life.

—————

after a couple of months, many interviews, many nights on facetime, many ship edits being sent to each other, many days of secretly dating. you both decided to make your relationship public.

yourusername- my mom approves

comments on this post have been limited…..

walkerscobell- percybeth irl

comments on this post have been limited……

————————————————————————

thanks for reading, please send feedback and more requests!

🎀🧡🐞🫀⭐️🥥🫶🏻🐝🪻🪩🌎🪷🥿🫧🫐🧿🪞

#walker scobell x reader #writing #walker scobell fanfiction #walker scobell x you #walker scobell fluff #walker scobell fic #walker #scobell #fluff #social media fic #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #annabeth chase #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson fluff #x reader

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blue-blue-blooms · 1 month

Text

The First Date

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Your first date with Eddie doesn't go exactly as planned after you and your friends get taken and drugged by Russian spies, making him think that you stood him up.

Warnings: A little bit of angst.

2k words

Eddie Munson.

You'd seen him around school. He was loud, rough, and slightly intimidating.

The first time you saw him was in the cafeteria, loudly speaking about the throes of capitalism, forced conformity, and the demonization of people whom society deemed 'different'. You mostly tuned people out during lunch, but it was hard to ignore Eddie. He was so captivating. You weren't sure if it was the way he used his entire body when making a point, aggressively gesticulating, or the way his face twisted and turned as he spoke, or just his general demeanor, that made everything he said sound so poignant. He hadn't really been in your orbit before, so outside your social circle. You were friends with people like Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler, not necessarily because you were popular but rather through shared trauma. There was something about going through life-altering events and near-death experiences that really bonded people for life.

The first time you spoke to Eddie was after you saw him taping a poster on a bulletin board outside the auditorium.

Hellfire Club. D&D.

"Hey, is that a D&D club?" you asked him.

He turned around, slightly startled, and looked at you with surprise.

"Oh, hey! Didn't see you there. Yeah, it's a D&D club. I'm trying to recruit new members since we're running a bit low..." He replied, giving you a hesitant smile.

He seemed a bit nervous, slightly tugging on his hair and anxiously tapping his foot. You're pretty sure you were making him nervous. You'd seen the way people like Steve treated people like Eddie, even though Steve had grown considerably after taking out a Demogorgon and watching his girlfriend nearly die. You'd seen the way Tommy and Carol used to laugh at the 'freaks', shoving them around in the hallways, making fun of their interests, like the time Tommy made someone in the band cry during a pep rally. The realization that Eddie was nervous because he expected you to do the same slightly hurt.

"That's cool! This kid that I babysit—his name's Dustin, he really likes D&D. He plays it a lot with his other friends. Whenever I used to babysit him, he'd drag me to their games. I never really got it, mostly because any time I asked a question, Dustin would scream at me," you breathlessly ramble, "He's not a huge fan of anyone who doesn't get the point, like, right away."

It seemed that the more you rambled, the more at ease Eddie became, and suddenly he was laughing as you spoke.

"Well, I promise that we don't yell at anyone in Hellfire. Only when we're excited," Eddie said, a small smile lingering on his lips as he looked at you, "Just in case you ever wanna join in."

"I might take you up on that offer. I've been pegged down the list of 'coolest teens' that Dustin knows, and my ego's taken a hit," you joked.

You hadn't ended up joining Hellfire. But you and Eddie had become sort of friends. You'd see him around school. You were both in some of the same classes, you'd see him in the hallways and you'd wave at each other. Sometimes you'd see him in the parking lot after school and you'd chat for a bit. But that was the extent of it. You didn't grow closer until summer started and you got a job at Starcourt. You worked at Café Nocturne, right across from Scoops Ahoy where Steve had started working. Most days, you spent your lunch break lounging around Scoops Ahoy, eating free ice cream, and making fun of Steve with his co-worker Robin. Sometimes you wondered what Eddie was up to, not having seen him since summer started, and you found yourself hoping you'd see him around Starcourt.

It wasn't until the second week of summer that you saw Eddie. The Café had been relatively quiet, only an old couple sitting in the far corner drinking lattes. You were trying to pass the time by making random drinks when you saw Eddie lingering by the cash register.

"Eddie!" you said, surprising yourself by how loud you were. You cleared your throat awkwardly and shuffled over to him, sending him a shy smile.

"Y/N? Hey, I didn't know you worked here," Eddie said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "It's nice to see you again, I was wondering where you went."

"Oh, just been making coffee...hanging out with my friends," you replied, "How's your summer been so far?"

"Erm, yeah, it's been okay. I've just been working, hanging out with Gareth and Jeff, writing some new music," Eddie replied.

"For Corroded Coffin, right?" you asked.

"Yeah, wow, how'd you know about that?" Eddie said, nervously twirling his hair.

"Oh-um...I heard you talking about it in the cafeteria once," you responded, hoping you didn't sound like a stalker.

"Right, yeah, you should come see us sometime. We play in the Hide Out every Tuesday," Eddie said, as a shy grin crept on his face, "We kinda get a crowd, actually...of about five drunks."

You let out a small giggle, "That sounds nice. Unfortunately, I work every Tuesday. Maybe when school starts?"

Eddie was slightly deflated at that, nodding his head in understanding. Not wanting to ruin your one chance at spending time with Eddie this summer, you hesitatingly asked, "Maybe we can hang out sometime? You could teach me D&D? I didn't get the chance to learn when you first offered..."

Eddie immediately perked up at that, nodding vigorously as he said, "Yeah! Yeah, that'd be great. I can totally do that. Erm, do you wanna meet here tomorrow at 7? We could grab some food-"

"Oh, I was hoping we could meet somewhere else. Maybe at Patty's diner? It's just that I spend all my time at Starcourt," you responded.

"Yeah, that works. Patty's at 7. It's a date," Eddie replied, before quickly backtracking. "Not like a date-date, I just meant, like, a platonic date. Like just friends hanging out, chilling, y'know? Unless you want it to be a date? It doesn't have to be! But, like-"

You cut him off before he could dig further into the hole he found himself in, giggling a little at how flustered he looked. "It's a date. A non-platonic, hopefully romantic, date."

"That's...that's great, yeah. I will see you then," Eddie said breathlessly, shuffling his way out as he raised a hand to wave goodbye, almost knocking into the table behind him as he left.

God, he's adorable.

♡♡♡

"I swear to God Dustin, if we die in this elevator, I will strangle you with my bare hands," you grit out, pacing back and forth as everyone tried to reel in their panic, "I have a fucking date in two hours and if I miss it, I will literally end you."

"No one gives a shit about your stupid date," Dustin yelled, throwing his hands around wildly as Erica slammed a bottle of weird-looking fluid on the wall. You weren't even gonna try and deal with that, it looked like Robin had it handled as you watched her snatch the bottle from Erica's hands.

Things escalated pretty quickly from there and suddenly you were lying on the floor of a bathroom cubicle, trying to make the room stop spinning.

"Is this what it feels like to do drugs?" you groaned out, stretching on the disgusting tiles and praying that your head stopped pounding.

"I wouldn't know," Robin replied, "But if it is, this sucks."

"Steve? Are you alive?" you asked, "I don't need you dying on me. You're my ride home."

"I'm good," you heard him croak.

"Think we puked it all out?" you asked.

"Let's check...interrogate me." Robin said.

"When's the last time you peed your pants?" Steve asked, and you heard Robin let out a cackle, "Today."

"What the fuck, Robin?" you laughed.

"It was when they took out the bone saw. And only a little!" she defended herself, giggling with you.

"I'm meant to be on a date," you moaned, "He's gonna think I stood him up. How am I meant to explain this shit?"

"We'll figure it out," Steve replied, "Also, who's this guy anyway? You've been moaning about missing this date for, like, hours?"

"Yeah, it's getting kinda annoying," Robin added.

"It's Eddie." you replied, crawling into the stall next to you and sitting down in front of Robin. "Eddie Munson. He's a senior. Long, curly, untamed hair. Really loud. Plays D&D."

"Wait, Eddie 'The Freak' Munson? Isn't he a drug dealer?" Steve asked, a little surprised.

"Don't call him that!" you said, slightly defensive, "And I didn't know that. But if this is what drug consumption is like then he needs to stop."

As the drugs slowly purged out of your systems, and Steve tried to hit on Robin only to get rejected and have a heart-to-heart, the three of you found yourselves giggling hysterically in the dingy bathroom. It wasn't long until Dustin and Erica burst in and dragged you all out. As the night progressed, things only got worse. And soon, all of you were facing off a thirty-feet tall Mind Flayer and reeling from the loss that followed. Then the dust settled, a different story was fabricated, and everyone had to pretend to move on. And you had an apology to give.

♡♡♡

You didn't see Eddie until school started again. It was the first day back, hallways busy and bustling as the freshmen teetered around cluelessly. This year felt different, like there was some cosmic shift in the air. Everything seemed duller, void of any feeling. You weren't sure what it was exactly, but if you had to guess then it was probably the Starcourt 'fire' that had brought on this change. Things weren't the same after. It was like all of Hawkins was reeling from the loss, despite not having known the truth. You wished that you'd been oblivious. Maybe then everything wouldn't hurt this much.

You didn't see Eddie around school until lunch. You were almost sure he was avoiding you. You finally saw him lingering in the hallway by his locker, putting some books in, and you immediately made a beeline for him.

"Eddie!" you called, startling him as he looked up.

You walked over before he could say anything, "I've been looking all over for you! I'm so sorry I couldn't make it to Patty's. I wanted to explain everything over the summer, but my parents grounded me, which was incredibly annoying since I didn't even do anything. But I think they were just super paranoid and didn't know what else to do and I didn't have your number so I couldn't call you and-"

Your rambling was cut off by Eddie as he held up his hands and dismissively waved, "It's cool, it's fine. Honestly, I don't know why I thought you would show up. If it was some joke or whatever, like, it's...whatever."

"What? No! That wasn't some joke. I really wanted to go on that date, but you know what happened at Starcourt, right?" you anxiously spoke.

"The fire? I don't see what that has to do with anything. Doesn't your shift end at 5?" Eddie asked skeptically.

"Yes, yes it does! But I usually hang out at Scoops Ahoy because Steve's my ride home. I was doing that and then the whole fire thing happened, and I just got caught up in all of that, and then, y'know the house arrest? My parents thought if I stepped outside, I'd die or something," you quickly explained, "I promise I didn't stand you up!"

Eddie looked at you for a while until a small smile crept up on his face, "Relax, I believe you."

You immediately let out a sigh of relief, "I promise I'm not an asshole."

There were a few moments of silence that stretched between you two until Eddie finally spoke, "I'm sorry about what happened. That must've been horrifying."

You don't know the half of it.

You let out a nervous chuckle, "Erm, yeah, it was. But I've had some time to recover."

"How about we re-do that date?" Eddie asked, "Except this time I'm gonna pick you up, can't imagine the types of trouble you get into when I'm not around."

"Sounds good, Eds." you smiled, leaning forward to give him a quick peck on the cheek. As you broke away, you could see a small blush settling on his face.

"God, Y/N, buy me dinner first."

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clazaries · 2 months

Text

The Thin Line Between Victory and Survival NSFW!

(Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!soldier!reader)

Summary: Having been newly promoted, your first mission with Delta Force goes wrong and you have to deal with the consequences of going against Santiago's orders

w/c: 6.6k

Warnings: NSFW! war environment, slight knife play, masturbation (f!reader), oral (m!receiving), self-edging, orgasm denial, choking, dom!Santi, p in v, slight fluff at the end, think that's everything?

a/n: reader's callsign is 'Midge'. this takes place after the events of triple frontier but where the gang are still active members of Delta Force. I kinda imagined Santiago as Ghost from COD (cos daddy)

ENJOY!

***

“Frankie. Sit rep?”

“ETA 30 seconds. Sit tight.”

“Rog’.” Santi’s gravelly voice worms its way into your ear in harsh rumbles as you begin to take position at the edge of a sandy cliff, overwatching the vast desert valley ahead of you. His voice shakes the nerves inside you that are already on high alert. You remind yourself to turn down your comms when you can afford the chance. “Midge, how copy?”

You perk to attention at the sound of your nickname and respond accordingly. “Loud and clear, sir. In position. Eyes on Frankie.”

Towards the heart of the valley, Frankie’s distant figure calmly approaches the enemy-riddled farm under the cover of darkness and you watch with bated breath through a window of green. Directly ahead of you, even further away on the mirroring side of the valley is your superior Santiago “Pope” Garcia, providing overwatch just as you are. You can’t see him but you know he’s there, like a ghost lurking in the shadows. Even though you are just as concealed as he is, you have this disconcerting feeling that he’s very much capable of plucking you out, watching you.

You readjust yourself nervously.

It’s incredibly dark with nothing but the twinkling stars and Jupiter’s bright sparkle to keep anyone sane. Without the night vision goggles, you are a lost hope. They sit squarely on your nose, grinding the bone and encasing your eyes, and the sweat trickling down your neck is no home comfort either, but now is not the time to be complaining. You have a job to do.

