#morality was if it fucked them up the ass to shut up and figure out what morality is outside of rekigion before they start legislating about

[sketchy-scribs-n-doods]

reminder for st fans that treat ships as a competition to get their asses out of my notes and off my posts, esp salty ha/rrin/groves and self righteous ste/ddi/es, your jokes aren't funny and your stubborn us vs them bullshit is irritating. i ship both and yet somehow some of y'all manage to be mad annoying across both lines, learn to shut up and mind your business

#i ship both but my god are some of yall mad annoying on both sides of it #steds tend to be the loudest toxic bitches #but harrings have such an edgy complex about steds being the 'mainstream popular annoying ship' #steds acts like they figured out how rewrite evangelical talking points for fandom use #while harrings act like those people who refuse to play undertale because 'the fandom is cringe' #lot of steds are dickheads that think their ship makes them morally superior somehow but my god the bitterness is not a good look harrings #anyway reminder that idc how much you love either ship #i will block your ass for being snide and shitty about the other one #steve is holding both billy AND eddie's hands actually fuck you #they share him and swap on saturdays and have group dates on fridays #im gonna start hanging out with only the mung/roves at this rate honest to god #they have taste and aint ever ticked me off over this nonsense #fandom wank #sketchy speaks #side note that this is because of alot of things but modt recently specifically bc of a harring that was being annoying in my notes #and another that was being snide and obnoxious about joe k being generally favorable toward harring #while joe q is tired to death of being asked about steds #like theres a funny joke to be made there sure but god this dude was being annoying about it 'we stay winning losers uwu' style #anyway shut up about ships u dont like thats what i do and wow its so easy fr and its free

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] DIO x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] This is for @cherrykamado's Scumbags Collab. Thank you so much for letting me join and giving me an excuse to write a morally reprehensible insert! I mean... she's not that bad. (Yes, this is a repost.) [ SYNOPSIS ] A strange man has an even stranger proposition. [ WORD COUNT ] 6.5k [ CONTENT ] Canon AU, y/n is a stand user, innocent people get killed, size kink (y/n is implied to be on the taller side though), fingering, finger sucking, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, blood, knifeplay, creampie.

“I think we’re being followed,” your date said nervously.

It was just past midnight, a brisk night in your city. You had spent most of it languishing in various bars with some guy, one whose name you didn’t bother to remember. He was a momentary meal ticket, one to be tossed aside the second you were bored.

So far he had proven to be overwhelmingly uninteresting, talking mainly about his job as a security guard and being a single father to four children. Under any other circumstances you would have ditched his ass, but you were plagued with hunger. You planned on goading him into buying you some street food once he shut the fuck up.

“I think you’re tripping,” you replied, voice full of smug confidence.

There was no way you were being followed. Earlier that evening you deployed your stand, A Deal With God, to keep watch while you made your way through the city streets. The extra layer of security allowed you to relax in the absence of surprises. It was like having an extra set of eyes to see through… Sometimes even more than that, as your stand’s true form was a glowing cluster of iridescent black wings with three indigo eyes at the center.

“I’m serious. Some jacked blonde guy.”

“You sound insane,” you said as your palms began to sweat. “C’mon. Let’s go eat something.”

He shook his head. “I’m not hungry. Why don’t we go dancing?”

You frowned, but decided to play along. You stepped into a high-end nightclub, and immediately got assaulted by flashing lights and the indecipherable, mechanical squelches of some acid house remix.

“Oh my god, I love this song,” your date cheered.

You rolled your eyes and mumbled something about going to the bar. A complete lie as you were actually going to the bathroom to figure out a new game plan. You brushed past a few people before glancing out the window, spotting a tall, foreboding figure leering at you from the other side of the street.

You briefly glared and slipped away into the bathroom, shutting yourself away in a stall. You took a seat on the toilet and held your head in your hands.

“Head’s killing me. Just wanna eat,” you whined, snapping your fingers.

A Deal With God appeared in the cramped stall, its large eyes fixed on you. It looked about as weary as you did.

“Figure out if that weird guy in the street was actually following us. I don’t think he was but… fuck it. Might as well be sure. Not like you got anything better to do, right?”

“Veeerrrrry trrrruuuue,” it drawled after turning into a mirror image of you.

You very well could have sent your stand out in its true form, but you worried that one day you’d come across someone that could actually see them when they were a mass of wings and eyes.

A Deal With God turned around and kicked the bathroom stall door open, and marched back out into the club. You carefully shut the door and resumed your previous position, trying to relax. You thought about your empty fridge and bare cupboards, cursing yourself for not going grocery shopping earlier that week. Paying for your own food was always an option, but you preferred to spend your money on things that lasted, that were more tangible.

You groaned. “Fuck it. I’ll go buy my own damn—”

Before you could even finish your sentence A Deal With God kicked the stall door in, making it fly off its hinges. The door hit you square in the nose.

“What the fuck?!” You said, wiping away the stream of crimson blood dripping from your nostril.

“Th—there—I—I saw.”

“You saw what?!”

“Th—th–the man.” You could barely understand a word it was saying as its teeth chattered away. “He found me. One second he was outside, the next h—he was behind me.”

The poor thing dropped its human facade before simply disappearing into the ether. 

“Shit,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Shit!”

You stumbled out of the stall and scanned the crowd for your date and the strange man. They were nowhere in sight and you made a beeline for the exit. You ran down the street, still pinching your nose even though it didn’t help in the least. The cold breeze stung your skin and heightened your anxiety. Everything around you felt like a threat.

The vast nature of the street made you uneasy so you sought refuge in a more sequestered area, ultimately settling on an alley. Your eyes darted around, checking for any unwanted presences, before slipping into the darkness.

“How did he sneak up on me?” You asked no one in particular.

You snapped your fingers and A Deal With God appeared before you. Its numerous eyes looked terrified and wet.

“Stop being scared,” you said, knowing full well your stand’s demeanor was your own doing.

But what could you do? You were utterly spooked. You didn’t have a lot of enemies, but you weren’t exactly a magnet for pleasant people. There was no way the man following you held good intentions. And the more you thought about it, the less safe you felt in a poorly lit alley. Who would’ve thought?

A Deal With God fluttered about before peering out into the street. It turned to you and used one of its wings to gesture towards a nearby nightclub. It seemed like a decent enough place to disappear.

You tore across the street as fast as you could and barrelled through the club’s entrance. You were surrounded by a thick haze of tobacco and cloves, and you could feel the rumbling bass emanating from the large speakers positioned throughout the space. It wasn’t nearly as abrasive as the first one. 

Before you could even sigh in relief you spotted the strange man across the room. Initially you felt paralyzed with fear, like your legs were going to give out from under you. Every hair was standing on end. Your stomach was eating itself, churning away into nothing.

The man smirked.

Of course he was positioned by the only exit, essentially cornering you inside the club. You found it in you to move and bolted up the stairs, hoping you could lose yourself in the crowd and make your way out a window.

You were disappointed to see the upper floor wasn’t nearly as populated as the other. Suddenly you felt a chill climb your spine and a pair of large, cold hands on your shoulders.

“There’s no point in running from me,” the man whispered in your ear.

His hushed tone was like a siren’s song, dragging you out to sea.

“I just want to talk. That’s all.”

He spoke to you like you were a child, though considering how scared you were it wasn’t a bad course of action.

He whispered. “You seem smart. You’re capable of having a little talk, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you said shakily. “What do you want to talk about?”

Your words were stilted and it left you feeling powerless.

“I’m interested in your special ability.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He dug his talon-like nails into the flesh of your shoulders. “I’m certain you do.”

“And what if I don’t want to talk about my special ability?”

“Trust me. You will.”

His tone was threatening. Your eyes darted around, hoping someone was showing some form of concern for you and your current situation. But not a soul seemed to care. You swallowed hard, it was like a rock had wedged itself in your throat.

“I wanna talk here. I’m not letting you drag me off somewhere.”

If you weren’t so scared, you might have laughed at your remark. Depending on his intentions you would not have minded if the beautiful stranger dragged you off into the night.

He released you from his grasp and walked ahead of you towards the corner of the room furthest from the stairs. You followed after, staring at his statuesque shoulders, muscles barely contained by his cropped black shirt made of indeterminate mesh material.

“Okay, what?” You asked, desperately trying to hide your nerves.

The man leaned against the wall. “Tell me about it.”

“Can you give me, like, a prompt? A question? Some direction? What do you want to know?” You sneered, putting your hands on your hips.

The man was growing frustrated with your attitude. You could tell and you weren’t sure if you wanted to maintain your faux bravado. Was rousing the weird man for your own sick pleasure worth potentially dying by his hand? You didn’t know what he was capable of. And it’s not as if you were having much fun.

“Why are you being so hostile? It’s unbecoming.”

You exploded. “You were following me around like a fuckin’ creep! Tell me you wouldn’t be a little on edge if you were following yourself around!”

He raised an eyebrow in amusement. “I suppose you have a point.” He stood closer to you effectively boxing you in. “Funny you mention that considering you’re capable of following yourself around.”

You backed up, bumping into the wall. The man seemed to have no concept of personal space. Though you had to admit it wasn’t completely unwelcomed. The longer you looked at him, the more you felt yourself craving his touch.

His golden blonde hair seemed to move on its own, ebbing on incomprehensible breezes. You noticed not a window was open nor was any fan blowing the hot air around the room. There was no way what you were seeing was real.

“Yeah, and?” You asked, trying to shove your racing thoughts out of your mind.

“How long have you—”

“Ever since I was a kid. Can I ask why you care?”

He brushed a few errant strands of hair from your face, his fingers were soft and the color of fresh cream.

You felt like his red eyes were staring right through you. “Go ahead.”

You smacked his hand away. “Why do you care?!”

“I already told you.”

“I don’t remember.”

“How could you not remember? I literally just told you.”

“I don’t know. You’re not very memorable,” you lied.

He narrowed his eyes and exhaled. “I said I was interested in your special ability. I could use someone like you.”

“For what? Something fucked up?” You taunted, anticipating some disgusting act. “You gonna force me into depravity?”

His annoyance was palpable, filling the room and drowning you in it. 

“If that was my intention, I wouldn’t have wasted my time talking to you.”

You felt like a coyote with its paw rotting in a trap.

“Good point. M—may I ask what you need me for?” You asked, forcing a smile.

“I’d rather not discuss that here. Come with me to my suite.”

He spoke so plainly and with such confidence. He annihilated any defense mechanism you had, rendering them useless. If any other person dared to be so bold, you would have kicked them in the taint. But he was different, otherworldly even. The longer you looked at him, the more you felt compelled to stick around. You had never encountered someone so alluring, someone capable of bewitching you with ease.

“I promise I won’t hurt you,” he said.

Apparently the trepidation in your face wasn’t something you could mask.

“Nah, like… I know.”

His lips curled into a foreboding smile.

“Let’s go,” he purred, placing his hand on your back and guiding you out of the nightclub.

His hand was cold, the chill traveling through your jacket. Once outside you tried to get the attention of a cab driver with little luck. Much to your chagrin a drunkard positioned right next to you managed to hail one with a simple wave of his limp hand.

The blonde seemed to take personal offense and grabbed the man by the back of his collar and tossed him aside like he was a mere rag doll. The drunk’s limbs flailed as he was sent through the window of the nightclub. It all happened so fast and you nearly got lost in the chaos. If it weren’t for the blonde pulling you into the cab you likely would have stood there in shock, mouth agape, until the cops showed up.

“Whoa, whoa!” The frightened driver cried out. “What the actual fuck was that?”

You looked expectantly at the strange man, curious as to how he would explain away his behavior.

“Drive.”

“Wh—what? Dude! You can’t just do some shit like that and expect me to be okay with it!”

“Why not?” He laughed.

“Because it’s fucked up! You could've killed the guy,” the driver said, pointing at the bleeding body hanging halfway out the nightclub window.

“And? Was he important to you?”

“No. I don’t know him. But I don’t have to know someone to think what you pulled was rude!”

“It was more than rude,” you said matter-of-factly. “Not that I’m complaining. I’m just happy to be out of the cold.”

The blonde smirked and scooted closer to you, eschewing his seatbelt.

He redirected his attention to the terrified cab driver. “Drive or I’ll kill you.”

“Dude, can you at least tell me where?!”

The blonde clenched his fist. “... I guess.”

The drive was spent in relative silence. The nervous cab driver flapped his jaws on occasion, posing benign questions. He quickly clammed up after receiving a few glares from the strange man through the rear view mirror. Paying attention to their tension made your stomach hurt so you focused on the barren trees that lined the city streets, their leaves rotting in rusted gutters.

“I feel like fall came faster than usual,” you pondered aloud.

Neither of the men responded, too wrapped up in their own bullshit.

The barren trees ceased, soon replaced by evergreen ones unnatural to the concrete cityscape. You sighed, unsurprised by the fact your stalker was posted up in a ritzy area. However you were still wowed by the luxurious hotel and its sprawling design as the cab pulled up to the curb. The alabaster facade glimmered under the everpresent streetlights. You contemplated getting the strange man drunk and robbing him once he passed out in a haze of whiskey.

“That’ll be forty bucks,” the cab driver said, craning his neck around to look at the two of you.

Rather than pay the driver, the blonde jammed two of his slender fingers into the man’s neck and sucked the life out of him. You stared wide-eyed and mentally begged your body to move, to jump out of the car and run back to your boring date.

“Let’s go,” the blonde murmured, exiting the cab.

You stepped out and whined as the autumnal breeze chilled your bones. Despite the blonde’s apparent cruelty, he wrapped an arm around you. It didn’t do much considering his body was cold to the touch, but you appreciated that he hadn’t opted to kill you for shivering.

“Aren’t you cold?” You asked.

“Not really,” he responded, not bothering to look at you.

He led you inside the hotel and into a gilded elevator. The interior was mirrored, forcing you to confront your situation. You looked positively miniscule next to the hulking blonde. You weren’t a tiny person by any means, but the strange man was just that big.

“You never told me your name.”

“I didn’t, did I?” He said coolly.

“Yeah. It feels, um, weird not knowing it.”

“There’s a subset of people that delight in lacking that kind of information.”

You gazed up at him and grimaced. His red eyes met yours. The elevator pinged, alerting you of your arrival, and the doors slid open.

“It’s Dio.”

The suite was beautiful with floor-to-ceiling windows, giving a breathtaking view of the city. You only knew this because you peaked behind the thick, ornate curtains that shielded the room. 

Everything was concealed in darkness, the only light coming from the world beyond the window through the little crack you created. Dio was quick to slink around, lighting candles, to give the suite a warmer touch.

“You got a migraine or something? A hangover?” You asked, coming out from behind the curtains.

“Sure.”

You inhaled the cloying scent of sandalwood. “Liar.”

He smirked and took a seat on a chaise-lounge, essentially draping himself over it like a fancy throw blanket. He beckoned you near. You sat on the very edge, keeping some distance.

“Do you know anything about Anubis?”

“That dog god guy?”

“In a sense.”

“Yeah, uh, I don’t know a damn thing about him.”

“Hmph. What about art theft?”

“... Again, not a damn thing.”

“Are you much of a reader?” He said, sitting up.

“Depends.”

He got up and returned with two books: Rogues in the Gallery: The Modern Plague of Art Thefts and Teach Yourself Egyptian Mythology.

He stood over you smugly. “Read these and we’ll talk once you’ve finished them.”

“You want me to read two books right now?”

He yawned and stretched his arms over his head. Your eyes lingered on his chiseled abdomen.

“You can do it,” he said, walking away. “I believe in you.”

His words did little to inspire you, especially because he punctuated them by closing the door to his bedroom. You felt shut out and vulnerable. How were you supposed to read two books come morning?

Lucky for you Dio slept through the day, giving you ample time. He traipsed out of his room as you scanned the final pages of the required reading. He was in a pair of burnt umber-colored silk shorts that left little to the imagination.

“You must have been tired,” you said as you closed the book about art theft. “This book was boring as shit, by the way.”

“I know. I didn’t even bother finishing it.”

“Then why have me read it?!”

Dio’s expression practically screamed, Because I fucking could. He smiled and resumed his place next to you on the chaise.

“Hush,” he said, holding a finger to your lips. You thought about biting it off. “I’m trying to steal a shamshir.”

“A what?”

“It’s a type of sword.”

“Should have made me read about swords then,” you muttered.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Is it like… your swor–I mean, shamshir?”

“Absolutely not, but it should be,” he said, his voice sickly sweet. “I’ve heard a great power is bound to it.”

“I see.”

“And I’d like to possess that.”

“Uh-huh.”

