#like if you only read white authors you don’t know shit because you’re looking through such a limited fucking lense
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Vodka Slime
pairing: alien!Seungcheol x fem!reader
genre: smut, mild comedy. minors dni.
warnings: monsterfucking, use of tentacles, dom!seungcheol, bratty reader, pussy slapping, bondage, implied size kink (reader is smaller than seungcheol), tummy bulge, squirting, masturbating, unprotected sex but reader is on the pill (pls stay safe), dirty talk, recording during sex (consensual but DON'T DO IT IRL), reader runs a nsfw twitter acc, alcohol consumption
word count: 2.7k
summary: picking up a hot guy from a bar to spend the night with was in your bucket list. him being an alien wasn't. not that you really complain.
Author's note: Spooky season is here and what better way to participate than a spooky smutty theme :) this was a request from Y anon!
p.s.: main inspiration for this fic was drawn by @meltwonu's Starlighter fic, it is a MUST read (like the rest of monster mash lmaooo)
taglist: @duhnova @smileysuh @gyuwoncheol (kindly suffer <3)
©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.
You kinda wish you had stayed at home.
You thought it would be a good idea to dress up and go to a bar on your own to enjoy a cocktail, hoping for a stroke of luck - Alas, things don’t always go your way.
If you had stayed home, you would be in comfy clothes or maybe no clothes at all, thinking of which toy you want to fuck yourself with.
You let out a huff and you take your cocktail in your hand, opting for a ‘random walk’ around the bar (you just want to spot a single guy who wouldn’t mind to get laid tonight), but as soon as you turn around, you collide with a very firm body and your cocktail ends up splashing all over your top.
“Fuck!” You gasp when the ice cold beverage hits your skin, desperately looking for napkins to clean up the newly made mess.
“Shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that!” He apologizes profusely as he asks for napkins from the bartender. “Here, these should help somehow.” He passes you the napkins and you accept them with a grumble, trying your best to clean up yourself.
“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, miss?”
“You can only-” you almost snap at him but your words die down in your throat when you raise your head and take a good look at the unknown man.
And all you see is the stroke of luck you were wishing for all night long.
Semi-pulled back white hair, slightly messed up from the wind outside, a tight fitted shirt accentuating his toned pecs and a jawline sharp enough to cut through your clothes.
“Well…” You put down the used napkins, “I wouldn’t mind a refill of that cocktail I was drinking.”
The unknown man flashes a rather adorable gummy smile and effortlessly takes a couple of bills out of his wallet.
“That, I can definitely do.”
"So, a college student. That's pretty cool."
You almost snort in your drink. "Oh yeah, it's so cool to stress over random classes because the professor happens to be a dickhead."
"Hey, don't downplay your achievements. It's not like everyone has the brains to attend college, you know." The man plays with the rim of his glass.
"It's actually funny how hard you're trying to get my attention, while you don't even know my name." You down your cocktail.
"And here I was wondering whether you'd bring it up or not." He chuckles.
"Well? Are you satisfied now, mister I don't know-what-your-name-is?"
"Seungcheol. Choi Seungcheol."
"What?"
"That's my name, doll."
"Oh." You gulp down. "That's a very nice name you have there."
“So I’ve been told before.”
“By other girls, I suppose?”
“I’m not obligated to share this information, doll.”
“Suit yourself then.” You shrug and open your purse, taking out a small folded mirror to check your makeup.
“I’m impressed.” Seungcheol licks the corner of his mouth, “It’s the first time someone isn’t giving their attention to me.”
“You either have a bloated ego or you’re a desperate attention whore. Or both, I guess.” You sigh.
“And you have a pretty foul mouth for such a pretty face.”
“Cliché.”
“Did it work?”
“I’m not obligated to share this information, mister Choi.” You mimic his attitude.
“Are you even willing to share something with me, other than a drink?” He huffs.
“To be completely honest, I was hoping to come here and snatch a cutie back home to have fun with, but things are looking kinda grim.”
Seungcheol flashes a wide smirk. “What a wonderful coincidence, for our goals to be aligned tonight.”
“You’re here to hit it off with someone too?”
“Yeah. And to be fair, you’re looking way too hot and way too lonely to not get laid tonight.”
“Are you suggesting I should fuck you, Seungcheol?”
“I was planning on using more subtle words but I suppose this is also a way to approach things.”
You take a few seconds to yourself, pondering about Seungcheol’s proposal.
Cons - he’s a complete stranger and could be a murderer.
Pros - he’s fucking hot and you could get new content for your account.
“I have one question.”
“Fire away, doll.”
“You’re not some kind of crazy ass murderer, right?”
Seungcheol snorts. “Murderer? Nope."
He brings himself closer to you. "But the crazy ass depends on the context."
"I think we both know the context." You lick your lips.
"Then I hope you're into crazy stuff, doll."
Boy, he's in for a treat.
"That's a nice setup you have here."
"Thanks." You smile and take off your shoes.
"Are you a streamer?"
"Hmm, not really."
"There's no shame in saying you're a camgirl." Seungcheol chuckles.
"I never said that and I definitely didn't try to hide it." You retort.
"Judging from the box of dildos being out in the open on your desk, I would agree to the latter."
"Do they make you feel uncomfortable, Seungcheol?"
"Not at all." He walks towards the desk and picks up a neon colored, tentacle shaped dildo. "Is this what you play with?"
You sit down on the bed and cross your legs sensually. "Got a problem with that?"
"Not really." Seungcheol drops the toy in the box. "It's a shame to play with fake stuff when you can have access to the real stuff."
You snort. "What, you're into that fake tentacles porn?"
He flashes a smirk and removes his jacket and t-shirt, you let out a whistle at the sight of his naked torso.
The excitement you had stored in your body evaporates within milliseconds when you see extra large sized tentacles coming out of Seungcheol's back, looming over him.
"Okay whoa, that is NOT what I was expecting!"
"I know it's shocking, but I have zero intention to hurt you-"
You crawl away from him. "Your little friends don't seem to share the sentiment!"
"I am the one who controls them, I can pull them back if you want me to."
"I- I just-"
"Look, I can just put my clothes back on and disappear from your apartment, like I never even existed in the first place."
"W-Wait! I, um-"
"Take your time, Y/N."
"Can you try not to put these things near my mouth please?"
"Since you asked so nicely, I have no choice but to comply."
Seungcheol crawls on the bed and cages you between his body and the mattress, peppering kisses across your jawline to make you feel more comfortable.
"Do you mind if I kiss you? I promise my lips are nothing like my tentacles."
"Oh my God, just shut up and kiss me!" You grab his face with your hands and smash your lips on his, slipping your tongue in his mouth, but it doesn't last for long, as he pulls away and pins your hands above your head.
"What got into you all of a sudden, doll?"
"Maybe I thought things over again and decided that fucking a hot guy with tentacles isn't a terrible idea."
"I thought you weren't into that thing?"
"Half of my porn content is with tentacle dildos, please get real."
Seungcheol scoffs. "You little brat."
He lifts himself off you and with a tilt of his head, his tentacles wrap around your torso and legs, restricting you midair.
"You fucker! This is foul play!" You yelp.
He leans back on the headrest of the bed, looking at you with hungry eyes. "Everything is fair in war, love and sex, doll. I’m just spicing up things a little."
Two more of his tentacles come up to your body, one ripping your top in half and the other flipping your skirt to reveal your bare pussy.
“Fuck you, I liked that top!”
“It was already ruined, sweetheart, don’t think too much of it. No underwear though? That's hot."
"It's called easy access, himbo."
Seungcheol clicks his tongue in annoyance and whips one of his tentacles over your pussy, making you whine.
"You're being a lil' smartass and it could get you in trouble, Y/N."
"Do your worst, Kraken."
The tentacle glides between your lips with the tip repeatedly nudging your clit when it suddenly whips your pussy again and you close your legs involuntarily.
"Ah ah ah, we're not having any of that."
The tentacles tighten around your legs and keep them wide open, while the third one keeps rubbing your pussy slowly enough for the suckers to tease your sensitive parts.
"Ah! Fuck!" You moan when the slimy object slaps your cunt over and over again, your juices starting to drip on your asscheeks and all over the sheets.
"Drenched already? I haven't even fucked you yet, doll." Seungcheol chuckles as he strokes his cock, his pants discarded a long time ago.
"It's all f-fun and games when you're the o-one sitting on the bed!" You whine in defeat.
Your lips fall open when after a particular harsh slap, the tentacle effortlessly pushes into your entrance, turning around and rubbing your walls in an excruciatingly slow manner.
"Oh…my God…Fuck, that feels so fucking good."
Seungcheol raises his eyebrow. "You feel a tad bit loose, sweetheart."
"And w-what about it?"
You nearly scream when another, thicker tentacle enters your pussy and thrusts harder than the other one. You feel your walls being stretched out, the foreign bodies in your hole proving to be bigger than the toys you use.
“Now it feels just right.” Seungcheol moans, as if it was his dick fucking you stupid. “Can’t wait to have you all wrapped around my cock, doll.”
“F-Fu- Cheol, I’m gonna cum!” You gasp when the tentacles pick up the pace and ram your cunt without mercy.
“Come on, doll, show me what this pussy is capable of.” Seungcheol grunts as he fists his cock harder to bring himself closer to his climax.
A sharp shriek erupts from your throat - you squirt all over your thighs and the slimy appendices, juices dripping down on the sheets and Seungcheol’s legs. His cock explodes all over his torso, streaks of thick white cum splashing on his skin.
The tentacles around your body relax just enough to let you plop down on the mattress, leaving your skin sticky and covered with a thin, slimy substance. He slowly retracts them altogether and they disappear from your field of view, as if they never existed in the first place.
“I can’t feel my legs.”
Seungcheol crawls on the mattress until he’s hovering above you. “That’s cute. But I’m afraid I’m not done with you yet, doll.”
Your eyes go wide when you notice the sheer size of his cock resting on top of your stomach and you’re pretty sure it’s way bigger than anything else you’ve taken before.
“There’s no fucking way that thing will fit in me!”
“That’s what you said about my tentacles, but you took them like a pro.”
“That’s different!” You protest.
“Different how?”
You purse your lips.
“Different how, Y/N?” Seungcheol slaps his cock between your legs and you whimper.
“It’s….so fucking big, Cheol….”
“Are you scared?”
“A little bit, yeah.”
“We can always take it slow, pretty girl. Are you on the pill?”
You nod your head slowly and hook your fingers around the elastic band of the skirt to take it off, but he stops you.
“The skirt stays on.”
“It could get in the way, though.”
“Pull it just enough to let your pussy show.”
“Wait, I’ve got an idea.” You say and point towards the video camera on the desk. “Can you grab it for me?”
“What do you have in mind, doll?”
“Since it might take some effort to make it fit…” You turn on the camera and hand it over to him, “Might as well show my followers how it’s done, right?”
Seungcheol flashes a dirty smirk before he points the camera to your pussy, his tip nudging your entrance. You wince a little when the bulbous head pushes into your hole, a strangled moan escaping from your mouth when you try to fit in more of his shaft.
“Easy now, I’m not going anywhere, doll.”
He swipes his free hand over his abs to pick up the cum that hasn’t dried yet and smears it all over his length, using it as lube.
“S-Stop teasing me…”
“‘M sorry doll, but I don't wanna rip your pretty pussy apart.”
“Fuck, I can take it, promise!” You arch your back and buck your hips in the air.
Seungcheol flattens his free hand over your stomach and pins you down. “You will take only what I wanna give you, sweetheart. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Your walls clench around his tip and he has the audacity to bring the camera closer to the spot you’re connected to each other, only to push his fat cock all the way to the base.
“Fuuuuuck, it’s huge…” Your eyes roll back and your pussy spasms like crazy, trying your best to accommodate his size.
“Good girl, I knew you’d take it all in.” Seungcheol rasps as he rubs his palm over the newly formed bulge in your tummy, “Such a tiny pussy yet you managed to fit all of it. I think you deserve a treat for this.”
His hand moves to your left hip and he starts thrusting inside you, setting a slow pace at first.
You moan loudly with each thrust he delivers and you slide one of your hands directly over the spot that bulges from his cock.
“Not so snarky now, are you?”
“M-More…”
“More what, doll? Use your big girl words.”
“M-More power, harder, please!” You beg between sobs.
“I was planning on dragging it out a bit more, but fuck, you’re gripping me like a vice and I can’t wait to blow my load in your pussy, doll.”
He pulls the camera a bit further away to get a full view of your and his lower half, ensuring none of your faces are visible in the video. He answers your pleas by fucking you harder and faster than his tentacles did and he can swear his sanity is starting to slip away.
“S-Shit, you’re- Fuck! It’s so good!” You scream and grip the sheets around you, your tits bouncing up and down.
“Mmmh, I’m about to cum, baby- Gonna take it all deep, will you?” Seungcheol moans above you, trying to keep the camera steady.
“Yes, yes yes, fuck me full with your load, daddy!” You cry out and your thighs shake as you cum around his cock, your wet walls rapidly clenching around his huge shaft.
“Fuuuck….” He delivers a few shallow thrusts before he buries himself to the hilt, blowing his thick load inside your pussy until a white ring of cum forms around his base. He doesn’t hesitate to take out his cock with an obscene pop and spurt the remnants of his orgasm over your pussy and your skirt.
“That…was fucking amazing.” Seungcheol taps his cock on your clit, chuckling when you bite your lips to suppress your moans.
“Close…the camera…” You mutter and he presses the button to stop the recording.
He puts the camera down and lays right next to you, ghosting his fingers over your abused cunt.
“So? Do you think it was a waste of time to bring me back home?”
You grip his wrist and bring his hand in front of your face, licking his digits clean.
“Only an idiot would consider you a waste of time, Cheol.”
“Does that mean you’re down to exchange numbers?”
“Are you not-so-subtly asking for another time?” You rake your pointer finger across his chest.
“Perhaps I am,” he confirms, “Not to mention that one time isn’t anywhere near enough to show you what I can truly do with my tentacles.”
“One question - Do your tentacles spit stuff like in hentai?”
Seungcheol snorts and erupts into a laughing fit, to the point of tears.
You slap his arm. “What’s so funny?! I’m serious!”
“I know! It was still funny,” he wipes his tears away, “But I can’t answer your question yet.”
“And why is that?”
He smirks again.
“That would just spoil the fun for next time, doll.”
#svthub#scoups smut#seungcheol smut#svt scoups#choi seungcheol#svt smut#seventeen smut#seventeen#tw alcohol#tw tentacles#tw monsterfucking
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SOMETHING TO FIGHT FOR (SERIES) Part 15
Word Count: 1.6
Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions)
Warnings: fighting, violence. Wanna read the rest? Pinned post on my account has my masterlist!
AUTHORS NOTES: Comments and reblogs make me really happy. Thanks y'all for reading so far!
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You, Tommy and Maria stand in the play area, looking out at the groups of children. Maria has followed you out here, seeing your splotchy face. She pulls you to the side, asking Tommy to watch the kids while you chat.
"You didn't tell me," Maria says lowly, her arms crossed.
"Tried to when you were here last time," you say swallowing. "Chickened out I guess."
"Kinda says something don't you think?"
"Yeah, that I didn't want my best friend saying shitty stuff about the guy I was getting married to,” you say, dropping your voice when a random child in the ball pit gives you a worried look. “You know how happy I was for you when you got engaged to Tommy?"
"Tommy is a fucking dream, he treats me amazing," Maria insists in a hush.
"The thing is Maria I was happy because you were happy," you explain. "I don't see why you couldn't be that for me."
Maria's mouth opens and closes, not ready for that.
"Paul isn't perfect," you relent. "But neither am I."
"I can't stop you from marrying Paul," Maria says after a moment, her eyes troubled. "And if you do, I will support you and love you. But we’ve been friends a lot time. You’re the person that I can be real with and ever since you got back things have been weird with you, and I get that, I really do. But I feel like you're rushing into things with Paul."
"I just want to be happy."
"But you're not you with him," Maria says softly. "I don't know who this person is, this meek woman who goes along with all his shit."
"Maybe this is me," you say in a defeated voice. "Maybe this was really me the whole time."
“I really hope that isn’t true,” Maria says.
And then she’s gone, rushing from you back into the restaurant and into the toilets. You know that she’s just waiting you out. Waiting until you leave so she doesn’t say something ugly here at her future niece’s party.
Tommy is quiet, his eyes troubled. He keeps darting looks from you to the kids and then back again.
“If you want to say something then say it,” you grind out, summarily furious with so many people at once that you can only breathe hot anger at everyone in your proximity.
Tommy turns facing you, about to speak when he pauses, his gaze dragging over your shoulder and through the window into the restaurant. His brows furrow.
And then it’s like you’re supposed to see it. A flash of movement catches your eye and you watch as Joel’s strong arm twists and his fist connects with Paul’s jaw. It’s like it all happens in slow motion because you can see every detail. The clench of Joel’s teeth, the fury in his dark eyes, the way his shoulder ripples under his shirt as his fist finds purchase.
And then life resumes its normal pace and Paul is on the ground.
“Watch Sarah,” you tell Tommy with wide eyes. “Don’t let her come inside for a sec.”
Paul is on the ground, his split lip bleeding heavily. Tess is standing with her hand balanced on a nearby table for balance. Her face is white and her eyes are owlish in her face.
"What the fuck - Paul are you okay?"
Joel’s eyes dart over to see you rushing in from the play area, your face horrified. He glances back down at Paul and realizes with a heavy heart that there is an understanding in Paul's eyes. A dark, ugly understanding because his lips curl into a knowing sneer, even as he wipes the blood from his mouth
"I'm fine, baby," Paul croons, his eyes still on Joel.
Joel wants to shrivel up and die at the look you’re giving him now. A mixture of horror and disgust crossing your normally gentle, soft features. You drop to your knees, your hand going to his mouth before you twist around to glare up at him
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Joel?”
Joel is so thankful Sarah is in the playroom with Tommy and Jessie. Having the horrified looks of you and Tess is enough for him to wish the ground would swallow him up whole. The back of his neck feels like it’s on fire.
"Think we should go,” Paul says, affecting a wince as you help him to a stand.
"I agree," you say in a huff.
Joel takes a step towards you instinctively, but you shoot daggers at him.
"Stay away from me," you hiss.
Joel can only watch in misery as Paul's hand slides down to cup your ass as you walk away. His eyes are so pained, his entire body cold with despair. When Tess comes up to him, her hand going to his cheek he pulls back sharply.
“Stop.”
“She’s gone, Joel.”
And there is a curl of victory in her mouth that he can’t see, but feel. She tries to hide it under concern and sadness. It makes him bristle, the way she can affect false emotions so easily. He scans her face and decides it’s now. No waiting.
“It’s over Tess,” Joel says flatly. “It’s been over for a while now and I think you know it. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.”
“Joel.”
“You did nothing wrong,” Joel assures her, not wanting to hurt her. “I just. . . I was never in all the way. Its my fault, Tess it is. Please don’t think it’s you.”
“You’re not serious,” Tess says, her hands stemming on her hips.
Maria has come back from the bathroom to find you and Paul gone and Tess and Joel at the start of what looks like a showdown. She considers leaving to give them privacy before she settles into a nearby chair, watching as she pretends to look through the photos in her camera.
“I am,” Joel says dimly. “I can’t be with you. Not when I’m. . . ”
He can’t finish it. Can’t say the words aloud because it already hurts to think them knowing now you’ll never be his. He looks wounded, his eyes trailing to the door that you exited through minutes before.