Having been recently promoted for your sharp shooting and bright mind, you’re no longer an extra in someone else’s play, you’re the real deal now. You’re still taking orders no less, except now word doesn’t have to pass through at least three ranks above you like a game of Chinese Whispers before you receive the order.

Every mission is different but your response has always been the same: subdued nerves to begin, then before long, you’re in your element and the job gets done. However, this task in particular has your heart beating a little harder and you don’t sense it settling any time soon. The whole mission is unnerving. It’s just you, Frankie and Santiago, sent out into the middle of nowhere to retrieve controls for a weapon that’s been missing from the US government for three years. The very same that is currently being protected and fortified by an armada of Russian extremists. Every minute in between the initial briefing and your current breath has been spent quietly fretting about it.

This mission alone has introduced a lot of firsts for you; first time working with Delta Force rather than for, first time working off the grid, first time working in a squad with fewer than 5 comrades beside you, first time being completely and hopelessly outnumbered…

First time feeling extremely, extremely doubtful.

“Remember, this is a covert operation and completely off the grid so keep it quiet. Frankie, I want you in and out before they even get a whiff that you were ever there, and Midge--” you gulp, “keep Frankie alive.”

“Yes, sir.” You and Frankie’s voices ring through simultaneously. By now, Frankie has approached the back door of the barren barn, a large building that no doubt houses a number of enemies inside. Through your scope, you witness Frankie infiltrating the barn, his voice verbally confirming it seconds later. “I’m in. Going dark.”

“Copy that.”

The second you lose sight of him you take a hefty breath, letting it flood your lungs while the waiting game begins. From out here, there’s nothing you can do for him except warn him of any outside movements. As of right now, he’s on his own, doing what he does best.

“Stay sharp.”

You keep quiet on your side of comms, too paranoid to risk speaking unnecessarily. Instead, you keep your wits on what’s in front of you. There’s no movement, not even a breath of wind to shake the lonely tree that stands at the far end of the farm and it feels as though time has stood still. If it wasn’t for the mouse scuttling underneath your sniper stand, you would’ve thought so.

The little creature skips and hops over the rocks to your right, stopping every couple of seconds to clean the dust from its ears. Cute. You quirk a smile at the thought of something as simple as a mouse breaking the tension that’s riddling your bones. God knows you need it. Every fibre of your being is buzzing with uncertainty and the heavy nauseating feeling in your stomach is enough of a sign that something about this mission just isn’t right. Some would call it instinct, others would call it a load of rubbish, regardless, the feeling is there and you’re not willing to ignore it.

In all honesty, you would’ve carried out this mission entirely differently if you had the authority. But that’s the thing. You don’t. Outranked and out-experienced by the two men alongside you, you had no option but to play by their rules. Where you would’ve gone all-in, they chose to keep their cards close to their chests.

You never agreed with the idea that less is more. Not in the military.

Ten agonising minutes pass by. Nothing has been said and nothing warrants being said. Everything about you is screaming to point out the obvious; that something clearly isn’t going right. Frankie should’ve been out by now.

“I don’t like this. It’s too quiet. Nothing’s happening.”

Santiago instantly replies, a slight ring of chagrin evident in his tone. “Good. Means we haven’t been compromised.”

“Then why isn’t he out?”

“Patience, Midge. Keep focussed.”

You’re seconds away from overstepping boundaries and saying something you shouldn’t, but the moment you open your mouth, you spot a black vehicle off in the distance, quickly morphing into view as it speeds across the expanse of the valley with a plume of dust trailing behind it. It’s heading directly towards the farm.

“Be advised. Vehicle inbound coming in from the north. Pope, you see it?”

“Affirmative. Six Russians inside and likely armed. Do. Not. Engage. Frankie, get the hell on with it and get those controls.”

The vehicle approaches and screeches to a stop, the occupants immediately disperse from the vehicle with rifles in hand. Fear shoots through you, wide eyes pinned on the door Frankie entered through, desperate for it to open again and see Frankie escape but alas, no sign of him. “Come on, come on, come on…”

“Enemies heading towards the front entrance.”

“I’ve got a shot on two of them.”

“No. Stand down. Do not engage. They don’t know we’re here, we can’t draw attention to ourselves.” Pope’s voice rages through your earpiece again and you wince, both from his tone and volume.

“Why the fuck are we here then?”

“To prevent a ruckus from happening. If we engage, we’ll be the reason for it. Now shut up and keep your eyes peeled. Frankie, for Christ’s sake, you better have those controls.”

You listen intently for his voice, hoping that he’s succeeded and he’s on his way back, but when you hear a slight crackle, a groan and high-pitched frequency piercing through the comms, you assume the worst. Your heart stops dead in your chest when you hear a shot being fired, its echo carrying the weight of dread right to your position. “Fuck! Santi--”

“Frankie! Do you copy?”

Short, resounding booms resonate from the farm and you’re left with no doubt that Frankie’s position has been compromised, leaving his life and the controls to this weapon at stake. You can’t afford to lose both and you’re certain that Pope knows that too, so why isn’t he giving the order for backup?

“He needs help!”

“Stay put! I can’t risk losing two of you. This is Pope to Ironhead, how copy?”

You drown out William’s voice with worries of your own, constantly watching for signs of Frankie’s survival but to no avail, you find none. You knew this mission was never going to succeed. Your instinct was right. And based on that fact alone, what’s to stop you assuming that when your gut instinct is now telling you to go and extract Frankie and the controls yourself, it’s the right decision no matter what your orders are?

“Fuck this.” With haste, you pack up your equipment, whipping it over your shoulder with a new-found surge of adrenaline pumping through you. The hill you’re perched on isn’t tall, but it is steep, so as you run down the slope, your body falls faster than your legs can keep up. The howl of air blows past your ears and the clinking and clanking of your equipment rattles with each step. Even still with the cacophony of sounds, nothing can be louder than your boss’s rage.

“Midge! What the fuck are you doing? Get back to your position!”

You don’t bother responding because you’re too out of breath…and mostly because you’re shit scared. When you hear his voice again, you’re at the door Frankie entered through with a shaky hand holding your pistol and the other tightly gripping the handle.

“Midge, so help me God, if you take another step--”

“We can’t leave Frankie!”

“We don’t know if he’s still alive.”

“But we know the controls are in there, if we can’t get one, we’ll get the other.”

“NO! You get back here right fucking now!” The scratch of his growl descends down your body, making you curl your toes. Suddenly, a farm full of Russian extremists doesn’t seem to be your biggest threat…

“I’m going in.”

A grunted sigh crackles through the comms as Pope watches you push through the door into chaos.