You were barely paying attention to his words. All you could focus on was your throbbing clit and the wet spot blooming in your underwear. Everything about him exuded sensuality. The simplest movements, things that were not inherently sexy, sent you spiraling. You wanted to please him, to crawl into his arms and melt into him. You were completely at his will and you hoped he didn’t realize that.

“And I find it to be aesthetically pleasing.”

“An aesthetically pleasing shamshir for an aesthetically pleasing man. How quaint.”

“Oh, you find me to be aesthetically pleasing?”

“Why else would I come over?”

“How naive of me to think you came because you wanted to help me.”

“I never said I wouldn’t help.”

“So you are helping me,” he seemed to command.

Dio dragged his fingertips down his chest and along his abs before slipping them underneath his shorts.

“I also never said I’d do it for free.”

“Hmph.” 

Dio stared into your eyes. 

“You have,” he lazily held up two of his elegant fingers, “two options. I either pay you or I fuck you.”

“What about both?”

“No. It’s one or the other.”

“Are you really that good in bed?”

He gave a coquettish pout. “I’ll never tell. You’ll just have to take a chance, won’t you?”

Money was a fleeting notion in your life, more of a concept than something tangible. You usually kept yourself afloat by living off of eager to please boyfriends and rich women that thought you had a nice ass. A steady job was out of the question; you could never allow yourself to be tied down. Nothing could beat the high of being free. It came at a price though. Your rootless life wasn’t stable and frequently left you out in the cold.

You knew taking the money was the right decision, the smart one, the good one.

But you were never one to make good decisions, sound ones doused in logic. No, you were a idiotic hedonist deep down in your black hole of a soul. You sought out ecstasy in the shadows, always looking for an opportunity to submerge yourself in murky waters of desire.

Dio interrupted your minor moral dilemma. “Usually when they take this long it’s because they want to fuck me.”

He briefly tugged down his shorts, revealing a few wisps of dark pubic hair at the base of his cock.

“There’s no need to be shy,” he said, pulling you into his lap.

He had one hand on the small of your back and the other gripping your nape. He brought his face close to yours, his gaze hungry and expectant. Your stomach was fluttering; no one had made you feel like this before. You could barely form a coherent thought, too distracted by his touch. His hand slid down your back before settling on the crest of your ass.

Your eyes were trained on his lips as he spoke. “Why don’t I give you more time to think about it, hm?”

Words tried to fight their way out of your mouth, ones that begged him to act now. But you were silent, only giving Dio a slight nod.

He abruptly stood up, causing your body to collide with the floor. Your limbs a mere jumbled heap at his feet.

“We’ll break in tonight,” he said, staring down at you. “I’ll pay you once Anubis is in my hands.”

Dio’s suite wasn’t far from the museum. It was a short walk, a few blocks at most. There was little fanfare which left you vaguely disappointed. You had hoped it’d be a bit more exciting, more sexy. In your mind robbing a museum seemed like the sexiest crime, but the experience thus far was… pedestrian.

Even your inconspicuous outfits were yawn-worthy. You thought a man with such luxe taste would have more flourish, but no. He wore black 501s with a tasteful hole in the left knee and a tight black turtleneck. A ski mask rested on the crown of his head like a beanie. You had to admit it was practical and he wore it well.

“We’re close. Pull your balaclava down.”

You quickly yanked yours down, obscuring everything but your eyes. It smelled like Dio. You borrowed one from him along with a chunky black cashmere sweater that looked more like a dress on you. You had the sleeves folded up countless times so you could actually use your hands freely.

He pulled his down and let out a little sneeze as the fabric covered his nose.

“Bless you,” you giggled.

“... Thank you.”

The two of you took shelter behind a tree and scope out the employee entrance which sat at the back of the drab building.

“Kinda unimpressive. I didn’t even know this was a place, and I was born and raised here.”

“They don’t have anything of much importance.”

“Except that funky sword you want.”

He sighed. “Yes.”

The plan was to slip in through the back of the building. You would be going in alone, but only far enough to have Anubis’s location within your stand’s range. Dio didn’t mention where he would be exactly, but you assumed he’d be skulking around the entrance and keeping watch.

As the two you broached the museum’s parking lot a wave of nausea enveloped you.

“You’re not gonna leave me out to dry, if I get caught in there… Right?”

“You won’t get caught.”

His distinct lack of an answer did little to set you at ease. Your legs were shaking as he picked the shoddy lock. It was almost comical how easy everything seemed to be. The absurdity of it all wasn’t lost on you.

Once inside the situation didn’t feel as precarious. You deployed A Deal With God, letting your double stalk around the museum.

When seeing through your stand’s eyes you were rendered somewhat immobile, or at the very least distracted and sitting down. Invoking auto-pilot was an option, but standing around and doing nothing would have done nothing for your nerves. You decided to find a corner and take a seat.

The layout of the museum was a breeze to navigate. Dio hadn’t been lying when he reassured you how simple a task robbing the place would be. There wasn’t anything cool on display. Just poorly maintained antiquities and depressingly dusty tapestries that should have been under glass. The halls were dead quiet, disturbingly so. Every step you took felt like it carried the weight of the world.

“Oh thank fuck,” you whispered when you spotted a series of swords mounted on a wall.

You fast-walked to the display only to be greeted by the distinct lack of a shamshir.

“No.”

You stepped closer and carefully eyed each sword on the wall.

“C’mon…”

None of the blades were even slightly curved. You panicked and called off your stand, your consciousness returning to your physical body. You slowly pushed the door open and looked for any sign of Dio. Surely he would know what to do.

“Did that bitch leave me?” You whispered, unnerved by zero signs of the blonde.

But then you heard a familiar voice.

“Uh, sir, the museum is closed right now. I’m going to have to ask you to vacate the premises.”

Your eyes darted in the direction of the voice. You saw your date, the one from the night before, the father of four, lover of acid house, clad in a beige security uniform.

“Hey, wait. I’ve seen you bef—”

Before he could spit out his sentence Dio punched his jaw clean off. Your throat dried up, almost like you swallowed a bunch of cotton. You could barely remember how to breathe. You weren’t the biggest fan of your date, but he didn’t deserve to die.

A small squeak fought up your throat and alerted the blonde of your presence. He turned to you, red eyes seeming to glow from the slit in his balaclava. He cocked his head to the right, before asking, “What?” with a soft tone of voice. If he hadn’t done something so ghastly seconds before it would have been cute.

“Anubis isn’t there. It’s gone.”

“Oh,” he said. “Did you check the storage?”

You hated how casual he said it, how he made it sound like such an obvious thing to do even though you hadn’t discussed it previously.

“... No.”

He shooed you away and dragged your date's body out of view.

“What the fuck,” you whined as you shut yourself back inside the museum. “What the fuck am I doing.” You couldn’t even manage to say it like a question.

You resumed sitting in your previous spot and sent out your stand. The storage room was in the depths of the building down a spiral staircase. It was rusted and the metal squealed with every step. Once down you flipped a lightswitch and hoped there wasn’t a closed-circuit camera running somewhere.

You opened various cabinets and peered under plastic tarps covering poorly maintained sculptures. You felt a jolt of electricity when you finally came across Anubis. It was beautiful in its scabbard with its gold hilt and red jewels.

You sighed in relief and decided to let A Deal With God handle the rest, again returning your consciousness to your body. You could have cried when your stand presented the shamshir to you.

“Nice,” you said, admiring it.

You stood up and took it from your stand’s hands. You knew the right thing to do was to hand it right over to Dio, but you wanted to sneak a peek at the blade unsheathed. You pulled off the scabbard and marveled at its double-edge.

“... Is it ringing?”

You held the sword close to your ear and heard a distinct hum emanating from it. It didn’t take long for it to sound like it was calling out your name. You found yourself transfixed by your reflection in the blade.

I am the god of the stand Anubis, he who is upon his mountain. Lord of the sacred land. You have unsheathed me and now you will wield me.

You rubbed your forehead. There was no way the sword was talking to you.

You are now my body. In return I will make you a master swordsman.

Becoming a master of the sword never crossed your mind, but suddenly it felt like it had been a lifelong goal.

Not a soul will be stronger than you! Use me and kill!

You felt yourself swelling with pride, with validation, with incomprehensible joy. You felt like electricity was running through your veins, like you were unstoppable. You thought of your poor date and how Dio maimed his flesh without a care.

It enraged you, his entitlement. Why did he think he deserved to wield such power? He wasn’t fit to even gaze upon Anubis. Only you were worthy enough to slaughter with its exalted blade. To bathe in the blessed blood that would weep from your victims’ wounds.

You returned Anubis to its scabbard and set out to take down Dio. You found him outside, looking up at the sky. He turned his attention towards you.

“Ah, so you found it then?” Dio said, adjusting his balaclava.

You stared at him, eyes transfixed on his neck. You couldn’t wait to swing the blade through his skin and watch his pretty little head fall to the floor unceremoniously. You unsheathed Anubis and admired its blade.

Kill him. He is nothing in comparison to you. You’ll slice through his flesh like a hot knife through a pat of butter. Slaughter him! Do it now!

You raised the blade and went to slice Dio’s head off. However in a blink of an eye it was as if you were never holding Anubis in the first place.

“Tsk, tsk,” Dio said, returning the blade to its scabbard.

“Huh?” You said, looking down at your empty hands. “Wait…”

“I should have told you to keep it in its scabbard. My apologies.”

You tried to remember what had happened, why you felt a hint of vexation, but your mind was tabula rasa. “Di—did… Was I doing something?”

He placed his hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”

You were thankful Dio’s suite wasn’t far from the museum. The whole experience left you exhausted. Once inside the hotel he took it upon himself to carry you up to his suite. He laid you down on his bed, giving you permission to sleep beside him. You started to undress yourself as he reflected on the night’s events.

“I didn’t realize how formidable Anubis was at possessing people,” he said, pulling his shirt over his head.

You yawned. “Is that why I tried to kill you?”

He nodded and unzipped his jeans before kicking them off, revealing that he skipped wearing underwear.

“Damn.” You exhaled to regain composure. “Well, fuck. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize. It’s not like you would have been able to defeat me,” he teased, stroking his flaccid cock.

You looked up at him, his appearance like that of a god. He looked so handsome illuminated by candlelight.

It was true you stood no chance against him in a fight. He could crush your skull with his bare hands if he willed it. It left you a confusing mess of fear and passion. You wanted to be by his side even if it guaranteed you an early death or prison time. There was no need for self preservation so long as he remained ethereal.

He caught you staring at him and simpered. Your cheeks were hot with embarrassment. He leaned over you and left you shrinking in his shadow. He ran his thumb along your jaw, his cold touch a welcome sensation.

“You’re so cute.”

He rubbed your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb before forcing it into your mouth.

“Suck.”

You rolled your tongue along the underside of his thumb.

“Good girl,” he cooed while stroking his cock.

It was girthy and of considerable length. The skin was smooth and pale, almost as if it was made of porcelain. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, completely overwhelmed by its presence.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and got on top of you. He rubbed your clit through your underwear. The muscles in your thighs contracted. A small whine fell from your lips. You could feel his erection brushing up against your body. His dominance lorded over you, engulfing you and holding you hostage. He pushed your underwear to the side and slid two fingers inside you. He curled them, pressing up against the walls of your cunt.

Dio pressed his lips against your ear and purred, “It’s like you were always meant to be beneath me.”

You laughed nervously. “I guess.”

He let out a pleased hum and kissed your neck.

“There’s no need to be nervous,” he said as he sat up.

Dio licked his fingers clean before pulling off your underwear. He stared down at your aching cunt with pity. He lowered himself and positioned his face in between your legs. With a single swipe of his tongue you were utterly mesmerized. He gave your clit slow licks with a soft tongue. You felt like your heart was pounding against your chest.

You watched as he arched his back while he ran his tongue between your folds. His ass was magnificent.

You threaded your fingers through his blonde hair and rubbed his head, letting your hand rest on the base of his skull.

“Feels good,” you babbled.

He looked up at you, gaze radiating warmth. It was the first time he’d ever granted you such softness. It quelled your anxiety and you were able to let yourself relax, something you had not done since Dio came into your life.

You felt weightless, like you were floating above the clouds. The pleasure was insurmountable as he sucked on your clit, lapping up the sweetness of your arousal. He began to rut against the bed, driving his cock into the mattress. He moaned, his vocalizations vibrating against your cunt.

“Fuck,” you whimpered as he flicked the tip of his tongue against your throbbing clit.

Dio chuckled before giving your clit a kiss. He got back on top of you and grabbed ahold of your chin, forcing you to look him dead in the eye.

He smirked and asked, “Do you think you’re ready for me?”

“Yes,” you said in a rather pathetic tone of voice.

You were desperate and there was no hiding it.

He sank his cock down into your cunt. You wrapped your arms around him and held onto his upper back as he began to thrust. You could hardly catch your breath as he drove his cock deeper inside. Gone was the brief bout of tenderness, it was as if he couldn’t stop himself once his pleasure came into the picture.

“Ah—i—it’s too much,” you said, eyebrows knitted together.

“You can take it,” he grunted.

You clenched your jaw and tried to breath through the pain. It wasn’t that you didn’t like it, you just weren’t expecting it. No one had ever been so rough with you before. Most of your partners treated you like you were made of thin glass, but Dio manhandled you like you were made of diamonds.

He pulled down your bra revealing your breasts. He grabbed a hold of one, pinching your nipple between his fingers.

“Dio!”

He shushed you and began to suck on your neck, grazing it with his inhumanely sharp teeth. You yelped and all he did was chuckle. He started to fuck you harder, groaning as he bottomed out. You locked your legs around him, holding onto him like your life depended on it. You dug your nails into his back as his thrusts became more urgent. You gazed up at him, falling apart at the seams. He stared at you, almost as if he was plotting something.

Dio groaned. “Hold on,” he said, pulling his cock out of you.

He reached for something under the bed. You couldn’t imagine what he was searching for. Maybe a vibrator. Maybe a last minute condom. You really didn’t care. You were so close to coming all you wanted was him to be fucking your limp body into the mattress.

You were shocked when he pulled out a dagger. His eyes held a devilish gleam. You swallowed hard, trying to come to terms with your impending demise. You must have looked terrified because Dio started explaining himself.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I’m going to cut you.”

“Th—that sounds like it’ll hurt.”

He slid his cock back inside you. “You won’t feel a thing, my pet. It’ll be quick. I just need you to bleed for me.”

You nodded and focused on the sensation of his cock kissing your cervix. He bit down on the inside of his bottom lip and slashed you across the chest with the knife, leaving behind a superficial cut. Warm blood beaded out from the thin cut, sitting on your chest like tiny jewels. He let the knife drop to the floor.

Dio lapped up the blood flowing from the cut, moaning as he savored the taste. He was right. You felt no pain. It wasn’t anything close to that. It was ecstasy; you couldn’t register it as anything but delight.

You held his head close to your body as he continued to drive his cock into your glistening cunt. You felt like every cell in your body was singing, screaming out in euphoria. Your breathing grew laborious, and you caught yourself almost laughing as you ascended further and further into the heavens.

When you finally came you couldn’t help but think every moment in your life led up to this very one, that this pleasure, this rapture, was the end of it all. Nothing would top this, no one would ever make you feel this incredible again.

Dio gave your wound one last lick. “You’re mine now, you realize that don’t you?”

He tossed his head back as he filled your cunt with his cum. He collapsed on top of you and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“You’re coming with me to Cairo. You’ll be of great use to me there.”

“What will I get out of it?”

“Me,” he replied proudly. “All you’ll ever need is me.”

Egypt didn’t sound so bad. You didn’t have any friends or family around. Nothing tied you to this place; you couldn’t even think of a single reason why you stuck around so long. You would have been lost without Dio. You never would have realized your power. Through his greatness you saw your own.

“All I’ll ever need is you,” you quietly repeated to yourself.

#dio brando x reader #dio x reader #jjba x reader #jjba smut #jojo's bizarre adventure smut #dio brando smut #dio smut #x reader #reader insert #.fics #.jjba #.dio

[mercmorales]

"Can't be too nice to sorcerers..."

Don’t Fuck With A Witch! Part 1

Back to Menu

“Why did Gojo-sensei assign us this mission? It’s in the middle of nowhere!” Yuuji said as he punched a creature with wings and a staff in the face.

Megumi summoned his Divine Dogs to eat a curse he had just killed. “He said something about the interesting levels of cursed energy in the area. He said to investigate it if we have time.”

“I’m not investigating anything after we’re done with these things!” Nobara said as she threw pins into three flying eyeballs, “These things have been a pain in my ass and it’s only been like 30 minutes!”

Yuuji had punched another creature, now realizing the lack of a discernible face. “Are these things like biblically accurate angels or something?”