“You’re kidding,” Tess says, her head shaking. “For fucks’ sake, she’s engaged Joel. And honestly now I’m glad I said what I did to her. I knew that this would end up bad for Sarah and for-“
Joel’s eyes aren’t wounded anymore. They’ve gone sharp and they slice through the air to land on Tess’ features.
“What?” Joel’s voice is quiet. Dangerous.
Tess doesn’t realize the danger though. She stands there confidently digging away at him, ignoring Tommy who has seen the tension and comes into the restaurant looking concerned. Maria waves him over to her, silently telling him to shut up with a finger over his mouth as he takes a seat next to her.
“What did you say to her exactly?” Joel is demanding of Tess.
“I told her to back off a bit,” Tess says crossly. “Give me some time to bond with Sarah. I knew she wasn’t going to stick around and-“
Maria nearly leaps off her chair, held back by Tommy.
Joel recalls the way you’d backed off moments earlier, silently urging Tess to take your place with Sarah and a bitter fury that he can almost taste goes through him. His hands are in fists, his spine straightening as he towers over Tess.
“You told that sweet woman to stay away from my daughter?” Joel says in a voice so deep Tess visibly twitches. “You took a person my daughter loves and tried to isolate them from each other? You thought that was a good thing? A kind thing to do to Sarah?”
Joel doesn’t notice Maria behind held back by Tommy until her voice rings out from behind Tess, startling her.
“How dare you do that?” Maria shouts, angry tears starting in her eyes as her fiancé holds her arms, stopping her from swinging at the taller woman. “You selfish fucking bitch!”
“Maria,” Tommy warns because people are starting to look over from their Big Macs and Cokes. Tess looks chagrined at the unwanted attention, coming to step closer to Joel. She lowers her voice, her eyes on his.
“I love Sarah, Joel.”
“No.” Joel shakes his head. He points in the direction that you left, all but shouting your name in her face. “Her. She loves Sarah. She would do anything for Sarah, even listen to you because she thinks that’s what’s Sarah needs. Because that’s love. But she doesn’t realize that Sarah doesn’t need you. All Sarah needs is her and me.”
Tommy feels Maria jerk back at this, her eyes wide at Joel’s words. He peers into Maria’s face to see tear running down her cheeks but she’s smiling. He holds her, folding her against him.
Joel knows he’s shouting and feels too angry to care, but he also knows that he doesn’t want to start a scene. He gives Tess a disgusted look, shaking his head. He just wants her out of his sight, out of his life.
“Get the fuck outta here, Tess.”
He wants the entire world to fuck off so he can just go lie down and mourn the fact that you’re growing further and further from him.
“Excuse me?”
“I said get the fuck out of here,” Joel says, emphasizing each syllable with crisp and aggressive tilts. “And don’t you dare talk to Sarah. Just get your kid and your shit and go.”
Tommy and Maria are standing there awkwardly watching this interaction. Maria is looking at Joel like he’s something out a Marvel comic whereas Tommy just looks horrified at the way Tess isn’t backing down.
“Joel,” Tess says, swallowing nervously. “C’mon now, we can work on this, it’s-“
“Don’t make me say shit I’m gonna regret Tess,” Joel warns. “Please. I’m not in the mood. Just fucking go. We’re done.”
He turns, busying himself with packing the rest of Sarah’s gifts into the bag he brought. He can’t stop thinking about you and that look on your face. But apparently Tess isn’t going down without a fight before she grips Joel by the shoulder, forcing his attention to her. He shrugs her off, appraising her coolly.
“So what, you’re gonna run off after a practically married woman Joel?” Tess defends. “Or are you gonna do what you did with Michelle and pine for a few years and then just pretend she didn’t exist?”
Tommy jerks forward and now it’s Maria holding him back. “You watch your fucking mouth.”
“She didn’t pick you,” Tess jeers at Joel, ignoring the couple behind her. “She picked Paul. I’m still here and –“
“And you aren’t her,” Joel jabs back, his voice like a thunderstorm. Tess is halfway through her rant when Joel’s words settle in her mind and she stops with her light eyes widening.
“You aren’t her,” Joel repeats icily. “You never were. You never can be. So just fuck off and don’t contact me or my kid again.”
It’s an ugly thing to say, and he realizes this the minute the words leave his mouth. He wants to feel bad but he’s so fucking angry at Tess for saying what she did. So furious that anyone would want to sever that connection for their own advantage.
Maria and Tommy are standing glaring at Tess and now Sarah has rushed in from the play area, flushed and happy looking, oblivious to what’s happened. She scans the room for you, calling your name before glancing up at Joel.
“Where is she daddy?” she asks.
Tess lets out a scoffing sound of disgust before gathering her purse over her arm.
Maria urges Sarah away with the suggestion of taking some photos outside in the sunshine with the digital camera. Sarah so is over the moon with this idea she doesn’t even notice when Tess retrieves Daniel from the play area and exits rapidly, her heels clicking angrily as she goes.
Tommy approaches his brother, realizing now is as good a time as any. His brother is high strung, each muscle tense.
"I've tried to stay outta things Joel," Tommy says, his head tilted to the ground. He's always felt inferior to his older brother and giving Joel advice feels foreign. "You always looked out for me so I wanna look out for you. She loves you, man. And she's gonna marry that fucking musician if you don't get your head outta your ass and just tell her."
Joel steps back from the table to look at Tommy. He does so without malice, but also without emotion left in his dark eyes.
"She doesn’t love me, Tommy,” Joel says without energy in his voice. “Don’t know that she ever did.”
“But you love her.”
“Yep.”
“Have for a long time.”
“Yep.”
“So fight for her, then.”
Joel slants an exasperated look at his brother. The brother who always fought, the one who Joel continually had to bail out of jail. Fighting isn’t what Joel does. When he does, things like punching Paul happen. Things that drive the people he loves away.
“It’s not really love if you have to force it,” Joel finally answers. “She made her choice and I want her to be happy. And after today Tommy, I really don’t wanna talk about it.”
Tommy stares at his brother for a moment, taking in the hollowness of the eyes, the defeated slump to his shoulder. He realizes that Tess for all her horrible comments hit the nail on the head. Already Joel is shutting things out, thinking of how to erase you from his life. If he doesn’t talk about you, it’s a good start.
“Why don’t you fight for things anymore?” Tommy asks, devastated to see this shell of his brother. “You used to-“
“Because I don’t deserve them,” Joel tells his brother flatly, stopping all further conversation. “Now please, let’s just go home.”
///
You're vibrating with anger right now.
What the fuck just happened? Why would Joel punch Paul? Thank Christ Sarah had been distracted in the play area.
You glance over at your fiancé, feeling a wave of guilt go through you. Paul’s sitting next to you in the car, driving but one hand is on yours. His jaw is swollen and you wonder if something is broken.
"He just punched you out of nowhere?" you ask for the third time since you started driving home. You're so shocked by this development that you’re having trouble processing. One minute you’re looking at photos and realizing that maybe there is something there with Joel and the next second the man is slugging Paul for no reason.
"I told you, I just thanked him for letting you spend time with Sarah," Paul shrugs. "Maybe he didn't like that I was there at the party?"
Or that you're engaged.
"I should call him," you consider pulling out your phone and screaming at Joel right now. You're so fucking angry at him. How is this friendship? How can you be in each other's lives if he does shit like this?
"Baby, no," Paul insists. "Look, I'm fine. Guy was just having a hard day."
You feel a wave of affection go through you at Paul's words. So understanding even after being punched in the face for no reason.
"It's no excuse."
Paul shrugs the picture of unbothered and for a moment you feel like you can relax. "But I don't know how comfortable I am with you babysitting for him."
Your brows crumple. "What?"
"I just, I don't really feel comfortable with you being around him. Now that I know he's violent."
"Joel isn't-" you start, pausing only when Paul slants you a meaningful look, motioning to his swollen jaw.
You look at all of this and you think of Tess words and the way Joel kissed you and it all bundles together to spell it out in bright neon letters: you and Joel need to stay away from each other.
"Okay."
#fanfiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#smut#dad joel miller#fanfic#joel miller#pedro pascal#the last of us#last of us#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#my fic#ao3fic#joel the last of us#joel tlou#tlou fanfiction#the last of us fic#tlou fic
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Spider Webs Part 3 - König*Fem!Reader
Time to obtain your prize for winning.
content warning: 18+, mdni, footjob, taking photos, licking, office sex
part 1 part 2 bonus chapter 1
this series is literally my first time writing smut, I hope it isn't very bad. Thanks for reading :) ! (update: fixed some nonsense shit I miswrote)
König watched you from across the cafeteria.
You were chit-chatting with other assistants, legs crossed, and sitting in an elegant position, his eyes traveling down your figure, roaming through the heave of your chest, how you tuck your shirt neatly into your pants, to the curve of your ass.
He looked at you laughing at another colleague’s words, and swallowed the last bit of his lunch.
Just as he finished his food and started to stand up, his gaze flung to you once, and now you were looking at him.
You stood up too, and he froze at his place under your malicious smile, which only he could recognize, watching you look up at him like an obedient assistant.
“Colonel, May I bother you for a moment?”
You closed the door behind you and turned to face König.
“What’s the matter, Liebling?” He asked while sitting on his chair, you came close to his desk and stopped beside him.
“I don’t think you’re that stupid, colonel.” Your hand slipped under his hood, fingers caressed through his neck, up to his slightly chapped lips, and you felt goosebumps started forming on his skin.
His breaths became quicker, and you could see Adam’s apple bobbing as you lifted his hood to reveal his lips to your eyes.
“Finally made you lose, I should admit that you lasted much longer than I thought...” Your lips are just an inch from his, and your breath ghosted on his. “Excited, yeah? Ready to follow your assistant's orders?”
You let out small laughter when you saw König nod quickly as if you would retrieve your wish if he didn’t answer immediately.
Stood on your tiptoe, you pulled yourself onto the desk.
“Take off my shoes and my pants.”
König obliged, carefully took your feet in his hand, pulled off your closed-toe shoes, revealing a part of your stockings, then hooked his fingers in the waistband of your pants.
At the same time, you swiftly unbuttoned your shirt and put it aside.
“Mein Gott...you wear these to work every day?” König gasped.
Under those boring and plain black clothes, you wore milky white lingerie. He noticed it was quite similar to the pair he stole from your closet, but it was more complicated, with two straps connecting your panties and stay-ups, and he could blurrily see your skin through the transparent garments.
“You like it, don’t you? It's the new design of the pair you took away from my closet.”
You take a glimpse of his crotch, “Wow, so energetic.” You cheered.
In a swift move, you placed your feet onto his clothed crotch, making König let out a moan, which was no longer muffled because you secured his hood over his nose.
“No touching yourself until I give you orders, colonel.”
After warning him, your feet started rubbing over his covered shaft.
“Ahh... hmm...this is too...” He moaned out uncontrollably, whimpers and groans kept slipping out of him as you saw the khaki clothes of his cargo pants turning brown.
The precum leaked through his pants, stuck to your thin stockings, and you add a little pressure to his cock while maintaining the speed.
“Tell me does it feel good?” You ordered.
“Too gut, too...oh... right there...bitte” You rubbed your feet at the base of his cock, seemed like it did something to him, as König started whimpering and begging.
“I don’t think you have the authority to tell me what to do, König.” Although your words were mean, you still kept your foot around the spot making him moan louder and more frequently.
From how he breathed much shallow than before, you know you were gonna get the first load for today from him soon.
His eyes glued to your feet, mesmerized by how the silky sockings hugged your delicate feet and were stained by his precum, during strong pantings and watered vision, König heard your new order.
“Take it out now.”
Without a second of hesitation, he unbelted and pulled down his pants and boxers together, and he was pretty sure he needed to change a pair of them due to he made a huge mess on them.
“I'm gonna come... Schatz...Nein...! wenn du das weiterhin machst...!” (if you keep doing this)
Your pillow-soft thighs now became his new perfect armrests, he grabbed onto the part between your high knee sock and underwear, hard enough that you were sure he would leave red marks on your thighs, and you took a mental note to take a picture and send him when you get home.
“Give it to me, colonel.” You chuckled, the squeeze your toes did on his tip finally made him cum, and added more white to your already dirty-mess socks.
Your foot kept staying on his cock when he was still recovering from his orgasm, and you took out your camera, König watched you press down the shutter a few times, and turn the screen to him with a satisfied smile.
“These will definitely be at the top of my collection of you”
On the screen, he can see the camera capture how his still half-hard cock stood proudly in the center of the photo, with your feet cling to it and surrounded by the mess he made.
“Now, clean the mess you left on my foot, colonel.” Next order came instantly when you put your camera back on his desk.
He complied, taking your left foot into his big hand first, his pink tongue darted from his mouth, licking diligently, from your big toe to your pinky toe, he left no drop of his semen on your foot, being a good colonel just like you wanted him.
The smile on your beautiful face never faded, staring with hot eyes at how his tongue cleaned up your left foot, and he changed to the other foot when there was nothing left on it.
You could tell he hadn’t done this before, but he was doing quite a good job as he lapped the last drop.
“I-Is this okay? Schatz?” König asked with little pantings leaving him, and you adored how the place around his mouth was sticky now before you opened your mouth, giving another order.
“Well done, König.” You pressed your index finger to his lips. “Now, tell me what you want for being a good doggy for me?”
“Ich möchte, dass du mich reitest, liebling, bitte...” He said, but you tutted. (I want you to ride me)
“Louder, colonel. How can I hear you when you say that quiet?” You fake a punished tone.
“Please! Need to be inside you, I want to feel you, bitte...” Much louder this time, he almost whined when your grin grew wider and shift onto his lap, and he put his hands to cup your ass immediately.
“As you wish, sir.” You lifted yourself, nudging your panties aside to line up his cock with your entrance, and you both let out a moan in sync when his cock sank down and hit the deepest part of your cunt.
His cock was fat and long, you always need some preparation before you can take him, but this time with the foreplay you do to König, you were already dripping wet, leaving a pool of mess with your juices on his desk, so it wasn’t really hurt when you just straightly took him this deep, instead, it gave you a bitter-sweet soreness.
“Can I move? Liebling?” His voice was just beside your ear, and you nodded and squealed when he started bumping into you with his waist moving at an inhuman speed.
“König...König...you’re too big, oh god, please...!” At this moment, you don’t care if others would hear you being fucked to a mindless slut by your colonel, you just scream in unbearable pleasure, and your voice intertwined with König’s moan and groan, filling the office.
Your eyes watered when you felt the familiar knot forming in your abdomen — the way only your König can give you — and in your peripheral, you saw König pick up your camera.
“What...ahh- what are you doing?” You asked when König pointed the camera at you two.
“Adding more collections to your wall.” Not dropping the pace, he clicked the button, a light flashed across your eyes, but you have no energy to care about that, shaking hard on his lap while he kept taking more photos.
“You cheeky bastard...fuck! ’m coming! hmm... König!” You cried out, and orgasm exploded inside you like a firework when König lifted you from his lap, and slammed you down to allow his cock hit the right spot inside your cunt.
“Let’s come together, Liebling.....Scheiße, so tight...!” Your walls squeezed König like a vice, with you milking him, he groaned lowly, and came in you after the final few thrusts.
You both sat in the same position for a few minutes, his arms hugged you close to him by your waist, and you huffed out a laugh when you finally gained the energy to take your camera from his hand and had a good look at those photos he took.
“They sure will be the best photos on your wall, Liebe “ He murmured, and kissed your earlobe.
“Can’t disagree with you this time, colonel.”
The picture on the screen captured how your cunt swallowed König’s red cock, your watering doe eyes looking at him, while he nipped at your neck to leave a hickey.
You totally had no idea how he could take such a good picture when he was not even looking at the screen, but you surely will print it out and hang it on the wall with a frame protecting it.
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Ace
pairing. baseball player!eric x f!reader
genre. smut, sports, enemies to lovers
summary. baseball players were all the same – egoistic, rude, full of themselves. eric wasn’t an exception. the stupid boy just loved to get on your nerves and you couldn’t help but to hate him with a burning passion.. right?
warnings. mild swearing, fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, praise, eric is a little asshole (we love him), no plot at all lmao, just smut?MINORS DNI!
authors note. after seeing all those pictures of eric i had to write something baseball related.. it’s kinda short haha, sorry! have fun reading and let me know what you think! 🤍
tag list. @miusgirl @yerimseoul
eric sohn, the college’s baseball team captain, was the most annoying guy you’ve ever met.
freshly dyed blonde locks rested just right above his dark brown eyes, pearly white teeth exposed in a cocky grin as he greeted you from across the baseball field.
“ass.” you mumbled to yourself, shooting the boy a fake smile before sitting down on a bench not far away, giving eric the perfect view for your daily study routine.
“bitch.” the blonde male huffed out, relieved you decided to have a seat far away from his team mates.
they enjoyed having you around, much to eric’s discontentment. because in his eyes, you were a pain in the ass.
yet, the way your petite frame lounged on the bench, fingers skipping through the pages of your textbook, eyebrows furrowed in concentration..
“eric, if y/n catches you staring she will scratch your eyes out.” one of his friends said with a laugh, pulling him back into reality.
well, he was right. you hated his guts more than anything. that boy was full of himself – the typical baseball player.
just as practice started, your eyes almost immediately shot up the second you heard shouting from across the field, making out a familiar figure running as fast as humanly possible.
it was stupid, really. the way eric’s muscles flexed with every movement, blonde hair messily draped across his forehead, sun kissed skin on full exposure. fucking show-off.
eric wasn’t the team captain for nothing, he put a lot of effort in everything he did. except relationships. the boy was known to be quite the player, not only on the field.
that wasn’t the worst part though – pretty much the entire campus fell for the bad boy attitude.
except you. you were strong for not giving in whenever eric tried to get into your panties, just like last weekend.
“come on y/n, i know you don’t hate me as much as you pretend to.” the boy’s words still rang in your head, like an annoying melody.
he was attractive, no doubt, but sleeping with someone who fucked the entire college? nope, no way.. right?
your staring wasn’t very subtle at this point but luckily no one else was around, making it easy to continue your shameless observation of eric’s sweaty body – until you felt someone tap on your shoulder.
kevin, your best friend, beamed down at you like the sunshine he was, quickly following your gaze over to the baseball team. shit.
“how long is it gonna take you to finally fuck him? i can’t deal with another year of sexual tension just cause you play hard to get.” he spoke in a mocking voice, lips curled up in a smirk.
shock was written all over your face as you turned to look at the dark haired male. “excuse me? i’m not gonna fuck him, kev. he’s my personal nightmare.”
kevin bursted out in a laughter at your response, the attention of the whole baseball team on you now. how fucking great.
“you’re kidding, right? i mean, i agree, you guys obviously hate each other.. but.. ever heard of hate sex? you have to try it, y/n. it’s life changing!” he exclaimed, gesturing towards the blonde male a few meters away.
your eyebrows arched, a puzzled look on your face. was he serious? it was normal for kevin to come up with the weirdest ideas. and even this one – fucking your enemy – was ridiculous.
“would you shut up? i’m not gonna fuck eric, even if he was the last person walking on this goddamn earth. and now leave me alone, i’m trying to study and you distract me.”
kevin put his hands up in a defensive manner, slowly walking backwards. “i think eric is the one distracting you..” he stuck his tongue out playfully, looking over to the other male for a brief moment.
a crimson red blush tinted your cheeks, your hand reaching behind you to throw an empty plastic bottle at your friend. bullshit.
before you were about to beat kevin’s ass, he walked off with a wide grin and wave.
“fuck him, y/n!”
“fuck who?”
a raspy voice rang behind your back, causing you to turn around almost immediately. your eyes widened in shock as realization hit you like a truck.
eric.