“Just so you know, if you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.”

~~~~

Miraculously, you did exactly that. You survived. Not only did you extract Frankie’s beaten body and save his life, you also retrieved the controls before they got away. You can’t deny that the odds were slim and it did nearly cost both of your lives, but at the expense of breaking a few rules and a few bones, you made it. And you won’t apologise for a single bit of it sitting here in an unused briefing room with Santiago.

The tale of twists and turns didn’t end when you and Frankie both made it out alive only hours ago, in fact, it continues with Santi; a man with chains around his heart, a shield around his mind and a look of steel donning his face. It is fair to say his reputation precedes him, especially since his comrade Redfly died years ago. Before you met him officially, you had only ever heard of his emotionless gaze, his inhuman self-restraint and deeply enigmatic personality, and you found it strange that no one told you what it was like to be around him. Until Frankie told you that how you felt being in a room with him could not be explained through words, it was something you had to experience for yourself.

Frankie was right. You had to be there to see that he was stronger, colder, smarter, more intimidating than anyone had let on. His presence wasn’t one to be easily swallowed. It was obvious that strangers couldn’t settle the unease they felt when he walked into the room; cautious eyes, bitten lips, fidgeting muscles. They succumbed to his eerie, silent domination very quickly. Quicker if those dark eyes were locked on you. They were seared into the back of your mind the moment they landed on you for the first time, remembering how you just couldn’t decipher the encrypted messages they hid. Whoever stated that the eyes were windows to the soul had clearly never met Santiago.

But tonight, that restraint is gone. He is positively seething. Outwardly, publicly, irrationally seething. In the dimly lit room, he stands menacingly in the corner where the light doesn’t quite reach, yet still you can see his knuckles tensing and untensing with each breath he takes. You don’t say a word, quietly picking at the forming scab on your knuckle, and in your head, you speak the words you don’t have the conviction to say out loud.

“Do you have any idea how fucking reckless you are?”

You slowly peer up to him, his words still processing as you narrow in on him. “Reckless? With all due respect, my actions saved a man’s life and finished the mission. What part of that is reckless?”

“The part where you didn’t follow my orders! You went rogue. Off plan. Completely out of line. If you don’t follow orders, you don’t know how it will end. I could’ve lost you both unnecessarily.”

“Could’ve,” you mutter.

He begins to loom closer, taking every word of yours like they’re a sour taste in his mouth. In muted tones, he whispers out to you. “What?”

“You said you could’ve lost us both. But you didn’t.” The words feel like liberation. It’s the first time you’ve ever behaved like this. It’s so uncharacteristic but you just feel so insulted by his lack of gratitude or appreciation that anger bubbles inside you, spitting out words that you know you shouldn't, turning you into someone you definitely aren’t. You are usually a rule follower, you are usually obedient, and you usually respect authority, but in the blinding light of anger, you just can’t surrender to Santiago’s discipline so easily.

“And you should’ve listened to me. But you didn’t. Nobody ever fucking listens to me and they end up dead because of it.”

“Just because Redfly did, doesn’t mean everyone else will too.”

Low blow, Midge.

Sensing immediate regret, you keep your eyes firmly pinned on your hands on the table in front of you. Like a dark rain cloud, you catch sight of his shadow engulfing your own. His stature and all-encompassing presence emerges behind you but you don’t dare move a single muscle. His hands curl around the back of the chair you’re sitting in, the pathetic plastic creaking under his fists. The brave front you’re putting on begins to yield to his growing temperament and the facade crumbles piece by piece.

Everyone in the unit had heard of what happened when a certain team of the Delta Force went rogue. The US Army had never let them live it down since.

He leans his head over your stiff shoulder and you can even feel the heat of his anger just glazing over the shell of your ear.

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” Santiago spits every word with heavy articulation as if he’s etching the words into your brain. His laboured breathing is a concern, knowing that it’s a warning of the wrath that’s about to ensue. “Redfly didn’t follow my orders to stand down and it inevitably got him killed. And right now, the same might happen to you.”

With a sharp, unexpectant tug of your hair, your head whips back, swinging the chair with you until the overhead light burns into your eyes. Reflexes have your hands gripping the edge of the table until they turn white with tension, stopping yourself from tipping backwards. The sudden blade on your neck stops you moving forward.

“Do you remember what I said to you before you disobeyed me?”

You remember all too well. If you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.

“You wouldn’t.”

Santiago presses the blade harder against your skin, unapologetic. “Wouldn’t I?”

You really don’t know whether to call his bluff but to stay on the safe side you remain silent. Until anything happens, you are both stuck staring into each other’s eyes, holding a resentment none of you are willing to let go of. Looking up at him, it’s obvious that he is teetering on the edge of breaking a few rules himself, allowing the sharp edge of the knife to roll across the expanse of your neck, bobbing as you swallow, until the sharp point rests precariously atop your pulse. But even he knows himself that he wouldn’t follow through with it, because as much as it pains him to admit it, your courageous actions, although downright stupid, did save Frankie’s life and secured the controls. And he fucking hates it. If there was anything he could do to scare the absolute shit out of you to stop you being so smug and defiant about it, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“Santiago,” you warn, just as the point of the knife starts to break through the thin layer of skin on your neck. You try to move your head but he still has his fist entangled through your roots.

The instant the little whine of his name broke from your lips, something snapped inside him. The desperation of it, it was too provocative for him to ignore and an electrical feeling pulsed from his chest and shot straight towards his dick. Having you in his tight clutches, essentially at his mercy, exacerbated the feeling and suddenly he could feel himself growing hard. Fuck, what was he doing?

It’s perverse of him to want to hear it again, to see those plump but bitten lips of yours say his name again in a plea for his forgiveness. He becomes so fixated on the idea that he gets carried away, pricking your skin with the knife, watching as your eyes widen and your body writhing beneath him.

“AHH! Pope--fuck--okay, okay, I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry, just…please let go of the knife.” There it was again, the slight twitch in his dick, one that makes him grow uncomfortable beneath his boxers.

It’s one thing for Pope to be angry, but when lust is thrown into the equation, there’s much less he can do to suppress it and with you still whimpering beneath him, it’s something he’s quickly realised.

He relieves the pressure of the knife just enough to alleviate the pain but not enough that you haven’t completely escaped its threat. He moves out of your sight, his head dropping lower until his lips are gracing across your ear. You hear nothing but his slow breathing, funnelling down your ear and you instantly shiver. You want to pull away from him but for some reason, you’re chemically drawn into him; his close proximity, the smell of him, the hold he has on you, it’s all so…dangerously alluring. Something changes and the air starts to grow hot.

“Y’know,” he purrs, “I can’t allow you stay on my team if you can’t listen to my orders--”

“No! No, I-I want to stay.”

“How do I know you won’t pull something stupid like this again, hm? You’re still a rookie, you’re not an addition to this team, no, what you are is a liability. Your actions today proved to me that you are just not capable.”

“I am. I was promoted for a reason.”

“Yeah? Prove it. Prove you’re capable and I might consider keeping you on my team.”

“How?”

“It’s simple,” he says, his lips trailing from your ear to skim across your cheek, just teasing with feather light touches. “Follow…my…orders. Do you understand?”

Your cheeks are burning, your lungs are heaving, everything about this screams ‘this is a risk you shouldn’t take’. But it’s hard to heed those words when Santiago’s grip of your hair loossens to soothing scalp scratches, when the tips of his lips and his nose brush over your burning cheek, inhaling the scent of you, when your gut is telling you to listen to how tempted your body is, how wanting it is for him.

Your thighs press together beneath the table.

“Yes.”

“Yes…what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Better. Stand up.” You swing forward so fast that a violent rush of blood to your head almost makes you lose your balance, but Santiago keeps you up with a firm hold to your arm while he casually throws the knife onto the table. He perches himself in front of you to lean against the edge of the table, touching toe-to-toe and holds your gaze; bold, dark brown eyes that give nothing away about the inner workings of his mind. And it’s those same eyes that can read everything about you.

“Nervous, soldier?”

“No, sir.”

“Don’t lie.”

“A…A little, sir.”

“Good, you should be. Take off your top.”

With those words, you know, that whatever happens from this moment on, Santiago will not be following any official protocol but his own. You do as he says, now feeling the heat of the room touching your bare skin. Santiago admires the way your belt hugs around your waist, waiting for the moment his hands can do the same when he’s fucking you from behind. Your bra is standard, nothing sexy. It��s what he expects on a day you had been on a mission, but what his eyes catch is your nipples pebbling through the material, and the slight blood stain discolouring the straps from the shrapnel wound to your shoulder that he didn’t realise you had.

“At ease,” he commands. You act on instinct, bracing your hands behind your back with your legs standing shoulders-width apart. The instruction has been ingrained in you since the day you started your training. “You got hurt?”

“Minor wounds.”

“Wounds you wouldn’t have had if you had listened to me.”

Fluttering warmth spreads from your core the moment Santiago cups your breast, your nipple weaving through his fingers and caught in a tight pinch. When you don’t react, he peers up at you to engage in a wordless conversation that both are in tune with. Keep going? Yes. He brings his other hand up to mirror the other and this time he finally elicits a small, but audible sigh from you.

It’s been so long since you’ve had anyone like this, even longer for Santiago. His failures to locate his old contact Yovanna in Australia broke him and since then, he had sworn off getting close with anyone for fears of time repeating itself. As for you? You had yet to claim anyone as your own. Sure, you’ve had a few romances over the years but no one had ever satisfied you in the sick, slightly twisted way you were searching for. Up until now, you didn’t think there was a man out there who was interested in the same things you were. You didn’t think they existed.

Until you met Santiago. He is a thrill personified.

It was impossibly cruel that the world had dealt you this hand; to fantasise over the ways his gravelly voice could murmur the dirtiest, filthiest things to you, the ways his experienced hands could ruin with the slightest of touches. However, you always knew that professionalism and the dangers of your line of work would always take priority over your fantasies, and you forced yourself out of your fictional world to come face to face with the harsh reality of war. It was a miracle how you were able to survive this long without going absolutely feral, but now, with Santiago losing his patience too, you’re starting to think that you won’t last much longer.

“So fucking reckless,” he whispers, a reminder for both you and himself. His brow dips when his frustration rolls back in its tide, keeping that stone-cold expression hard on his face. It’s slightly different though. His parted lips, his vigorous movements, the slight pant to his breath. In your eyes, it all points towards desire more than frustration. “As your superior…” His voice is somehow quieter, but it’s heard all the same, “it’s my responsibility to punish you, to teach you a lesson about discipline. You need to learn that when I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. You understand?”

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of your neck fluidly, your hands itching to wipe it away but obedience locks them behind your back. Suddenly, he snaps forward, his hand coming to snatch your jaw and force you to look him in the eyes. The precision of his quick movements makes you flinch, trapping a breath in your lungs and he notices, lips curling momentarily.

“Yes, sir!”

Shivers follow wherever his other hand roams. He moulds out the shape of your waist and hips, squeezing tighter than your belt ever could. He begins to unbuckle your belt with little regard, popping the button of your trousers and bursting the zip to admire the way your trousers hang loosely from your hips. Everything inside you tenses at the sudden exposure.

Santiago begins toying with you, running his knuckles lightly over the edge of your underwear, dipping just the tip of his finger beneath the elastic rim, but retreats just as quickly. He follows the line of your navel, travelling up and up to trace small ghostly circles around your ribcage and it takes everything in you not to shudder. Your body can’t quite figure out how to tune into him, the stark contrast between the harsh grip he has on your jaw and the fluttering touches to your body has your mind going crazy and it’s mildly disorientating.

His thumb circles around your chin before resting upon your bottom lip, pulling it out into a pout for his eyes to fixate on. He has that expression on his face that you’ve seen before; determined and fully resolute. The features of a man with authority.

“That mouth…” he pants, “‘s gotten you into trouble today.” He draws you in until the tips of your noses clash and he’s a hair’s breadth away from kissing you. Instead…“I want to fuck it. Get on your knees, soldier.”

Your knees collide the cold surface of the ground almost instantly much to his pleasure. He wastes no time undoing his belt as efficiently as he did yours, and before too long the tip of his lengthy cock replaces where his thumb was just seconds before, wet with little beads of cum. Your hands reach out to guide him into your mouth but he snatches your wrist before you can commit.

“Nuh-uh, this one’s for you. If you have some semblance of discipline, you’ll cum only when I say.”

You nod, falsely, and promptly take him into your mouth with one hand at the base of his cock while the other slips beneath your underwear and swirls around your clit the way you know best. A strangled groan leaves his throat and you feel the vibrations of it with the way his cock twitches in your mouth. The same pleasure buzzes in you, spreading warmth from your stomach down to your cunt.

Despite having eventually found a rhythm that you can settle into, bobbing your head and taking as much of him as you can, you can’t find balance. Your multitasking skills have taken a hit because as soon as you feel the tight pinch of pleasure erupting from your clit, you know you can’t succumb to it and just like that, all your focus and effort turns to pleasuring him and the feeling dissipates. It’s torturous having to edge yourself, it’s not something you are particularly well-versed in.

“So good, so fucking good,” he praises. Santiago’s hands come to scrape through your hair and take control, causing you to move faster and suck him down even harder, so much that you have to plant your other hand against his thigh to regain balance, going against his orders. He notices and chastises you. “Get that fucking hand back where it should be.”

A moan gargles from your throat, a lack of patience wearing you thin. It doesn’t help that you’re incredibly turned on by the whole situation and you’re hesitant to touch yourself because of it, unsure how much more you can take before yet another one of Santi’s orders is disobeyed. So you take it slow, lazily circling around your bud just enough to keep you satiated while you occupy yourself with Santiago. Your mouth detaches from him with a pop, using those tear-stained eyes of yours to silently beg for his own release in exchange for your own but his head is thrown back and takes no notice, indulging in the way your tongue swirls around his tip. Just the sight of the vein popping from his neck is enough to send a rush of lust to mount up onto the orgasm that’s impatiently waiting. Fuck, you really need to cum.