“I’m surprised you even know what that word is.” Megumi said as he summoned Nue to take down a curse that was flying up above.

Before Nue could take it down, it was shot down by very strong curse (?) bullets.

More bullets rained down and shot the other curse beings down, making them explode into pieces and drop rings.

“Awesome, Megumi!” Yuuji said as he ran up to the boy with Nobara.

Megumi looked at the rings on the ground in fear. Who shot down those curses?

“I..” Megumi gulped, “I didn’t exorcise those curses.”

Yuuji and Nobara froze, then looked around. If Megumi didn’t get rid of them, then who-

“Yoohoo! I was kind enough to get rid of those pesky angels only to get no thank you in return? How rude can you sorcerers be?” A voice coming from above said.

The trio quickly looked up to see a tall dark skinned girl with two red guns in hand, using one to readjust her glasses.

The girl stood on a cliff nearby with a wide grin on her face. She did a front flip and landed right in front of the three.

The trio then noticed the guns attached to her heels and her modified version of their uniform. The pants were flared and the shirt had sleeves cut up to form side capes of sorts.

“Who are you?!” Megumi said as he stood in a battle ready position, making Yuuji and Nobara follow his lead.

“Ah… you can never be too nice to sorcerers… I’m just a new student who happened to be in the area. I wanted to help you guys out since you walked into Purgatorio without any form of protection! I was scared you would try and run away like headless chickens!” The dark skinned girl laughed a bit, making the trio stare at her in annoyance.

Megumi got out of his battle stance and placed a hand on his hip. “Who are you? You say that you’re a new student, but our teacher never told us about y-”

“Shut up. I hear something.” The dark skinned girl said as she pointed a gun at the direction the sound was coming from.

A voice started to come into earshot. “INNNNCOMINGGGG!!!”

A crater was made a few feet away from the 4 teenagers, dust filled the air.

They coughed as they watched an extremely tall figure walk towards them as they held someone who was smaller than them.

“Good job, darling! You caught the 1st years while I caught the teacher!” 

The 1st years looked as the dust settled, realizing that their teacher was being held by his waist by a giant woman.

“Woah! She’s so tall!” Yuuji said with stars in his eyes.

Megumi stared at his teacher who had many kiss marks on his face. “Gojo-sensei-!”

“This tall woman is your new teacher, L/N-sensei. That girl is your new classmate, Y/N L/N. From today onward you will treat them with respect, teehee~” Gojo said as he held his blushing face in his hands.

L/N-sensei nodded. “Make sure you treat me and my daughter with the most respect you can muster. If not, well, I suppose you wouldn’t want to fuck around with a witch.” 

Property of Mercury Morales. Do not repost anywhere! Thank you! ʚɞ

#gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #black reader #bayonetta!mom #yuuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #nobara kugisaki #Dont Fuck With A Witch #fem!reader

[dearest-painter]

I’ll die before I let you get harm! PT.2

Summary: Y/N has deeply missed their friends oh so much but their all busy with their own lives so they cannot say much. Soon Y/N meets Miles again but he seems terrified and scared which breaks their heart, they make sure that miles is safe from everyone…even if those people are obsessed with them.

TW/CW:Yandere behavior, unhealthy behavior, unhealthy relationship,abusive behavior,abusive relationship,Reader is Spider-Noir,Reader is hinted to be in a relationship with Miguel(bc im simping for him) but it’s never really said out loud,Reader talks to themselves,very out of character characters,this is a series,Reader knows about colors now,Reader doesn’t really like the spider society,people might be out of character,tell me if I need to add more

Currently you stole a watch for Miles’s as you two hid out in your universe. You lend him some clothes but they ended up being to big but he didn’t mind, as long as he was safe. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you kiddo…you don’t deserve it, your a good person and your one hell of a spider-man. The fact Miguel, a grown ass man, is coming after you a teenager who didn’t ask to be Spider-Man is fucking insane” you sighed as you ran a hand down your face, you knew Miguel can be extreme but not to this point..you’ve never seen it get this bad.

“Hey it’s not your fault Y/N, no need to apologize. It’s Miguel’s fault, he’s the one fucking scarring me” You chuckle a bit, Miles smiled hearing you chuckled. He loved hearing you chuckle as it made him very happy to know your happy as you were another parental figure to him. “Miles I want you to stay on guard at all time, we’re going back to HQ because there’s a machine to send you home” Miles nodded his head as you two went to HQ. You both were very stealthy as you walked.

“Y/N What are you doing with the anomaly!?” You turned around while putting Miles behind you, Miguel will have to fucking kill You to get Miles. “First of all, this ‘anomaly’ is Miles morales aka the toughest Spider-Man I know, two I’m sending him home. I’m not letting you harm him Miguel, his universe needs him” “HE WASNT SUPPOSED TO BE SPIDER-MAN! HE’S A MISTAKE!” “SO AM I! I WASNT SUPPOSED TO HE SPIDER-MAN/WOMEN! IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MY BEST FRIEND BUT YOUR NOT CALLING ME A MISTAKE! SO SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Miles has never seen you this pissed off.

Miguel knew that you were right, originally you were never supposed to be the vigilante but yet you became it…he wishes you weren’t right or protecting Miles. “So why is it you hate him Miguel? Why?” You held Miles as you tried calming down. Miles was nervous as Miguel’s anger and rage was very visible but his fangs added more terror to him. “Y/N…your not involved so move befor-“ “No. I’m not moving, Miles is MY responsibility while he’s here and I’m responsible of making sure he stays alive. He’s going to save his dad”

All of a sudden a hammer hit Miguel’s head and you two ran, Miles was holding in a chuckle but you were laughing as Porker joined you two. “Nice hit!” “Aye you know me! Can’t let my friends be hurt, now let’s get you home Miles!” “Just like old times?” You and Porker nodded as you both remember when Miles got you all home safely…now it’s time to repay the favor. “Just like old times…NOW RUN FASTER! FUCKERS ON ALL FOURS!” “SHIT THATS TERRIFYING!” You took out a something that wasn’t of any use to you and threw it at Miguel which hit square in his face making you three chuckle.

Who knew running away from danger could be this much fun! It felt so amazing! You felt alive! You felt everything before leaving Miles! You felt at home! You were home or with people you can call home now!

#yandere #please don’t do this #obession #unhealthy #yandere platonic #gn reader #platonic yandere #x gn reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #yandere spider man across the spider verse #yandere spiderman #romantic yandere #I’ll die before I let you get harm series #part 2 of many

[sexyhighastro]

Saturn square Mars in synastry

The most common definition of this aspect says thats the worst synastry aspect you could possibly have lol and the Mars person is doomed!

Saturn feels irritated by Marses temper and behaviour and is constantly annoyed at them.

🔹The sex doesn’t work- they consider Mars to be a brat but in the negative way… ( not so much fun, right ?)

🔹conversations gets heavy and almost emotionally abusive bc of Saturn- they can’t stop being irritated at Mars. It’s the aspect of being annoyed when the other one is just breathing….

🔹Saturn thinks that Mars is childlike and makes shitty decisions, they don’t like how Mars shows their energy

It’s impossible to overcome it and it shows up quite late as Saturn aspects take time to unfold. So this one is a massive bitch.

But Mars, don’t cry baby! Because….

I found it quite the opposite, when it comes to my dynamic!!!

So me as Mars,

After some time I found his maturity and masculine energy (Saturn, the father figure- duh) so annoying, almost of putting!!!

🪐I felt like his ‘maturity’ will never calm my nervous system (Mars= how we fight for things) and it annoyed the fuck out of me. I stoped being wet for him.

🪐The way he showed up as a grown ass man is a second hand embarrassment for me now, I would cringe on how he chooses to present himself and also on his decisions and actions. He was the opposite of a mature man I wanted.

🪐I realised he would never take care of me the way I deserve! His Saturn was in Aquarius, my Mars in Cancer. He began to be too immature, weird and of putting for me. His actions where showing his lack of self esteem and lack of masculine energy.

🪐His previous dating choices become just bizarre and sometimes questionable when it comes to moral values (I didn’t noticed it BEFORE the Saturn hit me!)

Even when I try to fantasise about him now or play out in my head an old fantasy (and those where, top top, chef kiss 💋 😭) it just gives me the ick 😭

Like I can’t, this door is shut closed for you sir.

#astrology #roll a joint #synastry #mars square saturn #saturn square Mars #masculine energy

[wannaeatramyeon]

Word quantity: high. Word quality: low. You have been warned.

Goo Kim x Reader: School Days with Princess & the Delinquent

Chapter 9 - Please read chapter 1 first!

Index: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Epilogue

Shin Saimdang is apparently a notable historical figure for something or another. 

Fact of the matter is, Goo doesn’t care. He couldn’t give a shit about her achievements and who she is. But he just wants to keep seeing her face all day, every day. The more of her the better.

Goo holds the 50,000 won note up to the sunlight, admiring the way it halos this Saimdang woman. Bringing it up to his lips, he presses a loud smooch to the 50,000 unmissable in the bottom left corner and then to her face printed in all its black and white glory. 

Maybe he’ll do the same to the wad of bills sitting in his pocket later.

“This could be you and I’d still kiss it,” Goo grins, wiggling his eyebrows and nudging Gun Park with his elbow.

“Shut up.” 

.

.

It is oft repeated for good reason, but here it comes again: Goo Kim fucking loves money.

Lives and breathes it. There’s very little he would not do to get his grubby little mitts on some.

That’s not to say Goo is not loyal. Of course he is, his loyalty just goes to the highest bidder.

And boy has Charles Choi gone all in with Goo, almost guaranteeing him a lifetime of luxuries and finer things in exchange for him getting some blood on his hands. That's fine with Goo, he is absolutely rolling in it with the Four Crews and his position in HNH.

Even having a partner like Gun Park is worth it for the bed of cash he sleeps on, his penthouse he lives in.

What can he say, he’s not a complicated guy. All his dreams have come true.  So what if he needs to sacrifice his morals and ethics?

How does he sleep at night? On a handmade imported mattress and 2000 thread count sheets, thanks for asking.

He can picture his younger self, a little Goo Kim with his head full of natural black hair overgrown and ungroomed, wearing threadbare brandless scraps. Squinting and clumsily bumping in life until he saved and scraped enough for his first pair of glasses.

Goo wishes he could give this version of him a little assuring pat on the head to say there’s a lot of good things to come. And then probably kick his ass for getting dirt on his designer suit.

Later that evening, when Goo sinks into the obscenely oversized bathtub of the presidential suite, listening to Gun Park mutter to himself as he recounts the bags of cash, he thinks:

‘This is it. This is everything I need.’

.

.

But every now and then, a memory, clear as day, causes him to stop in his tracks.

Someone’s hair, who is just the right tone, catches his eyes.

A laugh, that is almost but not quite, turns his head.

Goo is still as two faced as ever. Happy to utter flatteries to someone’s face then stab them in the back.

Sweetheart, cupcake, handsome, beautiful, cutie flows from his lips like it’s nothing. Because it means nothing.

Yet he can’t bring himself to call anyone else Princess.

.

.

“What’s wrong with you?” Gun’s voice cuts through the blonde’s pensiveness.

Playing the role of bodyguards and with a little time to kill as they wait for Crystal (which in all honesty is a waste of Goo’s amazing talents but he doesn’t mind, he gets paid all the same), they both sit outside a cafe. Gun, occupied with his phone and Goo, occupied with his thoughts.

Goo snaps his mask back on, pasting on a smile that is pulled too wide, “Wouldn’t you like to find out?”

“If it’s about that girl,” Gun returns his attention to his screen, “Get over it.”

The directness of Gun’s words catch him off guard. It cuts him straight to the core. Has he been that obvious? 

Goo swallows down any misgivings, instead stretching his grin impossibly wider and looking unhinged. A clear warning sign as any. “There’s no girl.”

Gun peers over to his partner, arching a single eyebrow and not saying anything more.

.

.

Another day, another dollar. Or another boring-ass corporate event.

Charles seems to be having the time of his life, mingling and schmoozing with some old corporate fuddy-duddies.

Goo thought it was surprising getting the CEO of HNH to some shitty little ribbon-cutting ceremony at a shopping mall, but apparently it’s something of a big deal; celebrating a new store opening of a very prestigious partner of HNH.

(Gun was sorely tempted to beat this fact into his thick skull. Clearly the four other times he had explained this to the blonde didn’t sink in.)

Alas, they are finally here. And it’s every bit as boring as Goo had thought it would be. He lets out a yawn, not bothering to cover his gaping mouth, which earns a glare from Gun and Crystal.

Goo nods his head towards the bathroom, signalling to his partner that he’s off for a comfort break.

Gun frowns, as if to say 'Don’t you dare leave. We’re on duty.'

Goo volleys with a smirk that communicates his response loud and clear. 'What? So you want me to piss all over the floor?'

Gun grunts in displeasure, giving a little shake off his head. 'Go. You’ve won this one.'

.

.

At the disappearance of Goo, your other friends start to reappear. 

Really, you couldn’t blame them for holding you at arm’s length. You probably would have done the same looking in from the outside, if they had chosen to spend all their time with a delinquent too.

And they really have been sweet since they’ve been back, noticing your heartache and the constant cloud hanging over your head.

In an attempt to get you out of your funk, they’ve dragged you, kicking and screaming, on a day out. It should cheer you up as you wander store to store, hearing their laughter and banter again, offering to buy you little gifts as a pick-me-up.

It doesn’t work.

It actually does the opposite as you start to shrink in on yourself, guilty that you’re ruining what should be a very pleasant trip.

“What’s going on there?” One of your friends point out, and you don’t have the energy to care.

“That’s the big boss of HNH!” Another one chimes in, and they ooh and aah wondering if they should approach and ask for an internship.

You continue wandering on, leaving your friend group to debate the merits of that approach. Whether they’ll get tackled by security or lauded for their initiative.

As you move further and further away, you can’t help but feel eyes burning into the back of your head. 

.

.

Gun watches you leave. He stays quiet when Goo returns.

.

.

In time, you begin to feel more like yourself.

The worry turns to anger and finally fizzles out to acceptance.

You try to move on but don’t forget Goo Kim. How can anyone truly forget Goo Kim, that whirlwind of a human being?

He entered your life, left behind a shine, and now has disappeared as mysteriously as he appeared.

You miss him in ways you didn’t know possible.

He haunts your days and nights. 

You dream of bleached hair, sharp eyes behind glasses, and a sardonic smile.

.

.

You’re back at the top of the class again with your grades, though inside you miss being second best.

Exams come and go. 

You do well.

With your results, your first choice university accepts you with a full scholarship.

You look forward to the future yet everything feels hollow without that presence in your life.

It pains you to even say his name.

#coming towards the end now #i dont think i should add in an extra chapter buuuut who knows #this whole fic is so self indulgent #i am so so sorry at the quality in advance #lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #lookism hc #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #goo kim #goo kim x reader #kim joongoo #school days with princess and the delinquent #kim joongoo x reader #wannaeatramyeon

[blurglesmurfklaine]

hi hello tell me more about spiderman davey.

SO GLAD YOU ASKED AHHH

*miles morales voice* Let’s do this one last time:

At the end of the year of his Junior year in high school, students with the highest science and math grades get invited to a field trip to see Oscorp or whatever the newsies equivalent of that would be (I don’t have all the answers unfortunately) and Davey goes and gets bitten by a spider blah blah we KNOW the deal

The summer before Senior Year is uneventful, just hot lazy days spent saving for college, working at Mr. Jacobi's bodega-slash-deli with his best friend Jack Kelly (who have been inseperable since the sixth grade) (if Davey has been secretly in love with him for as long as he can remember THAT IS HIS BUSINESS), Oh, and branching out into vigilantism, saving the city from imminent danger and petty crime, figuring out his new powers, etc. ya know, the ush.

The fall semester rolls around and Davey's friends have made their opinions on the friendly nieghorhood spiderman very clear. Katherine loves anything her dad hates, on principal, and thinks the articles he writes trying to paint him as a villain are distasteful. Race thinks Spider-Man is badass. Charlie admires the heroics. Most surprisingly, though, Jack isn't his biggest fan because "I kick some guys ass for beating on Charlie and I could get sent to juvie. He does it and he's a hero?"

Davey tries to stay neutral about it all because duh he's spiderman and no one can know. When Oscar and Morris push him around he obvs COULD take any of them to the floor but he wouldn't because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself. (Jack, after Oscar pushes Davey into the lockers: TRY THAT AGAIN AND YOU'LL BE SEEING THROUGH A BLACK EYE BIIIITCH)

One day they're at Mr. Jacobi's. Davey is at the register while Jack stocks up. Davey's spidey-senses go off and he asks Jack to cover for him for a bit. Jack is wary because Davey's been... off and unusually disfocused, flaky these past few weeks, but he's come to expect it. So he agrees. Davey goes off to fight some super down the road or smth and in his absence, Jack gets robbed.