“huh? n-no one. kevin’s talking shit again, you know how he is.” you tried to play it off cool, a nervous smile lingering on your features.
eric squinted his eyes in disbelief, head tilted to the side, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.
yeah, he looked absolutely fuckable right now.
“no one? why did you keep staring at me during practice then?” eric’s wet muscle ran across his bottom lip, dark orbs fixated on your face.
“you guys are fucking noisy. but you know what? i’m done studying anyways. see you around, eric.” the words spilled out of your mouth like a waterfall, hoping he’d just leave it be.
you rose from the bench, eric’s lean body towering above your small frame. the male was intimidating, the way his nearly pitch black eyes took in your features.
his large hand grabbed your wrist as you were about to walk away, easily pulling you against his muscular front.
a low grunt escaped the back of eric’s throat and the animalistic noise went straight to your core, thighs clenched together.
“quiet now, aren’t we?” he mumbled into your ear, teeth gently grazing over the shell. the way your body reacted to his touch, his voice..
“you talk a big game, eric. as always. put your energy into baseball, not pussy.” the words came out more shakily than intended, blaming your sex deprived ass for it.
the blonde male chuckled in amusement, thick fingers digging into your waist as he held your pretty frame in place.
as much as eric pissed you off, the thought of getting railed made you soaking wet. did you seriously consider your best friends suggestion?
“i know how bad you want me, y/n. come on, you won’t regret it..” well, he was right. you did want to fuck him. so freaking bad.
without wasting more time, you swiftly turned around, tiny hands placed on his firm chest. your gaze was sexy, seductive even. judging by eric’s tense body and playful gaze, he knew what you were up to.
“okay, douchebag. i know you won’t be able to make me come anyways, i’m fully prepared for the disappointment.”
well. little did you know.
within the matter of a couple minutes, the blonde male had you pressed against one of the lockers in the boys changing room.
the cold surface felt rough on your cheek, heat rushing to your pussy as you heard eric push down his pants in one quick motion.
“you still okay with this?”
“yes, god, just do something..”
eric chuckled at your demanding words, one of his large hands snaking its way to your tight yoga pants, pulling them down to leave you in black panties and crop top.
the blonde boy was about to come in his underwear right then and there, the sight of your barely clothed ass too good to be true. you felt his heavy stare, hips pushed back into his rock hard cock with a devilish grin playing on your features.
“god, you’re killing me..” eric let out in a faint whisper, two of his digits pulling your panties to the side, immediately sliding them into your needy hole.
you immediately moaned at the intrusion, velvety walls snuck around his fingers. the stretch wasn’t enough for you but felt delicious nevertheless.
“what a good fucking girl, look at you.” his praise sent shivers down your spine, your orgasm approaching faster than expected. you had to admit – eric knew what he was doing.
he felt how close you were, judging by the way your cunt clenched around his fingers, a proud smirk tugging at the corners of his bruised lips. the boy suddenly withdrew his digits from your core, leaving you empty and angry.
“what the��? i just knew how much you suck, can’t even make me c–” you were too focused on bragging about the current situation you didn’t even realize that eric had pulled his cock out of his calvin’s, prodding the leaking tip at your entrance.
“can’t believe you still talk so much bullshit. shut up and enjoy.” the blonde spoke in a serious tone, immediately pushing all the way in with one thrust of his hips.
his name left your parted lips like a mantra, brain too clouded with lust to form any kind of coherent sentence. the baseball player continued to fuck you with such force, your knees threatened to buckle at any given moment.
his length driving in and out of you felt like you were entering the gates to heaven, almost as if the whole thing was a fever dream. but you were actually getting railed like there was no tomorrow. by eric. the boy you hated with your entire being.
eric, on the other hand, was too far gone to care about anything right now, heavy gaze dropped down to where you two connected, low grunts rumbling in the back of his throat.
the erotic sounds of skin slapping and delicious moaning filled nearly the entirety of the rather small room. it was nearly six in the afternoon, the basketball team just finished practice.. oh, fuck. you were screwed.
you got pulled back into reality by one harsh thrust, causing you to stumble forward just a bit. you should be worried. but the only thing on your mind was the blonde baseball player, pounding into you from behind. how great.
“fuck– eric! hurry up or we.. get.. caught!” you let out between another series of rough thrusts, the knot in your abdomen threatening to explode.
the boy rose his eyebrows questioningly, as if he didn’t understand what you meant. was he actually stupid or just a good actor?
“ok, ok– fuck, can i come inside?” he spoke through gritted teeth, every muscle in his sculpted body tense as he continued to pound into you sloppily.
“go ahead, blondie” you looked over your shoulder and shot him a teasing grin, hips pushing back to fasten the pace again. your right hand slid down your belly and between your slender legs, index and middle finger drawing lazy circles on your swollen clit.
eric rolled his eyes at the usage of the nick name. guess he won’t be able to get rid of it, ever. “take it like the good girl you are, alright?” he pressed his front into your backside, jaw slack as he finally came, painting your walls white. eric’s body jerked for a couple seconds, low groans leaving the back of his throat.
your own orgasm hit you like a wave, with an unstoppable force. and eric’s praise rode you right through it. you tried to catch your breath after the boy slipped out of you, careful not to make a mess.
you were quick to fix your underwear and yoga pants, groaning slightly at the feeling of your now sore legs.
“guess i’m not that bad, huh?” the blonde male huffed, chest swollen with pride, messy hair sticking into every possible direction.
“hm.. guess we have to do it again. maybe it was just your lucky day.” you winked playfully, brushing past his large frame to leave the boys locker room. eric just stood there, gently chewing on his lower lip as he watched you go.
a couple of basketball players stood in front of the door as you got out, pretty much smelling like sex. and oh, the looks on their faces were hilarious.
see you again, eric.
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Be Careful
Pairing: Johnny Knoxville x Reader
Warnings: language, slight fluff, female reader, idk
Author’s Note: I have no business writing this, but I did. So yeah.
NOT MY GIF
The alarm clock read 1:15 A.M. as Y/N exhaled softly.
Her eyes darted back to the television where some black and white movie played. She was half paying attention to it, her mind elsewhere and eyes mostly shifting between the clock and her cell phone.
She was invited to go to the bar with the guys, but she declined, exhausted from spending the day organizing their medical records. She shouldn’t have offered, but considering how frequent the trips to the hospital were, she figured it would be useful for each of them to have a binder that contained important medical documents in the event of an emergency.
Jeff was beyond thankful for it and she was happy to help considering Johnny wouldn’t let her do any stunts lately.
Even though Johnny was a pro at what he did, she still worried. Going through his medical binder was a kick in the stomach for her. His was the most personal considering he was her fiancé. She often worried when she got calls from the guys if it was going to be that “one call.” When they called “action” and she watched Johnny begin, she said a mental prayer begging for him to make it out alive.
The door opened and Johnny appeared, smiling.
“Hey there, cutie,” he greeted her, before bending down to untie his red converse. “Thought you’d be asleep.”
“I tried but just couldn’t seem to keep them closed,” she said, reaching over to turn the light on for him. “Did you guys have fun?”
“Sure did,” he replied, throwing off his jacket and tossing it onto the chair in the corner. “You know how it is. I wish I could say you didn’t miss much, but we spent the night helping get Tyler the PA laid.”
She cracked a smile. “It’s the least you boys could do considering you made him mud wrestle Bam.”
He laughed. “That was the logic.”
He pulled down his jeans before crawling into bed beside her in his boxers and graphic tee. He propped his elbow up, resting his cheek against the palm of his hand.
“I really did miss you tonight,” he said, using his other hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I was a little bummed you didn’t come out with us.”
“I know.” She exhaled. “Honestly, I just needed to decompress.”
“Seemed like you were having an off day,” he noted. “You wanna talk about it?”
“I know you know what you’re doing and I trust you,” she said. “It’s important to me that you know that. It’s just, going through your medical records was a hard pill for me to swallow. I get worried that one prank will be one that either kills you or leaves you with some permanent injury or that these injuries eventually…”
She paused, realizing how pathetic she sounded. She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I-.”
“Don’t apologize for that,” he said. “I’m fucking serious. Don’t.”
“No but-.”
“No - hey, look at me. Open your eyes and look at me.”
She opened her eyes to find him smiling at her. The same smile that made her weak in the knees when she first saw it.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said. “I know it’s a lot for you, and I can’t thank you enough for standing by me and putting up with this shit even when it’s hard to deal with.”
“It’s not that I deal with it. It’s just me getting worried because I love you.” She gave him a small smile. “I told you I’m not going anywhere and I meant it. No amount of concussions or broken limbs or any other injuries is gonna change that. All I ask that you be careful, ok?”
“I will,” he promised, kissing the top of her head. “But only because I think you’re cute.”
She snorted. “That’s the only reason, huh?”
He nodded. “Pretty much. It’s really the only reason I’m marrying you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Then I guess it’s ok for me to say I’m only marrying you because the sex is great.”
He shrugged. “Works for me. Now, c’mere.”
He pulled her body under his, peppering her face with quick kisses. “Just one more week then you and I head off to Vegas.”
“Having second thoughts?”
“Never. I’m all in, baby.” He pulled his head back for a sec. “Are you?”
“Not a chance, Clapp. I’m in it for the long haul.” She paused. “Unless, of course, I decide to marry the Elvis impersonator instead. I’ll figure it once we get there.”
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𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 (𝐈)
[panel reads from right to left]
» Part 2
[ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader
[ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] This was initially parts 1 and 2, but I decided to combine them.
[ SYNOPSIS ] Summer is approaching and you desire to attend class like a good student is dwindling. You decide to ditch class and soak up the sun (okay, Sheryl Crow), but end up face-to-face with star pitcher, Zeke Yeager, who has similar plans.
[ WORD COUNT ] 3.8k
[ CONTENT ] High school AU, cigarettes, poor school attendance, Grisha's a shitty dad, and you have to ride a bike up a steep ass hill.
“Wait, so you’re really going to ditch?” Pieck asked.
She was always unimpressed with your life choices though her judgment did little to stop you. You haphazardly tossed your physics textbook in your locker and slammed it shut.
“It’s Friday. What could I possibly miss?”
Pieck sighed. “I don’t know, a pop quiz?”
“A pop quiz? I don’t think I’ve ever had a pop quiz in my academic career.”
“We’ve definitely had them.”
“Okay, but who actually calls them that? It’s not like we live in a John Hughes movie.”
You both headed down the hall, towards the back of the school. It was the easiest way to escape the campus. All the other openings were patrolled by the one lazy campus cop that spent his time harassing students for no good reason.
“I guess this is where we part then,” Pieck muttered. “I’ll let you know if you miss anything…”
She wandered off, angry you’d be letting her suffer in physics class all alone.
“Sorry!” You waved, hoping she’d turn around. But she never did.
You pushed through the double doors and relished in the sunlight kissing your skin. It was 90 degrees but a cool breeze tempered the heat. A perfect day in June.
You looked around, not a soul in sight. You crept past a couple beige portables the school built three years ago.
“… I thought portables were supposed to be temporary,” you mumbled under your breath once you cleared the area.
“They just tell us that to placate us.”
You whipped around to see star pitcher and general nuisance, Zeke Yeager, laying down in the grass. He was wearing his cream colored fitted baseball pants; the knees strained with brown dirt. He wore a tight white t-shirt tucked into his pants with a black belt. He sat up, and lit a cigarette. He adjusted his glasses, and looked you up and down.
“Don’t you have class?” He took a long drag and exhaled the smoke in your general direction.
“I could easily ask you the same thing.”
“Feel free.”
“Don’t you have cl—”
“Oh yeah, I had physics but I decided to skip it today. Do I really need to learn about gravity if I already deal with it everyday?”
You gave him a quizzical look. He could not have been this dense. His grey eyes met yours; his gaze was intense.
“I’m kidding.”
You stood around awkwardly. Part of you wanted to peace out and let this talking ashtray go back to laying on the field. But the other part was transfixed by his demeanor.
“I figured. You don’t look that stupid,” you said.
“What class are you ditching?”
You dropped your backpack and sat next to Zeke, making sure to keep some distance from him. He was cute and it made you woefully nervous.
“Anatomy.”
“Lame. I would’ve ditched too.”
Zeke was notorious for his shitty attendance. He was perpetually ten minutes late. And he ditched class whenever he felt like it. No one gave him any shit though because he was on the baseball team. Your high school followed the classic rule: athletes can basically do whatever the fuck they want so long as they don’t fail their courses.
That was something Zeke never needed to worry about. He was intelligent, one of the smartest boys in your class. He had never gotten a single F in his life. You only knew this because people tended to talk about him in the halls. He wasn’t popular by any means, but everyone knew him. He was the best pitcher on the team. He frequently got caught smoking cigarettes in the bathroom. He got invited to all the parties.
“What class would you not ditch?” You questioned.
He lit another cigarette with the cherry end of his previous one.
“I don’t know. I like lit and film a lot.”
Your jaw dropped.
“I wanted to get into that class so bad!”
He snickered. “What did you get instead?”
“… Multicultural lit. Also known as, let’s read books from Western European countries because that’s so multicultural. I fail to recognize how reading a bunch of books by old white men is multicultural in any sense.”
“Are you implying white men operate under a universal culture?”
“And if I am?”
He took a drag. “You’re a genius.”
Your face grew hot. No one had ever called you a genius before, jokingly or not.
“Th—thanks.”
“Yeah, most of my teammates got into lit and film pretty easy, but you know… Privilege.”
You couldn’t hide your distaste. “It’s bullshit.”
“Oh, no! You’re absolutely right. I assure you I am the only one in there that knows we have a 12 page paper on Rashomon due next week.”
You threw your hands up in the air. “See! I want to write an essay on Kurosawa!”
He laughed. “You can write mine, if you want.”
You looked at him, completely dumbfounded.
“Ew, no.”
He playfully elbowed you in the ribs.
“I figured it was worth a shot. You want one?”
He offered you a cigarette. It was one of those weird brown ones, no filter. You’d only smoked once at a party. You had chugged three light beers and decided to bum one off of a rando. A menthol. It didn’t vibe with your lungs to say the least.
But for whatever reason, you said, “Sure.”
He handed you one and you were puzzled. You examined both ends, not sure which one you should light.
“Here,” he said softly.
He plucked the cigarettes from your hands and held it to your lips. His face was so close to yours, you thought you would die right then and there. You parted your lips and accepted the cigarette. He held a lighter to the end.
“Inhale,” he commanded.
You did and immediately coughed.
“Shit, my throat,” you choked out.
He placed a heavy hand on your shoulder, smiling like a proud father.
“Feels good, right?”
“Hardly.” You took another drag and coughed.
“Are you trying to look cool for me, kiddo?”
“No,” you gasped.
He squeezed your shoulder and then proceeded to take the cigarette from you.
“You’re too pretty to smoke anyway.”
“And you aren’t?”
“Are you implying that I’m pretty?”
“Are you implying that I’m pretty?” you parroted back.
He blushed. “It didn’t imply it so much as directly admit it,” he laughed.
“What the fuck is going on here? Yeager, don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”
It was the campus cop. You panicked. You weren't a little miss perfect type, but you would be grounded for a month if you got caught cutting class. The cop was far off enough that you could maybe make a break for it. You stared at the gate in the distance. You were fast. And Zeke was an athlete so running should be easy for him. The cop began to lumber towards you both.
“Let’s go,” you whispered, sneakily putting your backpack on.
“What?”
The cop was cresting the hill. You were running out of time.
“Let’s,” you stood up, “go!”
You grabbed Zeke by the wrist and dragged him upright.
“Where?”
You pointed at the gate.
“C’mon, baseball boy, I’m not trying to go to baby jail.”
You both ran towards the gate. You prayed for freedom. You looked back at the cop and finally reached your original location. He stood confused and shouted, “Yeager! Where you going, dude?!”
“Dude?” you panted. You don’t know what possessed you to speak while running for your life.
“Yeah, he tries to act like we’re cool. It’s odd.”
You stopped once you reached the gate. You slid through the opening and ended up in a residential area. You were both catching your breath when you noticed you were still holding onto him.
“Oh fuck, my bad.”
“Huh?” He looked down at his wrist. “Oh! Ha, you’re fine. I didn’t mind your gorilla grip. I doubt I would’ve ran that fast on my own. I am in sandals.”
He gestured towards his feet, he was in fact wearing Birkenstocks and white gym socks.
“Well, now what?” you pondered.
You examined the row of tract homes, some more derelict than others. Most of the windows were busted in leaving the sidewalk glittered with broken glass. You dragged your foot across the shards, relishing in the noise of it cracking under your weight.
Zeke stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “I’m gonna head home. I wanna nap before practice.”
“Oh,” you said dejectedly.
You were hoping you would go on some sort of adventure together. Maybe grab burritos. Talk more about Kurosawa films. Smoke his fancy cigarettes. Maybe even rest your head on his shoulder.
“But I’m not doing anything after. We might be going kind of late tonight, but if you’re free we should meet up.”
“Really?!” You adjusted your tone so you didn’t sound so eager. “Yeah, I don’t have anything going on so sure.”
“Cool. Here.” He handed you his phone. “Add your number.”
You added your number to his contacts list.
“What do you have in mind?” you asked, handing his phone back to him.
“Not sure, but you’re smart. I’m sure you’ll think of something.” He punctuated the sentence with a wink and walked off.
You sighed and decided to head home. You were a latchkey kid so it’s not like anyone would be waiting for you. Halfway through your journey your phone vibrated multiple times in rapid succession. You checked it and saw messages from an unknown number:
you’re not gonna be one of those gorgeous girls that ghosts me, right?
sorry that sounds so pathetic.
promise i’m not one of those guys that get butthurt over a girl
i’m looking forward to hanging out lol
SHIT. sorry if i’m laying it on thick. you looked so cute choking to death.
Ghosting Zeke did cross your mind, mostly because you wanted to beat him to the punch. You found it hard to believe he wanted anything to do with you. It wasn’t a lack of confidence on your part; you knew you were hot shit. Simply put it all felt absurd, too idyllic. Meet up with him after baseball practice? Ha, sure.
But to your surprise you got a series of texts.
SHIT. sorry if i’m laying it on thick. you looked so cute choking to death.
WAS THAT INAPPROPRIATE TO SAY?
i feel like it was. was it weird?
😂 hella weird but it's okay
for the record that emoji was ironic
sure it was.
is 8 too late?
...
i take it back.
i rhymed. we can’t hang out. sorry ⚰️
You opted to call him. The phone rang for what felt like forever
“He would be the type to not answer his—”
“Hello?”
“Oh! Hi! Uh,” you spat out in a panic.
Words were a foreign concept. You hadn’t thought about what you’d say after he answered the phone. You weren’t much of a planner evidently.
“Is 8 too la—Nope, not doing it again. Does 8 work for you?”
You smiled at him avoiding the rhyme. His voice radiated pride.
“Nope. I’m not some baby.”
“Never said you were one, kiddo.”
“Kiddo? Really?”
“I said what I said.”
Could he be anymore obnoxious? You shook your head. He probably could.
You sighed. “Whatever. What do you wanna do?”
“Can you ride a bike?”
You paused. “… Yes.”
“Do you have one?”
You thought hard. Your mom had a beat up, turquoise fixed gear she kept in the garage but you couldn’t even remember the last time you rode a bike.
“Yeah, I have my mom’s.”
“Cool. I’ll drop a pin. See you soon, beautiful.”
He hung up before you could even comprehend a word he said. You looked down at your outfit. You felt anything other than beautiful. You got off your bed and walked over to your closet. You eyed a floral-print sundress but shook your head. You barely knew him! It had only been a few hours since you last saw him. You never put this much thought into stuff like this, so why start now? You had every reason in the world to be confident.