What gets his attention is your needy little whine. A whine that warns you both that you’re on the precipice of cumming, that if you pressed any harder on your sensitive clit you would combust. Your thighs are almost rattling beneath you.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns in a low growl, thrusting into your wet mouth and straight to the back of your throat. “Don’t you disobey me.”

“I can’t hold on,” you splutter.

“You can and you will. Fuuuck…”

Decidedly, your hand comes to a halt because after all, this is about discipline, right? It’s all about being able to control yourself, to place your trust in him and listen to what he says hoping that it will all pay off.

You need to do something that would push him over the edge, do something that would completely shatter his world, never to be forgotten. You offer every trick in the book; swirling around your tongue around the head of his cock, sweeping it across the small slit to collect the small bead of cum, teasing him before taking him down your throat and gagging on him. He’s already so close, and you're already dripping onto your hand, and with one last final trick up your sleeve, you catch his eyes, sink yourself onto him until your nose bashes against skin, and fight through the gag. Teeth baring, you slowly, lightly, graze your teeth up his cock, ghosting over every vein that pulses, leaving behind the soothing aftercare of your soft lips. By your side, his thighs twitch and by the time you reach the head of his cock, an explosion happens.

Santiago leans forward, grappling onto your head as you drink down everything he gives you. His entire body tenses, trapping you into a headlock and just only for a couple of seconds do you feel yourself losing breath, but it doesn’t matter, because above you he’s panting heavily, enclosing his thighs around your head and holding onto you for dear life. It’s all the signs you need to know that you’ve done what you promised, you proved yourself.

“Fucking hell,” Santiago pants. His grip loosens around you and you suck down a large breath as he releases you. The instant your lips are free, he forces you to a stand and claims them, humming into them with hunger. He slips his tongue past your lips searching for a taste of himself on you with a delectable moan. It only takes him a couple of seconds of clawing at your waist before his hand slips beneath your underwear to feel the result of your constant edging; a wet cunt that’s pleading for relief. The slightest touch of his fingers has your hips buckling, you’re so close it hurts.

“So wet. So needy.”

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. You want it, you need it, you can’t live without it, for god sake, please!

“Yeah?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “On whose authority?”

“Santiago, please.”

“I told you this is about discipline and listening to orders--” his fingers drill into your clit with absolute precision and immediately takes control of your pleasure, luring it to the surface. “Did I say you could cum?”

“No, but--”

“Then you can’t. Have the discipline to stop it.”

“Fuck!” Just seconds away from orgasm, you drop to a crouch, his hand slipping from you in one fluid movement. So close, so fucking close.

Santiago maniacally chuckles above you. He has little sympathy for you hunched on the ground reeling into yourself, but what he does have though, is just a little pride. Pride that you listened, that you obeyed no matter how desperate you were to go against his word. Because, of course, in Santiago’s eyes, his word overrules everyone else’s. His word is gospel. What he says goes.

You don’t get to relish the pride he has for you because you are spiralling. Your shaking body can’t allow you to stand knowing that even the slightest friction of anything against your clit would set you off and you’ve done so well to abide by his rules, you wouldn’t want to ruin it.

Santiago’s hand comes to stroke the back of your head in a supportive manner to find that you’re burning up. It’s obvious that you need release and that resides with him.

“Stand up.”

“I…I don’t think I can.”

“Come on,” he demands, his tone a little harsher. “Stand up and put your hands on the table.”

Shaky legs raise you to your feet and you brace yourself against the hard wooden table, the cold surface just a slight relief to the fire raging through your body. Santiago teases down your trousers leaving your panties to feel the brush of his hips against your ass, giving you a large hint of what’s to come. Your stomach plummets at the thought of having to hang onto the precipice for any longer. You could cry at the thought, tears ready and waiting behind your eyes.

“Good girl,” he whispers seductively. “You’re so close, aren’t you? So desperate for release that just one--” he lightly brushes your clit through your underwear, “little--” he does it again and you judder, “touch will set you off.”

Jesus, you could cry. You could cry and cry and cry, and beg for forgiveness, yield and submit yourself completely to him for the one second of pure bliss you’re starving for. He’s reduced you to nothing but a licentious and needy beggar you don’t recognise.

“How much longer can you last?” He knows, but it pleases him to ask anyway.

“I’ll break if you touch me.”

“Perfect.”

Wicked hands and fast reflexes rip your drenched underwear from you and Santiago mercilessly drills his cock straight into you. The second you feel him fill you up, one hand comes to encircle your neck, closing off your oxygen while his fingers find your clit once again and with just a few devious laps around your clit, you explode. A blinding light flashes behind your eyes and your body becomes engulfed by a white-hot pain that ironically, freezes you to the spot. Santiago growls loudly behind you, feeling how your pussy clenches so tightly around him that he’s barely spared an inch to move, but his fingers don’t face the same challenge and are still effortlessly ruining you to the core. There’s a pathetic attempt from you to remove his hand but his persistence remains far superior.

Santiago relieves the pressure on your throat to hear you sing for him. You’re thankful the walls are thick enough to contain your cries.

The thing is, Santiago knew you were close, but what he didn’t anticipate was how close he was too, especially so soon after you sucked him dry. With how intensely your pussy milks him of everything he has, it takes less than a few forceful thrusts before he succumbs to his orgasm and collapses on top of you. It washes over him hard, electrocuting every nerve and filling every pore with sweat. Fuck, he thinks, haven’t felt this good in years.

Warmth envelopes you both, eyes fluttering to a close with the liberating feeling of release. Santiago, having just a little more sanity than you do, still has enough energy to lazily work his hips back and forth, fucking you so slowly and deeply, you think it might just trigger another explosion. Alas, he spares you the burden and finally comes to rest against you.

It feels like an eternity has passed by the time the heat dwindles and air returns to your lungs. During the quiet minutes that pass, euphoria eases into your muscles, massaging out the cramp and any discomfort of your desperate attempts to contain your orgasm. The soft, grounding kisses that Santiago leaves at the nape of your neck seem to have a similar effect and you hum contentedly.

“I mean it, by the way,” Santiago mutters behind you, still brushing his lips against your skin. “You really could’ve gotten yourself killed today.” His fingers trace down your shoulder, gently running across the bandage that covers your shrapnel wounds to reinforce his point.

You sigh. “I know.”

You feel him leave you, alleviating his weight and dressing himself. “Look at me.”

You’re just about able to turn yourself around, and with Santiago’s help, he dresses you too. Once decent, the very hands that ruined you come to clamp against your cheeks, far too delicate for what you had known them to be. “What you did today was out of line—”

This again. “But Frankie--”

“Frankie is a different story. His mission to infiltrate the barn and receive the controls meant that the chances of him dying was a lot higher than ours. And even though it’s a fucking bastard of a pill to swallow, it’s just one of those things that we all have to come to terms with. I went into this mission already prepared to accept the possibility of his death should anything go wrong. Yours I wasn’t willing to accept.”

“But I didn’t die.”

“You’re not getting it.” His words are spat through gritted teeth and something in you sinks at the disappointment. The only thing that seems to calm him down is the sensation of your forehead against his, proof that you are alive. “Frankie’s death would’ve hurt, yes, but like I said, I would’ve seen it coming. If you expect disappointment, you won’t get disappointed. But when you threw yourself into the firing line like that, you started playing a game of Russian Roulette. Neither of us knew whether you were going to live or die and I panicked. I was so scared, terrified even at the thought of losing you because I knew I would never be able to recover from it. Your death, your untimely, unprecedented death under my watch would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life. That’s the difference between you and Frankie. That’s the lesson you need to learn from this.”

Your eyebrows crunch together, feeling stupid for not coming to the realisation sooner. You feel embarrassed to admit that you had never thought of it like that.

A long silence fills the room because you’re not too sure how to put the feeling of heavy regret into words, none of them justifiable enough to convey even a hint of the remorse that you feel inside. The fact that you refuse to look Santiago in the eyes is proof enough to him that you’re aware of the mistake you made, and instead of looking for a response, he settles for your silence and simply brushes his thumb across the highs of your cheek.

“Just promise me you won’t do it again, no matter how immoral it seems, no matter whose life is at stake, please, if at all possible, keep yourself safe.”

“I promise.”

He brings his lips to yours, melting them together in a kiss as though it is his last. “Good,” he smiles lightly, sealing the lesson with a kiss to your forehead. “I…I might’ve gotten carried away trying to get that message to sink in.”

For the first time in a while, you smile. “It’s okay. I’ve definitely learned my lesson not to piss you off.”

“Hmm, keep your promise and stay alive long enough and you’ll find out what the reward is.”

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allthegothihopgirls · 29 days

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bouncing off my last post, obviously none of the waynes would want to attend the met gala. so, i think they have a yearly betting or competition (different every year), and the loser has to attend.

they go the whole nine yards. expensive designers, over the top costumes. if they're going, they're going all out. they're all just waiting for the year that the theme will warrant sending one lucky family member in a bedazzled batman suit.

back home they play the night as a bingo game. they spend weeks curating a custom bingo sheet that best fits how they believe the 'chosen one' is going to act, and use it as they watch the event live. but as the kids get older (by the time tim is 16ish), it morphs into a drinking game as well, in 'take a shot when (family member) does _____' format, for the younger kids the shot is some disgusting exotic fruit juice that hits just as badly as what the older kids have.

the longer the tradition goes on, the more friends/co-workers/partners get roped into it. (they also start to send a +1 with the wayne kid, so they can involve everyone, but still get the same media attention their games require).

bruce opts himself out of the whole thing by the time all members of his kids respective teams (+ diana and clark) are over at the manor once a year to participate.

it becomes frankly disturbing how involved everyone gets, and how freakily vigilant of the media they all become in the days after the event (keeping in mind typically NONE of them, even the external participants who aren't in the wayne family, are active on social media whatsoever.)

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punkpandapatrixk · 3 months

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🪷Sacred Lotus Within You ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

‘If you only do what you can do, you will never be more than what you are now.’

‘I don’t wanna be more! I like who I am.’

‘You don’t even know who you are.’

‘What do you— Of course I do; I’m the Dragon Warrior!’

‘And what exactly does that mean—Dragon Warrior?’

— Po and Shifu’s conversation from Kung Fu Panda 3

SONG: Pure Imagination by Gene Wilder

MOVIE: Kung Fu Panda 3 (2016)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

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A hard Life is not always a divine punishment of sort⛈More often than not, the Universe’s most advanced Souls choose to be born—as Humans—into much sorrow and a perceived sense of limitation just for the joy of experiencing a personal breakthrough out of a cycle of—both—good and bad Karma🍄

Seen from a Soul’s perspective, all events in this mortal world are just drama. drama. drama~🎭It’s so exciting to co-Create massive stories with other Souls in this theatre of the Universe🎪This Play in itself, a spiritual evolution of sort for all beings of Love and Light🩰

This world is at best the dream of a Butterfly🦋Have fun; and have faith that in time all things bloom magnificently like a Sacred Lotus emerging from the mud🪷Ultimately, all of us, we bring with us only memories of our lifetimes when we are done playing our roles in this Grand Experiment of a Cosmic Drama💫

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Peace Maker

VIBE: Master Shifu asking Po to teach him inner peace

seeds of beauty in you – 10 of Pentacles Rx

Encoded in your DNA is the very gift of healing itself. You were born into this world of stupid carrying seeds of peace-making. Yup, you were the kid who was always able to tell when a grownup was lying. Like, OMG, so disrespectful…they think I can’t see through such obvious lies? In fact, too many things were obvious to you because you are gifted with a keen ability of observation. We’re talking superhuman-level observation, baby~

With that, the world around you was often terribly dull. You’re definitely the type that wants to travel and see the world for yourself. Wanting to see what other people of different nations and races, customs and cultures, even religions, have to share about what this Life is all about~ You had A LOT of questions!

Alas… You soon realised that most people’s perceptions, priorities, and overall ways of life are low-quality at best. Your interactions with people, your observations of them, gave you almost nothing but disdain. People…are not intelligent enough. But more disturbing still…people are not noble enough in their pursuits of a good Life.

In your eye, most of the time, people don’t have enough integrity, character, or personality🤷🏻‍♀️

blooming in spite of muddy water – 7 of Pentacles Rx

If you’re often distressed by the state of Humanity, it is because you possess this divine ability to pierce through bullshit and reveal the true essence of all things. You’re a deep diver. You truly are a scholar. You’re the type that seeks to bridge between differences and clashes, so that people find a common ground upon which they could build a harmonious society. You most likely have a significant placement in the 7th House or blessed with a strong Libra/Venus aenergy~⚖️

Essentially, you’ve come into this world with an almost specific purpose of bridging differences between generations. All because your Oversoul was sick of watching Humans being fools amongst themselves. So you plunged into this world of illusions in the hopes of elevating people’s spiritual intelligence. Your unique gift of observation is piercing and high-vibrational and the reason it can bridge generations is that the wisdom you will develop as a person is both universal and timeless💎

You are an Ascended Master, you know. Like Po returning to the mortal world after defeating Kai. Like Gandalf the Grey returning as Gandalf the White after defeating the Balrog. All because you’ve got shit to do in this world of stupid—your wisdom is gravely needed! I’m not teaching you to be conceited or anything, but by means of technicality, you’re not here to learn anymore; you’re here to…teach🤣

tulips of happiness – Knight of Cups

No matter your age or their age, you’re here to teach the infantile Humans about inner peace and true, everlasting, sustainable, manageable, actually reasonable sense of Harmony🌷You do that by setting an example; by first bridging confusions and calming down chaos within yourself; then you talk about the walk to anybody interested enough to listen to you🌾

In this lifetime, as an Ascended Master playing Human, there’s probably a lot of heartache you’ve needed to learn to forgive. If you’re in your early or mid-20s when reading this, you’re most likely just beginning to learn it. You don’t have to act perfectly though. Healing and forgiveness are not about being or doing perfect. It’s perfectly OK, too, not to forgive—certain cruelties in this world are simply beyond absolution, ya know?🤬