Davey returns to work to see a stranger pointing a gun at Jack and swings into action (literally) and saves Jack as Spider Man.

Spider Man leaves before Jack can properly thank him and wouldn't you know it Davey is suddenly back on the scene and "Oh my GOD you got ROBBED?? Are you oka--WAIT THE SPIDERMAN SAVED YOU?"

And suddenly Jack has changed his tune when it comes to Manhattan's fave super hero.

Which. If Davey's being honest, he doesn't mind hearing Jack gush about him at length (even is he doesn't know it's... him). Davey kind of likes listening to Jack's ravings of "Oh he was so funny, actually. You'd think someone like that would have an ego but he was actually so humble?? God, and he's TALL--the pictures I get of him for The World don't do him justice." He doesn't mind it.

At first.

Because as we all know, when Jack Kelly puts his mind to something he will NOT shut the fuck up about it and he has been dead set on trying to meet spiderman again so he can "thank the guy properly". In fact, Jack's dumbass has been so distracted by his infatuation with spiderman that he's been walking into traffic, taking wrong turns on his walk home and ending up in dicey neighborhoods, and thank GOD Davey's always with him to prevent disaster because--

"Wait a second. Are you TRYING to get into trouble so spiderman will come and save you again?"

"ppppssshhh whaaaat? No! That's stupid--"

(that is 100% what Jack is doing.) (It doesn't work. For obvious reasons.)

And Davey laughs in disbelief like "I can't with you. Be safe on your shift. I'll see you tomorrow." BUT HOHOHOOOOO my boy has PLANS and you will NEVER GUESS who the fuck shows up to Jack's shift at Mr. Jacobi's that evening? Yeah it's spiderman.

Jack thanks him and they get to talking "Thanks for what you did. Not every day the guy you spent the last six months shit talking saves your ass."

Davey Jacobs can't stick up for himself at school, for fear of being found out. Even before that, he could never find the nerve to fight back to the Delancey brothers, or to tell Jack how he really felt. But with when he puts the mask on? Hoooooo boiiii he has the freedom to be the version of himself he;s always wanted to be: he's witty against these idiot villains and charismatic with the people he saves. So with his newfound courage he says:

"Not every day I save someone as handsome as you."

And that's where Davey went wrong because if Jack was annoying before, he's INSUFFERABLE now, and their lunch table can't go a single day without Jack bringing up his date that wasn't a date with spiderman and Race insinuates Jack might have a little crush and Davey snaps: "Can we please just shut up about that stupid bug?"

and it's Race, who is a little shit, so he smirks. "I though you liked old spidey?"

"in moderation."

and now Davey is jealous of himself. which is totally fun and enjoyable and not miserable at all.

Despite wishing he had the strength to be the person he was behind the mask without it, Davey finds himself visiting Mr. Jacobi's as spiderman more and more often, just to hang out with Jack. He loves it, because he loves Jack. But it's also sort of sad in a sense because he realizes in the half a year he's spent being spiderman, he hasn't had time to be a kid. To spend time running the school newspaper with Katherine. To sit on the rooftop of Davey's apartment with Jack and watch the city below them and talk about their future--about the apartment they're going to get together one day, where Davey will write for one of the local newspapers and Jack will fill the walls with his art.

And as much as he loves spending time with jack as spiderman, he can't help but mourn the loss of the little he gets with him as Davey. He can't help but notice the growing distance, and it's all his fault. HIs grades are slipping, he's losing his best friend, and honestly, he isn't even sure he's really making a notable difference in the city. And even though Davey's wearing a literal mask, Jack has always been able to see right though him.

"What's wrong?"

And Davey tries to lie. "Nothing."

"You know, you remind me of my best friend."

"How so?"

"He's a terrible liar, too."

And Davey lets it out--in his own, vague way. "I just... I've got the--powers. The suit. The mask. But underneath it all... I don't feel like much of a hero. When I go home tonight, I'm still going to be just an idiot kid who is way in over his head."

And that's when Jack takes spiderman by the hand and leads him to the alley behind the deli. "I wanna show you something."

and Davey's breath catches in his throat at the mural before him--spiderman with a million colors dancing around his silhouette. And Jack takes Davey's gloved hands. "You might not agree, but this is how New York sees you. How I see you." And Davey is SO overwhelmed he tries to run away but Jack grabs his hand, pulls him close, slides his hands under the bottom of his mask--

"I--" Davey tries to protest.

"Don't worry," Jack assures him. "I ain't gonna take it off, I just... If I don't do this I'm gonna regret it for the rest of my life."

And then Jack slides Davey's mask up to his nose and kisses him.

"Well don't you just look like the cat that caught the canary," Katherine says to Davey at the courtyard the next morning. "You finally tell Jack you're in love with him."

Davey rolls his eyes. "Sure. And I also found the holy grail this morning before school."

"Okay, strike one for me. No to the feelings. You finally tell him you're spiderman?"

"I mean, I've thought about it, but at this point I think it'd do more harm than--" and then Davey realizes. He looks at Kath, who looks just as surprised as he does.

"Hoooooly shit. I mean... I thought--you're always running off, and at the football game when that sand guy--no one could find you, but you're actually--!"

He claps a hand over her mouth. "Don't tell Jack."

and tbh that's all that I've got BUT other misc stuff I figure:

Medda would be the Uncle Ben character (which PAINS me, but could also tie in to Jack's waryness of spiderman??)

Jack works for The World as a photographer, but after developing his crush convinces Pulitzer to let him take pictures of spiderman

There's a Big Bad B-Plot but idk what lmao

ANGST!! Davey being sad about Jack being in love with SpiderMan but not with Davey because my boy would overthink the SHIT out of this

A conversation between SpiderMan and Jack where Jack brings up Davey "Davey's my... We're best friends." "And... that's all?" (is jack BLUSHING???) "I uh, it's not like that. We... I love him to death, but he's been so. Weird lately. Pulling away. I wanna talk to him, but. He ain't like me. He's smart. He's going to college. He's the greatest guy I know, but... guys like me don't end up with guys like him." cue more Davey overthinking

Katherine, after finding out, becomes Davey's "guy in the chair"

Katherine and Davey get secretive bc. hero shit. and Jack thinks they're secretly dating "You know, Davey... If you and Kath are in love, you can tell me" Davey: ????? "What gives you that impression?" "You two are always sneaking off. It's pretty obvious." "I--no. it's not like that at all--" "Well it sure seems like that" "Why do you even care? Aren't you going steady with the bug guy?" "His name is--" "You don't even know his name! You don't know the first thing about this guy and you're mooning over him like some fanboy." "Yeah, well I know he's there when I need him!" "What's that supposed to mean?" "Don't act like you don't know. Like you haven't spent the last few months prepping to leave me here, while you're over in princeton or yale or wherever the hell you're going off to." "The fact that you think I could ever go on without you-- Jack how do you not know..." "Not know what?" "Nothing..."

Eventually Big Bad would find out Davey's identity and use Jack against him and there's a Big Battle at the end where Jack has to watch spiderman get the crap kicked out of him and the mask slowly falls off and when Jack realizes it's Davey he just LOSES IT

I have no idea how this ends :)

THAT'S ALL I GOT FOR NOW FOLKS

#jack kelly #davey jacobs #newsies #uksies #javid #javey #javid newsies #livesies #ask #asks #somanywords #WOW THIS GOT LONG I AM SO SORRY #i'll never write this because i have so many wips and i do not have the talent for it BUT GOD IF I DID I WOULD #spiderman!davey

[highpri3stess]

Hello, I just read Monster, and I have to say. Whilst I don't usually read stuff like this bc I'm not a fan, you genuinely outdone yourself with it. Like I love how you portray the reader, she feels like a fully fleshed out character with depth, and I could fully empathise with her and understand why she did what she did. I also like how you portray abuse as it is. Making it clear that it isn't the victims fault. It NEVER is and just bc they didn't openly resist (due to fear or coercion, which I believe was what happened with the reader). This is just my subjective opinion, so please correct me if I'm wrong. Also I fucking hate mikey and izana. Like YH izana is a pos but MIKEY was the reason why this shit even started bc he and izana decided to slut shame reader and acted suprised when Emma rightfully calls them out. And then they have the audacity to balme the reader and then SA her. (Like sure she irgamsed but that was literally the body's response to stimuli. She did NOT enjoy that at all and then mikey thinking that shopping/food was gonna fix it and is like "why are you crying. You're still a virgin 🤓👆" made me wanna run him over. And then izana just being like "nobody's getting in between me and emma" forgetting that a) hr should have kept his fucking mouth shut. Lil bro beefing with a random girl who did nothing to him (fucking manlet) and b) Emma has her own life to live. Like icl it lowkey feels out of touch (or iazna expecting that she'd stay the same but I could be wrong) and that she's a grown ass adult. Ofc she's gonna get a man (draken) and friends (reader) she isn't gonna stick by his side forever but that doesn't mean she isn't his sister and that she loves him (that's going out the window when she catches both him and mikey in 4K terrorising reader)

Long story short. This is fucking amazing. You're amazing and the anons who are hating on you don't deserve even the scum of your shoe.

Also Praying on the sano's downfall. Want reader to go apeshit, pull a moon dong eun (the glory) and document EVERYTHING. expose them and the university and get that bitch shut down, everyone loses their scholarships (emma does too unfortunately which ends the friendship), sano name descacged to the pont of shinichiro, mokey and izana and she takes everyone down with her. The reason why I'm suggesting this is bc I'm imaging that reader slowly grows resentful of emma bc of the SHEER amount of trauma she experiences (all bc she dared be friends with her and they saw it fit to make her life hell) enough that she doesn't care what happens to her by the time she exposes them (OR alternatively. It can go the op with reader completely omitting emma from her exposes bc she did nothing wrong. She stood up for reader and was there during her lowest times. So why would she wanna ruin that for her. And I can see a moral dilema coming on, expose them and the university and cause a scandal, possibling getting it shut down, ruining Emma's career and future by assosiation. OR does she keep quiet, try to figure another or just take it to not ruin emmas nut she's just suffering).

Soo I hopes you accepted my word vomit. Thank you. Sorry if I was rude or intruding on your story if you already had it planned out. I'm just sharing my theories and what my happen.

As always, if im wrong, please don't hesitate to correct me. Thank you.

Oh thank you so much! And no, you're not intruding at all! Your analysis on the two chapters is very spot on and correct! You really took your time to read it and I'm very grateful for it!

I'm thinking a lot about how emma and y/n's relationship will evolve. I wish I could have expanded more on it but time is not on my side necessarily. I will try to do so if I can.

I wish we could get a satisfactory ending where everyone is exposed and there is a scandal (they aren't on scholarship but the school wouldn't want anyone to taint their image.) Unfortunately, it's never always like that in real life and I'm gunning for a more realistic ending.

(Oh I loved the Glory a lot too! I'm totally going to watch it)

#monsters ♡ #anons ♡

[charminggirl512]

mouthy ma // chibs telford x oc

Chibs Telford x F!OC

Warnings: 18+, language, violence, pregnancy, mentions of sex

Word Count: 1,044

 One of the many perks of working for a company that's owned by my husband's motorcycle club is that he can visit me at work all the time while not really taking time off work during the day. However, there is a definite con; it is usually one of the many targets for their enemies. That's how I ended up where I am now, five months pregnant with our first child and being held at gunpoint on the floor of a porn production studio.

    While it's not my first time being held at gunpoint, it is definitely the first time I've ever been held at gunpoint while pregnant, and my body didn't seem to understand the danger we were in. Our baby boy was kicking my very full bladder and was about to force me to make an already very disgusting floor even grosser. 

"Where are they? Huh? Why aren't they fucking here?" It was always the same questions. You would think that they would get more original over time, but they never do. 

"Well, Juice is over there tied to the chair, so you know where one of them is. I don't normally keep running tabs of all of them, but I'll say that they're probably on their way." If I was genuinely scared, I probably wouldn't be so sassy with them, but I felt like the likelihood that they would hurt a pregnant woman was pretty low. They may be lawless, but they're usually not completely without morals. 

"Such a mouthy little bitch," One of them says as he crouches down next to my face. "I should really shut you up."

    I fight the urge to roll my eyes and just barely suppress it. If my timing was correct, Chibs and most of the guys were at the clubhouse when I hit speed dial on the office phone that went directly to Chibs' cell phone. When I didn't say anything on the phone, he probably heard the men entering Cara Cara and figured out what was going on. It usually takes them about ten minutes to get here, and it took these guys seven minutes to even figure out how to tie Juice up, so they should be here any second now. 

   Right on time, I hear the rumble of half a dozen motorcycles outside and watch as half of the invaders seem to get excited at the prospect of a fight and the other half recognize that they were about to get their asses kicked. Jax is the first to enter, his gun already drawn, and Chibs is close behind him. He automatically scans around, trying to find me, and his eyes burn with rage when he sees me laying on my side with a gun pointed at me. 

"Hi, babe. Will you get rid of them? Baby Telford is really doing a number on my bladder and I really don't want to watch Juice clean my piss off the floor." 

   He scowls at my casualness, but I know that he secretly loves that I can handle intense situations. He holds his eye contact with me as he shoots my attacker in the head and I do my best not to be grossed out by the warm blood that splattered on me. Four more shots fire through the air from various guns and soon all the cracked-out junkies are dead on the floor. They must have been using Darby's shit, with how twitchy they were being. 

   My beautiful Scotsman comes over and gently helps me off the ground. I peck his lips before high-tailing it to the closest bathroom. I try to ignore the glitter coating every surface of the room and rush to pull my underwear down from underneath my dress as Chibs comes in, a dad-lecture begging to come from his mouth. 

"Now, before you lecture me, I just want to remind you that I'm very beautiful, very pregnant, and very willing to suck your cock when we get home. Carry on," I tell him and his lips twitch trying not to smile or laugh. 

"Lamb, I really can't take you seriously when I can see your cat-themed underwear around your knees and hear you pissing out the Atlantic Ocean." 

"Aren't they great? Pussies to cover my pussy," I say being dead-serious and I finally get a laugh out of him. Once I finish my business and wash my hands, he grabs my shoulders and turns me to face him, his face serious once again. 

"I know that you can handle intense situations, Ellie, but I need you to be more careful when you're in them so that I don't end up having a heart attack," He begins and moves one hand down to my bump and the other around the back of my neck. "I don't want anything to happen to the two of you and it'll be more likely that's the outcome if you keep your sassy little mouth shut." 

"I know, baby. I'm sorry and I will sincerely work on it," I answer, and I know that I actually should follow through. In around four months, it won't be just me and Chibs anymore; we'll have a little one to live for too. "Thank you for always being my knight in shining armor." 

"Mhm, anything for my girl," He replies as he finally leans down to properly kiss me for the first time since we both left for work this morning. Of course, we can't have a second to ourselves before our little boy is kicking up a storm. Chibs squats down so that he's level with my stomach and grabs both sides of the bump.

"Hey now, lad. Let your ma and da practice a little more baby-making before you enter the world. You'll get all the attention you want once you're out, but leave us alone until you're actually in the world." His da voice is still perfect from when Kerrianne was a wee babe, and I do my best to ignore the flutter it sends between my legs. He kisses our little one before standing back to his full height. 

"Now, let's go have a little chat with Juice about protecting you better because it really shouldn't involve him being tied to a chair." 

#chibs telford #chibs #chibs fanfiction #fanfiction #filip telford #soa #sons of anarchy #jaxteller #jax #chibs imagine #soa chibs #fanfic

[supernaturalgirl20]

Home is where the Heart is

Pairings: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings: Fluff, public shows of affection, mentions of pregnancy., little bit of anger, mention of death and prison, mention of drugs.

A/N: req by @browneyes-issac from the prompts. “Let’s go home. I am home.” I just changed this around a little. Hope you enjoy ☺️ also I will be using my old Taglist until Sunday and then it will be the new one 😊 sign up here

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

The sound of meat sizzling on the barbecue and laughter from the kitchen fills your senses as you sit on the decking - eyes closed, relishing the cool evening breeze. It was another typical Friday night at Benny’s - something that had become a regular thing since Columbia - barbecue, drinks and good company.

You’ve never felt happier than in this moment right here. A smile spreads across your face as arms come to wrap around you from behind, pulling you into a warm embrace. “Everything ok, mi amor?”