But alas, you remained self-conscious. Plagued with insecurity and teenage woe.
“Try hard,” you murmured.
Nothing looked particularly appealing. You were embarrassed it crossed your mind to look cute for Zeke.
“Gross. If anything I should look uglier.”
You decided not to change your outfit. There was no reason to overthink it. You were going biking with the guy and it’s not even like it was a date. He just asked you to hang out in a very flirtatious way.
You ran downstairs and crept into the garage to grab your mom’s bike. As you managed to free it from the closet you knocked over the recycling bin.
“Sweetie, is everything okay out there?”
You panicked. She wouldn’t mind you taking her bike, nor would she mind you going out on a Friday night. But you couldn’t bear the thought of telling her you were going to meet up with a boy. You hit the switch and opened the garage door.
“Yup. Yes. 100%.” You grimaced as you exited. “I’ll be home late. I’ll text you if I die or something.”
“Sounds good.”
And off you went.
You biked to the spot Zeke told you to meet him at. The whole thing felt kind of shady the more you thought about it. It didn’t help that he essentially had you scaling a hill. You knew by the time you got to the top you’d be sweaty. The only thing that kept you sane was knowing he’d likely be gross from baseball practice.
“Fuck,” you panted. “This is so not cool. I can’t believe I let this shithead convince me—”
“Hey there!”
You dropped your concentration for a brief moment and glanced up to see Zeke. He waved manically, clearly hamming it up for you. Typical boy nonsense.
“You’re so close! You can do it!”
You finally reached the top of the hill and leaned your mom’s bike down on the ground. You sat down on the curb and tried to catch your breath.
“Hi,” was all you could cough out.
Zeke sat down beside you. He was still in his baseball uniform. He draped an arm around you, giving you a little squeeze.
“Nice bike!”
“Thanks,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder. Shockingly he didn’t reek. He smelled like a pleasant combination of peppermint Altoids and additive-free tobacco.
“If I had known you’d be rolling up on a Bianchi I would’ve had us meet on flat land. You could’ve hopped on the back of mine.”
He leaned his head on top of yours. You typically weren’t such a touchy person but something about Zeke leant himself to human contact. It felt natural, like it was always meant to be like that. His blonde hair felt like velvet up against your cheek.
“The view is worth it though, right?” he asked, expectantly.
There was a hint of worry, maybe even desperation to his tone. You stared out at the suburbs, which soon gave way to the city. The lights seemed endless, rows and rows of yellow and white pinpricking the darkness. Suburbia was never very attractive in any sense of the word, but he was right. The view was nice; it had been worth it.
“Yeah, it’s not too bad. How was practice?”
He sighed deeply.
“I’m the only person that showed up on time. No one else had their shit together. My catcher was somehow hungover even though it was a Friday afternoon and he’s barely 18. I got a ball thrown at my ass. My thumb feels weird. And my dad forgot to pick me up… Again.”
“Wow. Uh.” You struggled to find words that would console him.
“Sorry. It was not a good day to say the least.”
“No, no, I’m sorry. It sucks when you’re the only one that gives a shit.”
“No, kiddo, I’m sorry.”
“Kiddo?” you said, voice dripping with disdain.
“See! Sorry for calling you kiddo. Look at all the things I have to apologize for.”
You stared at him in disbelief. He gave you a little cat-like smirk. His grey eyes might as well have been sparkling. He knew he was charming. Boys like him were always the most beguiling. They were the ones you needed to keep an eye on, to keep at an arm’s length.
And yet, here you were with him, staring out into a vast expanse of human civilization with barely any space between you two.
“Apologies accepted then. But in all seriousness, I’m sorry your evening was shit. How did you end up getting home?”
He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
“I walked,” he said, coolly.
“Far?”
He took a long drag and let the smoke drift out of his mouth.
“Few miles.”
“Well, you seem to be o—”
“I had… all my gear. I told him where to meet me. It’s not like he was clueless.”
“I—”
“But of course he tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal. His logic was, ‘It wasn’t a game.’ As if the issue was him not witnessing me play.”
You quickly realized he needed someone to merely listen to him. By look on his face you could tell people didn’t tend to lend him an ear when he needed to vent.
Zeke continued. “It’s... One second I convince myself I don’t care. And then the other… I don’t know.”
You desperately wanted to find the words to make him better. You hated to see anyone in such dire straits.
“I’m sorry your dad is such a fuck.”
He guffawed. “Understatement of the year. I wish I could return him.”
A lightbulb went off in your head. “Return to sender.”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and mimicked a call. “Hey, grandpa, yeah, it’s Zeke. Can you take Grisha back?”
“He’s broken; it doesn’t father properly,” you snickered.
“Listen, I know he’s your son but he’s worthless.”
“Every day he finds new ways to disappoint everyone.”
“We thought ruining his first marriage would’ve taught him to do better but here we are.”
“Please take back this ugly man you call your son.”
He snorted. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s slow down. I do kind of look like him.”
You stared blankly at him. “All the more reason to stand by what I said.”
You both broke out into a fit of laughter.
“Oh, fuck, kiddo. You’re too much.”
You punched his arm.
“We’re the same age, aren’t we? You have no reason to call me that.”
“It’s ironic. That’s charming, right? You’re into irony.”
You took a good look at him. He was right; you did have an affinity for irony.
“Charming? You? Ha!” you scoffed.
“I’ll have you know I’m a delight. People love me.”
“Psh.”
Again, he was right. He was endearing, easy to talk to. There was a reason everyone at school knew him. The teachers adored him and sang his praises. Girls whispered about him in the locker room. But oddly enough he wasn’t one of the “popular kids”. People talked about Zeke but they never talked to him. They treated him more as an idea, a concept, rather than a person.
“I’m a treat. You will never convince me otherwise.”
“Trust me, I wouldn’t bother. It’d be fruitless,” you said.
“So you’re admitting that I’m charming?”
“I guess.”
A smug expression crept upon his face. If you could’ve taken back those two words, you would have.
“The feeling is mutual,” he said in a singsong voice.
Your eyes widened and your face grew warm. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Wow! Look at us! Two charming friends!” you called out nervously.
Idiot. You didn’t want to be friends! You wanted him to wrap his arms around you, call you kiddo even though it annoyed you, kiss you under the fucking stars! You cursed your mouth for betraying you. It crossed your mind to toss out a casual “jk” but you froze.
However the comment didn’t seem to bother Zeke.
“You know I can’t remember the last time someone actually called me their friend.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. How embarrassing is that.” He adjusted his glasses; clearly a nervous habit.
“I’ve heard more embarrassing things.”
He smiled. “Oh, good.”
“I don’t have many friends either, if it makes you feel better. I mean, other than Pieck I’m a bit of a loner.”
“I know, it never made sense to me.”
Jesus fucking Christ, was he trying to kill you with kindness?
You laughed nervously. “I think people think I’m a bit of bitch or standoffish. I could probably be friendlier.”
“Fuck that.” He lit another cigarette. “Want one?”
You shook your head.
He continued. “Being friendly is overrated. People take advantage of that. Plus you’re hardly bitchy. You just listened to me whine about my daddy issues. You’re a saint if anything.”
Again, he was laying it on thick. Calling you a saint was borderline too much to take.
“You have to stop. I’m gonna die if you keep gassing me up like this.”
He coughed. “Fine. You’re gross. The worst. I never want to see you and your nasty ass again.”
“There we go.”
He leaned his head on your shoulder again. The more you thought about his behavior it became clear he didn’t get much affection, platonic or otherwise. You still had an inkling he had a crush on you. But you decided to focus more on being a friend, someone he could come to. You knew a girlfriend could do those things, but romance seemed trivial. He didn’t need a love interest; he needed a buddy.
You were ripped away from your thoughts as you heard a faint vibration.
“Ugh. It’s my dad.”
Zeke got up and answered his phone.
“What?!” he shouted.
He wandered off. You could hear him arguing in the distance. Part of you wanted to run up and grab his phone and tell his dad off. But that would’ve been absolutely bonkers. You looked out at the view and tried to think about other things.
“Whatever. Bye.”
You heard footsteps behind you and the flicker of a lighter.
“What happened?” you asked; your voice filled with concern.
He stared at you. His grey eyes were lifeless.
“I gotta go.”
“Oh, okay,” you said with a frown.
“But I had fun. Thanks for hanging out with me. Are you gonna get home okay?”
“Yeah, I don’t live too far from here.”
You both stood in silence, staring at your shoes. Neither of you wanted to go home.
“Can I… escort you home?”
“Sure?”
His eyes lit up and he tossed his lit cigarette into the street. You prayed it didn’t start a fire.
“Cool! Let’s go!”
He picked up his bike and mounted it. You did the same.
“Race down the hill? I know it’s steep, but it’ll be fun,” he said with a goofy, boyish grin.
You usually weren’t reckless as grievous bodily harm was anything but appealing, but you said fuck it.
“Ladies first!” And with that you sped down the hill.
“Cheater!” Zeke shouted as he trailed after you.
Needless to say, you won the race.
#zeke yeager x reader#zeke jaeger x reader#zeke yeager fics#zeke jaeger fics#aot fluff#snk fluff#attack on titan fluff#shingeki no kyojin fluff#zeke yeager fluff#zeke jaeger fluff#aot fics#snk fics#reader insert#x reader#.fics#.aot#.zeke
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Day 21: Hugs
@hellcheerxmas
December 1986
Hawkins, Indiana
“Dude, what the fuck?”
Eddie slams his locker shut, nearly clamping Gareth’s nose inside. Which is as much as the little shit deserves for sticking it firmly where it doesn’t belong.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says as he leans against the metal door, aiming for nonchalance.
“There was a bear.”
“Fuck off, go to class.”
“It had a hat—”
“Go to class,” he hisses, and the Dungeon Master voice doesn’t work on Gareth anymore, but Eddie likes to think he projects a modicum of authority. Sometimes. Maybe.
“Whatever, Eddie.” Gareth snickers and hoists his backpack onto his shoulder. “Good luck with that.”
Eddie watches him go. Waits until the hallway clears out and the bell rings (so he’s skipping English; he knows how to read) before he opens his locker again.
Sitting on the top shelf is, indeed, a bear. And not just any bear. A polar bear. A polar bear wearing a red Santa hat and a green vest with bells all over it, and one of its feet has a sticker that says squeeze me.
He's no fool—he ain’t squeezing shit—but he does pull out the crisp white envelope that’s been neatly placed in the bear’s lap.
Dear Eddie,
This is Mr. Hugs. He loves you. Merry Christmas.
Best wishes,
Mrs. Claus
P.S. This is revenge
He sighs. Grabs the jingling bear and tries to muffle it against his jacket because he can’t leave it in his locker and he can’t throw it in the trash, so his only option is to get it to the van without anyone seeing.
Which might have worked if not for the fact that he runs into Lucas Sinclair holding a hall pass when he’s halfway to the back door.
“Hey, Sinclair,” he says like he’s not holding a giant Christmas teddy bear to his chest.
“Hey, Eddie.” Lucas, a nice kid, is trying not to smirk. “What’s uh… that?”
“Oh, this? This is Mr. Hugs.” Because what else the fuck is he going to say?
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“It doesn’t look like anything.”
“Right. What are the chances of you not telling Henderson about this?”
Lucas considers his options, then shrugs. “My mouth stays shut if you let my sister start coming to Hellfire next semester.”
Eddie groans. “I told you, man. It’s not a babysitting service.”
A shrug and Lucas folds his arms. Eddie inadvertently squeezes the bear a bit tighter, which is when a tinny, mechanical voice spouts, “Ho-ho-haaaaappy holidays from Mr. Hugs!”
Lucas can’t keep from snorting. Eddie grits his teeth. “Fine. But she’d better come prepared,” he says before sprinting for the exit.
Luckily, he doesn’t run into anyone else between Sinclair and the parking lot, where his van waits like some sacred oasis.
Chrissy’s sitting in the back when he gets there, painting her nails and flipping through a magazine like she’s not an evil little Christmas imp. She has a free period when he has English, and she says being in the van beats study hall, so he gave her his extra key.
“Dude,” he says when he sees her, and she looks up all beatific, batting those big, baby blues. “I have a reputation.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He launches Mr. Hugs against the back of the passenger seat. The bear drops to the floor with a squealed “Meeeeeeerry Christmas!”
She lifts her hand to her mouth and blows on her nails, then shrugs. “I think he’s cute.”
“You think he’s—”
“Maybe think twice before insulting Boy George next time, Munson.”
Eddie frowns, because when did he even do that? Except, yeah, last weekend. Rick’s place. Chrissy and Rick wanted to listen to Colour By Numbers, and Eddie’d been… like, maybe more of a dick about that than the situation warranted. But still!
“That’s disproportionate, Cunningham!”
Another shrug, but she’s tamping down a giggle.
“Whatever. You’re such a fucking freak.”
Chrissy doesn’t disagree, and he spends the rest of her free period doing his best not to smudge her nail polish.
#hellcheer#eddie x chrissy#chrissy x eddie#edissy#chrissy cunningham#eddie munson#fanfic#hellcheerxmas#ruining eddie munson's reputation for fun and profit#mr hugs#idk this got crack fic-y#pretend the bear in the pic has a green jingle vest#there's only so much i can do with stock photography dammit#hellcheercountdown
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Something that has bothered me for a long time is that when there is an issue within the G/t space, it can go from 0 to 100 real quick. I cannot call this group a community, because you need communication for it to be one. That’s not what I’m seeing here. It’s just vague call out post about something that they do not like. And he,y here’s the thing, we all have our issues; our likes and dislikes, and I believe you don’t have to apologize for that.
I have one gripe however, is that people assume if the themes are horrendous, then the story in itself will be just as bad by the end of it—and the person who wrote it is a horrible person. FIRST of all, If you knew what the theme was about going in and you refuse to read it, then don't read it. But to just yell that this is insensitive to everyone else is kinda bonkers, don’t your think? You cannot speak on behalf of every PoC in this space. You can be upset if it triggers you, but that’s what the block button is for.
Just because the setting of the world view tinies as less than, doesn’t mean that this has to be the case in THIS story or that it ends that way. Overcoming what feels like the impossible is the best way to describe the situation. Going through a ton of shit and it working out in the end. Here's the thing, I'm not a fan of the pet trope, but that's only the surface of it all. Does this mean I like the trope? NO! But if the story is engaging, and the protagonist is able to overcome the impossible, then is the story really all about tinies being pets??
“If a character that wholly participate in this system that oppresses people. They. Are. Bad.”
This is like saying Zuko should never be forgiven or accepted by the gaang because he’s from the fire nation, and that Aang or Katara should have tossed him in jail and throw away the key. Without context, Zuko is a piece of shit, especially in the beginning. But once you see his side, see what he goes through, his struggles, his dreams. You EMPATHIZE with him. THAT'S storytelling.
And yes, We DO live in a fucked up climate, and coming here to tumblr is sort of an escape from it. I’m here to escape it as well; I LOVE fluff, but life isn’t filled with fluff in the real world. And stories do NOT have to be all fluff for it to be good.
Look, at the end of the day, G/t has always been about power dynamic in a literal scale. Two, very different sized folks, on semi-equal ground. Some people love this, some people don’t give a shit. It’s not my business to scream “why the absolute fuck are you writing this!” to any person who writes stories or tropes that I'm not a fan of.
I have my own issues when it comes to pedophiles and that shit should never be accepted, especially in this space. I block that shit if I see it. And why the hell are you comparing people who write intense storytelling to a piece-of-shit TERF author? Are you serious right now? How fucking scummy of you to compare them to homophobes. Jesus Christ. You don’t even know who they are to begin with! Have you tried having a conversation?!
Unfollow me, block me, whatever you want. Wa7iyat Allah, if anyone assume I’m a white person and I should stay out of it, you’re gonna be disappointed! Ya Habibi, I’m Palestinian! I don’t need to explain how people see us, now do I?
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ralsei-kin
I think actually we should remake the "OG trilogy" but have more changes to established lore. (ALSO LIKE regardless of changes to lore you uhhh Have To Change Stuff because That's What An Adaptation Is???? All movies change at least SMTH because what flows well in a book doesn't look good on screen!!!) But also fuck it why shouldn't Galadriel be black??? And Legolas?? They already added more women & better female roles in the first trilogy we should do it again
CANNOT comment on the hobbit movies cause uhhh I watched the first one and was so bored I never bothered w/ the other 2. Its just WILD how deep rooted the Racism goes because nobody ever questions my white ass on whether I've read all Tolkeins works (I haven't! I read The Hobbit and I got halfway through Fellowship but couldn't get on with the flowery language, the only other Tolkein I've read through is his Beowulf translation).
IDK sorry for rambling but like, I don't understand how anyone can look at the questions ur receiving and not go "oh hang on, maybe this isn't abt me, maybe I should listen to someone telling me they're worried abt racism" when like the whole point of Privilege as a Concept is that u don't KNOW what privileges you have until someone tells u shit they experience and u don't! like white privilege is microaggressions like me never being questioned on my Tolkein Authority!
IDK about having Galadriel specifically as black since she is described specifically as being “pale-skinned” though that does give me the idea for literally everyone to be black and thus the “pale-skinned” Galadriel is just my skin tone in a world of people 5 shades darker than me tada fixed the story.
Since Tolkien’s a bit too flowery for you: Legolas’ hair color is a matter of debate because he’s usually depicted with dark hair due to in-universe reasons however Orlando’s Legolas really popularized the character being depicted as blonde so you can tell in illustrations whether the illustration was done before or after the PJ movies. And people get really mad at each other over this. Like, really, really mad. So now Legolas is both black and blonde fucking deal with it.
Also Glorfindel is back to being a woman now, yeah when he reincarnated he specifically asked for a female body and so she’s a woman and y’all got your Glorfindel scenes back but she’s still a woman because fuck you that’s why. At the end of the day these are fictional characters and thus it doesn’t really matter, it’s an adaption, it’s not meant to be word-for-word.
Anyway yes your point 100% agree, the entire topic here is “I think you folks are ignoring a race-based blindspot you have because you’re convinced you’re Good And Right And Moral but your reasons are overall hypocritical and there’s probably a different reason this specific adaption caught your ire” and “just because the post you agree with says it’s for XYZ reason I’d pay a lot of attention to the fact that they’re deliberately leaving out some racial context here” and “hey it kinda sucks that the first adaption of this universe to feature black people has a targeted campaign against it, feels kinda like white fanboy nonsense to me”
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The Hazards of Love: Ch. 1
Fandom: AphroDesia
Pairings: Jules Romero/OC, TMon/OC
Rating: M
Word Count: 5,031
Content Warnings: N/A
Fic Summary: When Jules Romero needs a body guard to escort him to the Ashlands to gather ingredients, the hitman Orion steps up to the plate. When love creeps up on them, the hazards that come along with falling for another make their appearance. A story of love, heartbreak, and finding yourself.
Author's Notes: Hey guys and welcome to a new long form fic! This is for the fandom AphroDesia, an incredible podcast that is going to be turned into an amazing webcomic! If you'd like to learn more, consider heading to Snaccpop Studio's Patreon and find out more!
18+ ONLY due to the nature of the source material
Start reading below or click right here to read it on my ao3!
“I’ve got a new job for you.”
Orion looked up from his spot at the dining room table, coffee cup halfway to his lips. His eyebrows shot up, and he set the mug down, folding his arms across his chest.
“Who’s the hit on?” he asked the woman standing in front of him. She bit her lower lip, and looked away.