What does truly matter is that you forgive yourself. Just yourself. You can forgive the situation. You can forgive the fact you fucked your way into this or that mess. Where applicable, you can give thanks to the experience and then move on to the next thing. Be glad about the fact that you’re still alive after all of the fuckery, and that you’ve enough self-awareness, and how that self-awareness has grown you as a person. It is such a beautiful thing to have grown up in the mental and spiritual~🦉

ESSENCE OF BEING HUMAN🔻💜

the script you chose – Silver Alchemist (Ramon Llull)

path of self-transcendence – Priestess of Healing

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Pink Radiance

VIBE: Master Oogway sending universe mail to Li Shan

seeds of beauty in you – III The Empress Rx

Oooh~ You’re pretty~ That much I can tell🙊You probably are blessed with some significant Aries, Aquarius, or any Cardinal aenergy in your birth chart; could also have Venus/Moon in the 1st or 11th House~ And do you know why you’re bestowed with an outer appearance that’s easily considered attractive in this realm? Because you’re meant to have an audience🎙

You’re meant to be heard; to have a platform and be some sort of a leader. And since being pretty in this world brings a lot of privileges, your Soul chose to be born with this specific setting in your birth chart wHoA~ A pretty face gets attention more effortlessly and that’s just how it is with this world~🙈

So, you see that there’s meaning in having some forms of privilege whether it’s your face or your family/economic background, or even heritage or some special lineage thing going on in your Life🎰And yet, it seems you could’ve been blind to all this ‘upper hand’ and not see much value in your existence.

None of this has felt all that special…well, because you were born with it. It’s not special; it’s normal to you; and you definitely want to feel special…not really grasping others would kill to have what you were born with…🐞

blooming in spite of muddy water – XVI The Tower

In spite of all of the privileges that seem obvious and enviable to others, you yourself have not felt all that blessed most of your Life. There is this thing that people don’t understand about you: EXPECTAFUCKINTION. Expectation could kill, depending on situation, and depending on where you are in Life. In many ways, you haven’t really ever felt FREE in your beingness. You don’t really know how FREE truly would feel like. You can imagine it, but you don’t really know if that’s even real🤷🏻‍♀️

Whether it’s status, prestige, or simply beauty, sometimes you’ve felt victimised by the very things other people wish they had. They literally don’t know how suffocating it is to be wearing your crown~ You often feel like you don’t have autonomy over your own Life. In some instances, you may even have experienced your autonomy getting violated. And it’s so heartbreaking.

At some point in Life, you will suddenly and gradually lose access to all of these beauties and privileges, maybe even some of your talents, babe. All these things that came ever so naturally to you, once you’ve lost ‘em, you will die in spirit, and be reborn with a renewed sense of appreciation for the fact you have always, ALWAYS, been extraordinary👿

tulips of happiness – King of Swords

Whether you are a girl or a boy or straight or gay or whatever, you are an ally of the world’s Divine Feminine aenergy. Do not worry about losing your glory; it will aaalll come back stronger and sparklier once you’ve graduated the University of Hell a.k.a Saturn Return🪐

It is part of your Soul’s Blueprint to experience losing privileges, perhaps money, talents, friends, freedom, hair, weight, and everything else, momentarily. This period of your Life—whether it’s your first or second Saturn Return—can be likened to a pregnant woman who’s now restricted from drinking, eating, doing, or even being near certain things. She’s not so free, but for all the right reasons; she’s protecting her foetus.

This Saturn Return period of your Life where you’re experiencing losing yourself is like a pregnancy where you’re gestating a newer, stronger, clearer, more confident version of yourself. The restrictions put around you are meant to suffocate you further, enough for you to want a breakthrough. All so you can become a pure Pink Radiance of a miracle this miserable world needs, for that is your purpose for being born🌷

Shine on, Pink Diamond~

ESSENCE OF BEING HUMAN🔻💗

the script you chose – Green Historian (Herodotus)

path of self-transcendence – Priestess of Prosperity

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Magic Worker

VIBE: Po teaching the tribe to be THEMSELVES

seeds of beauty in you – 9 of Cups Rx

Within you are seeds of a luxurious lifestyle that you ought to nurture slowly throughout the course of your Life. You may have come from a background of lack just to make this whole scenario more exciting (to us as Souls contrasts are exceedingly attractive when thinking of a spiritual breakthrough). With that, you could’ve grown up with lots of daydreaming about feeling fulfilled—emotionally fulfilled.

Though you may have daydreamed about luxurious environments and things and situations, at the core of everything, all you yearn for is a feeling of safety; stability; of having just enough…of being enough, in fact…all because you weren’t emotionally nurtured as a child. You were the kid who were neglected by everybody, both the adults and your peers.

You felt unseen most of your Life. But even those who acted like they saw you, somehow the view was inaccurate. You felt this way because you didn’t understand yourself either. Children learn about themselves through the feedback of their environment; so the ones who were mostly neglected…how could such children even begin to learn to comprehend their identity?

Because you didn’t really understand yourself, it was difficult to manifest properly. In your psyche, there are way too many threads of wishes that are tangled up, causing you to manifest clashing Realities…and then disappoint you…

blooming in spite of muddy water – XXI The World

The reason for this difficulty is that you needed to learn and discover for yourself the true Essence of being alive. You are essentially God’s messenger to help Humans overcome their addiction to material possessions. Omaigosh if you know how TikTok shopping culture is making people poorer and more miserable in the emotional, I’m sure this will ring a bell in your Soul Memory.

People who grew up poor are the main target of evil marketing because they crave that feeling of ‘having’. Sometimes, it’s a feeling of having things—trendy things; some other times, it’s a feeling of having friends—cool friends; and some tragical times, of having someone to love—which usually only translates to ONS or casual hookups without any real emotional connection.

Anyway, back to talking about material possessions though, there’s this:

‘Trying to be happy by accumulating possessions is like trying to satisfy hunger by taping sandwiches all over your body.’ – George Carlin

This, is a concept, a Reality, you’ve needed to learn and fully comprehend, and then unravel by means of your personal spiritual transformation. That way you can be an example and a guide to others. Reminiscent of Uncle George himself, you’re somebody who holds an Elder Archetype aenergy about you. You’re ‘worldly’ in the sense that you’re based, well-thinking, and most of all, you can embrace perspectives that are UNIQUE. You’re able to hold a knowledge that encompasses the whole of the Universe itself.

tulips of happiness – 4 of Pentacles

In a sense, know that you are a born leader. Though I sense, you may be more interested in being a thought leader🧠You don’t seem that interested in leading an envoy or a movement of any sort hahaha You’re a loner; you like being in your own company. After all, people are stupid and it’s exhausting to have to interact with them. And that’s all fine~

In the future, when everything’s said and done, you’ll meet your Soul Tribe—people who are just as weird, misunderstood, deep, sombre (probably), wholesome, complex, and loyal such as yourself🫀Your Spirit Guides are really saying: it’s perfectly fine for you not to extend too much compassion for those who aren’t worth your while; hoping you’d calm down some clashing ideas about your personality.

It sounds cruel? No, really; not everybody is worth paying attention to or share affection with. If you do that you’re only going to be sucked dry of Life Force. It’s a similar principal with money spending. Just because you see a lot of items being displayed with attractive, persuasive DISCOUNT signs, doesn’t mean you have to give your attention, or money least of all, to ALL of that. Got it?🤪

‘Even if something is on discount, if you don’t need it, it’s too expensive.’ – Love Marie Escudero’s husband, Govt. Chiz

ESSENCE OF BEING HUMAN🔻🧡

the script you chose – Green Physician (Paracelsus)

path of self-transcendence – Priestess of Intuition

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

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midnightarcheress · 2 months

Text

you’re going out.

pairing: bodyguard!ghost x actress!reader cw: pining simon denying till his grave 5 | gold rush masterlist.

Simon was sitting in your living room, hands in the pockets of his jacket and boot anxiously tapping on the wood floor as he waited for you to get ready. you hadn’t seen each other since the trip to France, still too scared to leave your house after that last note, so he wasn’t expecting your rushed text about going out tonight.

“i’m so sorry for calling you last minute,” you say, closing the loop of your earring as you walk out of your bedroom, trying your best not to be late, “a friend invited me for dinner, and i’m not exactly allowed to leave the house without you, so–”

“‘s alright” he mumbles, cutting your rambling and turning to see you, his heart nearly stopping at the view. you’re stunningly standing by the couch, one hand propped on the armrest for support as you lean down to strap your heels, struggling to maintain your balance. in a swift motion, Simon pulls you closer, gently lifting your calf so he could clasp it for you, not noticing your small gasp at his touch and how intimate the gesture must look to anyone else.

he doesn’t mind accompanying you or, in this case, guarding you. it’s nice to have you near, even if it’s just for a few hours and out of arm's reach, it's enough to save him from the dullness of his own life. but tonight is different, new, nerve-inducing. you’re going out with someone. he only ever had to be with you when you’re alone roaming the city or in event-related situations. what the fuck is the etiquette for chaperoning a dinner with a friend?

on the way to the restaurant, he learned that your company is an ex-co-star from one of your movies, who just happened to be your romantic interest. of course. he couldn't help the slight frown that appeared on his face and the small discomfort building in his stomach at the thought of watching you charming some guy for heaven knows how long. the text that gave him hope suddenly turned into a modern-time curse from the gods in a matter of seconds.

the soft piano playing in the background did nothing to steady his heartbeat when the hostess led you to the guy waiting by the window, twenty-thousand-pound watch on his wrist and a smug grin on his face, placing a hand dangerously close to your hip when you greeted him. Simon was placed near the bar, easy path to the exit and a clear view of you, but no liberty to drink away the misery of not being the one making you beam so widely.

it felt like torture, containing the venomous jealousy coursing through his veins, festering his flesh and rotting his brain with gruesome schemes of how he could end this in the blink of an eye. if he had a throwing knife, the guy’s blood would already be pooling under the table and you’d be long one, out of the shackles of your restricting life, far from sycophants and parasites, just safe from whatever threat that wants to maim you.

but he couldn't do that. saving you it’s not on his job description, no matter how badly he wishes to. so he had to endure observing you from afar, watch the soft locks of hair cascading on your face, see your lips take in your third glass of wine, and faintly hear the easy laughter escaping from you after one of the terrible jokes being spit on the table, probably as a consequence of the alcohol, while envy gnawed at the confines of his ribcage and begged to a way out.

it made no sense for him to feel that way towards you. he was on duty. he was there for a horrible reason, so he felt sorry for you, but how much of it is pity and not true affection? why did the green demon eating his insides subdue when he saw how happy you were? why was his heart nearly skipping a beat whenever you glanced in his direction? certainly, it was just a way to reassure yourself that nothing would happen, but what if it was more? what if he was the reason you retracted your hand when the man in front of you reached for it?

the clock hands moved in a dangerously slow pace, minutes dragging like hours and slipping his mind into a parallel universe where he never left his house, but the sight of the check put on top of the beige cloth of your table was the solace lulling him back to peace. he could finally let out the breath he held since you stepped inside, lungs exhaling and expunging the poison from his system, and drive you back, without a single scratch on your skin.

the ride to your house was quiet, neither speaking more than needed. it wasn’t strange, the communication between the two of you happened mostly out of necessity, but the tension was palpable in the car. his grip on the steering wheel was tight, almost as if he was afraid that if he let go, his hand would rip out every strand of hair standing on his scalp. it was too much. he was relieved to be out of there, confused with the turmoil inside his chest, and angry at himself for getting lost in daydreams about you.

“can you walk?” Simon asks, holding the passenger door open after stopping at your gate.

“of course i can walk–” your hand finds his arm before your face falls directly into the cobblestones that pave the path to your front door, “okay, maybe i’m a little tipsy.” Simon rolls his eyes after your blithe chuckle and snakes a hand around your waist, helping you head inside.

once in the warmth of your home and after making sure you weren’t too drunk to take care of yourself, he walked out, stomach churning as he tried to ignore the distress of the night and get ready to melt his troubles with a bourbon. but before he could press the code of the alarm and relax his stiff shoulders, your harrowing scream made his heart drop and his legs sprint back to you, fast as lightning strikes, images of the worst possible scenarios already flooding his vision.

his laboured breath meets you pressed against the wall, wide tear-rimmed eyes glaring at the mirror of your bedroom, and his blood pressure rises with concern. he turns to gaze at the mirror, assessing what made you so frightened, and his own eyes widen, ‘i don’t appreciate you entertaining other men, darling. don’t forget who you belong to.’

how i love inner struggle

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qyxzun · 2 months

Text

𝟏 ┆𝕬𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝕯𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐋𝐘𝐍 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐘 almost caused an impossible amount of property damage. Numerous had minor injuries, while some were severely wounded, but overall, no deaths occurred. News reporters were at the scene, interviewing policemen, detectives, victims, and the public to inform others through television. Countless ambulances were parked nearby to help the wounded. People were divided, with numerous supporting your actions for saving them while others blamed you for the damages. Yet what made your head spin from confusion was how no one was talking about the other Spider-Man, Miguel. You knew he was there and that you weren’t imagining anything else. His ignored presence made it seem like the public never saw him, almost like a ninja undercover but a spider-man! The event covered each newspaper and channel and even started to gain more attention on online platforms. The raging public against you was making up crazy allegations in hopes you could be sued, making petitions in hopes of finding out your identity. Thankfully, it was just a small amount of them, mostly the politicians who wanted to give credit to the police. They’ve been nothing but a thorn in your side anyway, like those detectives who always tried to find any evidence on you but unfortunately found nothing.

It had been almost a full two months, and they still hadn’t gotten over it. Brooklyn Visions Academy has been closed since the incident to let students and faculty recover and rebuild the school. You, on the other hand, enjoyed the free vacation. There was no need to worry about exams or studies with the extra months off. The green creature caused a lot of damage, and the fire could’ve burned down the entire school. It was by chance that you got to save the victims, and you were thankful that Miguel showed up to help you, even if it was for a different cause.

It had been a full blast since the Spider-Man of Earth 928 invited you to join his spider-society. You learned a lot about it, as a rookie, when you started following him with the multiversal gizmo, the name of the watch. He founded it as an elite crew and began by recruiting other spider-people from other dimensions to assist him in removing anomalies, or people or things that were not intended to be in another universe.