Turning in his arms, you reach up and place your lips on his in a gentle kiss. “Never been better, amor.” Frankie looks at you with so much love, it has you wondering how you got so lucky. He leans in to kiss you, his hands moving to grab at your ass when a voice from the patio door draws your attention. “Jesus Fish, we didn’t come for dinner and a show.”

“Shut up Benny. You're just jealous you’re the only one without a woman.” Frankie laughs at the antics between you and his friend as he pulls away - only enough to grab your hand and lead you to the fire pit.

“I think they're cute,” Emily, Will’s girlfriend says as she looks at you both. “They’re so in love even after all this time.”

“They’ve only been together for five years babe, it’s not been that long,” Will says as he emerges with a tray of food.

“Took them long enough to figure their shit out and get together. I’ve always told him, even when he was with Maria, that you were the one for him. He was just an idiot.” Santi comes up behind Frankie and slaps him on the back of the head.

“Cállate!” Frankie says as he rubs the back of his head. With everyone gathered around the fire, you all dig in.

***

Later that evening as you all sit around the fire - listening to the guys reminisce about their time in the army- a wave of nausea hits. Trying not to raise any alarms, you stand and make your way casually into the house - where you then rush towards the bathroom. With the contents of your stomach now in the toilet, you wash your mouth out with some of Santi’s mouthwash and fix up your hair a little.

Making your way back outside, you meet the worried gaze of your boyfriend. You smile brightly at him hoping to reassure him that you were ok. As you make your way to your seat, Frankie wraps his arms around you - pulling you into his lap.

“Everything ok, mi amor?” Snuggling into his warmth you simply nod your head before he leans in and kisses you softly - his hand unconsciously rubbing your stomach. The two of you are so lost in each other - wrapped up in your love bubble - that you fail to notice everyone else has gone quiet.

“Christ Fish, I think you need to go home.”

“I’m already home,” he says, his gaze fixed on you. A smile spreads over your face and you can feel the tears forming in your eyes as you reach out to cup his cheek. Bringing his face close to yours, you kiss him passionately.

“Awww.” Emily coos from beside Will.

“Christ, you two need to get a room,” Benny shouts as he throws a soft cushion at you both. It bounces off you and lands on the ground with a soft thud.

“The fuck Benny! Don’t throw shit at my girl again.” Frankie shouts finger pointed at Benny. “Frankie it’s fine, it was only a soft cushion.”

“What if next time it’s not a cushion? I don’t want anything to hurt you or the baby.” You can feel him stiffen under you at the realisation of what he’s just said.

“Baby? What baby?” Benny says as he sits up from his chair.

“You’re pregnant? Aahh this is amazing.” Emily squeals.

“What the fuck is going on?” Santi shouts, a look of confusion on his face.

Grabbing Frankie’s hand, you bring it towards your stomach - gaze focused on him. His brown eyes are full of love and adoration. “We’re having a baby. Sophia is gonna be a big sister.” Frankie kisses you again and then the guys are all standing as they come to embrace you both. Giving you congratulations on the great news. Santi whispers into Frankie's ear as they embrace.

“Looks like you're gonna need that ring now, Hermano. I’m happy for you man.”

“Gracias. Iba a pedirlo antes de que nos fuéramos.” I was gonna ask for it before we left. Frankie grabs you by the waist pulling you close before leaning down and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. He can’t keep his hands off you. “Puke!” Will nudges Benny in the side and he scowls. “What was that for? I was only joking, you guys know I love you both.”

“We know.”

Frankie turns to Santi, “I think we’ll head out. Thanks for having us tonight.”

“Hey, anytime and congrats again guys. I’m so happy for you both.” After saying your goodbyes you head out to Frankie’s truck where he helps you in. “You know I’m only a couple of weeks along, right? I don’t need too much help yet.” You say with a teasing smile.

“I know baby, but you’re gonna be doing all the hard work - it’s the least I could.”

“What did I do to deserve you, Frankie?”

“I think I should be asking that. I don’t know where I’d be without you, probably in prison or dead. You saved me and I owe you my life.”

“I’d do it all again because it gave me my family. Our small family of four.” Frankie’s heart swells hearing you include his daughter in your family. A huge smile spreads across his face as he drives you home, his hand resting on your thigh. His mom had always told him that home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling and you were his.

Permanent tag list: @lunaserenade @anaaaispunk @maievdenoir @elinedjarin @seasonschange-butpeopledont @alberta-sunrise @dihra-vesa @pintsizemama @athalien @loserrlauraa @thorins-queen-of-erebor @pascal-rascal424 @ikinmahlen @pascalisthepunkest @dindjarinneedsahug @almaeunice @jediknight122 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @colorlesswhispersunknown @stevie75 @rosie-posie08 @hauntedmama @greeneyedblondie44 @prettylilhalforc @giselatropicana @phoenixhalliwell @sherala007 @its--fandom--darling @donnaa @javierpinme @luxmundee @littlemisspascal @hayley-the-comet @ezras-channel-rat @misspearly1 @writer-darling @misspearlssideblog @sara-alonso @loonymagizoologist @harriedandharassed @faithiegirl01 @sturkillerbase

#pedro pascal #frankie morales x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier x reader

[ghostofaboy]

Rock Bottom - Reality Hits

Summary: Frankie is spiraling after Tom’s death. Drugs lead to some unhealthy friendships, and too ashamed to reach out to his former teammates for help, Frankie is drawn into a world he’s afraid he can’t get out of.

Frankie's first day with Tilly concludes, leaving Frankie feeling uneasy.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morale/Original Male Characters Rating: Explicit. Serious over 18s only Word count: 1325 Chapter: 20/?

Warnings: Mentions of past drug use, prostitution,

Note: This is a fic with gay and bi characters. Please make sure you read the tags/warnings. Header by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Part 19 / Part 1 / Masterpost

By early evening Frankie was exhausted. Sitting once more on the large sofa, wrapped in a soft white robe, Frankie could hear Tilly singing along to the radio in the kitchen while he prepared food. His hair was still wet from the shower they had taken together, which had been much needed after the activities of the day.

Tilly’s son, Jason, had returned home not too long after they had finished their snacks. He had rolled his eyes at the two naked men on the sofa and had retreated to his room. After that, Tilly had fucked him two more times in the sitting room. Once on all fours again on the floor, then again on his back on the sofa. Then, on wobbling legs, Frankie had followed Tilly up to the beautiful master bathroom, where the two of them had showered.

Now he was waiting while Tilly cooked with a throbbing ass and an odd feeling in his stomach. He felt strange. It wasn’t something he could put into words just yet, but he had a suspicion of what it was. Frankie knew that after the initial thrill of sex with Tilly had worn off, the true reality of the situation was starting to dawn on him. He would be doing this at least weekly now.

Pushing the bubbling feeling of shame down, Frankie reached over to his jeans and pulled out his phone once more. His shoulders slumped at the sight of a message and three missed calls from Tyler. The message was simple, asking if he was ok because he wasn’t picking up. Taking a deep breath, Frankie hit Tyler’s name to call him back, stepping outside into the garden as the call connected.

“Hey,” Tyler answered almost immediately.

“Hey.” Frankie tried to sound cheerful.

“Are you ok?” Tyler sounded worried. “I tried to call you, but you weren’t picking up. Then I stopped by on my way home from the store, but you weren’t home. Are you… are you ok, Frank?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Frankie gulped, peering back into the house to check Tilly wasn’t listening. “I’m just… I’m working, so I didn’t have my phone with me.”

There was a pause. Just a few beats, but it hung heavily. 

“At the shop?” Tyler’s voice wavered slightly.

Frankie sighed. Now was the moment. Should he lie or admit to Tyler where he was? Pinching his eyes shut, Frankie braced himself. There was no point lying. Tyler knew he would be working here soon and what he’d be doing. Time to rip the band-aid off.

“No, at Tilly’s.”

“Oh.” Was the quiet reply.

“I wasn’t sure whether or not to tell you.” Frankie found himself admitting, opening his eyes once more to check Tilly wasn’t nearby. “But I started my, um, other work today.”

“When you weren’t home, I kinda figured.” Tilly still sounded quiet. Then there was another pause. “I better let you go. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Yes.” Frankie answered firmly. “Yes, I’ll come by after-”

“No.” Tyler interrupted. “Let me know when you’re home and you’ve, um, showered. I’ll bring food.”

“Ok.” Frankie opened his mouth to say goodbye, but Tyler had already hung up. Looking down at his phone, Frankie could feel the ball of shame in his stomach lurch, growing again ever so slightly. 

“Frankie!” Tilly called out, catching his attention. “Come on! Food’s ready.”

Stepping back into the sitting room, Frankie tucked his phone back into his jeans before heading into the kitchen. Tilly smiled at him as he set two plates down on the table.

“Sorry, we’re eating in the kitchen.” Tilly motioned for Frankie to sit. “I turned the dining room into my home office. Been thinking of having an extension added on at the back.”

Frankie nodded along as Tilly talked about house extensions, decor and layouts. The ball in his stomach rolled in time with the conversation, growing with each trip around his insides. As he helped Tilly tidy up afterward, it spun. Finally, as he sat down on the sofa once more, Tilly’s arm around him, watching a movie, it announced itself. Lurching up, Frankie felt his head swim as he stood.

“Frankie?” Tilly reached out, stroking his arm, looking up at him concerned. “You ok?”

“Yeah, just need the bathroom.” Frankie lied, not waiting for a reply and quickly headed for the small bathroom across from Tilly’s office.

As soon as the door was closed, Frankie slumped down to the ground, tearing the robe off his sweating body, gasping for breath. Pinching his eyes shut, Frankie started counting. Ten, nine, eight, seven… following the steps he’d learned years ago.

He wanted to run home. He wanted to get out of this house. He hated this… this domesticity. Sitting with Tilly like he would with Tyler felt wrong. The sex he could handle. The sex felt… not right, but good, at least. But this closeness bothered him, pulling at his insides. It made him wish he was high. 

Crawling over to the sink, Frankie pulled himself up, surveying himself in the mirror. He looked the same as he always did, albeit with a slight sheen from the sweat. Same messy curls, same tired brown eyes, same patchy scruff. No one would ever know he was an escort now. Escort? Prostitute? He wasn’t sure which word to use.  Either way, he looked like the same old Frankie Morales.

After splashing some cold water on his face, Frankie scooped up the rope and took a deep breath before heading back into the sitting room. Tilly was still sitting on the sofa, watching the movie as Frankie came and sat back down.

“You ok?” Tilly turned as he sat, a concerned look on his handsome face.

“Yeah.” Frankie lied, nodding. “Just felt a little woozy all of a sudden. Probably tired.”

Tilly let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I’ve worked you pretty hard today. My plan was to ease into this, but we just went full throttle, didn’t we? You wanna head up to bed?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Frankie nodded again gratefully, and sleep really did sound good. “I’ll head up, see you in the morning.” Frankie stood up, grabbing his pile of clothes but stopped as Tilly took the remote and the TV clicked off.

“Come on then, baby.” Tilly started to follow him. “Let’s go to bed.”

The feeling in Frankie’s stomach grew heavy. “Together? I thought I’d be in the spare room.”

Tilly just laughed again. “I’d rather you were in with me.”

“Oh.” Frankie stopped at the foot of the stairs. “I just… I was gonna…”

“I’m going to lock up, then we can get some sleep.” Tilly answered firmly, though the smile never left his face.

It wasn’t a request. Frankie understood that. And somehow, that strangely made it better. Nodding, he turned and made his way to the master bedroom. Setting his clothes down on one of the nightstands, Frankie pulled out his phone, hoping to see a good night message from Tyler. But there was only one message, and it wasn’t from Tyler. 

[Hey Fish, I found you a program. Give me a call and I can help set it up for you. Will]

“Anything good?” Tilly's voice made Frankie jump, and he quickly set his phone back down on top of his clothes. 

“Just a friend.” Frankie shrugged the robe off and climbed into bed next to Tilly. “He’s, um, he’s found a program for me. Rehab.”

“That’s great.” Tilly beamed at him as he pressed his naked form to Frankie in a clumsy hug. “The sooner you get some professional help, the better you’ll feel. Anyway, we need rest now. I’ve got plans for you tomorrow and I’m going to want to have you right next to me when I wake up.” Tilly laughed as he switched off the light, patting Frankie’s ass fondly. “I told you I’d have that ass gaping by Monday.”

#frankie morales #frankie 'catfish' morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #triple frontier #frankie morales x male character #rock bottom fic #frankie morales x original male character(s)

[moxxie-joestar]

Jojo's bizarre adventure character argument about politics at 1 AM

Character presenting: Joseph joestar, Jotaro kujo, Josuke higashikata (4), Giorno Giovanna, jolyne cujoh, Johnny joestar, gyro zeppeli, Josuke higashikata (8) & jodio joestar

meanwhile at Alcatraz island

Jodio joestar: too early in the morning for this shit. *chugging some cola & saw this post* what the fuck gyro?!

Gyro zeppeli: who's disturbing my morning of peace?! *enters the mess hall/cafeteria of Alcatraz & saw Jodio* Jodio, what do you want? It's 1 AM, why the fuck are you up so early?

Jodio: I want you to use every cell in your brain & figure out why you tweet this shit, man!

Gyro: what?! It's true! Out current President is sucking up to the British, & the brazil are trying to take our county!

Jodio: you do realize that you said is insensitive, right? America isn't about attacking people, you fucking idiot!

Gyro: O/C it is! Who're you to tell me that Robert E.O. Speedwagon was in the wrong? & if we had used guns in Australia, all that shit about the enemies 2fort taking over wouldn't have happened either!

Johnny joestar: what're you boys yappin' about? Don't you know what time it is?

Jodio: this fucker dickhead thinks that we should have attack the 2fort & the gm_construct. He's like, worse than Afghanistan terrorist!

Gyro: it is damn true that if we had nuked them sooner, we would have dominated the entire world & it would have been way better then this dystopia!

Johnny: IDC about them Britain or Brazilian people.

Jodio & gyro: WHAT!?!

Johnny: why should we be concerned over some distant nations? America's dying, we need reshape it to be confederacy once again.

Jodio: are you fucking kidding me right now?!

Johnny: yeah it's the way things were always meant to be, it's natural, that's why we need segregation now, segregation tomorrow, & segregation forever.

Jodio: you should seriously reconsider your words, man. Segregation ain't cool.

Gyro: yeah, & it divides people, not unite them!

Johnny: I can't stand havin' to see a Chinese person, or a Hispanic, claimin' they're the better of me, I can't. & not to mention, black people cause 70% of the crime.

Jodio: you make one more racist word & I'm cancelling you on Twitter, Johnny. I'm not joking.

Johnny: take example of south Africa, it prospered, now it is a shithole filled with incompetent people, That's what happens when you get rid of segregation, son!

Jodio: no, it's failed B/C separating people of skin color was morally wrong in the world, that's why apartheid south Africa failed, nobody liked segregation dude!

Gyro: you also believe in a cause that failed! How's it feel to have your asses kicked by the North, traitor?

Johnny: shut your damn mouths, you two are Yankee sons of bitches!

jolyne cujoh: what the bloody hell are you blokes doin' up at 1 AM in the mornin'?!

Jodio: we're talking about politics here, just go back to bed.

Jolyne: politics?! That's my favorite discussion! I'm lib-right. I love my guns.

Jodio: WTF? You don't need an AR-15 to protect your ass!

Jolyne: what're you talking about I don't have an AR-15 you bloody mongrel! I carry my M16A2 with me. I also carry my launcher, ever heard the song: "keep your rifle by your side" ?

Jodio: that's from fucking game. I can't believe you take that shit seriously girl! Also guns kill a lot of people man as John seed once said: "we'll take your AR-15's"!

Jolyne: oh you want my weapons huh? Well you're gonna have to come & take it, wanker!

Johnny: I won't lie. You don't need those big guns anyway.

Jolyne: yes I fucking do! What if some intruder comes into my house & I didn't have a weapon? WTF am I supposed to do? Call the police? I'll be dead by the second I call them!

Gyro: it's called obeying the law, you australian son of a bitch! Most shootings happen B/C of people like you!

Giorno Giovanna: why are you guys up early?! We were supposed to wake up at 6 AM, not fucking 1 AM!

Jodio: OH shit, it's the drug lord.

Giorno: what did you just called me?!

Jolyne: why are you assuming that he's a drug lord? He could be something else!

Jodio: what? He could be a drug lord, dude!

Gyro: hate to say it, but that libtard's right. We have a drug lord on our army.

Giorno: STOP CALLING ME THAT! I am not a goddamn drug lord! Just B/C I happen to be Italy doesn't mean I am selling drugs of cracks & cocaine! You have no clue what you're talking about what so ever!

Jodio:

calm down dude, it was a joke.