“It’s not a hit,” she said slowly. “It’s…well…you remember TMon, right?”
Orion stared at his friend, leveling her with a look. “Elfie, I already don’t like where this is going.”
Elfie sat down next to Orion, body rigid. She held a manila folder in her hand, and slid it over to her dark elf friend. “Look, I know bringing him up makes this sound bad, but it could really do wonders for the organization. We need the money, and TMon and Jambee are willing to personally get us back on our feet if we do them this one favor.”
“And I’m the only one you trust with it?” Orion asked, opening the folder.
“You’re the only one in St. Valens who knows anything at all about the Ashlands.”
There was a long pause, and Orion flipped through the papers, frown deepening with each page until it was a full blown scowl.
“They want me to escort some scientist to the Ashlands to get ingredients for their aphrodisiacs?” Orion said. “Elfie, this is stupid. Why can’t this scientist go on his own? I’m not going to be a fuckin’ tour guide to some human.”
“You’re not a tour guide…you’re his body guard,” Elfie said. “Jules Romero is wanted by the CIA. He needs top protection. TMon respects you, and knows that you’re a better hit man than he is. Please Orion?”
Orion let out a long suffering sigh. “You’re only doing this because you want to get in that robot’s pants.”
“First of all, he’s a cherub not a robot,” Elfie said, “And secondly, that is absolutely not true! He’s not interested me, and I have accepted that fact.”
“Accepted it? That’s a lie and you know it,” Orion said. Elfie let out a huff and flicked a lock of brown hair behind her shoulder.
“Look could you just take the job?” Elfie said, clearly annoyed.
“I’m not just going to take their word that they’ll help us out,” Orion said. “I need a down payment before I do shit.”
“Well, we can meet with them and talk it over,” Elfie said. “Could you at least agree to that?”
“Fine,” Orion said, picking his coffee mug back up. “Tell them we’ll meet with them and talk it over.”
A speedy phone call and a drive across town later, Orion and Elfie were meeting up with owners of the most opulent love hotels in the entirety of the human lands. Elfie had insisted they dress up to Orion's chagrin. They compromised on Orion wearing a white button down with one of his nicer leather jackets. Elfie had forced him into a pair of non ripped black jeans, and the two were off.
They headed up to one of the fancy restaurants that thus hotel boasted, and immediately saw who they were looking for. At a large table sat a massive Cherub in a suit, a smaller Cherub that Orion recognized as TMon and a human. A human that looked insane.
The first thing that jumped out at Orion was the human's wild mane of hot pink hair, secured in a messy ponytail. A crisp lab coat sat atop a black mesh shirt, and he had was twirling a strand of his hair around his pointer finger.
"There y'are!" the large Cherub said as Orion and Elfie approached. TMon gave them both a warm smile, and Elfie smiled broadly. Orion could help but notice that the human was fixated on him, staring at him like he was a creature in a zoo.
"I'm Jambee-Beaux Valentine, but Jambee works fine," the large Cherub said. "Though if you ever want to call me sir, I don't mind," he said, winking at Elfie.
"With behavior like that, you don't deserve to be called sir," Orion said, acid dripping from every syllable. Jambee's eyebrows shot up, and Elfie whipped her head towards Orion, glaring at him.
"I apologize for Orion's outburst," Elfie said. Orion looked like he was about to protest, and she stomped on his foot to quiet him.
"Your colleague is right," TMon said, shooting Jambee an irritated look. "He shouldn't be talking to you like that. Especially since you are a longtime friend of mine."
"She is?" Jambee said, and TMon stared at him incredulously.
"I told you we were meeting with Esperanza Florez! You know, Elfie?" TMon said. "You met her once before!"
Jambee's mouth dropped open, and he looked from Elfie to TMon and back again
"Elfie is a nickname," she said cooly. "My initials are e, l, f, so I got the nickname Elfie. I typically refer to myself as Esperanza or Ms. Florez around people I do business with."
Jambee cowered under her icy glare, and he twiddle his thumbs nervously.
"Sorry Ms. Florez," he said sheepishly. "I didn't know you were TMon's uh, friend," he said, putting emphasis on the last word. Orion continued to glare, liking Jambee less and less as the moments passed.
"But she'd be up for grabs if TMon wasn't close with her?" Orion snapped. "Do you always treat women like pieces of meat?"
“Don’t worry, he treats men like this too. Everyone, really. He objectifies everyone equally!”
Orion turned his gaze to the pink haired human who had just spoken. He a giant grin on his face, and laughed at the furious look Jambee gave him.
“Jules,” TMon said with a sigh, “You’re not helping.”
“I was supposed to be helping?” Jules said, shocked.
“Would any of you care for some bread and oil?”
A short red haired waitress approached the table, a basket of bread and a container of oil and balsamic vinaigrette in her hands.
“That would be lovely, thank you,” Elfie said, and the waitress beamed at them. Menus were passed around, and they all began to look at the selection.
“So you’re Mr. Romero then?” Elfie asked as Jules picked up the cocktail menu.
“Ew, don’t call me that,” Jules said, making a face. “But yeah, that’s me. Jules. I’m really hoping you guys agree to this, because this could really advance my research and make us a shit load of money.”
“What’s the name of the plant you’re looking for?” Orion asked, flipping the menu over and looking at the main courses.
“Oh it only grows in the Ashlands. I mean, I can tell you the name but like…you wouldn’t know what it is.”
Orion glared at Jules over the top of his menu.
“Try me.”
“It’s called Siren’s Tongue. It’s a beautiful red flower that looks similar to a stargazer lily,” Jules said, eyes bright. “It’s found on the coast of the Ashlands, has black spots on the petals and--”
“Oh good fucking god,” Orion said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Siren’s Tongue is not found on the coast.”
There was a small silence at the table. Orion locked eyes with Jules who looked flabbergasted.
“Yes it does!” he said. “I did extensive research!”
“Well not extensive enough apparently,” Orion said. “I know what plant you’re talking about. You’re talking about Blissful Death, a flower that looks exactly like Siren’s Tongue. The only difference is the scent. Blissful Death smells very sweet, while Siren’s Tongue doesn’t smell like anything at all. Siren’s Tongue grows in the Scorched Valley which leads to Mt. Eris, the main volcano. Blissful Death grows on the coast.”
“W-what?” Jules spluttered. “How…but…Blissful Death?”
“Yes,” Orion said. “You will be poisoning your clientèle if you make them something with that in it.”
“How do you know all that?” Jules asked, fascinated.
“I was born and raised in the Ashlands,” Orion said simply. “This is basic stuff they teach to kids so they don’t kill themselves accidentally.”
“You’re from…? Oh my god! You have to go with me!” Jules said, slamming his hands on the table, making everyone jump. “TMon said he was finding me a body guard, but he didn’t say he was finding a body guard who knows his shit! Who’s actually from there!”
“Jesus, yeah,” Jambee said, shaking his head. “If we had gone with anyone else, we would’ve poisoned all our beta testers.”
“I haven’t said yes yet,” Orion said carefully.
“Well you should!” Jules said enthusiastically. “It’ll be a fun little road trip! We can play 20 questions and blare music and sing along at the top of our lungs! Oh my god, you have long hair just like me, we could have matching braids and shit!”
Elfie looked like she was trying to stifle a laugh as Orion looked in horror at Jules.
“I…what?” Orion said.
“Let’s discuss what’s in it for us,” Elfie cut in smoothly. “Obviously you’ll get your plant and Orion will make sure you don’t cause any catastrophes with it. But what about for him and I? For The Blades? What do we get?”
Elfie began to discuss the finer details with the two cherubs, finalizing it halfway through their meal. Orion wished he could say he had been paying attention to anything at all that was being said, or even what he had ordered for dinner. Unfortunately there was a massive distraction in the shape of Jules keeping him from understanding what was going on.
Jules kept bumping his foot up against Orion’s, and even had the gall to say “What?” in a sweet and innocent voice when Orion jumped from the sensation of a socked foot touching his ankle, and traveling partially up his leg.
And then there was the way he sipped from his straw, leaning forward and arching his back slightly, looking Orion right in the eyes. Jesus, could the guy be any more obvious? And why was everyone acting like this was normal behavior? Nobody seemed fazed, not at all. First Jambee with Elfie, now Jules with him.
“So,” Jules said casually, reaching across the table and brushing his hand against Orion’s, “Are you single?”
Orion nearly knocked his blue lagoon mocktail over at this, getting a scandalized look from Elfie.
“Sorry,” he grumbled, wiping up some of the droplets that had spilled.
“Well?” Jules asked.
“I’m not interested in humans,” Orion said pointedly, moving his hand far away from Jules.
“Oh so you’re a monsterfucker,” Jules teased.
“I’m an Elf with a preference for other non-humans,” Orion said. “You callin’ me a monster?”
Jules choked on his drink, and Orion snorted.
“With the amount of people I’ve put in pine boxes, I might as well be one,” he said as Jules gasped for breath. “But I didn’t mean like dragons or shit like that. Just other beings like me.”
“What makes you not like humans?” Jules asked. “Have you been with one before? We’re not that bad.”
“I have and I’m not looking to date another anytime soon,” Orion said.
“I didn’t say anything about dating, not necessarily,” Jules said with hooded eyes.
“Answer is still no,” Orion said firmly, and Jules sighed.
“Fine,” he said, sounding like he’d be denied the greatest treat of his life. “But by the end of the trip, you won’t be able to resist me! You’ll be begging for a piece of this.”
“Doubt that,” Orion said, shaking his head.
“Is that a challenge?” Jules asked with a wicked grin.
“Absolutely fucking not,” Orion said, wrinkling his nose.
When dinner was finished, Orion agreed to work with them. They would need to be extremely undercover, driving in a nondescript car instead of taking a plane ride.
“You’ll do the driving and any fighting that needs to happen, and we’ll pay for everything,” Jambee said. “Hotels, food, gas, random shit along the way that you want. We’ve got you.”
“See you in a few days!” Jules said, and blew Orion a kiss as they left the restaurant. Elfie giggled, and Orion shoved his hands in his pockets as they walked outside.
“He was cute,” Elfie said casually.
“No,” Orion said.
“You think he was ugly?” Elfie asked. Orion glowered at her as they hopped into their car.
“No, but I know what you were trying to say. I’m not dating him. Or fucking him!” he added as Elfie opened her mouth. She rolled her eyes.
“I heard you say you don’t date humans. Which is complete bullshit,” Elfie said, shaking her head. Orion stared out the window, intentionally facing away from her.
“I dated a human once, and look what happened,” he said.
“Are you going to start singing that one Paul Simon song? What’s it called…oh right, I am a Rock. You gonna sing that? Because you seem three seconds from belting it out you drama queen.”
“I don’t date humans,” Orion said as Elfie pulled into their driveway. “I’m not being dramatic. Your kind is fragile, rarely lives over 95…getting weaker as you age might I add! I don’t…I don’t want to deal with that again.”
“Look, what happened was shitty, but you’re living long term in the human lands now,” Elfie said, unlocking the front door. “There’s not many non-humans here.”
“Then I’ll stay single,” Orion said.
“Whatever sounds good to you,” Elfie said. “It’s your life, do what you want.”
“Yeah. It is,” Orion said, and stomped to his room. He threw his hair up in a half ponytail and sighed as he stripped down. Other Elves he knew had it much worse than he did. Their human partners had actually died, leaving them to live the next few hundred years with painful memories. Orion wasn’t about that life. He wasn’t going to date someone only to have them die in a blink of an eye.
“Life isn’t guaranteed, not even for Elves,” rang out his mind in his mother’s voice. He shook her words from his mind and slid into bed. This was a job, nothing else. He wasn’t going to develop feelings for the human version of a highlighter.
The next few weeks flew by. There was plenty to keep Orion busy from hits to boring paper work. Orion could hardly believe it when the day arrived to go pick up Jules. His bags were packed and he was ready to go, but he could still hardly believe it. He was going back. He was really going back.
He took a bus to the AphroDesia building, and picked up a plain four door PT cruiser from the nice Faun at the garage. Her name was Piper, and they had a pleasant conversation. Both agreed that it was nice to have some company other than humans.
“I get to talk to cherubs too,” Piper said, “So at least there’s that. All you have are humans. I hope it’s not too isolating for you.”
“Elfie’s great,” Orion said. “Honestly, there’s times when I completely forget she’s human. She’s smarter than any High Elf, and as strong as a goddamn Orc. Wouldn’t want to be around anyone else.”
“You guys dating?” Piper asked. Orion laughed loudly at this.
“I’m gayer than a goddamn parade,” Orion said, and Piper nodded in understanding. He got into the car and drove to the front of the building where to his great surprise, Jules was sitting on a bench nearby. He had two massive suitcases because of course he did.
“Hey!” Orion called out. Jules’ head whipped around, and he grinned when he saw who was shouting out.
“Yo!” Jules said, bringing his suitcases over. “Hope you don’t mind I have so much stuff. Had to bring my electronics and some um. Other stuff.”
“What does that mean?” Orion said as they hopped into the car.
“I didn’t want to say over dinner, but I didn’t have your number to tell you,” Jules said. “I do cam work. I’ll let you know when I need to do live shows so you can go do something else.”
Orion blinked. Then it dawned on him. He nodded slowly.
“Okay,” he said. “Just…please tell me ahead of time if you’re gonna take pics on your bed or videos or whatever. I don’t wanna be there for that.”
“Oh I will, don’t worry!” Jules said. “There’s a lot of prep that--”
“Okay great! You don’t need to finish that sentence!” Orion said, taking the turn a little sharper than he normally would’ve.
“Actually, I mean covering my scars,” Jules said softly. “I’ve lead a pretty…intense life. I’m covered in them. Not everyone wants to look at someone who looks like a freak. I cover them with the makeup people use to cover tattoos.”
Orion glanced over him, a frown on his face.
“You shouldn’t be ashamed,” he said. “If they don’t like your body for what it is, they’re assholes who don’t deserve to get a glimpse of you.”
Jules opened his mouth and closed it a few times, the only sound leaving his mouth was a tiny squeak.
“Well, I mean, I don’t…I don’t want to start now. My clients aren’t used to it.”
“It’s your choice, but I think you should show yourself off for what you are, not what you think people want you to be. You’d be surprised what people like.”
“What does that mean?” Jules asked curiously.
“I dated a Lizard Folk who had two dicks,” Orion said. “He was worried that someone outside his species would hate that, but…well I thought it was hot.”
Jules snickered, and Orion continued.
“You know, even among Elves, I was worried about dating. Other Dark Elves weren’t a problem but Wood Elves? High Elves? They look a lot like humans, and me? I have dark gray skin and red eyes. That throws others off.”
“Doesn’t throw me off,” Jules said.
“I figured that much out on my own,” Orion said with a snort.
“Do…do most humans get freaked out by it?” Jules asked softly. Orion considered the question as they stopped at a red light.
“I wouldn’t say most of them,” he said as the light turned green. “Like I said, I’ve dated humans in the past. The issue isn’t that your kind is weirded out by me. Humans are…well. You’re the only species that dies around 90 years old.”
Jules was quiet for a moment. “I guess that would be difficult. Are you super old?”
“Actually no,” Orion said. “When we hit about 35, we stop looking different for a really fuckin’ long time. I’m 30 on the dot. But I’ll probably live to be about 400, maybe longer if I’m lucky.”
“Holy shit,” Jules said, eyes wide.
“Yeah. That’s why I stay away from humans.”
“You’ve never considered giving a human Hebe’s Elixer?” Jules asked curiously.
“That shit is rare, and extremely hard to get. And it’s a bitch to make as well. The Greeks did a great job with that, but there’s no way I could make enough life extending potion to get a human to continue to live for 400 years,” Orion said.
“How do you know it’s hard to make?” Jules asked. Orion’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.
“Don’t worry about it,” Orion said, trying to keep his voice steady.
“But--”
“I said don’t worry about it!” Orion snapped. “Can we change the topic? To literally anything else?”
“Hmm…I’ll stop asking about it if you let me play whatever music I want until we reach our first stop,” Jules said.
“Yeah sure, whatever,” Orion said. Jules grinned wickedly, and suddenly Orion began to regret his decision.
“Greetings loved ones, let’s take a journey,” came Snoop Dog’s voice from the speaker.
“Are you for real?” Orion groaned.
“I know a place where the grass is really greener,” Jules began to sing, “Warm, wet ‘n wild, there must be something in the water…”
Orion attempted to tune out both the music and the singing, and completely missed Jules rolling down the windows right as the chorus hit.
“CALIFORNIA GIRLS WE’RE UNFORGETTABLE! DAISY DUKES, BIKINIS ON TOP!” Jules practically screamed out, throwing his arm out the window. The wind blew in through the windows, whipping his pink hair around. A tiny smile crossed his face as Orion watched Jules sing with wild abandon, not caring how he looked or sounded.
Maybe letting Jules pick the music wouldn’t be so bad.
After driving for about 3 hours, the two men decided it would probably be for the best to stop by a hotel. They had left midday, and it was starting to get dark.
“Jambee is paying, we should go somewhere expensive to make him regret it,” Jules said.
“You’re an asshole,” Orion said, but there was a smile on his face. “We don’t have to stay in a dive, but let’s go somewhere that isn’t crazy.”
They finally agreed on a place, Jules being firm that wherever they stayed had to have a complimentary breakfast. They got a two bed room, and both collapsed on their separate beds in exhaustion.
“How long are we driving tomorrow?” Jules asked.
“6 hours,” Orion said.
“Fuck, really?” Jules said. “That’s crazy!”
“We’ll stop for food and gas and stuff,” Orion said, sitting up. He opened up his suitcase and tossed some clothes to the side before he found a tank top and some sweatpants with a red plaid print.
Orion took the shirt he’d been wearing off with zero thought, and froze as he heard a choking sound from behind him.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, turning around. Jules stared at Orion’s chest for a little longer than socially acceptable, face dusted pink.
“It’s cool,” Jules squeaked out.
“I’ll finish changing in the bathroom,” Orion said. He did his best to remind himself that it would only be weird if he made it weird. If he could remember that, it would be completely fine.
“Yeah, sure, sounds great,” Jules said. “I’ll change in there when you’re done. I was going to anyway.”
Orion paused halfway to the bathroom and turned. “You don’t have to be ashamed of your body around me okay? I’m not gonna judge you.”
Jules shifted slightly and shot Orion a smile.
“Thanks. That means a lot, actually.”
“Unless you judge my chest hair,” Orion said, and Jules began to crack up. “I’m serious! I have a lot, and if you give me shit about it, I’ll never forgive you.”
“I promise I won’t,” Jules said, wiping a tear from his eye, and Orion walked into the bathroom to finish changing. Jules followed soon after, giving Orion’s shoulders and biceps a long look before rushing in.
Orion pulled off his hair tie and shook out his hair before flopping back down on the bed. Jules glanced at him as he came out, wearing a long sleeve shirt and long pants.
“I…I packed before I told you about my scars,” Jules said.
“Well we’ll need to get you something more weather appropriate, especially when we get to the Ashlands,” Orion said. “It’s hot as fuck over there.”
Jules nodded, and they both slipped under the covers. Just as Orion was about to turn off the light, Jules spoke.
“Do you work out a lot?” the pink haired man asked.
“What?” Orion said, thrown.
“You’re really buff,” Jules said. “I mean, I figured you were, but…damn.”
“Yeah I do,” Orion said. “I have to keep in really good shape if I want to be able to snap a man’s neck with my thighs.”
“You can do that?” Jules asked, face pink again.