You were shocked to see how many spider-variants he recruited before you. You believed it was already around twenty. But ever since you joined, the number of spider-men started to grow larger and larger. You met so many new friends, learning new techniques from them as well as forming new friendships. It was something you enjoyed; all of them—except for Miguel, were so much identical to you, even by personality. It created such beautiful diversity in his society, and you never felt more at home.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so alone anymore, knowing you weren’t the only one, the only one to carry the great power and responsibility as a spider-variant.

Miguel became your inspiration. He was strong, yet he remained the very sarcastic and aloof person he was. He was a man of few words, but you wanted to learn more from him and become stronger like him. His efforts to recruit more spider-variants from various universes piqued your interest, and you wanted to help him. He occasionally allowed you to assist his multiversal policing mission as a co-leader. The multiversal gizmo he gave you would occasionally beep, as it was his only means of communicating with you from another dimension. To keep it short, you were getting the hang of this spider society and often went on missions with other spider-men.

A few of them were your age, and you grew to like them. One of them was Gwen Stacy. You found her cool for having an eyebrow piercing and for playing drums while in a band. She had pretty blonde hair with a hint of pink, but a portion of it was buzzed off, which she joked about because it happened when a spider-man from another dimension accidentally forced her to cut it. She always mentioned that Spider-Man was sweet, friendly, selfless, and such to you. Gwen was likeable and friendly as well, but at times.. seemed more tense when she talked about her problems with her dad and her best friend, Peter. She would frequently make light of it while you were concerned for her.

“But hey.. stuff happens right? Canon events and all that stuff…” Gwen would say, with an aloof yet recognizable anxious tone.

Canon events. It was the only thing you hated about the rules of the multiverse. You never had it stored in your mind, as it caused your head to hurt, your spider-senses to go haywire, and, overall, it hurt you on the inside. Every spider-man had to go through it. Even you. Every time the words canon event were spoken out of someone’s mouth, your stomach would drop slowly as you remembered your canon event.

You were in the rain, fighting your nemesis, who claimed to be the Venom of your universe. He was an extremely difficult opponent ever to beat and you often came back home limping with blood stains dripping off your shirt while you tried to hide it from your parents. You could feel their worried expressions often behind you, resulting in you feeling guilty. You just wanted to pour out your problems to a person who could understand you. You already knew friends and family weren’t the answer. In this line of work as a hero, you always act alone. Always by yourself. Aside from your worries, you could’ve sworn.. every time you could manage to escape your nemesis, it was like you were on your last days on Earth.

After hours of fighting under a monsoon in a large, dark alleyway, you could remember vividly that the rain was pouring down on both of you while you were breathing heavily, exhausted, and injured. Your wrists started to bleed out of your spider suit while you continued to shoot webs the entire time you were fighting Venom. He was tossing you around, gripping your head and smashing it through walls. You often spat out so much blood through your mask that you could remember drinking a litre full of it. Your eyes were wide and bloodshot, while your heart beat faster than a runner in a race. You clenched your fists as you felt the adrenaline in you, preventing you from giving up.

And in a fit of rage, you lost it. You remembered grabbing Venom’s forearm, gripping it so hard that you heard the host inside the creature’s bones shatter into pieces. You were silent during the entire fight; it wasn’t like any spider-variant. Usually, they’d make a sarcastic or humorous remark, but you weren’t playing around. You wanted him gone.

Venom’s limbs were tied individually to each wall of the alleyway’s buildings, as well as a tight noose formed by your webs on his neck supported by a billboard on top. He was weak for the first time in front of you. You couldn’t even take his presence anymore. You wanted him dead and gone, dismembered to the point where no one could ever find his body. You first pulled on all the webs to tighten their grip on him. They were thin enough to cut like a knife through his skin. His blood dropped down alongside the rain. After, you cut off all of them except for the one on his neck, leaving him to choke while you watched him suffer—the same criminal who killed one of your friends.

You remember him muttering your name, making you perplexed, but you were still heartless. You carelessly pulled his leg down as the venom’s skin started to melt. The gross substance ran down, staining you in the process before your eyes went wide. You quickly realized and as quick as you could, you cut the noose before his body collapsed onto yours.

“No.. no.. no… Peter, no,” you whimpered, cupping his beat-up face with your bloody glove. You quickly took off your spider mask. Tears built up in your eyes while you sniffled, and the blood from your nose dried. You caressed his cheek, moving any hair from his face in hopes of making him feel better. In his injured state, he slowly rested a hand on your soft-gloved fingers. When he saw your face, he couldn’t be more shocked. He winced as he tried to smile at you reassuringly, blood dripping from his mouth while his left bruised-up eye pulsed.

“I'm so sorry, Y/N… I.. I didn’t know you were spider-woman...” Peter blubbered, gripping your hand tighter. His hand slowly moved from your fingers to your face, cupping it as well while he wiped your fresh tears away before they could fall from your cheeks. “You’re so beautiful...” He admired you, smiling. He coughed out more blood, choking on the irony substance. He wanted to close his eyes but he hated the thought of leaving you. He tried to pull your face closer but most of his fingers were bent and broken. His consciousness drifted closer to leaving him. At least he could die in the arms of the one he truly loved.

“Parker, shut the hell up I’m getting you help, okay?! Don’t die on me!” You fussed, crying more as you wiped away the rain that poured down on his face. You brought his injured body into your arms. "No, no, no, please, Peter,” your sobs were muffled on his neck, your chest heaving as well. Your hand went to his wrist to quickly check his pulse, noticing it was already gone.

That night, a part of you died, knowing that your best friend, Peter Parker, was your nemesis and best friend all along. It was one of your canon events.

In the early hours of Earth 926-Z’s New York, you were dozing off in one of your dorm’s couches with a blanket over your chest. You were too drowsy to pay attention to your gizmo which beeped again. The gadget vibrated on your wrist before its screen automatically flipped open as it activated the portal’s access. Some of your objects started to float before the familiar colourful hexagons were summoned as they started to circle. You put a hand over your eyes, groaning when the brightness annoyed you. You tried to get more sleep until you heard footsteps. When your spider-senses buzzed, you peeked through your fingers with your exhausted eyes.

“Heeey Y/N, just thought I’d drop by,” the familiar voice said. It was Jessica Drew, one of the spider-women of the spider-society. She looked down at you, who slept on one of your dorm’s couches, tired. She chuckled at how drowsy you were; it was understandable since you were out fighting and catching anomalies with Hobie last night.

“Told ya not to get overboard,” Another familiar voice said. Your tired eyes looked up and saw the mini Lyla, Miguel’s sassy but highly intelligent AI. She flashed a smirk with her small virtual body in the air next to Jessica’s head by a few inches. She adjusted her pink, heart-shaped glasses and glitched to get closer to your eyes. She tried to lift your eyelids open with her tiny hands. Jessica took small steps around the living room, seeing how messy but organized the room was.

You grumbled and tried to shoo her hologram away. “Ughhh.. what do you want…” you groaned, turning over the couch as Lyla glitched back next to Jessica. With a flick from her fingertips, the spider-woman shot her web and pulled you up effortlessly, making you sit up on the couch.

“Y’know the girl I recruited— and your friend, Gwen?” Jessica asked, looking down on you while you hummed in agreement shortly.

“Anyway, Miguel and I assigned her for a mission in Earth 1610B to catch another anomaly—well, technically just a villain from that dimension,” Jessica explained but paused, looking back to Lyla. With a clap of her tiny hands, your room went dark as she presented an orange virtual screen that was twice as big as the coffee table. It flickered, presented someone, and then began to play as Lyla carried on.

“This guy calls himself the Spot, and he recently just caused some havoc in Earth 1610B’s Brooklyn,” the small AI said as the video continued. The villain was faceless, with a black spot in the center of his face and numerous spots all over his body. Almost like a human...faceless cow? The screen was then flipped sideways, creating a three-dimensional hologram of the strange entity. You rubbed your chin, and even though you were really tired, you couldn’t help but become curious.

The hologram flashed brighter with a slight change of colour as it became bigger. The figure collapsed from the screen as all three of you watched how the scenery changed into the broken collider from Earth 1610B that Miguel told you about. The Spot’s holographic figure flickered out of nowhere again before you heard him speak.

“Look at me— you did this to me!!” The Spot yelled, his voice becoming more and more distorted as he began to charge into the spider-man and the officer beside him. You watched as the two of them were in a fighting stance until the Spot summoned a hole by accident, getting himself kicked by, well, himself. He made a slight oof sound, knowing it would’ve hurt a lot. He took a pretty big tumble as he slid in front of the two with his jaw on the floor before another hole was created, pulling him into the black abyss. The hologram then ended, going back to being a screen.

You rubbed your eye after you finished watching, bewildered but still drained. You looked back at Jessica and Lyla; the frizzy, curly-haired woman had a serious expression on her face, watching with an austere look on the Spot. It made you slightly tense like a kid seeing their mother angry. She looked back at you before her face softened as she sighed. You cleared your throat before speaking.

"So, uh, what does this have to do with me?” You asked, scratching your head out of curiosity.

"Well, Gwen knows her way 'round that world since she got pulled into that dimension before,” Jessica explained while she started to walk around your living room, viewing the decorations with an aloof stare.

"I know 'bout her lil' friend.. Miles, right? 'm pretty sure she told you 'bout him before.” she continued, looking back at you to see what you had to say. You just nodded while you watched her slowly move around the room, running her hand gently on the surface of your tables.

“The girl’s good at combat like any other spider-variant in the spider-society. I mean, I could’ve sent her hours ago, but, y'know, Miguel.” Jessica spoke before her eyes wandered back to you. “It honestly ain’t a surprise that he doubts her but this Spot dude is starting to concern Miguel. I’ve faith in Gwen, but Miguel still insisted on bringing another spider; he recommended you.” Your eyebrows rose as the pregnant lady turned back to you She cleared her throat, and she became more serious.

“So— an order from Miguel; you accompany Gwen to Earth 1610B and the two of you make sure the operation is a success.” She rummaged through her spider-suit’s pocket and tossed you something very small. You easily caught it and saw a tiny mechanical spider, its legs tucked into its body, with a funky logo on the iron skin, You assumed Lyla fabricated it. Jessica continued to speak. “Aaaand put that device near the Spot. Just put it somewhere he can’t find it,” she explained.

You looked down on the very tiny machine. “What does it do?” You asked. “It can track the person's whereabouts through the multiverse and scan their data; pretty cool, huh?” Lyla smiled, floating around in the air. You looked back at Jess, who had a serious look, but you could tell she wanted you to join. You sighed.

“Fineeee, I’ll do it,” you responded before standing up from the couch, opening your closet nearby to get your spider-suit. Lyla easily opened up another portal, causing a ruckus as some of your furniture started to fly around again. Jessica was about to step into the large floating and orange hexagons before she looked back at you, giving you a thumbs up and fully entering the portal. It closed on you as well as Lyla, who disappeared out of thin air.

You travelled through space and time, bending the laws of physics as you travelled through the multiverse with speed faster than light. It was all blurry with only space and stars passing through you as well as the hexagons that led the way. It all started to clear when the matter itself tore apart, creating a hole. You blinked once before you finally saw yourself on Earth 928. You were spawned in the middle of the lobby as you easily used your webs to maneuver around and reach the cafeteria, where you'd meet Gwen. The familiar ginormous building would make a normal person pass out of confusion but it had what every spider-variant liked; a big space to swing freely, overpasses to walk on even when upside down, training programs, and even a therapy section for the spider-people who recently got their canon event.

You landed on the floor and looked around the large space, you spotted her sitting down next to a plant with her favourite pink cardigan and her watch flipped open. You snuck behind her while she looked down on the gizmo, scaring her in the process. She suddenly yelped.

“Jesus Christ—Y/N, that scared me.” Gwen sighed, while you laughed.

“My bad— your spider-senses didn’t go off?” you asked before she shook her head. Her expression then changed into a bright one.

“Can’t believe I’ll go back again!” Gwen smiled and giggled while you gave her a smug look. She slightly blushed before coughing. “T-To catch the Spot, duh,” she responded and looked away. You playfully rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” you giggled. Your eyes wandered back to her flipped watch before they grew wide. “You serious? You got the two of you as your wallpaper too?” You teased before Gwen quickly flipped it closed, looking around frantically. It was the picture she showed you a long time ago when Gwen and her friend took a picture together while she ended up in the wrong dimension.

“Huh? Me? don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said, playing dumb before she quickly opened up another portal using the gizmo. The bright orange hexagons grew bigger and rotated very slowly. The blonde-haired girl looked back at you excitedly. "C'mon, let’s go!” She smiled before stepping in, not giving you a chance to speak.

"Geez, I guess she really misses him,” you shrugged before jumping in as well.

The afro-haired teen had his headphones on, trying to relax after a small argument with his parents. Now, he’s grounded but who do they think he was? He was spider-man for God’s sake. He can’t be grounded. Miles was lying down on his bed with his arms behind his head. His eyes were closed and his head occasionally but slowly moved to the rhythm of his music, it was his comfort after all.

Yet he didn’t seem to notice some of his things started to float mid-air. They circled around his room before black bubbles and colourful light started to form just above him. The portal opened as it revealed you and Gwen. She had an excited look after seeing her friend near after two years. You, on the other hand, were just looking down, wondering when he’ll notice the two of you.

”Miles! Miles!” Gwen called out, trying to get his attention. In confusion, Miles slowly opened his eyes to the familiar voice. He thought he was seeing things until he did see Gwen. He quickly took off his headphones and sat up. “Gwen! H-How—” He stuttered, perplexed to see her after such a long time. She then dropped down next to him on his bed, her legs crossed.

“How’d you get here— oof-!” Miles tried to speak again until the blonde-haired girl quickly hugged him. He hugged her back as well, still bewildered. He then noticed you dropped down the portal as well. It closed before you landed on his floor easily, not making so much noise.

You took off your mask, revealing your face to him. You flashed him a small smile. Even though you knew why Miguel was infuriated when the name Miles would leave someone’s mouth, mostly Gwen, he was still another spider-man that you had respect for since he was Gwen’s friend. His mouth slightly gaped when he saw you.