Giorno: no! I am sick of your jokes, Jodio! I want you to quit calling me something that I'm not, as for you, gyro, I want you to quit calling the Jotaro a nazbol, I actually spoke to him & he's the most reasonable person of everybody in this God forsaken army!

Gyro: he is speaks German! He is a Nazi terrorist! You're a drugs leader you're suppose to hate him, you idiot!

Johnny: Giorno ain't no goddamn drug lord, he's one of 'em stinking socialist.

Giorno: I am not a socialist either! I am a democratic technocrat!

Jodio & gyro: a democratic techo-what?

Giorno:technocrat! I believe Dr. Vu's & general Vu's science, science is what will improve us in the future! Not your stupid ideologies & not your pitiful religion either!

Johnny: how dare you criticise God like that! What dumb son of a bitch would take you seriously?!

Giorno: what's wrong with my views?! You're the one who thinks that the divine entity telling you to do something when it doesn't exist! God didn't fuck your mom, YOUR DAD DID!

Johnny: everyone knows that God is what progress us & protect us, not your damn science!

Gyro: & democracy is weak! Just look at the U.S. & how fucked up we now B/C of these politicians!

Giorno: democracy is what makes the individual free! & we need more intelligent people in this world, the only people I would consider intelligent is Jotaro, Joseph, speedwagon & Anthony Smith!

Jodio: yeah gyro! Are you a crazy fascist like that demented Trump?

Gyro: trump? Fascist? Are you joking you hippy bastard? I am a PATRIOT, I believe in United States of America, being the shiny beacon of the motherfucking world! We have a DUTY to spread out great ways overseas! But look at the woke democrats & the crazy foaming republicans! They have lost the way of the true American patriot, now they're making the U.S. A circus & the federal government are the clowns! It's time we get a good old green camo & gold stars makeover in the white house! It's time we have another General like Patton Washington or even poopy me for President!

Jotaro kujo: [RAGE STAR PLATINUM ORA]

Jodio, gyro, Johnny, Jolyne & Giorno: [scared & screams]

Jotaro: for the love of all that is mighty, could you all shut up? I am trying to sleep & you all are SCREAMING LIKE A BONDLE OF SQUALING HOGS!

Jolyne: who the bloody fuck you callin' a 'squaling hogs'?! You're fatty fuck!

Jotaro: Jolyne, I'll duct tape your mouth & tie up your wrists & ankles, so I can use you as a pillow! & you gyro! Knock it off with the terror shit!

Gyro: or what?! You're from Japan, you were SPEAK & disguised as German! You're a terrorist! I should deport you to the HUAC for UN-America attitude for this!

Jotaro: gyro for the last goddamn time just B/C I was disguised & speak a German, DOESN'T MEAN I AM A FUCKING TERRORIST!

Giorno: yeah! & you need to STFU with your anti-terrorist rhetoric! It's getting pretty old! WE'RE SICKING TIRED OF YOUR GODDAMN SHIT! You think some douchebag like speedwagon is always 100% right, he didn't even have proof of any terrorist imfiltration, that's how irrelevant he was! He was a useless fuck in the end!

Gyro: irrelevant? As irrelevant as Islamist terrorist & North Korean were in their times compared to President Eisenhower!

Jodio: he wasn't even the President at the time, that was, Truman, you fucking idiot!

Johnny: at least he didn't consider ending segregation like Eisenhower did!

Gyro: Johnny joestar, you're more racist than goddamn Trump, you know that? At least the military isn't segregated it's integrated & filled with virtuousness by our merit in history!

Jotaro: speedwagon was no better than Arabs & the Islamic or North Korea & the nuke missile! Targeting anyone & everyone who was even slightly against his ideals! Throwing allegations left & right or even on the slightest "abnormal" behavior to eliminate anyone who could politically challenge him!

Josuke higashikata (4): what in the bloody fuck's goin' on 'ere?! You guys woke me up & made me all sober! Now I can't get comfortable!

Jotaro: everyone is arguing about politics & ideologies. Gyro is also up to his bullshit again & calling me a terrorist & Giorno a drug lord.

Josuke (4): gyro. I know we're best buddies... But arguing about politics at this time of night gets you a lot of headaches. Trust me, lad.

Johnny: & Giorno is saying that religion doesn't matter! That idiot is literally ignoring meral & ethics! We need those & God on our life to be righteous!

Josuke (4): you don't speak on behalf of the lord, ya bloody racist! He loves everybody as equals!

Jotaro: & just B/C Giorno is a atheist doesn't mean he has abandoned his morals & ethics! You don't need to be religious to have those, you know that right?

Jodio: if gyro is a fascist, & Johnny's a confederate racist, jolyne's a lib-right pro-arms dickhead & Giorno is a scientists... Which I don't know think is an actual ideology, then what you two's beliefs?!

Jolyne: the big boi dad is probably a terror, or a tsarist, IDK...

Jodio: WTF is a "tsarist"?!

Gyro: I'm not a fascist you libtard! I'm an advanced for military intervention in politics!

Giorno: that's exactly what fascism is, you stupid dummkopf!

Gyro: oh shut up you drug lord, you're not even democratic you're a scientists whatever that means.

Giorno: for the last time, I AM NOT A GODDAMN DRUG LORD!! I AM A FUCKING TECHNOCRAT!

Josuke (4): I am a socialist democrat, I believe in equality for everybody, it has free healthcare & free shit that everyone would want to get.

Jodio: WTF is that? Socialism? Are you a Bernie bro or something?

Jotaro: OKAY! ALL OF YOU! SHUT UP! NOW! first off, Jodio, think of a monarchy as the eastern European version of a monarchy or empires. Second off, Jolyne, I'll wring your fucking neck if you call me a terrorist like gyro has been doing. & lastly. I am a menshevik. I support the established of a Japanese Republic!

Gyro: ohh a Republican, you can't fool me with those terms it's a JAPANESE EMPIRES republic, eh?

Johnny: now that's a good one gyro.

Giorno: you people are such childish kids!

Jotaro: gyro, you have NO. IDEAL. how much I recent the Japan emperor & what it has done. What it has done to Japan. What it has done to me. What it has done to my family!

Gyro: yeah & so what? Why should I believe you? I've never met Japan that hated emperor, you're probably just lying!

josuke (4): gyro I hate havin' to see you like this, but need I remind you that we're on the red army, again?

Gyro: WHAT?!?

Jodio: oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, pls/plz don't actually tell him that again!

Gyro: I hope Jonathan joestar & Washington is watching me...B/C this is how true patriot deals with terrorist~ better dead...than red.

Jolyne: you remember the last time he went terrorist attack at Nazi Germany & Bolsheviks Russian? He was having a terrorism breakdown. Don't mess him up like that, mate.

Josuke (4): gyro don't think about it!

Jodio: oh shit WTF is he gonna do?!!

Gyro: [ULTIMATE UNITED STATES OF AMERICAN RAGE]

Joseph joestar:

SHUUUUUUUUUT THE FHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK UP!

What are you fucking imbeciles doing awake at 1 AM? WE HAVE TO TAKE OVER THE 123 SUNSET STREET STUDIO/MFN STUDIO IN THE FUCKIN' MORNING, & YOU ALL ARE AWAKE?!?

Jodio: my fucking ears, Joseph why did you have to yell so fucking loud?!

Joseph: mind your tongue or I'll cut it out!

Jotaro: believe me gramps. I am just as annoyed you are. They're all arguing about politics & ideologies. IDK how it started, but it all woke me up too.

Joseph: so this is what the whole screaming was about?! POLITICS?!? You all are the most EMBARRASSING character I have EVER worked with! this is the third time this week the screaming! Can we sleep for one goddamn night?! I AM SICK OF HAVING TO WAKE UP TO SEE THAT SOME IMBECILE HAS SOMETHING TO SCREAM ABOUT!

Gyro: & what about YOU new Yorkers? Do you follow a particular ideology different than mine? It so, you would be wrong as only a strong stratospheric government will enrich & stabilize our country from outside & inside threats! Hahaha!

Joseph: you want to prolong the argument? Fine, I'll have to remind you about what truly matters! You seek to rule over the badlands with your so-called "stratocracy" when you can't even tell what planet we were on! You once told me that we were on the goddamn MOON at one point! You think that by running the badlands under a military dictatorship, you'll prosper?! Need I remind you that you're under service of fucking speedwagon foundation?!!? BY MAKING YOUR OWN GODDAMN NATION, YOU'RE ACTIVELY BETRAYING THE JOESTAR COMPANY! YOU'RE BREAKING THE CONTRACT THAT YOU, SIGNED TO FIGHT FOR. I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M SCREAMING TOP OF MY LUNGS & RAISING MY VOICE, AT THE GODDAMN PERSON WHO THINKS HE'S IN THE UNITED STATES ARMY! I SNUCKED INSIDE THE GODDAMN ANTHONY D. SMITH'S OFFICE, YOU DICKHEAD, YOU'RE NOT A REAL SOLDIER! YOU NEVER WERE INSIDE THE AMERICAN FORCES, YOU'RE A CIVILIAN IN SOLDIER CLOTHING! YOU WERE NEVER PART OF THE MILITARY, YOU NEVER PART OF THE AMERICA ITSELF!

Jodio: Jesus Christ, Joseph calm down! Okay, if Jotaro is a menshevik or...democratic, & the Josuke is a socialist, then what you Joseph?

Joseph: I am a corporate, I went to central America to make deals with the SCP foundation there. I also recently purchase slaves in the underworld market, I am also human trafficker leader. Just recently I made sales on guns, M.R.E, first aid kit & more I made from working with speedwagon foundation. I have a lot of stand arrows & requiem arrow was made by meteorite from cape york, Greenland since 50,000 BCE to trade. As long as I'm interested into whatever you're offering me.

Johnny: hot damn cousin, you got anything to sell?

Josuke (4): you own people which is morally wrong! How dare you make money off of helpless people, while also sitting on half of the world's money!?

Gyro: I knew it from the stars that you were a goddamn globalist piece of scumbag shit, Joseph! Almost everybody here would fucking hate you!

Jodio: yeah & we murder enemies, not exploit people, you fucking corporatist!

Gyro: you're a coward hiding behind your money, you deserve to die just B/C you follow that ideal!

Josuke (4): I don't agree on him dyin' but he should definitely be beaten up! What do ya say lads?!

Jotaro: Josuke, are you crazy?! We can't fight our team!

Johnny: not to mention, y'all are getting uppity at his ideals, y'all are pathetic.

Giorno: oh so says the overzealot religious man who thinks God does everything he tells him to do!

Jolyne: quit mocking us Christmas, you fucking atheist nerd!

Joseph: oh yeah?! I can take everyone of you on, on gun on your head & you're fucking dead!

Josuke higashikata (8): [angry Japanese]

Jodio: holy shit, gappy we didn't mean to wake you up sailor!

Josuke (8): [growing Japanese]

Gyro: WTF dose Japanese arsonist want?!

Josuke (4): we were just talkin' politics... Nothing too serious, right lads?

Jolyne: yeah, what he said.

Josuke (8): [asking to join]

Jodio: oh, you wanna join us? Well, what's your ideal?

Josuke (8): [tell about my politics]

Jodio: WHAT? ANARCHIST?! gappy that's a terrible idea!

Joseph: you're an anarchist?!? [Laughter] that's fucking hilarious!

Jolyne: I got jarate (taught by Vaggie) here if something goes horrible wrong, lads.

Josuke (8): [angry Japanese about society being terrorist]

Jodio: okay this is not good in here uh.

Jotaro: gappy! Don't you dare!

[Roundabout by yes playing]

⬅ TO BE CONTINUED ⬛

Original name was (TF2 15.AI) The RED TEAM debate over ideologies politics at 4 AM

#jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo #jojo bizarre adventure #jojo golden wind #jojo josuke #jojo jotaro #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jojo oc #jojo part 2 #jojo part 3 #jojo part 4 #jojo part 5 #jojo part 6 #jojo part 7 #jojo part 9 #jojo pt 5 #jojo stardust crusaders #jojo vento aureo #jojo's #jojo's anime #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo's bizzare adventure battle tendency #jojo's bizzare adventure diamond is unbreakable #jojo's bizzare adventure fanart #jojo's bizzare adventure golden wind #jojo's bizzare adventure stardust crusaders #jojo's bizzare adventure steel ball run #jojo's bizzare adventure stone ocean #jojo's bizzare adventure vento aureo #jojolands

[writtenfromhawkins]

daylight.

ship: photographer!jonathan byers x model fem!reader

summary: reader finally gets to work with the jonathan byers.

word count: 6.5k.

warnings: drugs/drug use (there is one brief scene where the reader actually uses a hard drug, otherwise it’s just mentioned), swearing, smut, eating,  mentions of creepy behavior and assigning morality to food i.e it being good or bad (it’s the 90s and the fashion industry is gross). just listen to supermodel by maneskin and you’ll get the vibes. minors do not read or interact.

authors note: totally self-indulgent fic here, but i hope you enjoy it anyway. getting this out later than i had anticipated, but if there’s interest, i’ve already come up with some ideas for additional parts.

there are so many lines that i've crossed unforgiven.

Early spring on the East Coast is a dreary affair and even a city as magical as New York can’t escape it. The air crisp, a light downpour made the already heavy traffic come to a standstill and you arrive outside The Plaza a good twenty minutes after you were supposed to.

You probably should have felt at least a little bad about it. Showing up late was never a good look. But hey, you couldn’t control the weather or the traffic or the fact that the photographer’s assistant scouted a hotel that required you to travel to it. 

“Shoulda did this at the Carlyle,” you tell your manager, Murray, who, much to your surprise, had been in the car that picked you up from JFK. This was all a very last-minute affair. You’d sent your own assistant home and had expected to be alone in The Big Apple.

You don’t get a real response, just a gruff laugh as he continues perusing your schedule for the next few days. 

He was a strange man, one who seemingly did not belong in the fashion industry, but he knew what he was doing and made you more money than you thought possible. That was certainly enough to endear you to him.

“Alright,” he says, slamming the planner shut, “this Guess shoot should be over and done quick. I hear this Byers kid is a real professional.”

You don’t say it but you’ve heard the same thing. Somehow this would be the first time working with Jonathan Byers but you certainly were familiar with the name.

Some of the girls had gushed about him—he was so cute and nice and made them feel at ease. Others complained that he didn’t accept their advances or entertain their diva antics. Even worse, one regaled you with a horrific tale of getting caught doing blow on set. He’d tossed the little baggie in the trash without a word. 

Personal opinions varied from model to model but one thing stayed consistent: he was really, really good at his job.

“That means,” Murray continues, “you have the rest of the day and night to yourself. Have fun but, for the love of God, behave yourself. I’m begging you, please. You’ve got two big campaigns coming and name-dropping Gianni can only save your ass so many times.”

You huff at that. You don't even do anything that bad—the tabloids liked to pick on you. Sure, you might have gotten kicked out of a club or two and yeah, you trashed a couple hotel rooms with your shitty ex-boyfriend. You might have even accidentally shoplifted a Chanel scarf once but who hasn’t?

“I’ll be good,” you assure him anyway, properly admonished despite your refusal to accept any wrongdoing. 

“That’s what I like to hear. So, all you gotta do tomorrow is a fitting for Calvin Klein and then you’re free to fuck back off to the West Coast for the rest of the week.”

“Great,” you nod, opening the door.

“You’ll notice the vultures aren’t out right now. Since you just got back from Milan, I figured you could use the break.” You’re actually about to thank him when he says, “but they’ll be here when you’re done so whatever shit they put on your face? Keep it on.”

Asshole. “See you later, Murray.” You don’t give him the chance to say anything else before you’re outside and walking towards the building.

Head low, sunglasses on, you’re able to cross the lobby with zero issues and snag yourself an empty elevator. You settle into the corner, back pressed against the wall as you grab ahold of your Prada bag, dipping into its contents to pull out a tiny, clear vial. You almost salivate at the sight.

Though the neatly packed powder excites you—probably more than it should—the tiniest bit of shame creeps its way in, the way it usually does when you know you’re doing something wrong. It’s for the best. Fashion Week just ended, your flight was long and you were tired—you needed the energy, after all. 

You twist the top off with ease, holding it against the neck of the bottle, so you can slip one manicured nail inside. You pucker your lips, wiping the digit across your top gums once, twice, a third time for good measure, and then you’re putting the lid back on and carefully tucking it away. 

By the time the doors open up on the top floor, you can already feel it. Your body feels warmer, and there’s an extra pep in your step. You’ll feel like shit in a couple hours but for now, you’re golden.

The whole floor was booked, a way to give you privacy and a quiet place to work, but the room you actually needed to be at has its door cracked, they were expecting you. You push your way inside.