“Yes,” Orion said. “Sometimes when a guy is on the ground you gotta land on him and snap that neck with a quick movement. And I gotta be able to move around fast. So yeah, I work out.”
“With your thighs,” Jules muttered as Orion turned the lamp off.
“You’re ridiculous,” Orion mumbled. He began to drift off, and didn’t notice Jules silently get out of bed and head back to the bathroom.
Their alarm went off at 8 in the morning, and Jules groaned loudly. Orion sprung out of bed and began pawing through his suitcase, looking for an outfit. He went to the bathroom, took a shower, changed his clothes and did his hair. And when he came back out…
“Jules, why the hell are you still under the covers?” Orion said. He walked over and shook Jules roughly.
“Five more minutes!” Jules whined.
“No!” Orion said. “We have a schedule. Get dressed so we can eat and leave.”
After about twenty minutes of arguing about when was a normal time to get up, Jules rolled out of bed and took the world’s longest shower.
“Fucking finally,” Orion grumbled when Jules finally emerged, dressed and ready to go.
“Well not everyone can wake up at the crack of dawn ready to roll,” Jules grumbled.
“Eight is not the crack of dawn,” Orion said.
“Yeah it is,” Jules said. They bickered a bit as they headed down to get their meal. The food was alright, Belgian waffles and strange looking scrambled eggs. Jules downed three cups of coffee, Orion watching him in a mixture of awe and horror.
“I would have a massive panic attack if I downed that much coffee,” Orion said. Jules shrugged his shoulders.
“Eh, that’s enough to get my eyes open. I’ll probably need another cup when we get on the road.”
“That’s crazy. You’re crazy,” Orion said.
“Maybe. Or maybe you’re just a weakling who can’t hold his caffeine!”
They checked out and hopped back in the car. The morning air was pleasant, birds chirping and sun shining brightly.
“I never usually see the sky this early,” Jules said as they took off. “It’s nice.”
“Does that mean you’ll get up before one in the afternoon?” Orion asked.
“Oh hell no,” Jules said firmly. “If I get to choose, I will never the morning sun again. Ever.”
“Unfortunately, you do not get to choose,” Orion said. “We’re gonna have to start early and end late if we want to get to the Ashlands in a reasonable amount of time.”
“UGH,” Jules said dramatically. “Can’t we take a super long time with lots of stops so I can be nice and comfy?”
“The world does not cater to you and you only,” Orion said.
“Well it should,” Jules said grumpily. “If it did, things would be much better.”
“What would improve?” Orion said casually.
“Two words: Free Cruchyroll subscription.”
“That was three words,” Orion said, and Jules smacked him on the shoulder.
“Whatever!” he said. “I wanna be able to watch anime whenever I want for free!”
“What do you like to watch?” Orion asked. Jules began to list off a bunch of shows that Orion had never heard of in his life, but it was nice to hear him sound so excited.
“Do you watch any anime?” Jules asked. “Probably not.”
“Don’t answer for me!” Orion said indignantly. “I watch…well not as much as you, but I’ve watched a little.”
“Like what?” Jules asked, perking up.
“I’m currently into JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure,” Orion said.
“Wait, for real? No jokes?” Jules said, eyes wide.
“Yeah, I like it,” Orion said with a shrug. “Is that bad?”
“No!” Jules said. “I just…nobody I work with watches any anime at all. It’s cool that you do. Maybe we could watch something? At the next hotel?”
“Sure,” Orion said, and Jules smiled like a kid in a candy store. Oddly enough, Orion found himself hoping that he could make Jules smile like that more often.
But as that thought crossed his mind, he suddenly felt his gut clench. He wanted to make Jules smile because it was normal to want to make people that you were friends with smile. That’s what they were, right? They were friends? Sort of? It was normal to want him to smile. There was nothing else to it, nothing at all.
There couldn’t be. Orion repeated this in his mind over and over. There couldn’t be. Humans lead to heartbreak. That was the long and short of it. There was no way he could even entertain the idea of being interested in a human. He wasn’t going to put himself through that, wasn’t going to get attached.
“You’ve never considered giving a human Hebe’s Elixer?”
Orion shook Jules’ statement from earlier from his mind. Firstly, he hardly even knew this man. And secondly, that would be crazy. Crazy to make, and absolutely insane to think that a human would want that. Would want to watch their friends and family die, one by one, while they stayed alive. Stayed alive so that Orion could have his own selfish desires.
No.
He would never ever put a human through that. He might be a monster, but he had limits. Standards even.
“Everything okay?”
Jules’ voice broke through Orion’s thoughts, and he realized he was clenching the steering wheel extremely tight.
“Oh, yeah,” Orion said. “Just thinking.”
“Mmm,” Jules said, and gave him a look. When Orion didn’t respond, Jules pulled out his phone, not pressing the matter.
“You should call Elfie soon,” Jules suddenly said. “Make sure she knows we’re good.”
“That’s…actually a really good idea,” Orion said.
“Why do you sound surprised?” Jules said with a pout.
“I dunno, I guess I just assumed all your ideas were terrible.”
“Hey!” Jules said in mock offense as Orion laughed. “I’ll have you know that I’ve been known to occasionally have a good idea here and there! And this is one of them.”
“We’ll need to pull over for gas soon,” Orion said. “I’ll call her then.”
“Perfect,” Jules said. “Gotta make sure they know you’ve been doing your job and I haven’t been captured by the CIA.”
“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Orion said.
“Aww you like me!”
“Nah, I just want the money TMon and Jambee promised.”
“Oh fuck you,” Jules said.
“You wish,” Orion said, and missed the tiny “Yeah I do,” that slipped from Jules’ lips.
#aphrodesia#jules romero#jules aphrodesia#aphrodesia oc#tmon#jules x oc#tmon x oc#fanfic#snaccpop#snaccpop fanfic
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I wrote a book. (I didn't.)
An autobiography of a character. The narration of the book's story is about why its an actual autobiography. The author imagines a world. Everything a person does is experienced by everyone else. a sort of moral imperative to act as if your actions resonate always and are heard and seen always by one's peers and elders and children. The narrator quiets his mind and his voice like his mind was silent. Gazing at the bugs crawling on a leaf as he sits in a park, he listens.
His friend in hearing this says he is full of shit. that he does no such thing.
Why does it matter? the author tells his friend.
Because it's bullshit. you don't have any authority to say this.
To you his conscience says. but his friend says it's just fine as a story, but it's not your story.
I wrote it. I imagined myself into these characters.
That doesn't mean it's an autobiography.
Now imagine you wrote this story. the author says.
Why the fuck should I care about your book enough to care about the characters and the meaning behind it. I know you. This isn't you.
I wrote it. Just like Tolkien wrote a hobbit hole into being.
You think you're a Tolkien?
I think I'm an author who writes. I'll tell you a story before you tell me I'm full of shit again.
He begins to write. this is his story. his friend evicted from his presence anon until he is finished. (his friend did not read it. he left the flat and did not return. their friendship ended over a feud of words.)
A knight finds a kingdom in ruin. he traveled far with a boon from a distant land that led him here. The boon is light. It transforms those it touches. and it may destroy those unable to receive the boon the healing light brings. Kept under the cloth of the boon bearer, the light shines upon nothing. but the light shines still brighter to be seen. the curves of the rocks begins to show through the darkness to the knight. he sees them.. When pondering the boon the knight can only hope. Where to put this light? The cloth burned bright. it was sure to fail. how would the world of this knight change when it's essence released and shown forth into the naked eye?
He traveled far. looking for the recess that this light would sit upon. the creatures of the dark fled. the sun had been swallowed. but this already shown bright as a twin sun under the cloth. Ichor and waste from the long dead creatures of the land slushed and mucked about under the knight’s step. His sword's sheath silent against his cloth. he needed no armor. all was quiet and the light shown far. How long had the grass lain dead. and the creature's bones white and calcified. he traveled on. alone hungry. the boon would surely fail if it fell here amongst this deadness. A light on the bottom of a sea of death. Pondering these images the knight traveled onward. He no longer thought. he felt and heard the crunches of the many small bones at each step. and another. The light had turned him into a vehicle. He was nothing but it's bearer. The weight of a sword and its cost on his feet was nothing. the utility of the thing was present as was the utility of light. both were vehicles. His hand for the sword and the light's bearer in his feet carrying the clothed light in his satchel. A preponderance of a manifold discovery. Surely this land, wherever he found himself, needed something. In the distance he saw a reflection. The light he had served well guided him to his end there.
Was the act of placing the light upon the pedestal of reflection the providence of all creation? or was creation simply that providence existed alongside other things. One epitomized the act. The other regards it as an available experience that is necessitated but equal. That low is high. That High things should be revered. The two are at odds yes. But either way a feature, like a visage, was predetermined, Prepondered. Already there and already available. Was Hermann Hesse Siddhartha? Absurdity. But did he speak from himself? by necessity. Like the knight, and the light, and the pedistal of reflection, the contents are there.
All of human knavery, knightliness, all the light we can imagine into the orb he carried in his satchel, could do not but be the beginning of something new. All of that is in everyone. By necessity. Is my white your white? or light as sure? to a blind person mayhap not. Or a thinking person's thoughts broadcast to all around them, equally as theirs is to the thinking person. The image is a possibility that can lead one to build* an understanding of the universe and everything in it. to hold something as possible is different than holding it as true. to consider the possibility that something is true is no sin. no fault. it is no virtue either. it is science. a tool. we are the bearers of the tool, not a vehicle. but we can be vehicles. Would that we find a boon worth the effort and sacrifice.
His friend was a reverent type of person. The author was an equal experience type of person.
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Anime I Watched in 2021 :
1. Dororo 5/5
Severely underrated anime. Great animation. Intriguing plot. Likable characters. Just enough of angst. Highly recommend this one.
2. Burn the Witch 4/5
Great to see Tite Kubo’s work again. And great to see the bleach universe once more. Can’t wait for this to continue. Already love the story and characters. Interesting villains (and by interesting I mean hawt 🥵)
3. Fruits Basket 2019 5/5
Listen I didn’t want to like this one. It was so hyped that I thought it was overrated but booooyyy was I wrong. It deserved the hype. The plot was top tier. At the end of the second season I had to pick my jaw off the ground with that reveal. All the characters were likable. Except Akito; she deserved punishment for what she put all the members of the Zodiac through. Overall this is highly recommended.
4. Re: Zero 4/5
This one took me to Spain without the S. This one frustrated me but I just had to keep on going. Subaru is the biggest simp but I can’t blame him; Emilia is just the cutest. Really liked this one but I’m not sure if I’m emotionally ready for the next season. Also this anime made me scared of bunnies 🐰
5. Gintama 1,00,000/5
Where do I even begin with this masterpiece. I went into this for the comedy. THE COMEDY!!! I did not expect the FEELS. Jesus H. Christ this one blew me away. All the characters were likable, the plots were sometimes questionable but it worked for this anime. The OST’s were god tier. The openings and endings deserve awards. Unpopular opinion but I think Gintama’s opening and endings are better than Naruto. Please if you haven’t watched this one just give it a chance. It took a couple episodes to hook me in but when it did it, it hooked me good. Also if you want an anime with strong female characters this is the one. No waiting for men to save the heroine, the women go in and f*ck shit up (I’m looking at you Courtesan of a Nation Arc.) Seriously though, everyone needs to watch this.
6. Devil man Crybaby 4/5
My coworker put me on to this one. Word of advice: do not watch this one at work 👀 that first episode almost gave me a heart attack. This one surprised me. And that ending wow 🤯. This anime is not for the faint of heart. Please don’t watch this if you’re underaged. I took a while to like the animation style but it eventually grew on me. Overall it’s a good one that I highly recommend.
7. Those Snow White Notes
Tik Tok recommended this anime to me. You know that one scene with the guy and his mom in the apartment, yeah that one. I remembered getting goosebumps and I knew I had to watch and for once tik tok lead me in the right direction. This one isn’t about romance or school is about the shamisen ( a traditional Japanese instrument) and let me tell you how good this was. The music blew me away. The emotions from the MC and his love/hate relationship with the shamisen really captivated me. And that first opening was amazing. Definitely recommend this one.
8. To Your Eternity 5/5
I think I need to send my therapy bill to the creator of this show. Seriously though this one brought pain but goddamn that opening was good. And Fushi was just too dang cute you wanted to see his progress. This one had so many characters that you just can’t help but fall in love with each one of them and damn the author for ripping out my heart every time.
9. Heaven’s Official Blessing 5/5
I’m sorry but Xie Lian and Hua Cheng invented true love. There’s no debating. They’re the epitome of power couple. This series took me by surprise and I loved every millisecond of it. And please if you haven’t read the novel PLEASE PLEASE read it!!! I promise it’s worth it. Now excuse me while I cry because I’m sad and lonely 😩
10. Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation 4/5
This was one was great. Action, comedy, tragedy with a added touch of barely there romance. Since this was only the second Chinese animation that I watched the names were a bit confusing but by the third season I kinda got it?
#dororo#burn the witch#tite kubo#bleach#fruits basket 2019#kyo souma#tohru honda#gintama#gintama gintoki#re zero#devilman#those snow white notes#to your eternity#more like to your pain#heaven’s official blessing#hulian simp#xie lan#hua cheng#grandmaster of demonic arts#wei wuixan#anime review#anime rec list#i seriously watched a lot of anime this year#anime#manga
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hii!! id love it if youd make a rafe x reader enemies to lovers fic where the reader gets a nipple piercing and rafe sees the piercing thru their thin/tight top? reader tries to tease him but rafe tries to ignore it and shit gets FREAKKYYYY lollol
Author's Notes: Y'all are little freaks...and I love that about you. I named the girl in particular for this story, sometimes it's just easier! Please let me know what you think if you have a moment. If this was your request, I hope you love it! xoxo
Warnings: Talk of piercings (might make people uneasy), Swearing, Drinking, Sexual references - Sexual innuendos, Smut *(biting, rough sex, mentions of choking , unprotected sex - please be safe out there, your choice how! ) All Characters are 18+
Requested? YES! Requests for OBX are OPEN!
*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo
To say that Rafe loathed his sister Sarah's friend - Evie - would be an understatement. He didn't know why he disliked the girl so much, she had never really done anything to him to make him dislike her so much. There was just something about her that rubbed him the wrong way.
Maybe it was the way she didn't move out of the way for him when they crossed paths in the hallway at Tannyhill, the way she called him by his full name - Rafe Cameron - or perhaps, because she looked like the kind of girl that wouldn't give him the time of day. And that bothered the shit out of him.
It was a lazy Summer afternoon and Rafe planned on doing nothing with his day. Topper and Kelce weren't available for golf, and Barry was out. So Rafe cut his losses and decided he would hang out at home by the pool and drink beers all day.
As he descended the stairs towards the kitchen to begin his afternoon he heard his sister's laugh and the distinct sound of Evie's laugh just after. Rafe exhaled heavily as he rolled his eyes, succumbing to the notion that his relaxing afternoon would have the background noise of a witch's cackle.
"Ladies." Rafe grumbled as he quickly made his way through the kitchen, a beeline towards the fridge to grab a beer.
"Rafe Cameron, nice to see you." Evie smiled over the top of her phone as she showed Sarah a photo.
"Evie, see they rescheduled your burning at the stake." Rafe glared as he popped the top of his beer, sipped, then made his way out the patio doors towards the pool.
"Rafe!" Sarah scolded as she picked out a piece of fruit from the bowl on the counter in front of her, and threw it at the door as he closed it behind him.
Just as Rafe started to get settled on the lounge chair by the pool, the sun hot on his chest and face, the patio door opened and the girls came outside still giggling.
"Do you need to be here? Can't you take the car and like, leave?" Rafe sighed as he turned his hat back around to shield his eyes from the sun to properly glare at his sister.
"Last I checked this wasn't your house, Rafe. So, we're staying. Deal with it, or go back inside." Sarah replied with a roll of her eyes as she stepped into the pool.
Rafe let out a long, dramatic sigh as he pulled his hat down over his eyes but kept it high enough that he was able to see the pool just under the brim. He crossed his arms over his chest and listened intently to the conversation the girls were having.
"So, you and Anthony are done?" Sarah asked as she waded further into the water.
"So done. Couldn't be more done." Evie stated firmly, and Rafe heard the sound of clothing drop to the deck of the pool.
"That's what you said the last time, and then I had to come pick you up from that party and your knees were all scratched up -" Sarah stated a smirk evident in her voice.
Rafe's ears perked up at the turn the conversation was taking. He knew his sister had a tendency to pick friends that were less than good influences on her. But this? Oh, he would stay and listen to this.
"And that's why I got these done. It's my gift to myself for kicking that loser to curb. And my constant reminder every time I see it." Evie replied with a laugh.
Rafe was beyond curious as to the gift she had given herself. His mind raced as he thought of all the possibilities. And he had not even known she was with someone until that moment. Rafe pulled his hat back up over his eyes, squinting against the sunlight, then stood up from the lounge chair as not to seem like he had been eavesdropping.
But he was.
"Oh, Rafe Cameron! Wait up." Evie called after him as he headed back into the house to grab another beer.
Rafe gave the door a push to keep it open for her as he continued his walk inside the house again, the air conditioning cool on his skin. He opened the fridge doors once more, but felt uncomfortable, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he felt a pair of eyes on him.
"Stop staring at me." He ordered as he grabbed another beer and closed the door of the refrigerator harshly.
"Just waiting for you to move, Rafe Cameron." Evie smiled while she leaned against the island counter, her sunglasses pushed up on the top of her head as her eyes scanned his body.
"Can just ask." Rafe grumbled as he shifted out of the way, flicking the tab of his beer can. He felt uncomfortable under her gaze but also confident, and powerful. He didn't know which way to go.
Witch.
"Thank you." She nodded as she made her way passed him to open the doors of the fridge again and peered inside.
Rafe looked over at her through the corner of his eye as best he could, trying to figure out what she had been talking to Sarah about. What was the gift? He cursed his inquiring mind with a bite of his top lip and quickly turned on his heel to leave again.
"Oh, wait. Rafe? Can you help me? I can't reach the glasses up there." Evie asked with a strain in her voice.
Rafe turned around again with a sigh, placing his beer down on the counter then walked back over to the short girl trying to reach a glass in the high up cabinets. He easily reached above her head, grabbed a glass and placed it in front of her.
"There you go." Rafe mumbled as his fingertips trailed over the countertop as he backed up a little to give her some space.
"Thanks, Rafe Cameron." Evie nodded as she turned around to face him, leaning against the counter.
It was then as she was leaned up against the counter, arms holding her body up as Rafe noticed what Evie had been telling Sarah about all along. It had been under his nose, and under her tiny t-shirt the whole time.
"Who's Anthony?" Rafe asked with a clear of his throat he hoped wasn't too obvious before he pointed to her nipples, pierced, very visible through her white t-shirt.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Evie grinned as she got close to him, close enough that he could smell the chlorine from the pool on her and whatever perfume she used. She brushed by him, her nipples grazing his bare arm as she exited the kitchen and Rafe shivered.
Witch. Bitch....fuck, she's hot.
Rafe growled low in his chest as he turned around, grabbed his beer and took a big drink. He pushed the door open to the pool area again and stalked out to see Evie sitting on the pool deck, her feet in the water as Sarah floated on an obnoxious flotation device shaped like a swan.
"You didn't bring a suit, Evie?" Rafe muttered as he took another generous sip of his beer and placed it on the table beside his lounge chair.
"This is my suit." She replied as she kicked a leg out of the water.
"A white t-shirt and bikini bottoms?" Rafe inquired, attempting to keep his tone even.