“My bad, my bad, didn’t mean to appear all of a sudden,” you said before Gwen pulled away from the hug and introduced the two of you. “Y/N, Miles, Miles, Y/N,” She quickly said while you just nodded, His expression slightly softened as he just nervously smiled at you.

"Yeah, hi, nice to meet you,” you smiled.

“Nice to meet you too?” Miles nervously responded. Before it could get awkward between you three, you looked behind you, noticing his open bedroom window. You looked back at Gwen. “You can stay here, Gwen; I’ll handle things while you catch up with your friend,” you suggested while she stood up from the bed, puzzled.

“Wait— you sure? You know we can do that later.” Gwen said, referring to the mission, while you nodded your head, reassuring her by patting her shoulder. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s alright,” you grinned, looking back at Miles and then at her. “Don’t want to miss this opportunity, no?” You teased, your hand slowly retracting from her shoulder while she slightly blushed. You turned back to his window, jumping off his bedroom window. You shot a web from your fingertips and quickly swung yourself away. Gwen watched while Miles looked out the window, his gaze finding you as he admired how quick and talented you were at moving swiftly through the air.

“Dang, she’s good,” Miles pointed out while Gwen nodded, looking back at Miles as the two of them smiled. They were happy to see each other again after so long.

Meanwhile, you continued to swing away until you were out of sight of any civilians as you climbed up a high building. You were standing by the edge of the building’s roof, walking around as you looked over to your watch to see where this Spot could be. You sighed and took off your mask, slightly frustrated to not find anything before Lyla’s hologram appeared out of sight.

"Heeeey, Y/N, how’s the mission?” She asked with a grin, spinning on her virtual chair, which was the same size as hers. You grumbled.

“I can’t find the Spot’s location,” you admitted, sighing from how annoyed you were. “Got any idea where he could be?” You asked the AI before she hummed, thinking about it with her tiny finger tapping on her chin. Her hologram flickered before she summoned a 3D model of the entire map of Earth 1610’s Brooklyn with all of its avenues, streets and even shop names. She zoomed into the new hologram, revealing a building made out of bricks under a few overpasses. A few other shops surrounded it, as well as a small highway. Some of its windows were oddly broken and covered with a partially dirty cloth as a barrier.

The small AI manipulated the three-dimensional screen easily, zooming into the broken glass as the screen changed again. Inside the building was a messy room, with wires, confusing machines, and more technical equipment around the shelves and floor. The room was completely unorganized and clearly dimly lit.

“Looks like he worked for Alchemax before,” Lyla pointed out, taking a look at the equipment. "Even one of them has a logo," she observed as she leaned down to inspect the equipment components.

“Is this the Spot’s place?” You asked, then returned your gaze to the floating AI. She nodded her head in response.

“Scanned the area earlier when I zoomed in and saw his driver’s license on the table. It’s expired, but got his information,” she explained, her tone playful as if she found it all too easy. She then displayed a screen of an image of the Spot’s driver's license it had his name, age, address and more information. With two of your fingers, you zoomed out of that screen as you looked back at the hologram of the building, which you concluded to be his apartment. “Plus— the area’s full of dark matter,”

“I’ll get going,” you responded once you had your information, sliding your mask back onto your face before the hologram flickered to a close.

“Bu-byeeee~” Lyla grinned before her figure also disappeared. You flipped the watch back to a close before you swiftly jumped down the building and shot a web mid-air, propelling yourself to the Spot’s location.

You jumped from the tall skyscraper while shooting webs into the air to propel you into the sky without attracting any attention. The cool air hit your masked face until you descended, turning gracefully but quickly onto the roof of the building. You walked to the edge and stuck to the wall to get inside through the broken glass.

You slipped in easily as you observed the area. It was an apartment room. Though it was dimly lit, you noticed papers scattered on the table, some of them close to falling down. You lifted your mask up to your head to get a clear view of your surroundings, some of your bangs escaping to the sides of your face and forehead. With your gloved hands, you picked up the papers, skimming through them.

Reports, hypotheses, notes, and more... one thing they all had in common was a connection to multiverse matter or the concept of bringing back different entities from other universes. They weren’t all from Johnathon, aka Spot necessarily, most of them were reported by different scientists, especially from the well-known Olivia who was the head of the whole collider project back then, which caused a misbalance in the entire multiverse. You threw the papers back onto the table's surface before looking around again. You noticed some mechanics in the corner, concealed by a metallic closet. You leaned down and picked one up, noting that it also had the Alchemax logo until you noticed a small post it attached to the back. You ripped it off the mechanic, reading it.

“This isn’t the villain of the week—maybe five months, but still…” you mumbled, pulling your mask back on before you rummaged through your pockets, taking out the small spider Jessica gave you earlier. It automatically opened and summoned out its miniature legs after you tossed it against the wall. It then dug its legs into the brick and camouflaged really well.

“Gotta alert Gwen about this..” you mumbled. You quickly flicked a web out of your fingertips as it shot through the window. You flew out once again, swinging away faster and faster. You were again back in the metropolitan area, gliding through the air while your eyes wandered around trying to find Gwen. You assumed she was still at Miles’ apartment.

You swung down when you saw his apartment complex, noticing on the building’s rooftop there was loud music and lots of parked cars outside next to the road. You guessed that his family had a house party; the familiar smell of Puerto Rican food may sound good, but you knew you had to find Gwen quickly. When you landed back on the wall, you peeked through Miles’ bedroom window only to find no one inside, only Gwen left her cardigan on his bed.

“Fuck— where is that girl?” You sighed, shooting out another web atop the building beside his apartment. You gracefully landed on its rooftop before you flipped your watch open, trying to contact her. Unfortunately, it showed a hologram that said contact is on; do not disturb.

You grew more frustrated before turning the hologram to a close. You sighed and paced around on the rooftop. You wondered where she could be. Confused, you opened your gizmo back up again, speaking through Lyla.

“Hey Lyla- sorry to interrupt, got any idea where Gwen is? If so just send the coordinates, I can handle it,” you spoke as the AI’s hologram flickered again. She tried to find her location via watch but then she sighed.

“Sorry Y/N, she’s on do not disturb apparently,” the brunette replied before you grunted. “Can you turn it off?” You asked until she shook her head no. “Nah, I can’t get deactivate anything during a mission, just the policy aaand, you know, Mig’s rules,” She explained while you got more frustrated.

“How is that even a thing— what the hell..” you groaned. “Can you ask Miguel to let this be an exception?” you questioned Lyla again. “Miguel’s not in right now, busy with another mission,” she responded.

“Knew you’d say that.. always the busy guy.. whatever, thanks Lyla,” you sighed before she disappeared once more, leaving you alone once more on the rooftop. You were so frustrated by Gwen’s absence; where the hell could she be? If not with Miles then where was she? Your thoughts came to a halt when your spider-senses made you turn around. You noticed someone dressed as spider-man with a black and red coloured suit. You raised an eyebrow as you walked over to them discreetly.

They noticed you as their spider-suit’s goggles slightly widened. “Woah- you got fast spider-senses,” the recognizable voice said, staring at you.

“Wait— Miles?” You asked before he nervously chuckled and took off his mask in front of you, his Afro popping out as he looked more buff with the black spider-suit on. It matched him a lot. “What’re you doing here?” You curiously asked, also taking off your mask to see him clearly.

“Me and Gwen was swingin’ around the city and just wanted to let you join,” he responded, looking down at you since he was taller. “We didn’t get a proper chance to talk right? Just wanted to make ya feel included..” he continued, noticing how he was getting nervous when he noticed you didn’t respond.

“Sorry— kinda busy..” you mumbled, looking back down to your watch to see if Gwen finally put that stupid do not disturb function off. She unfortunately didn’t. You were always the chatty type but now wasn’t the time now that you were dealing with a soon-to-be anomaly who knows how to travel through other dimensions. Miles’ eyes softened, he just really wanted to be accepted as another spider-man or as a friend.. but you had other priorities. He was disappointed but hid it well enough, not wanting to worry you. He was silent until he had an idea in mind.

“With what? I mean I can help ya. I know Brooklyn like the back of my hand,” Miles stayed optimistic, wanting to be of assistance. You already knew about Brooklyn's map thanks to Lyla, but you could see that despite not knowing anything about you, he merely wanted to help. You could see yourself in him, as you would always strive to help Miguel in any way you could, even though he was the epitome of independence. Miles also wanted to prove his usefulness in this society Gwen just recently talked about while the two of them were swinging through the city… so he could see her more often... but oh how difficult would it be for him? He spotted the gadget on your wrist and then pointed to it.

“Yeah- uh.. pretty crazy phenomenon right? Travelling to a different universe without your atoms glitching like crazy..” you responded, showing him your wrist as he came closer.

“How’d you get this?” He asked, his hands slowly inching closer to yours to hold the watch with his fingers. You almost flinched and he noticed. Ever since your canon event, you could never rest easy with physical touch.

“You good Y/N?” He inquired, a little worried as his fingers almost retracted. You shook your head.

“Sorry, sorry— my bad, but I’m okay don’t worry bout it,” you reassured as you moved your wrist closer to him, letting him hold your hand to inspect the watch. “As for how I got it.. from where we’re from, we earn them,” you answered truthfully. His hand moved from your forearm to your hand, gently holding it up. You also couldn’t help but notice how his thumb slowly caressed your knuckles, was he trying to be nice or was it just out of habit? You definitely had no clue.

“Who gave it to you?” Miles replied, still holding your hand delicately. He seemed so interested in its design and advanced technology on the orange screen. It resembled to nothing from his dimension nor has he seen anything like it. So small yet intriguing.

“My mentor, Miguel O’hara,” you answered. “He’s like the leader of the entire spider-society Gwen and I are in. It’s pretty cool if you ask me,” you rambled, sharing more than enough.

“Gwen never told me about it..” He muttered, carefully tapping a few buttons to see its functions. You couldn’t see his expression since his head was down, still looking at the screen, before he faced you with a small smile. “What’s it gonna take for the Miguel O’hara to meet Miles Morales?” The tall black teen joked but genuinely asked. You on the other hand didn’t know what to say. There was an explanation for why he couldn’t join but you didn’t want to cause any trouble between the two of them. You gulped down the built-up saliva in your mouth out of nervousness.

“I mean.. if you tryna join… how about we try to catch some criminals on the way while we try to find Gwen? I’m not like- fully certain but maybe after I can put in a good word?” You suggested to try and change the topic as you put your forearm down once he was done inspecting the gizmo. Miles’ smile grew, he wasn’t opposed to the idea and wanted to get to know you better. “Sure, why not? Watch me put ‘em in place,” He replied with a confident smirk before you chuckled.

Your watch then beeped. Your back faced him as you turned around to check what news it had for you. The spider that camouflaged into the wall was recording the Spot’s messy apartment and analyzing his figure. You turned it into a mini hologram, watching in full effect what was happening in that room.

The Spot was walking around in his room, moving box from box to a specific area with mechanics and more collider parts you recognized.

“Oh shit..” you cursed under your breath when you saw how close he was to building the mini-collider.

“Everything okay?” Miles asked, about to peek over your shoulder before you quickly moved away. He slowly retracted, noticing how you flinched as if you were uncomfortable, but you weren’t focused on him anymore.

“Gotta go for now Miles, we can fight those criminals later alright? Sorry ‘bout the trouble,” you apologized quickly as you then put your mask back on. You approached the ledge of the rooftop and were about to jump off the building to swing to the Spot’s location immediately. A frustrated and concerned look was on Miles’ face. The young spider-man just wanted to help yet you continued to push him away. With an annoyed expression, he watched you leave so quickly with your webs. You were so quick, agile and so elegant in the air that he could tell you were much more experienced than him despite being the same age.

Once he was far enough for you to notice, he shot webs and swung himself in your direction almost immediately. It started to get dark as his black spider-suit blended in well with the atmosphere. The black lenses on his mask narrowed as he was more focused on catching up on you. Miles wasn’t dumb enough to believe that Gwen didn’t come back just to visit him, there was at least something else you and her had to worry about.

He saw you shooting out multiple webs under a metro railway from your fingertips as you pulled yourself up with the almost transparent strong strings. Like a flash of light, he saw you dash through in between a train’s cabins. Miles almost thought you got run over until he swung over the railway, you weren’t there like you disappeared. “Damn this girl’s fast…” Miles grumbled, trying to retrace his steps while looking around to try and find you. His stomach dropped at the thought of you finding out he was following you so he turned invisible quite easily just to make sure.

Even when invisible, it seemed like you didn’t let your guard down at all as he still couldn’t find you. He kept asking himself where you could possibly be or why you were here in the first place. There was something wrong but he had no clue of what it could be. He tried to retrace your steps by finding your webbing but they all disintegrated too fast. They’d all fall on the ground and slowly disintegrate since you were in the wrong universe. Frustrated, he almost thought of turning back and going back home until he noticed someone swing through the air as well. He saw the familiar spider-suit, it was Gwen.

Her mask concealed her face as she landed near a pillar supporting the overpass close to the Spot’s apartment. A few meters away, Miles landed on top of a street lamp, discreetly looking at the situation beforehand. There were corps surrounding the apartment with lights flashing to the holes in the walls.

“Shoot..” Gwen mumbled under her breath, in worry she was too late. She rapidly shot a web into the police officer's car, causing it to reverse before swinging inside the building with ease. Miles, on the other hand, quickly followed.

Inside the apartment was a whole mess, messier than before like a tornado merely broke down the building. Gwen stepped inside, looking around to find out what happened with a concerned look behind her mask. She then proceeded to scan the area using the multiversal gizmo while Miles hid behind the air ducts, making sure he wasn’t under the orange light that could point him out.

She looked around, noticing the Spot’s personal belongings like a portrait with Olivia, the spiders he brought from different dimensions, and such. When the scanning was finally complete, the spider-woman then started to replay the entire scenario. The orange light orbs turned back in her direction as they flickered a display of holograms in front of her to show what just happened. “Oh no no no..” She mumbled under her breath as she watched the scene play out visually while Miles carefully eavesdropped.

“Just need to get somewhere with a full-sized giant collider..” The Spot talked to himself as he continued to assemble his small micro-collider. It started to power up, creating dark energy from its sources. “Alriiiight, this’ll work, it’ll be good!” The faceless human optimistically said as he prepared to put his index finger into the dark matter the mini-collider was forming. He whistled as he was about to put it in until he stopped. “Or- I don’t know, might vaporize me and this entire building, which would not be good” He carelessly shrugged.