Jonathan is directing his assistants as they set up the lighting until he spots you. He pats one on the back, giving one last instruction before heading over.

You’re surprised at first. With the way some of the girls talked about him you expected a little more Brian Austin Green and a little less Kurt Cobain. But then he’s smiling at you and you think you get it.

“Hey! Jonathan Byers,” he introduces himself, extending a hand to you.

You know who he is, he knows who you are, but only pretentious assholes acknowledge that so, you shake his and return the pleasantry.

“Nice to officially meet you.” And the way he says it lets it be known he’s not the only one with a reputation. Yours, though, is a little less sparkling. “Right through there,” an arm extends, motioning towards the bathroom and you catch yourself admiring the sinewy muscle the action exposes before following its direction, “is Gina and Zack.” With both doors open, you can see them in the adjoining room. “They’ll take care of you and then send you back to me.”

It’s most definitely not your first day on a set and, if this was coming from anyone else, you’d find it condescending. But with the way Jonathan says it, it sounds nice, like you’re being looked out for.

“Cool,” you acknowledge the sentiment and head right towards hair and makeup.

—

In no time your hair has been teased, your cheeks highlighted and your lips glossed. You emerge from the bathroom in a black cocktail dress.

Jonathan claps his hands together when he sees you. “There she is! We’re gonna start off on the dresser. Can you get up there?”

You can and you do. Once you’re situated, you pull the hem of the dress down slightly and look up at him expectantly.

“Need you to move a little.”

When you do, he shakes his head. “No, no, I need you…” He trails off, sighing. “Back, a little more to the left.”

You shimmy your entire body in the direction he mentioned but he still doesn’t look pleased. “That’s not—“ His gaze flickers from you to Gina, the makeup artist, who is lingering nearby for touch-ups. “Can I do it?”

In quite literally any other situation a photographer wanting to touch you would be enough to send up hundreds of red flags and set off all the alarms. It’s their way of trying to cop a feel or start something equally unseemly. But, despite all your experience and years in the business, nothing in the request was enough to unnerve you. 

You just met the man and you were finding yourself trusting him, feeling as though you were actually safe. So the decision was an easy one, you nod your consent. 

Once you agree, Jonathan loops the strap of his camera around his neck and steps toward you, the heel of your stilettos brushing against his knee. Two big hand grabs ahold of your hips and, with surprising ease, slides you back to your original position, only with your left hip cocked back leaving you at an angle.

Somehow you’d just been manhandled in the gentlest, most respectful way possible.

You gaze up at him to see he’s already looking at you. Jonathan studies you for a moment—really, really studies you—and seems to see something he doesn’t like as the corner of his lips twitch downward before he steps back. 

“Perfect. Don’t move, okay?”

You take a few pictures exactly in that position. Another with you bent down, cleavage exposed, one finger hooked in the back of your heel as if you’re taking it off. Another with your legs spread but only slightly—we’re not shooting for Penthouse here, Jonathan had said.

The next outfit is a completely unbuttoned white dress shirt, a lacy black bra, and a pencil skirt in the same dark shade. You don’t know if slutty businesswoman really fits Guess but who are you to complain?

From the door to the nightstand by the bed, you’re photographed undressing as you cross the room. The shirt is discarded immediately, the rest is an illusion, hinting at nudity as you unzip the skirt but never pull the fabric below your hips.

Last is a tiny little romper and stockings which you’re donning as you’re sprawled out on the mattress, arm by your head. It’s fitting because all you want is to crawl into bed minus the glitz and glamor and the designer clothes. By this point, you’re coming down. The high never lasted long enough but, after only getting a tiny amount far too long ago, it was painfully brief. You’re a little foggy and tired, and you hope, as you switch poses, Jonathan can’t see your hands shake.

“I need you to kneel on the bed for me now.”

You’re a little slow, but you get into position as requested—

“Ass off your heels, please.”

Okay, almost as requested. At the order, you lift your bum up, looking at Jonathan, almost expecting some praise. It doesn’t come. You only know you’re where he wants you because he raises the camera. You drop your hands to your thighs, tilt your head and prepare for the telltale flash that never comes.

“You’re totally dead behind the eyes.”

“What?”

He looks at you with a frown. “Nothing is going on up here,” he points to his own visage, “you look bored, tired.”

You freeze, feeling like you’re caught. “I-uh,” you stammer, wincing at your lack of an immediate answer. Could this get any worse? “I am tired. I was just in Italy and I came here right off the plane.”

“Uh huh,” Jonathan nods. You don’t think he believes you. “But the people who see these pictures aren’t gonna get the backstory. You gotta grab them on first look so I really need you to try to perk up a little.”

You bristle, embarrassed to have let anything affect your work. “Got it.”

“Look at the camera like it’s a delicious, juicy steak.”

“I’m a vegetarian.” It’s supposed to be a joke but he doesn’t laugh.

“Then a nicely seasoned chunk of tofu. We’re almost done here, let’s get this last shot and finish up.”

You sigh as you look at the gadget, desperate to finish the shoot off on a high note. You do everything you can—you picture the camera as a beautiful man, a beautiful woman, a brand new Balenciaga.

You have no idea if it’s working until Jonathan says, “that’s a wrap.” He comes around to your side of the bed and offers his hand, which you take. “Let’s get you changed.”

Once you’re back in your street clothes, you say your goodbyes and thank yous to the people on set. It’s a nicety that you don’t partake in often, just when you’re trying to make a good impression. 

The rounds, as expected, take a while and you’re deliberate in their order, saving Jonathan for last. When you approach him, drained but still enthusiastic, it’s with a smile. “I wanted to say goodbye! It was really nice to work with you.” It’s true and you hope to do it again.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It was a pleasure.” He sounds sincere as he grabs your elbow and leans close. You almost think he’s going to kiss your cheek but he goes past, lips an inch from your ear, his voice just a whisper. “Next time, show up sober.”

—

maybe i've stormed out of every single room in this town.

It doesn’t take long for your jet-set lifestyle to have you back in New York. It’s closer to summer, still a little cold, but not enough to deter you from wearing your favorite little red dress when night hits and you receive an invitation to hit the town with some friends. The Roxy most certainly deserved to see you at your best.

Besides, you believed that part of feeling good was looking good and you were certainly both as you settled into the VIP section your group had snagged, bottles and shots flowing. You’d just gotten comfortable, only able to drink half of your vodka cranberry, when, without even really thinking, you grabbed a Marlboro Red and lit up. You didn’t even get the chance to take a drag before security was stomping over.

“Hello, miss, we’re gonna need you to put that out. This isn’t the smoking section.”

“Excuse me?” You pull back, instantly bothered by the intrusion.

“You can’t smoke here,” the security guard explains, a little more straight to the point this time.

Entirely out of spite, you bring the ciggy to your lips, inhaling deeply before exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Interesting, because it seems like I’m managing to do it just fine.”

The man’s jaw clenches, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “I’m going to ask you one more time, please put that out.”

You shake your head, stubborn, annoyed that your buzz had been killed before you could even get a real one going. “Don’t think I’m going to do that.”

“Okay, then you need to leave.”

“Yeah, don’t think I’m gonna do that either.”

You’re being unreasonable. He’s rough and a bit loud, he’s a New Yorker after all, but the man just doing his job certainly has not been unkind to you. There's no reason for you to not comply with the club rules… besides the fact that you have a problem with authority. You hate being told what to do and you’re beyond frustrated that your night out—always damn near a religious experience for you—had been interrupted.

“Well, those are your options. Put out the cigarette or go.”

Eyes rolling towards the ceiling, you grab your purse from beside you and wiggle it. “How much to make you go away so we can go back to enjoying ourselves?”

“Alright,” he says, reaching over to grab ahold of your arm, “it’s time for you to go.”

“Hey,” you call out, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. He tightens his hold as you struggle. “Let go of me.”

“You need to leave now!” Still doing his best to be gentle, he pulls you to your feet and leads you down the stairs.

“This is ridiculous.” All the way you’re pulling, pushing, all in an attempt to get free. In the may lay, the still lit cigarette fell from your grasp, getting stomped out shortly after by another patron’s dancing feet.

“You had your chance.” He’s talking to you the way one would a naughty toddler and it rubs you the wrong way—as if he hadn’t already done enough to end up on your shit list. 

“Oh, fuck off,” you scoff, ignoring the curious stares as you pass, “Do you even know who I am?”

“Yup,” he’s quick to answer. “You’re the lady too stubborn to put out a stupid cigarette.” You don’t know how he’s managed it but he’s gotten you to the door much quicker than you could have anticipated.

With a soft push to your back, he’s nudging you through it. “Now, you enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Asshole!” You call back of your shoulder, arms crossing over your chest.

You’re alone, it’s late and you need to figure out a way to call a car—there’s no way you were going to take a taxi, you were down bad, but not that bad. Before you can make any plans, you hear a voice behind you say, “Man, that was really embarrassing.”

It’s been a while, but you still recognize it instantly. “Jonathan Byers,” you almost sound impressed. “What are you doing here?”

“Once a year they let me out to socialize with all the beautiful people.” He moves so he’s beside you now. You can see he cleans up pretty well. “Got here just in time to see the end of your temper tantrum.”

“Hey, that’s not fair! I didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“Right.” He’s smirking because you’re full of shit and he can tell. “Can’t believe they threw you out like that for no reason. Don’t they know who you are?” His amusement, though, fades as he leans a little closer. “How fucked up are you?”

That was the problem. “I’m not, I’m totally sober,” you bemoan as if there was no bigger tragedy than not being plastered on a Friday night. “Listen—”

You’re ready to ask if he had a cell on him—your hunk of brick had taken an unfortunate trip earlier that month backstage at a show when you were feeling particularly miffed—when you’re interrupted by flashing lights. Paparazzi, of course. When you first got there, you’d been able to enter through the back exit. Now, though, you got thrown out the front door and were a literal sitting duck.

“Shit, shit, shit!” You become frantic, hands jumping to your hair, patting it down, moving to your stomach, smoothing wrinkled fabric. “Murray is gonna kill me if they catch me lookin’ a mess.”

In a second, Jonathan gets an idea. It’s probably (definitely) not a good one, impulsive, sure to disrupt his night. But he’s certain the friends he’s going to have to ditch will understand. “Think you can run in those?”

You follow his gaze down to your shoes. They’re sky-high and strappy. “I’m sure as hell willing to try.”

Before you can react further, Jonathan grabs you and is leading you down the sidewalk before you both break out into a full-on sprint, the sound of your name getting more and more distant. All the paparazzi get are a few shots of your back, hand-in-hand with a “mystery” man.

A few poorly lit, sketchy alleys and sharp turns later, you’re in a parking lot. You practically throw yourself against the nearest car, cold metal soothing your warm skin. You hunch forward, breath labored, smile wide. Jonathan is right beside you, laughing, face flushed and you take a moment to just appreciate the sight.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“Heard that a time or two,” he teases, catching your gaze. “I’m parked somewhere in here… You need a ride?”

“You have a car? In New York City?”

“Makes escaping from paparazzi really easy.” It’s a total joke. 

Up until a matter of minutes ago, he had zero experience with the concept and hadn’t even been sure his plan would work. Outside of those in the industry, he was able to maintain a certain anonymity and that was a serious benefit to being on the other side of the camera. “Come on, where am I taking you?”

You didn’t think it was possible but somehow your grin gets bigger.

—

In record time, you’re idling outside the Carlyle, the only hotel you’re willing to stay at in the city, a few slices of dollar pizza Jonathan had insisted on paying for on your lap. You’re quiet, so is he. But you’re not sitting in silence, Man In the Box plays on the radio. You picked it out.

As soon as you’d gotten settled in the passenger seat, you started rummaging through his CDs. Turns out, you had very different taste in music, not a surprise, and that was the only band you recognized. Your latest douchebag you’d dated for a couple weeks had been a big fan and dragged you to a show.

“So…” The word comes out in a single breath as you grip the handle but don’t open the door. “Do you wanna come up with me?”

He takes so long to answer you think he’s going to say no but, much to your surprise, he says, “Yeah, sure.”

One quiet elevator ride later, you’re opening the door, kicking your shoes off, and tossing your purse and room key on the bed. You plop down on the sofa and motion him forwards. “Come on,” you hold up a piece of pizza in each hand, “let’s eat.”

He ends up on the opposite side of the couch, pressed as tightly to the armrest as he could be while you take up the rest of the space, legs stretched out and toes tucked under his hip. 

You take your first bite and hum in pleasure, eyes closing. “This was a really good choice.”

“I practically lived off this shit when I first moved here,” Jonathan admits. “I know all the best cheap spots.”

“How did you even end up in New York?” The question falls out before you can even think about it. You don’t want to come off as nosey, but you’re curious. “Aren’t you from, uh, Illinois?”

“Indiana,” he corrects. “Hawkins, Indiana.” You blink, you’ve never heard of the place. “It’s a tiny, tiny town a couple hours outside of Indianapolis.”

You nod as if that clears everything up. “Big difference compared to here.”

“Huge,” he agrees, wiping the corner of his lip with a napkin. He misses a spot, you don’t mention it. “Always wanted to go to NYU, though. So I think I was prepared for it in a way.”

“NYU,” you repeat. “Good school. I’m guessing that’s where you majored in photography?”

“Yup.”

“How’d that translate to you getting involved in fashion? Doesn’t seem like your scene.”

“You got that right,” Jonathan laughs. Not your first time hearing it that night but you decide in that moment you really like the sound of it. “I honestly kinda stumbled into it by accident. A friend of a friend needed a photographer for a show and she sweet-talked me enough that I couldn’t say no. 

“Then I guess I liked it enough that I never stopped.” Younger him would be shocked. He always pictured himself photographing world events or foreign conflicts. “Not as cool of a story as yours, though. Didn’t Vogue say you were discovered in Paris?”

He says it like it’s no big deal but you’re honored that, not only had he read something about you, he even remembered. “Yeah, I was on vacation with a friend. We went out one night, ran into the right person, and here we are.”

“So you just went out to grab a drink and someone decided you should be on magazines?” He shrugs. “Makes sense. So you were on a trip to Paris but you’re from…”

“Here, actually. Born and raised on the Upper East Side.”

Jonathan can’t help himself. When you admit you’re a born and bred New Yorker, he looks around, wondering why you’re here in a nice, yes, but impersonal hotel room. He doesn’t ask about it, though. Instead, he settles for a diplomatic, “Must be nice to be able to come back so often.”

“I guess.” You’re non-committal because, while you love New York, there’s no real sentimental value to it. You’re not close with your family and you always avoid the Brownstone you grew up in. “It’s nice to visit some of the old haunts, for sure.”

From there, with the basics out of the way, the two of you settle into an informal game of 20 questions. You find out he has a young brother, his favorite color is green and he really likes the Friday The 13th franchise.

You talk about your love for travel, how buying beachfront is the best decision you ever made, and your almost excessive collection of glass dolphin figurines.

You trade facts, both important and seemingly insignificant until it’s the wee hours in the morning and you can’t keep your eyes open anymore.

—

When you wake up, still on the couch, a blanket has been draped over you, the sun is shining through the open curtains and you’re alone. It doesn’t surprise you, there was no need for Jonathan to stay, but you still find yourself disappointed as you swing your feet to the ground and sit up.

You’re mid-stretch, arms raised to the ceiling when you heard the door open. You jump, contorting your body so you’re both cowering behind the back of the sofa and peeking over it.

No masked intruder appears. it’s only nice, totally not scary Jonathan with your room key in one hand and a greasy paper bag in the other.

He seems amused by your reaction but still manages to let out a barely believable “sorry” as he walks towards you, handing off both items.

“Didn’t think you’d be up yet,” he admits, fighting a smile. “I’ve got an early morning shoot so I need to head out. I figured I’d drop by the bodega and grab breakfast before I do.”

You didn’t even notice you were hungry until you realize what you were holding—a delicious, totally bad-for-you bacon egg and cheese. You can’t remember the last time you had a BEC, too much fat and carbs and far too naughty, but you’ll enjoy every second you spend devouring it.

Your finger pokes at a spot where the grease made the paper especially thin, and you grin. “You’re a bad influence, Jonathan.”

“Jon.” The correction is a knee-jerk reaction, one even he hadn’t been expecting. The list of people who call him that is very small and you apparently just got added to it.

“Well, Jon,” you put emphasis on the second word, “thank you. For breakfast and last night. I had fun.”

“Me too.”

A silence falls over the two of you, neither speaking until Jonathan clears his throat and motions towards the door, “Well, I should…”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. See you around?”

“Definitely.”

—

all of you, all of me intertwined.