She didn't reply, only tossed him a smile as she placed her leg back in the water while she leaned back on her hands. She extended her neck back, letting the sun hit her face as she let out a content sigh.
Rafe didn't like to be teased.
"Sarah, go pick up Wheezie." Rafe ordered as he finished off his beer and adjusted his hat on his head, turning the brim backwards.
"Why do I have to do it? You're the one with no friends and nothing to do." Sarah replied with a glare over the the neck of the swan.
"I'll get us all dinner if you go and pick her up. I don't like that Samuel kid she hangs out with." Rafe grumbled as he leaned back in the chair.
"Do you like anyone?" Sarah sighed as she pulled herself over to the edge of the pool and climbed out.
Sarah asked Evie if she wanted to come along, but Evie declined. She said she would stay here, dry off and make sure that Rafe didn't fuck up the dinner choice for them all.
"You want a beer, Evie?" Rafe asked once Sarah had left and it was just the two of them and the tension he wasn't sure how to label.
The two of them stood in the kitchen, looking through take out menus and avoided conversation. Rafe's eyes flickered over the top of the menu he was pretending to read and zeroed in on her nipples, still visible through her shirt and he was reeling.
"You should change your shirt before Wheezie gets back." Rafe mumbled as he quickly looked back at the menu in his hands so she didn't catch him staring.
"For whose benefit? Hers or yours, Rafe Cameron?" Evie smirked as she tossed the menu she was holding onto the counter, then leaned on her forearms and looked up at him.
"Listen. Maybe this Anthony character liked to be teased and have you shove your tits in his face, but I don't. So quit it." Rafe growled as he dropped his own menu to the floor and reached over the counter to take hold of her face, making her look right into his eyes.
"You don't like my tits?" She questioned, hands pressed to the counter as she started to climb onto it to get closer to him. The other shoe starting to drop.
"I love them." Rafe practically whined as Evie climbed onto the counter and crawled over to him. He tugged off her still wet t-shirt, dropping it to the floor before he reached for her breasts.
"Gentle!" She hissed with a yank of his hair as he tugged at either of the steel bars that pierced her nipples.
"Hurts?" Rafe breathed out as his nose brushed over hers, his palms kneading her breasts a little more gently as he let her pull on his hair.
"Not too much. You just look like you can get rough." She muttered as her other hand reached for his bicep and squeezed.
"Can be, yeah. Won't be this time if you don't want that." Rafe exhaled while his lips got closer to hers. She still smelled like chlorine, and her perfume was some sort of flower he couldn't name. He loved it.
Evie twisted her fingers into the hair at the back of his head and pulled his lips to hers, the other shoe finally dropping. Rafe groaned against her mouth as he released his hold on her chest in favour of wrapping his arms around her instead, pulling her close against him.
"Don't bite! Your sister will notice the marks." Evie gasped when Rafe removed his lips from his and kissed down to her collarbone, sinking his teeth into her skin still warm from the sun.
"Give you one of my shirts. Have to cover these anyways." Rafe mumbled into her clavicle as he reached up to palm at her breasts again.
"Because Sarah and Wheezie coming home to me in your clothes isn't more suspicious, Rafe." She scolded as she reached for his hair to tug his face up, making him look at her.
"Let me worry about them." Rafe growled as he grabbed her hips to lift her off the counter then placed her on the cool tiled floor in front of him. He spun her around and pulled her bikini bottoms down her legs, his breath in his throat at the naked woman in front of him.
"Here?!" She squealed as she tossed a frantic look over her shoulder at him, eyes wide as she waited for his next move. Rafe ran his hands from her shoulders down her back to her hips, simply admiring her form.
"Too much for you?" Rafe grinned, an eyebrow raised to challenge her.
"So, teasing is okay as long as you're the tease?" Evie shivered as her head dropped down, forehead pressed to the countertop as Rafe reached around to roll her nipples between his fingers again.
"Yes." Rafe stated simply, as if this were a fact she should have known upon walking into Tannyhill. He bent down to press a kiss to the back of her neck, a groan in the back of his throat as she pushed back into him.
"C'mon, Rafe." Evie whined as her right hand reached back to pull at his hair as he bit down on the creased of her neck while he untied his swim shorts, letting them fall to his feet.
"You're so whiny. So bratty. I fucking hate it." Rafe growled into her neck as he lined himself up with her entrance, choking out a breath at how wet she felt against him.
"Are you sure?" She exhaled and Rafe could hear the smile on her face.
Fucking witch. Beautiful, pierced, whiny, wet and warm fucking witch.
"If you wanna keep this gentle I suggest you keep your mouth shut, sweetheart." Rafe breathed in her ear as he pressed his tip inside of her, and he swore his heart stopped for a second as she clenched around him.
Her back arched and she let out a pathetic little whine that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he sunk inside of her completely. She reached a hand back to grab his wrist, her nails deep in his skin as he settled inside of her to let her adjust to his size.
"Damn." Rafe groaned as he pulled his hips back, fingertips pressed into the skin of her hips to keep her steady as he thrust back in. He sunk his teeth into her neck again, loving the way she bounced back into him when he did.
"More, Rafe. Please." Evie begged breathlessly, her neck extended to the side to let him mark her up. Rafe pulled his calloused fingers over her hips and up to her breasts again, kneading them before he rolled her nipples between his fingers.
"Hate how good you feel. Goddammit, Evie." Rafe growled while he wrapped one arm around her chest to pull her close while his other hand reached between her legs.
"Shit! Too much!" Evie gasped, her eyes wide when Rafe gave a firm thrust that sent her forward to the countertop once more. Her nails scratched over his forearm as he pressed his middle finger to her clit, finding it easily.
"Can't handle it?" Rafe grunted as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his middle finger circling her clit as he pounded into her from behind.
"Fuck you, Rafe Cameron." Evie sobbed out, back arched as she pulled one hand down his forearm and the other reached back to pull at his hair.
"You already are, and I can fucking feel you coming. You always this easy? Hmm?" Rafe panted as he unwrapped his arm from her chest to press his large palm to her collarbone, bringing her upright against him. He wanted to wrap his hand around that delicate little neck so badly, but he would wait. She had asked him to gentler with her, and he was trying so hard.
"You're a fuc - " She cursed but was cut off by Rafe reaching up and pushing two fingers in her mouth.
"Shut up, and just cum for me." Rafe growled as he pushed his middle and index finger further in her mouth, a shiver going down his spine as he felt her tongue swirl over the pads of his fingers.
As she came around him, whining around his fingers, Rafe was reconsidering his deep hatred for Evie. He chased his own release and kept an obnoxiously bruising grip on her hip with his free hand. Rafe groaned against the back of her neck, pressing his palm flat against her stomach to keep her flush against him as he finished inside of her.
"Shit." Rafe breathed out against the back of her neck, removing his fingers from her mouth. He gave her a soft kiss below her hairline as a thank you, and he hoped she didn't feel the way his breath shook on his exhale.
"I still don't like you very much." Evie whispered as she rested her head back on his shoulder, her eyes closed as she twisted his hair between her fingers.
"Don't like you all that much either." Rafe scoffed as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, although he had to admit in that moment just the two of them in the quiet house wrapped around one another - he didn't hate her all that much.
"I might let you do that again, though. If you give me a shirt, and order me food." Evie responded, her eyes opening just a little to watch as he kissed her forehead to the tip of her nose and then her chin.
"If you don't get burned at the stake first, be happy to do that again."
Hotties:
@anonymousobxfan @starkey-babie @barrysjumpsuit @sodasback
@fashion-fasting @vintageobx @babeyglo @rottenstyx @pogueslandia @soph0864 @whcclxr @beauvibaby @plutooryectors @rafecameronspolo
*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added/removed from particular posts. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(
Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo
Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!
#rafe cameron request#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron#rafe cameron imagine#obx rafe#outer banks imagines#outer banks requests#outer banks fic#outer banks smut#outer banks imagine#rafe cameron smut#obx smut#obx fanfiction#obx imagine#obx requests#obx request#obx fic#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x reader smut
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Insatiable - Part Three
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Frankie Morales x OFC
Word count: 2k
Tags: Wolf shifter AU, Supernatural AU, Slow burn, Mating bond, Canon typical sex and violence, Attempted kidnapping, Blood, Injury, Hurt/comfort, Eventual smut
Summary: You’ve travelled the world looking for home, but what if it finds you?
Author’s Note: I hope people don’t mind the shorter chapters, but they’re helping me stay motivated!
Missed Part One? You can read it here.
Moodboard by @acrossthesestars
It takes 27 seconds to walk around the perimeter of the cramped living room in your rented apartment. You know this because over the last three days of your doctor-ordered rest, you’ve nearly worn a track into its scuffed wooden floor with your pacing. It kills you to know that there’s an entire city outside your door, one bursting with life and color and new experiences. You’re dying to roam the botanical gardens and visit the many crumbling ruins of centuries past, to visit the Basilica or hike in Parque Nacional Volcán Irazú or go white water rafting or-
But no. You’re stuck here, with nothing but a tantalizing glimpse of the world outside and your laptop for company. Sighing, you reach for said laptop. Its profusion of colorful stickers (mostly from coffee shops and bars) are more than merely decorative, hiding various dings and cracks from where it’s slipped onto gravel paths or been hastily shoved in a bag as you ran to catch one flight or another. Faithful as ever, it whirs to life when you power it on and you resist the urge to stroke it like a pet.
Maybe you have been cooped up for too long.
There’s not much to do online that you haven’t already taken care of. No new emails other than spam, nothing new to share on your blog or Instagram. You find yourself scrolling mindlessly through your newsfeed, nothing snagging your attention- until a headline jumps out at you.
Famed Cryptozoologist Found Murdered - Police Baffled By Bloody Crime Scene
Immediately hooked, you scan the article, gleaning bits and pieces as you go. The man in question, a professor at some obscure college and an author of several books about cryptids and other extreme possibilities, had been found in his home literally torn limb from limb. It’s a grisly story, one mercifully free of pictures- except one.
There is a single photograph taken at a dizzying angle, showing a bloodied carpet presumably at the fringe of the crime scene. Even through the chaotic smears of rusty blood, one detail is crystal clear- the paw print of a massive, clawed beast.
Detectives have reached out to several prominent biologists but as of yet, none of them have come to a consensus regarding the species that could have left this grim mark - especially as the killing took place not in the remote wilds of some distant forest, but in the heart of downtown Seattle.
Some have raised the possibility of this being merely a sick joke on the part of a deranged killer. Others are claiming it as the work of one of the very creatures the professor spent his life in search of.
“Holy shit.” Before you’d been bitten by the travel bug, these were the sorts of stories that captivated your imagination. True crime, sure, but more the hints of mystery lingering at the edges of mundane life. You’d spent an entire summer engrossed in the occult section of your library, devouring anything you could get your hands on about folklore, magic, and things that went bump in the night. To your young mind it made a certain kind of sense - of course there were secrets you simply weren’t allowed to know yet. If you could only find your way in, through a wardrobe or a fairy ring or the right hidden door, you’d be rewarded with all that forbidden knowledge and vast new worlds would open to you.
Even now a part of you wishes you could still believe the rumors that whisper along the fringes of the Internet: Mysterious disappearances. Hauntings. Shady government agents waiting in the wings to erase the merest hint of anything strange or out of place. Mysterious beings with abilities beyond what even you could dream of.
If only.
Even when you were escaping into books about mermaids and dragons and werewolves, part of you knew all too well that the only monsters that prowled the night were the human kind- like the man who’d tried to drag a terrified girl into his cab and left you with a gash over your eye that will almost certainly scar for having the temerity to tell him “no.” It’s a nasty reminder that nowhere on the planet is that much different than any other and that no matter where you go, the world is full of predators like him.
Well, at least there are some good people out there, too.
Time and again your mind drifts back to Frankie and Santi as you sift through the fractured memories of that night. They come back to you in dreams, tantalizing snatches of half-remembered conversations.
“ - take all these pictures yourself?”
“You really free climbed that mountain? Shit.”
“I’ll get you some more water.”
“Oh you haven’t lived until you’ve surfed Ponta Preta. One time Santi wiped out so hard he-“
“Just finished a job in-“
“Come on sweetheart, don’t fall asleep yet. Tell us some more about backpacking in Banff.”
“ - sure you don’t want anything to eat?”
“ - says she doesn’t have any painkillers.”
“You stay here, I’ll go.”
“Está bien, duerma un poco.”
“You’re looking at her like-“
“Dulces sueños. Cuídate.”
Echoes of conversations that may or may not have happened aren’t the only things crowding your sleeping mind. You’re consumed with the phantom feeling of Frankie’s careful hands on yours and the ghost of Santi’s hungry kiss heating your blood, the press of their bodies surrounding you, the comforting weight of them caging you in and freeing you all at once. You’ve woken up gasping more than one morning, sweat dripping down your spine and their moaned names on your lips.
That night is a blur, and it’s nearly impossible to untangle truth from dreams. The only parts you know didn’t happen are the stolen kisses, the hot tangle of limbs and ragged panting you can almost feel against your ear just before you wake. Those are purely the work of your fevered imagination, your wish that you’d met them some other way than with you laying concussed on the sidewalk. But no, the one truth you know down to your bones is that they’d done nothing more than help you get home safe and leave before you could ask them why.
The call from local authorities that you’d been half expecting and half dreading had never come and you’re left hoping that means everything is sorted, that there were enough other witnesses to tell them what happened without your fractured recollections. Then again, at least you would have been contributing something, rather than sitting on your ass. God, you can’t remember ever staying in one place for this long. You’d planned to be on your way to Ecuador or Peru by now, the restless urge to move on clawing at the back of your mind.
Impatience grows and snarls until you’re straining with it. If you don’t get out of here for a bit you may actually lose your mind. Slamming the laptop shut, you stalk towards the small bedroom and your luggage. You can take things slow. Stroll down to the nearest bar for a quiet drink. No more excitement, no adventures, just you and a glass of wine and your battered copy of your favorite book. Even making that decision raises your spirits and by the time you slip out the apartment door, carefully locking it behind you, you’re practically bouncing on the balls of your feet, eager to see where the night takes you.
A gentle wind caresses your cheeks, warm and scented with night-blooming flowers, beckoning you into the heart of the city. You're heading for a bar you’d spotted when you’d first arrived in Cartago, one tucked away on a quiet side street, the perfect site for a low-key evening, but you’re in no rush to get there. You meander slowly, basking in the atmosphere.
In the midst of idly window-shopping, the hairs on the back of your neck creep up. You whirl around, but there’s no one behind you aside from the usual bustle of people returning home from work or heading out for a night on the town. No one staring at you balefully or even feigning casual disinterest. Still, it’s hard to shake the sensation of being watched, and you hope the events of the last few days haven’t rattled you more than you’d realized.
“Get it together,” you mutter, nails digging into your palms before you notice, exhaling slowly and forcing yourself to release the tension in your shoulders. “Don’t let him win.” The all-too familiar mantra helps to clear your mind and, with a shake of your head, you set out for the bar once more.
Turning the last corner, you come to a jerking halt when you see what’s waiting for you. You’ve locked eyes with a massive dog, one whose shaggy brown and cream coat looks far too thick for this climate. Your rigid limbs relax a bit when the creature, his golden eyes fixed on yours, wags his tail once, twice, before lying down with his head on his gigantic paws- the very picture of a well-mannered house pet, despite his size and wild appearance. The image is so bizarre that it startles a laugh from you.
“Very convincing.”
His ears swivel to attention, alert and questioning.
“You almost don’t look like you’re about to ask me what I’ve got in my basket, or how far it is to my grandmother’s cottage in the woods.”
The tail swishes once again and he opens his mouth in a doggy grin- one that reveals a glimpse of fearsomely sharp teeth set in powerful jaws.
“Ok,” you chuckle, edging past and resisting the mad urge to try to stroke him. “I definitely needed the night out if I’m standing here having a conversation with you about fairy tales. Go find some water and air conditioning before you collapse- you can’t be comfortable under all that fur.”
As you’re moving past him, the dog huffs and you’d swear it almost sounds amused.
You make it the rest of the way without incident, creepy or canine. The bar is just as you remembered it: a small patio slightly crowded with tables, chairs, and potted palm with strings of lights running between them and bathing everything in a golden glow. French doors stand open and inviting, showing you the way to a bar lined with stools and beyond that, several cozy booths. The night is still young but the place is already full and dozens of people are dancing to the lively beat pounding out of several large speakers.
You slip into the throng with a sense of relief, glad to be out in the world again. A friendly server leads you to a tiny corner booth, returning in just a few minutes to hand you the drink you’d ordered. Just as you’re settling in with your book, movement near the entrance catches your attention.
Two familiar figures have just entered the bar- and they’re headed right for your table.
Part Four
#Frankie 'Catfish' Morales#Frankie Morales x F!reader#Frankie Morales x Reader#Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader#Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia#Santiago Garcia x Reader#Santiago Garcia x You#Santiago Garcia x F!Reader#Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader#Fic#My fic#Maybe pinky swears are a thing in Insatiable
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One Wall Over: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader
synopsis: you’re new in the neighborhood, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get a warm welcome from your duplex buddy.
wc: 3k
tw: nsfw, smut, annoying noises at five am, the works
a/n: ahhhhhhhhh! I am so excited to be taking part in this collab with @suna-reversed reversed for a super sexy jjk collab! Please check out the masterlist for the collab here and the other authors! SO EXCITED TO READ THE OTHERS! (The other title I had for this work is “First of All, How Dare You” because that’s literally me every time I see my hubby Suguru, but anywho!).
Moving in was a bitch.
For the first time ever, you have no roommates, no parents, and no pets - just you and your meager belongings moving into the little, two-story duplex a friend allowed you to sublet. As you stare out of the window facing the sparse front lawn, you wonder what your neighbor is like. They hadn’t come to welcome you to the home, but you knew they existed by the sound of the bass through your shared wall at five am every morning.
You assume they’re male or a couple, but you’ve never gotten a chance to see them with your own two eyes. So you kept a lookout day after day. At exactly four p.m., you would sit across from the window with a book and keep watch, the sun streaming in and illuminating your figure and crossed legs anchored on the window sill. But day after day, you wouldn’t see anything. The neighbor’s car wouldn’t even move an inch from the previous day. Everything would remain the same until the next day when you took your perch by the window.
It isn’t until you’re out on your front lawn, slaving over the flowers you maintained for a whole month - a new record - that the sleek Range Rover drives up to the garage on your neighbor’s side of the house. At first, you don’t notice it, your eyes firmly planted on the soil at the root of your orchid tree. But then you hear a car door slam, and you look up, watching for the person who would be exiting the vehicle.
A tall, black haired man slides out of the truck and slams the door shut, his locks tucked into a half bun and a white towel resting around his rippling shoulders. He slides his keys into his gym shorts and turns to walk into the house, barely noticing you on the front lawn in an ill-fitting t-shirt and dirty yoga pants.
He’s halfway to his front door when you find your voice and yell out, “Hey, neighbor!” You wave your hand at him in hopes that he would return the gesture, but you’re sorely disappointed when he only looks your way with disinterest and walks into the house without speaking. You frown at the encounter, hoping that he would return a little while later and explain his lack of manners, but he doesn’t, and you retreat into the house once more.
______________________________________________________________________
“Unzzz, unzz, unzzzz…” Both eyes fly open at the sound of the bass on the other side of your bedroom wall, the sudden noise jarring you from your sleep.
“Ugh…” Your eyes slide to the white numbers on the clock face, which politely remind you that it’s five-fifteen AM. Don’t confront him, don’t confront him. You wrap the pillow around your ears, hoping the gentle cushion would block out the sound. But for some reason, it gets even louder, and a groan escapes your lips. There were only two more hours for you to rest, but at this rate, you’d be up until it was time for you to wake and get ready for work. That just wouldn’t do.