“Oh shoot..” Gwen muttered while Miles continued to watch as well, witnessing how far his villain of the week was going just to defeat him. They saw how he was getting so close to inserting his finger through the dark hole until multiple webs were wrapped around him, quickly taking him down.

You swung through the mess as you appeared just in time before the Spot could ruin himself with the dark energy. With a quick tug of your webs, you pulled him up from the floor and threw him at the other side of the room with only your hand. The Spot was launched back, breaking multiple walls in the process before he groaned in pain and looked up at you. “Wait— huh? Spider-man? But a woman?” he asked, perplexed as he thought you were his original nemesis. You had your back turned, paying attention to the collider more than him.

“Fuck this is dangerous..” Your eyes narrowed at the sight of the dark matter almost consuming the entire mini-collider, making it impossible to turn it off or break. You were about to inspect it until a sudden punch to the stomach made you nearly spit out saliva out of your mask. It just came out of nowhere through the black hole in front of you. You grunted when you realized it was all Spot’s doing.

“Yeah— sorry, can’t turn it off now huh?” the Spot laughed before it teleported so quickly behind you. His arm then made its way to your neck before he lifted you off the ground, making you choke. “Let go of me weirdo!” you yelled and rapidly kicked him off of you, causing him to almost lose balance. He growled under his breath, sick and tired of being tossed around like a weakling.

Creating a portal, he aggressively punched you through it before you stepped back once it hit your stomach again. He teleported back in front of you when you knelt down and held your stomach in pain. You tried crawling away until he grabbed your neck and shoved you down the floor repeatedly. “I’m tired of being treated like a fucking joke.” He spat as his voice turned deep, distorted and twisted. You winced, trying to push him off with your hands until he gripped your wrists as well. He saw how you had a weird watch on your wrist until his attention turned to the small gadget.

“Ohhh.. what’s that? Pretty interesting..” He sarcastically pointed out before he punched its screen. “Oops,”

“N-No!” You screamed when you saw its screen broken. The gadget started to malfunction, making distorted sounds as well.

“N-nnggh.!” You yelped when he choked you while lifting you up again. He threw you to the wall as you landed on top of the table full of collider parts that pierced through your skin. The Spot then turned back to the mini collider, shoving his hand into the dark energy. It started to absorb him as it generated more spots on his body. You tried to shoot webs to pull him back from the dark power until he was completely absorbed, pulling you into the void as well.

“Shoot..!” Gwen widened his eyes in fear as Miles continued to watch your hologram get sucked in by the dark matter. Once you were pulled in, the replay was complete.

“Oh shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot!” The spider-woman panicked, realizing how bad the situation was. You were in another universe, with no gizmo to help you call for backup nor any help. It was only a matter of time until you would suffer from glitching.

‘Y/N..’ Miles thought of your name, concerned and puzzled of why Gwen was panicking like crazy. She was shaking her head, trying to deny that wasn’t what happened until she took off her mask, breathing heavily out of panic.

With a problem like this, she definitely didn’t know how to solve it..

You blinked in and out of consciousness before you tried to get up only to collapse back to the floor when your back ached. You looked behind you and saw what you were crashed into, a truck. You looked up as you saw it was raining steadily. That was weird, you don’t remember it already raining when you just collapsed for a minute.

Once you managed to sit up, you realized this place wasn’t familiar at all. You shot a web as you landed on top of a building where you could see everything. But in the end, you didn’t understand.. why was the billboard Japanese.? Or why were there so many Japanese commercials on the skyscraper screens?

“Where am I?”

𝕾𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄.

———

author’s note: this is so goddamn tiring to make Jesus Christ 💀💀 reblogs r very helpful since they keep me motivated to keep going alrr hope y’all enjoyed the first chapter. Second one will probably be a bit rocky idk.

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moonkissedvisions · 3 months

Text

𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕿𝖆𝖗𝖔𝖙 𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖍 𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖘 ☾

UNVEIL THE CORE ESSENCE OF YOUR BEING, PERSONALITY, AND PURPOSE WITH TAROT CARDS

Introduction:

We understand all Tarot cards as symbols. They essentially represent different aspects of our lives that reside in our souls and our subconscious minds. When we read Tarot cards, we are reading our energy, we are intuitively looking at our subconscious. We think of them as a mirror that reflects the multiple dimensions of our spirit to help us understand situations much better, and make our life more conscious and meaningful.

What are Tarot birth cards?

Tarot birth cards are symbols that shape our identity and lives from the moment we are born. They are our essence, an energy imprint, or even a map - like a birth chart but for Tarot cards- that can unlock a new understanding of ourselves, and all the potential of our life purpose.

Each of us has a pair of Major Arcana cards that represent our core self, so today I decided to explain all combinations. I explained the cards separately so you can combine them and see intuitively how they play out in your life.

Also, be noted that I only explain the "light" manifestation of each of them. So for example, if it says "selfless" the shadow aspect/backward expression of them is the opposite, "selfish". Or if it says "truth-seeker" its shadow would be "know-it-all". If you are curious about the shadow aspect of your birth cards or anything about them you can send me a question and I'll be happy to help.

Hey, don't forget to check out the awesome video link at the end of the post! It's worth watching if you want to dive deeper into the topic. Have a great time exploring!

Now let´s calculate yours!

and hope you enjoy it *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

How do I calculate mine?

The easiest way for me is to use the same method that we use to calculate our Life path number in numerology:

We add each digit of our birth date

m+m+d+d+y+y+y+y

Example: 11/22/1989

1+1+2+2+1+9+8+9= 33

2. We reduce it

3+3= 6

6 is The Lovers and The Devil (6 and 15).

As you can see, we got a pair of numbers that corresponds to a pair of Major Arcana cards.

important: IF YOU GET A 19, YOU HAVE TO REDUCE IT TWICE AND YOU´LL GET 3 MAJOR ARCANA: 19 (The Sun) -> 1+9=10 (The Wheel of Fortune) -> 1+0=1 (The Magician).

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

1 and 10: The Magician, The Wheel of Fortune

The Magician: This energy has the ability to manifest anything. Your essence is skilled, cunning, tricky, scheming. You posses autonomy and initiative. You are an independent thinker. You have a great potential, but you also put in the work and have a lot of fun in the process. You are diplomatic and you reject bias. Entrepreneur. Self-motivated. You are honest and direct.

The Wheel of Fortune: You are lucky or at least, you know how to feel lucky to attract blessings. You understand the cycles of life and therefore you have the ability to co-create with the Universe intelligently. You often get surprised by the events in your life. You know how to use opportunities in your favor. Manifesting is something that you probably did consciously since young.

19: The Sun (ALSO READ 1 AND 10)!

Adding to 1 and 10 cards, The Sun supplies your soul of creativity, popularity, happiness, honesty, harmony and serenity. You are a good friend. You are loyal and bring harmony, love and satisfaction to everyone´s lives. You are a leader, a celebrity, and people look up to you.

2 and 11: The High Priestess, Justice

The High Priestess: You are sensitive and wise. You are aware of the subtle, small details. You are able to find the point of unity, the basics of the Universe, and you understand how everything is connected. You are intuitive, compassionate, and loving. You excel at anything related to the occult, the mysteries of the Universe and human psyche, and anything related to relationships, unions, and secrets.

Justice: You are unbiased, rational, harmonious. You know what´s right and what´s wrong and trust in natural order and the balance of things. You value truth more than anyone else. You are good with law, philosophy, and karma.

2 and 20: The High Priestess, Judgment

Same qualities above for the High Priestess, combined with Judgment.

Judgment: The Judgment card adds in to the HP themes of awakening, spirituality, renovation. You may be someone who questions the status quo and the established norms and structures. You have the calling to awaken other people so you can rebuild and improve the system. You could connect to different dimensions and be a medium or have psychic abilities. You are otherworldly. You are also highly empathetic and sensitive.

3 and 12: The Empress, The Hanged Man

The Empress: You enjoy helping other people, creating, and giving birth to something. You embody kindness, intelligence, expressiveness, communication and abundance. You are dynamic and could be good at doing many things, you likely do all at the same time. You are good at communicating your ideas with others and you give others creative insights.

The Hanged Man: You are artistic, original, altruistic and idealistic. You see the world from a different perspective and you always contribute with clever ideas. You are witty and have the potential to become a genius. You are generous.

3 and 21: The Empress, The World

Here the qualities of the Empress are combined with those of The World card, so your creativity results in perfection, success, wholeness, finding your place in the world, feeling and being rewarded, self-realization. You are someone generous who help people with their creations and you make them realize their special place in the world as well. You are greatly admired. You are positive about people and life.

4 and 13 : The Emperor, Death

The Emperor: You are gifted with stability, strength, structure and practicality. You are powerful, hard-working and generous. You have integrity and good morals. You protect what needs protection and give structure and functionality to things. You are methodical and pragmatic.

Death: Death combined with the Emperor can reestructure and make radical changes to the world. You know when things need to die and be rebirthed in new forms. You can transform the world with authority, integrity and diligency.

In case you got 4 and 22, The 22 can be considered The Fool. You can either consider the Fool along with The Emperor and Death, or only read the explanation above and dismiss it. If you choose to consider the Fool, read below:

The Fool: I picture it as if you were the Emperor but with a good sense of humor, carefree, crazy, not making sense at times, chaotic, and extravagant. It makes me think of "dad jokes". You do not take anything too seriously. You restructured things spontaneously and the result may not make a lot of sense. Or it could be that you make more of a freedom-oriented restructure/change. You are an innocent and energetic leader. Maybe you don´t even understand why people may see you as a leader or follow you, because you don´t even take yourself seriously and are very disorganized, lol.

(edit): When I was writing about this combo, the new president of Argentina Javier Milei came to my mind. He talks about re-structuring the country, making economic transformations, solving the problems of the economy and poverty, and changing the country for the better. But he also has a silly personality, he's kinda funny and people make fun of him, they call him crazy, they even speculate about him having mental illnesses, and he doesn't make sense to A LOT of people. At that time I was lazy to search for his number but I just did and you know what? He is a 4 and a 22. 😳

5 and 14: The Hierophant, Temperance

The Hierophant: You are a teacher, someone wise who shares their knowledge and wisdom. You are patient, merciful, and modest. You guide others to goodness. You respect religion, tradition and family structures with open-mindedness and flexibility. You see everything as an experience and adventure and you like exploring different philosophies without getting attached.

Temperance: You can adapt to different people, ideas and environments, and you can bring different people together with peace, harmony and respect. You have the ability to solve conflicts. This combo makes a mentor, a guru, or a coach. You are balanced in logic and emotions and you are seen as mature.

6 and 15 (or 33): The Lovers, The Devil

The Lovers: Opposite forces, love, complements. You know how to love, not only other people but the whole Universe. You are a sensual person. You appreciate beauty, art and can excel at many different things. You are a gentle person who is good at making decisions that brings in the frequency of love to your environment. Everything you do is coded with love and passion.

The Devil: You are passionate, magnetic. You border limits. You are highly influential in whatever you do. You can control and manipulate others, which is not necessarily a bad thing, it´s just that you understand human psychology and can easily get the attention of others. With this combo you can captivate, tempt and induce lust and desire in others, so you may be working in art, music, writing, marketing, design, even animation and programming.

I also like to think of The Lovers as oxytocin and The Devil as adrenaline/dopamine. Dopamine and oxytocin together make love and bring new life into the world.

7 and 16: The Chariot, The Tower

The Chariot: You are someone intelligent, energetic, analytic, and introspective, who fights for radical changes and the evolution of society. You are a truth-seeker. You are fearless. You challenge the status quo and strive for spiritual and material progress. You are curious and love to learn new things that can change the world for the better.

The Tower: You mercilessly and strongly destruct what doesn´t serve the evolution of society and humanity. You break the equilibrum to build a better one. You are a rebel. You know that the truth always comes to light, and you also make it happen. You show the world what they couldn´t see and that's why you could be triggering. But it´s for the good. You challenge wrong convictions, judgments and beliefs, and you completely destruct them.

8 and 17: Strength, The Star

Strength: You are someone resilient. You know the importance of controlling your actions, impulses, thoughts, emotions and everything you do with mental strength and intelligence. You know that if you manage your own forces, you can achieve all of your goals and also help others do the same. You are very determined and optimistic. You like to work hard, not only for yourself but for others. You are an example of the word management and you like being in charge.

The Star: You give others hope and enlightment. You are inspiring. You can provide a lot of healing and regeneration. You are selfless and generous. You are strong in faith, and that way you can give others the reassurance that they need. You see the good in everything and that is what helps you get you good results and be succesful.

9 and 18: The Hermit, The Moon

The Hermit: You are interested in seeing what others can´t see. You look through things. You are deeply intuitive and contemplative. You search for answers in yourself by being in silence, in solitude, and looking inwards at your subconscious mind. You are wise, capable of offering advice and solving problems or mysteries. You are the healer who heals yourself first. You are personally uninterested in worldly matters and detached from the material.

The Moon: You can see through illusions and imagination because you connect to the dream realm. You are a good psychoanalyst. You are good with the occult. You are attracted to the unknown. You are a researcher, a detective, a healer of the most mysterious diseases. You are deeply spiritual and adventurous.

Carl Jung had this combo as his birth cards and I think this quote from him really represents it: Who looks outside dreams (The Moon), who looks inside awakes (The Hermit). The funny thing is, I didn´t know he had them when I read it and thought about the cards, but I was sure he had to be and I searched it, lol. I also have these as my cards so...

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

I hope you enjoyed this post and that it was helpful! Thank you for your support and please, keep supporting me if you like this one 🌷

video about birth cards

PAC: Messages from the Divine Feminine

PAC: Healing Messages

PAC: Your beauty

PAC: Your natural gifts

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