The grey sweatpants deposited on the floor the night before are quickly jerked on, and you pad to the front door, not caring about your appearance as you walk the length of the porch over to his front door. Inhaling, you find the will to bring your fist up and pound on the door, hoping the sound would be angrier than you actually felt. Fear ate at your nerves while you waited. A few agonizing moments later, the door is yanked open, music floods outside, and your neighbor stands before you in just a pair of black sweatpants. Nothing else.
“What?” he gripes, sweat rolling down his forehead. As your eyes take in the full sight of him, you wonder what kind of sculpted god you had for a neighbor. You could even faintly see the v that would culminate in the bulge near the crotch area of the pants, which apparently is quite--
“Uh…” You had entirely forgotten what you had come over to his side of the house for, but as he leans on the doorframe and gives you a withering stare, you suddenly remember your complaint. “Your wall is next to my bedroom. Can you turn your music down?” You place a hand on your hip, trying to seem more inconvenienced than you actually were in that moment.
“Yeah, sure.” He shuts the door in your face, and you trudge back over to your side of the house, hoping the music would soften.
But for some reason, you swear he turns it up even louder.
_______________________________________________________________________
“Why don’t you just call the landlord and make a noise complaint?” your friend wonders over the phone, the sound of a frying pan in the background slightly overshadowing her voice.
“But you said you didn’t have any problems with him, Mariela.”
“Yeah, Geto was nice enough and didn’t bother me much. Not sure why he’s being such an ass now.” You hear an oh, shit on the other end, and Mariela hisses into the receiver, “Hey, y/n, I have to go; the risotto is burning. Call me back if you have any other issues, okay?”
“Okay.” You hang up and toss your phone on your desk, trying to focus on the words in front of you but failing as the sound of the bass filters through the other side of the wall again. For the fourth day in a row, you’ve been subjected to the sound of pure noise coming through the other side. Tonight was absolutely not the night, mostly because you had a presentation that took you all night to finish, and the clamor was interrupting your prep work for the bright and early eight o’clock meeting. You feel like Squidward, subjecting yourself to the endless noises from the grunting to the bass to the sound of weights clanking back into place.
It’s the sound of Geto’s groaning that sets you on edge the most. If it weren’t for the added noise of weights, you’d be convinced he was fucking someone. There was no way he could make so much noise and not know that he was disturbing your peace. Hadn’t he ever heard of headphones?
You snatch up your set of earbuds on your desk, place them in your ears, and try to turn up lofi music as loud as it will go. But that doesn’t work. Even relocating to the living room didn’t seem to fare you well, and you wonder if he truly had cranked up the music higher than before just to annoy the hell out of you. Finally, you toss your earbuds down and slam your computer on your coffee table.
You’d had enough.
Stomping over to the front door, you fling it open and bang on Geto’s door, hoping he would answer it in a rage so you could let out your frustrations. But when the door flies open, he’s dressed in only a pair of gym shorts, this time the outline of his dick even more apparent. But you’re not focused on that. You point a finger at him and inhale to begin your tirade; sick and utterly over his shit.
“Hey! Can you fucking turn it down?” Geto stretches out a hand, and for a minute you think he’s going to grab you by the shirt, but he pulls you inside by the wrist, crushing you against his chest. “What the hell?” You push away from his sweaty chest, backing into the closed door harshly.
“Lower your damn voice; the neighbors will hear,” he chastises, and turns away from you to grab the water bottle on the counter. The muscled man takes a long swig, then wipes his face with the towel right next to it.
“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but I’ve never been so disrespected in my li--” As you talk, he’s advancing on you, pushing back his long black hair back behind his ears and getting too close for comfort. Once he’s right up on you, you gulp hard, fully intimidated by his size and stature. The music suddenly stops, and you’re left in silence.
“I’m listening,” he mutters, staring down at you. “Please, continue.”
“I was saying…” your throat dries up. “What I meant was…” Your eyes travel from his chest to his navel, and then to the hand pressed against the doorframe.
“Uh huh…” He nods, squinting his black eyes at you. “You said you’ve ‘never been more disrespected in your’… life, right?” You don’t reply. Rather, you can’t reply. All of the words you could have ever said are now gone from your skull. “I highly doubt that, y/n.”
“H-how…”
“You’re Mariela’s friend. I’ve seen you quite a few times before you moved in here. Never thought I’d be living so close to you, though. Mariela’s subletting, isn’t she?”
All of these questions. And you can’t reply to a single one because he’s practically squeezing you between the door and his rock-hard abs. Or are you pressing yourself against the door to get away from the heat emitting from his body - oh, fuck; you don’t know.
“But I had to get your attention somehow.” The admission startles you so bad that you accidentally knock the back of your head against the door, touching the point of contact in pain and hissing slightly. Geto hums at your blunder, then pushes off of the wall to turn away from you. As he rotates, you catch a glimpse of his erection, now fully apparent in the atrocity that is his shorts. “The yard work wasn’t effective, the trips to the gym and back barely worked; shit, by now I would’ve thought you would throw yourself at me the first chance you got. I guess I had to make you mad enough to confront me.”
“You literally looked at me and said nothing the first time I saw you!” you retort, throwing your hands up in the air. “Then you almost bit my head off the first time I came over to tell you the music was too loud.”
“I didn’t expect you to come over the first time. Besides, I couldn’t figure out anything smooth enough in that short amount of time.” Geto shrugs, his shoulder muscles moving like water in the dim lighting of the living room. You look around at the furnishings, noting his impeccable taste in wood and red suede in conjunction with his minimal exercise equipment. “Coffee? You look like you’ve been up for a while.” He leans over a coffee-maker - one of those fancy ones that you’ve seen on TV - and slides a plain coffee cup into the holder.
“Uh, no thanks.” You turn to the door and begin to open it, but Geto clicks his tongue thrice.
“You’re just going to leave without getting what you came for?”
You pause for a moment, then turn back to look him over once. “Don’t you mean what you brought me over here for?” A lazy smile spreads across his face, and that’s when you realize that he’s charming, but not necessarily as suave as you first imagined. You shut the door and walk over to him, examining his physique as if you hadn’t just helped yourself to his tall, statuesque figure already. He allows you to look him over, eyes dedicatedly following you.
“Like what you see, doll?” You don’t get a chance to answer as he pulls you into his chest with a smooth movement, then presses his lips against yours. You instantly open your mouth so he can slide his tongue inside, and he does so without hesitation. Hands grasp at your flimsy night shirt, pulling it over your shoulders as he backs you up against the wall, hiking one leg up and wrapping the other around his waist.
As both of your hands tangle in hair, fabric, sweat, you wonder how long - just how long - he’s wanted to do this. But your train of thought is rudely interrupted by his lips trailing kiss down your neck and to your collarbone, where he pauses for a second, catching his breath. Fingers dance through his locks and he peers up at you for a second, drinking in your flushed expression and breathy exhales.
“Geto, please, I--” You’re silenced again by his lips, his thick fingers rolling past the waistband of your night shorts and right to your core, where he nestles them into your heat with ease.
“Goddamn…” The rumbling of his voice vibrates against your chest, and you gasp, feeling every stroke of his fingers inside of you. “So fucking wet… just for me.” Your vision narrows in on the black eyes watching your every move, the angle of your face, the way you tilt your chin to the side and shakily exhale. Everything is perfect. Maybe even better than he imagined at first. But you don’t know that, and you really don’t care to know. All you want is release and for that release to be at Geto’s hands. When he removes his fingers and hoists you onto the suede couch, your first reaction is to cry out in shock.
His hands roll your shorts down to your knees and then press your legs open, spreading you for him to examine.
“You’re a mess down there… perhaps I should help you clean up.”
“Huh?” The double entendre is completely lost on you in the heat of the moment. You watch as he leans down, then moves to lick your core with a flat tongue, stroking up before he goes down again and repeats his action twice. Your head finds the soft cushion of the pillow in ecstasy, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding.
Geto hums down below, fully appreciating your taste before sucking on your clit, hard. You yelp, shooting up, but his hand presses you back down, eyes still closed. Fingers make their way up to your breasts, tugging at your nipples leisurely before tightening and pulling with more tension. “Oh, god, please…” Your hands find his head, and at the sudden application of pressure, he grunts again. And you’re left there in agonizing pleasure, dangling between an orgasm and a build-up of pressure, one stroke away from tumbling into the cavern of blissful unawareness.
Geto stops without warning, pulling back to watch you as he still tweaks your nipples with varying degrees of firmness. You tug at his shorts in a silent plea for him to discard them, and he waits a minute before sliding them off wordlessly. His length is impressive, you note, his cock springing free from his shorts and angled upwards a little. A condom is produced just as quickly, and he rolls it over himself before spreading you a little wider to accommodate his length. When he nudges his cock at your slit, you realise he’s a little breathless and shaking, but that all goes to the back of your mind when he slides inside of you with little resistance.
“Fuck, doll, that’s--” He groans just as you moan, both of you relishing the expanding feeling. “God, that’s perfect.” You whimper at his praise and bring your hands to his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he begins to pump into you. Geto’s lips find your neck and he sucks a hickey on your left side, placing another one neatly below it while his hands cup your ass.
“Does that feel good?” He whispers and you nod, completely at a loss for words. But soon, it’s not enough, and your fingers dig into his back. He’s fucking you slowly… too slowly.
“M-more,” you whine, and he delivers his thrusts faster, pumping into you and moaning loudly. Your fingers find his face and angles it towards your raised head so you can kiss him on the lips. He offers you that mercy - a deep, languid kiss - while he plows into you with abandon. Pleasure is the only thing on your minds - you just so happen to have found it in each other’s arms - and your orgasm is just within reach.
“Geto, I’m close…” His response to your words is to lift your left leg a little higher so it practically hung off the couch and in the air, deeping his strokes until they settled against your cervix, like someone tapping a soft rhythm into your stomach. “Shit, like that.”
“Yeah?” he exhales, looking at your face with a blissed-out expression, his cheeks reddening. You raise your hips to meet his with each thrust, hoping your orgasm would arrive before Geto came. There isn’t much you can do though, besides writhe beneath him and pull him closer to you, thereby making you and him almost inseparable. He’s merely rocking into your hips now, cock barely rolling out of you as before. And you can’t deny that it feels like heaven, not when you’ve been so frustrated for so long.
“I’m gonna cum,” Geto hisses into your mouth, and you nod, constricting a little to urge him on. What you fail to realize is that the constriction was just what you need to tumble over into the abyss of thoughtlessness, and your mouth opens to let loose a guttural moan as Geto fucks you faster and faster, chasing his own orgasm on the heels of yours. “Oh, shit,” Your neighbor sinks into you one final time, shooting his cum into the condom, but pumping in stuttered strokes as if he were really letting loose inside of you.
When you both fall from the heights of your sex-induced high, shoulders and heads are draped where there is comfort and space, little exhales from his mouth fanning across your breasts. Geto lifts off of your sweaty chest and looks you in the eyes before breathing:
“Maybe I should start my days with this instead of a workout.”
#geto x reader#jjk geto#geto suguru#jujutsu kaisen getou#getou x reader#jujutsu kaisen geto#getou suguru#geto smut#getou smut#jjk smut#jujutsuhub collab
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Writing Chinese characters set within Western worlds
If you don’t want to read it on tumblr, go check this out on medium or go follow me on instagram at @annessarose_writes!
Alright. You know what. I’ve seen plenty of stereotypes in fiction (and in social media) that are so incredibly pervasive I’ve seen many Chinese people within the western world internalize it themselves. So here’s a rough guide on writing Chinese characters in an English-speaking Western setting, written by me, a Chinese Canadian woman.
If you’re here to say something racist fuck off. Otherwise, welcome! This is not a comprehensive guide by any means. This is merely a brief overview based on my own experiences. My experience (as someone in North America) will differ from someone living in, say, Europe or South America. I’m not representative of every Chinese person because everyone’s experience is unique. So here were are.
1. Our names
Chinese names are usually written as follows: [family name] [name]. Let’s take a Canadian historical figure as an example: 黃寬先. In Chinese, it’s pronounced “Wong Foon Sien.” On Canadian documents — which are written [First name] [Last name], he’d be called “Foon Sien Wong.” He went by “Foon Sien” for most of his life. That’s his full “first name.” Nobody would call him Foon because that’s just half of his name (unless given permission). It’d be like meeting a stranger called Alex and calling them “Al” right off the bat. Sure, they could go by Al, but you don’t know that.
For those of us living in the Western world, some of us have both a Chinese name and an English name. In these cases, our Chinese name becomes our middle name in English (e.g. a character could be called John Heen-Gwong Lee).
For some people who immigrated to the Western world but were born in China, their legal name would be their Chinese name. Some choose to keep that name. Some choose an English name as their “preferred” name but keep their Chinese name on legal documents. It varies.
2. Parents & Stereotypes
There’s two stereotypes which are so pervasive I see it being used over and over in jokes even within Chinese (and, to a larger extent, asian) communities:
The [abusive] tiger mom and the meek/absent dad
Both parents are unreasonably strict/abusive and they suck
I have yet to see any fiction stories with Chinese parents where they’re depicted as kind/loving/supportive/understanding (if you have recommendations — please do send them my way). Not all Chinese parents are tiger parents. Chinese parents — like all parents — are human. Good god. YES, they’re human! YES, they have flaws! YES, they are influenced by the culture they grew up in!
That isn’t to say there aren’t parents like those tropes. There are. I know this because I grew up in a predominantly Chinese community where I had many a friend’s parent who was like this. Parents who compare their kids to the best kid in class. Parents who force kids into private lessons and competitions that the kid despises because the parents think it’s for the best. Parents who have literally called their kid a disappointment because they didn’t get 100%.
But please, also consider: there’s parents who support their child’s goals and who listen. Not all parents force their kid into the stereotypical trifecta of lawyer/doctor/engineer — I know of a good number who support their child in choosing the path they want. There’s parents who make mistakes and learn and try their best to support their child. So please, for the love of god, if you write a Chinese character, don’t reduce their parents to stereotypes.
3. Language & Learning
When I first read The Son of Neptune by Rick Riordan, I was so excited to see a Chinese Canadian character in Frank Zhang. Finally, there was someone like me. Finally, there was representation in well-known western media.
While I do appreciate that RR added in Frank Zhang, it’s pretty obvious that he didn’t really know how to write a Chinese Canadian character. One of the most glaring examples: in The Son of Neptune, Frank reveals he can’t really read Chinese. In like, the next book (I think — it’s been a while since I read it), Frank is suddenly able to read Chinese because he “learned” it in two week’s time.
Nope. Nuh-uh. Learning Chinese is a pain, let me tell you. There’s thousands of different characters and it is something you need to devote a lot of time to learning (especially if you’re progressed past the best childhood years for learning a language). So if you’re writing about a Chinese character living in the western world, here’s what you need to know:
A character who was born and raised in the western world does not necessarily know how to read/write in Chinese.
If they were raised by their own family, the character would very likely know how to speak their own dialect. They’d be able to understand the language used in movies/TV and they sound like a native speaker, but they may not know how to use language outside of certain contexts (the term for this is heritage speaker).
They probably went to Chinese school. They probably hated it. Chinese school is usually universally hated and does not teach you jack shit other than a hatred for the place and a vague memory of learning how to read the language without actually retaining knowledge of what you learned.
Most of my friends who know how to read/write in Chinese learned from tutors, parents, or were born in China.
There’s two main types of written Chinese: Traditional (used by Cantonese speakers) and Simplified (used by Mandarin speakers).
There are MANY other dialects (which I don’t know much about). The most common ones are Mandarin (usually spoken by people from the mainland), then Cantonese (usually spoken by people from Hong Kong).
4. Fitting into the community
Usually, the story is one of two things: they’re the only Asian kid in the entire school, or they grew up in a predominantly East Asian community. Things to consider for both of these when you’re writing:
Growing up the only Asian kid
They’re “that Asian kid.” They’re different. They walk into a class and feel weird and out of place.
They bring food from home (usually ethnic cuisine) to school. Other classmates stare at it, make fun of it, demand what that strange food is.
“Where are you from?” “Here.” “No, like, where are you really from?”
“Your name is funny.”
People literally never getting the character’s name right.
And that horrible, horrible feeling: wishing that they were white so they could avoid all of this.
Growing up in a predominantly East Asian community
It’s not uncommon for Chinese cuisine to mix with other east Asian cuisines. For special occasions (or just for a casual night out), your character could very well go out to get some sushi, or go for some KBBQ, or get some Vietnamese noodles.
Screaming “AIYAA” at/with their friends unironically if they’re annoyed (I’ve done this a lot with Cantonese friends. Less so with Mandarin friends).
Slipping into Chinese for like, two words, during a mostly-English conversation to talk about food or some other topic that can’t be adequately conveyed in English.
Reading books by white authors and learning about white history and growing up thinking white names, white books, and white history is the norm and standard even though the community is surrounded by East Asian people.
When the character leaves this community, there’s a brief culture shock when they realize how sheltered they’ve been.
Things in common for both of these:
The character has grown up on ethnic cuisine. Yes, Chinese people do eat rice with many of our meals. Yes, boba (bubble) tea is extremely popular. No, rice isn’t the only thing we eat. No, not all Chinese people love boba (though as a Chinese person I admit this sounds sacrilegious to say…)
The character likely grew up watching film/TVthat originates from East Asia. It’s not uncommon to watch Studio Ghibli films. It’s not uncommon to watch Japanese or Korean shows with canto/mando dub (examples: Ultraman, Kamen Rider). If you want to see a classic Chinese film from Hong Kong that’s fucking hilarious, watch Kung Fu Hustle.
The character has felt or been told that they’re “too westernized to be Chinese, but too Chinese to fit into the western world.” They’re torn between the two.
5. General portrayal
It’s quite simple, really. We’re human. We’re regular people. We have regular hobbies like all people do. We’re good at some subjects and bad at others. We have likes and dislikes like all people do. So here’s a list of stereotypes you can avoid.
STEREOTYPES TO AVOID BECAUSE WE’RE REGULAR HUMANS AND WE DON’T FIT INTO A SINGLE COOKIE CUTTER SHAPE, DAMMIT.
The character is a maths whiz and perfect at all things STEM.
The character is a straight-A+ gifted/IB/AP student.
The character is the next coming of Mozart and is amazing at piano/violin.
The character’s free time is spent only studying.
The character is insanely good at martial arts.
The character is either meek and submissive or an explosive, dangerous force.
I’m not going to mention the other stereotypes. You know, those ones. The really obvious ones that make fun of and demonize (sometimes through multiple untruths) how we look and how we live our lives. You should know.
Of course, there are people who fit into one or more of these. That’s not the point. The point is: molding all Chinese characters to these stereotypes (which white media tends to do) is harmful and reductionist. We’re more than stereotypes.
—
6. Conclusion
We need more diversity in portrayal of Chinese characters. Reducing us into one-dimensional caricatures has done nothing but harm us — look at what’s happening now. This guide is by no means comprehensive, but I hope it has helped you by providing a quick overview.
If you want to accurately portray Chinese characters, do your research. Read Chinese fiction. Watch Chinese films/TV. Initiate a conversation with the community. Portray us accurately. Quit turning us into caricatures.
#non sw#writing#writing reference#reference#writing bipoc characters#Chinese representation#asian representation#asian characters#chinese characters#stop asian hate#chinese diaspora#chinese american#chinese canadian#writing guide#abuse tw#racism tw#long post#annessarose writes
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