The next time you see Jonathan it’s in Paris for Fashion Week.

“I can’t believe they brought you all the way out here for runway work.” You associate him with editorials, high fashion magazines, and designer campaigns.

He waves that off. “Karl’s always been so good to me. If he calls, I answer.”

“So you’re just doing the Chanel show today?”

“Mhm,” he confirms, nonchalant. 

You’re a bit busier, having to walk for Givenchy, Dior, and Jean Paul Gaultier. For models, being a bigger name was both a blessing and a curse: more shows, more publicity, more money. But a busier schedule also meant more pressure and less free time.

“It’s gonna be a while, but do you wanna grab dinner or something later?” You weren’t one to beat around the bush. It’d been a while and the two of you ending up in the same city in another country felt a little bit like fate.

“Don’t they have parties after these things?” He knows they do, he just can’t believe you’d willingly miss out on one.

“Yeah, why? You going?”

That gets a chuckle out of him. “Fuck no. I guess I figured you would be, though.”

You shrug. “I think I can miss one. So… dinner?”

“It’s a date.”

He says it so casually like it’s nothing, but the implication weighs heavily on you. Through hair and make-up, last-minute fittings, and the actual shows, that’s all you can think about.

—

You decide on a little café near your hotel. It’s not the height of cuisine, especially not in a city like Paris, but Jonathan certainly wasn’t going to complain and it’s easy for you.

It had been a long day and you were feeling the effects. You rarely did a show without a little help, let alone three. But you hadn’t forgotten the first time you met Jonathan.

Next time, show up sober.

Sober was an interesting concept, something you didn’t find yourself being often. Sometimes it was a more hedonistic desire—to indulge, to have a little fun. Others it was purely professional, a little bump here and there to give you some energy, to give you an edge. It was a routine—definitely not an addiction, as you always insisted—that you’d been so quick to disrupt because… well, you weren’t entirely sure why.

You were drawn to Jonathan. In an industry full of fake and phony, he was real, refreshing. Maybe—just maybe—that made you wanna do better. At least, you know, when he was around.

You lounged in the dark, iron seat, picking at your croissant between breaks in conversation. A full meal seemed like too much so you both decided on pastries and fancy little drinks.

“I saw your last show. You did great.”

You look up, surprised. “Seriously?”

“How did those giant ass hats not mess up your balance?”

“What?” You guffaw, hand flying to your mouth in hopes of quieting the noise. Givenchy’s show had a few fanciful accessories, but none that obstructed day-to-day movement. “They’re just straw, Jon.”

“Oh. Well, they were still kinda silly.” He leaves forward conspiratorially, voice quiet, a brow quirked. “I don’t think I understand fashion.”

You beam back at him, “I promise your secret is safe with me.”

“You looked beautiful, though. Even with the hats.”

You preen at the praise, practically glowing. But you play it off, tone almost teasing as you say, “Alright, you sweet talker.” You still want to seem cool and collected.

Jonathan picks up his cup and takes a sip. Left behind is a little whip cream mustache.

“Oh, you got a little—“ You point to your mouth, watching as he gets the message, hand dropping to the table to grab a napkin.

He doesn’t get the chance to make another move before you’re leaning over the table, thumb swiping over the smooth skin. You’re the closest you’ve ever been to him. You can feel his breath, see the way his brow furrows, the way his eyelashes kiss his cheeks when he blinks.

Head fuzzy, abandoning any restraint, you cut the little bit of space left and press your lips to his. You’re in public so it’s not as wild and passionate as maybe you would expect—or hope. But it is nice, soft. He tastes like mocha and Chapstick and it feels right.

You don’t want it to stop but he pulls away far too soon for your tastes. He’s quiet and you’re worried you crossed a line, maybe read some signals wrong. But then he’s smiling, resting his forehead against yours. “Where are you staying? Are you closer?”

—

The walk to your hotel is brisk and fun. You’re holding hands, bumping shoulders, giggling. You feel like a teenager again. If that was innocent, sweet, the ride in the elevator is anything but. You get in more messy kisses and heavy petting than you thought possible in a brief lift ride.

Even then, you’re both holding onto the little bit of self-control you have left until you’re in the safety of the hotel room. The door shuts and a switch flips, Jonathan spins you around so your back is pressed against it. His hands grip your hips, yours rest on his chest.

He’s always gentle, and deliberate in his actions, but now he’s running on instinct, primal need. His hands move to your chest, fingers sliding into the gaps of your blouse. There are too many buttons for him to mess with so he pulls them apart, sending them flying to the floor. His eyes widen, and he licks his lips—you’re not wearing a bra.

You pull away, gasping. “Jon, I liked that shirt. It was Chanel.”

He’s in no way apologetic when he says, “I’ll get you another one. I know a guy.”

He means it too. But exploring the newly exposed flesh is far more interesting to him than discussing clothing. Pushing the now torn fabric off your shoulders and tossing it to the ground, his mouth attacks your neck, sucking on a sweet spot.

You moan, fingers digging into shoulders, back arching, and god, he would do anything to hear that noise again. Only once he’s sure he has paid enough attention to that side, he switches, still being mindful of your work, careful not to leave any marks.

Your grip moves from his shoulders to the hem of his shirt, tugging on the fabric. “Wanna see you.”

How could he deny you of that? He breaks contact just long enough to rid himself of the garment before he’s back on you, lips moving from your neck to your chest.

You marvel at the smooth skin that’s been unveiled, surprised by the hard muscle beneath your touch. His definition is a sneaky one, he’s lean, almost kind of soft looking, but built. He’s beautiful.

Jonathan’s mouth is occupied, tongue flicking against one hard nipple has his hands travel lower. With the ease of experience, he pops the button of your jeans and slips a finger past the band of your panties, swiping it against your folds.

“You’re soaked, baby. Soaked.”

You practically whimper at the words, rutting your hips, desperate for some friction. “More, please.”

“I hear you, baby, I hear you.”

He has all sorts of ideas in mind but they require there to be far less clothing involved.

Jonathan pulls his hand back, grabbing ahold of your pants and underwear, pulling them down in one swift motion. He helps you step out of them, his hand finding the small of your back to urge you forward. “Get on the bed, sweetheart.”

The rest of his clothing joins you on the floor—in his haste to get to you, his foot catches in his slacks and sends him stumbling, he prays to a God he doesn’t believe in that you don’t notice—and by that point, you are sprawled across the bed, chest heaving. You’re desperate for him and he has to take a moment to just marvel at you. “You are…” every word in existence flies through his head—breathing, stunning, exquisite—all are fitting but he settles on “incredible.”

“Just c’mere.” With more skin exposed, you’re even more eager, hands reaching out towards him. He’s not just beautiful, you’re able to confirm, that he’s beautiful from head to toe.

He indulges your desire, crawling into bed, hovering above you, his hands coming up to rest on either side of your head as he dipped low, mouth finding yours. This kiss was different than the others. Sloppy, but with the knowledge that you didn’t have to rush, that you both could take your time and enjoy each other. Caged beneath him, you think you can get used to this.

Almost reluctantly, he pulls away, his lips leaving a trail down your neck, your sternum, wet kisses being left on your stomach. The lower he gets, the more time he takes until he’s right above your pussy. On instinct, your legs spread and he settles in-between them.

“This okay?” He asks.

Eyes squeezed shut, you’re beyond words so you nod. He nips at your thigh, not hard but enough bite behind it to get your attention.

“Gotta be sure you want this, sweetheart. I really need you to use your words, okay?”

You let out a huff of air, body on fire. “Yes, yes, it’s okay. More than okay. Want you.”

Satisfied, he lowers himself back down, but your hands stop him before his mouth can make content. “No, no, I want to feel you.”

He’s surprised and, wanting a taste, a little disappointed. Jonathan sits back, looking at you. “You sure?” His gaze moves to his crumpled pair of pants where his wallet sat. “I didn’t bring anything.” He sure as fuck did not expect the night to go this way.

“I’m on the pill, it’s fine.” You prop yourself up on your elbows. “Just need you inside me.”

Well, fuck. Who could say no to that? He dips two fingers in your wetness, and curls them inside you, just teasing at this point, before wrapping the digits around his length and pumping it a few times. He lines himself up with your entrance and slowly pushes in, inch by inch.

His hands fall to your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh. “How you feeling, baby?”

“Good,” you assure him, “need more.”

At your assurance, he starts thrusting, not too hard, but steady. He looks down watching himself go in and out of you, still amazed he ended up in your bed.

You moan and tremble underneath him, enough to spur him to go a little harder, a little faster. Your whines and his breathy groans mix in the air. It’s a nice sound.

Keeping up with the pace he set, he leans forward, bracing himself on his forearms so he can capture your lips in a bruising kiss. You’re sweaty, out of breath and Jonathan is sure he’d never seen you look better—not even on the cover of magazines.

He dips to nibble at the flesh of your neck, across your collarbone. You arch off the bed, almost embarrassed by how quickly you came undone and you can feel that familiar tightness in your belly.

“I’m close,” your voice is husky, barely above a whisper.

That’s all he needs to hear. He balances him on one arm, the other sliding in between your two bodies, the pad of his thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in slow, tight circles.

Your arms fly up, wrapping around his shoulders, manicured nails digging into the flesh there.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he encourages, continuing to pump into you. “Let go, need to see you cum for me.”

His words alone are enough to send you over the edge but coming with his strong, steady strokes and his thumb on your clit, it’s almost too much. Your thighs clench, your toes curl and you come completely undone.

He’s not long behind you. “Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” your quick to answer, still coming down. “I want you to come cum inside me.”

He groans, taking one deep thrust and he’s done, officially too far gone, spilling his seed. Jonathan pumps into you, slow, milking the rest out of him before he comes to a stop, staying perfectly still for a few moments before pulling out.

He collapses beside you, trying to catch his breath.

You’re tired, legs still quivering and you’re totally on cloud nine. “Can’t believe that just happened.”

“I’ve been thinking about it since I met you,” he admits. “Next time—“

If possible, the words perk you up even more. Gone is any desire to seem cool, unbothered. You twist around to get a good look at him. “There’s gonna be a next time?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Jonathan pauses, bravado slipping a bit. “If, you know, you want to.”

You shift a bit, pressing a kiss to the part of his body closest to you—his bicep. “I definitely want to.”

—

#jonathan byers #jonathan byers x you #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers x y/n #jonathan byers imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

[levi-dogtooth-hunter]

Feral Activities | Alpha Erwin x Omega Levi

Erwin has a muzzle. That's it. That's the fic.

I'm writing this out of pure self indulgence because I zoned out while drawing and yeAH. I then sent a message to my friend describing feralwin and thought oooh fic 😩. Anyways, enjoy this hot mess <3

Full pic on my Twitter: https://twitter.com/LeviWolfHunter/status/1519489706643181568?t=ACf2jpZM0U-fbyfe79u-QA&s=19

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Omegaverse; Alpha Erwin in Rut; Omega Levi; masturbation; face fucking; fingering; Rough sex; prostate milking; prostate massage; growling; creampie; dacryphilia; overstimulation; feral Erwin; commander kink; dub-con; dry orgasm; half-assed ending as alwaysssss

Erwin growled, his nails digging into his desk. The leather straps of the muzzle he was wearing rubbed against the skin of his cheeks as he squirmed anxiously. He was in rut. During those days he would lock himself in his office and wait it out, but it had recently gotten worse. Levi had been extremely clingy lately and it started to drive Erwin crazy. Just the thought of Levi's small body pressed against him got him all hot and bothered.

He let out a soft growl, shifting in his seat. He's trying so hard to keep himself calm, but the tightness in his pants bothered him immensely. He trembled, the insatiable urge to bite and breed clouding moral judgement. He let out a snarl and unbuckled his belt, pulling himself out of his pants. Precum welled up from his slit and rolled down his shaft. Erwin groaned, gripping the base of his cock. Squeezing his eyes shut and breathing heavily, he began stroking himself. Within his own thoughts he saw Levi, all spread and pretty for him, his hole twitching. Erwin panted, Levi's name slipping from his lips.

The creak of the door snapped him out of his stupor and, speak of the Devil and the Devil shall appear, Levi stared at him with wide eyes. Levi's intoxicating scent hit him like a freight train and a deep, low growl rumbled in the back of his throat. A chill ran down Levi's spine as he stared into Erwin's eyes, dark with feral lust. The sunlight streaming in from the window glinted off of the metal of the muzzle, giving Erwin's eyes a rather unsettling shine.

Levi swallowed, feeling a twinge of fear. "Erwin-?"

Erwin took a deep breath, tucking himself back into his pants, another growl tearing through his throat. His gaze never left Levi.

"Oh, Levi-" Erwin rasped. "You've just made a mistake."

Levi swallowed again, his palms damp with sweat. He tensed as Erwin stood up and began walking towards him. Levi backed up until his back hit the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them again, Erwin was towering over him, staring with that feral look in his eyes.

Levi reached up tentatively and ran his fingers along the metal wire of the muzzle. "W-what's with the muzzle?"

Erwin chuckled darkly, stroking Levi's cheek with a shaky hand. " Do you really want to know, Captain?"

Levi nodded.

Erwin smiled and leaned down towards Levi and whispered: "I bite..."

Levi's breath hitched. Erwin straightened and gave a threatening grin. "and oh, how I'd love to bite that pretty neck of yours. Mark it as mine."

Levi cursed as he came to a realization. "You're in rut..."

"Took you long enough to figure that out," Erwin crooned, gently wrapping his hands around Levi's wrists. "And I think you already know exactly what I want."

"Fuck!" Levi shouted as Erwin pinned him to the wall by the wrists, pressing his hips against him.

"God, I want to fuck that throat of yours so bad" Erwin growled, licking his lips. Levi wanted to say something but his words had become stuck in his throat. Erwin then grabbed him by the hair and shoved him downward.

"E-Erwin!" Levi rasped, looking up at Erwin who was unzipping his pants. He was able to see the desperation in his eyes and he felt a twinge of sympathy. Levi had dedicated himself to Erwin. Perhaps he can do this one thing for him...

Another growl then resonated in Erwin's throat as he grabbed Levi by the hair and pulled him self out of his pants.

"Open your mouth, baby..." Erwin groaned huskily, running his tip along Levi's lips. Levi took a breath and opened his mouth, taking him in as far as he could.

"Oh Captain, sweet sweet Captain Levi. You're so good to me..." Erwin panted, struggling to keep himself from bucking his hips. A growl caught in his throat as Levi moved back a bit to swirl his tongue around Erwin's tip. Going in and back out, Levi sucked him with a tantalizingly slow pace, relishing Erwin's moans of delight. Then a snarl tore through Erwin's throat as he pulled Levi's head back. He adjusted himself and slammed into the back of Levi's throat.

Levi whimpered, tears brimming in his eyes as he choked on Erwin's cock. With every contraction of Levi's throat, Erwin let out a pleasured growl. He thrusted into Levi's mouth, fucking his throat. Levi moaned shamelessly, tears rolling down his cheeks as he drooled all over Erwin. The salty taste of his tears mingled with the taste of Erwin's precum as he took his dick eagerly.

"Alright, enough." Erwin gasped as he pulled out of Levi's mouth. Levi coughed, precum and saliva dripping from his chin as he looked up at Erwin with watery eyes.

"C-commander-" Levi coughed, trembling slightly. Erwin groaned, running his hands through Levi's hair.

"You keep calling me that, darling..." Erwin panted, a smile painted across his face. He turned and walked towards his desk. He sat down and trained his eyes on Levi, who was still seated against the wall.

"Unbutton your clothes and come here, Captain..." The Commander growled sultrily. Levi swallowed, feeling heat pooling in his belly. He stood up, unbuttoning his shirt, watching Erwin nervously.

"Your pants too, darling..." Erwin crooned, his eyes shinning with lust. A chill ran down Levi's spine as he unbuttoned his pants with shaky hands. He then looked at Erwin, who smiled and beckoned him with a finger. Levi took a deep breath and walked over to Erwin.

"Good boy, Captain..." Erwin crooned, stroking Levi's thighs. He pressed the muzzle against Levi, making him shiver, and inhaled deeply. Erwin then let out a growl, relishing Levi's sweet scent.

"You smell so good..." Erwin whispered huskily, groping Levi's ass and thighs. Levi looked into Erwin's eyes and felt burning arousal course through him as those shining blue eyes bored into him. Erwin hooked his fingers into the waistband of Levi's pants and pulled them down, revealing the white briefs underneath. "Gorgeous..."

"E-Erwin!" Levi choked out as Erwin cupped a hand against his balls. "Oh Commander!"

That made Erwin chuckle. "Aw, you need me as much as I need you, huh?" Erwin licked his lips. "My little Captain..."

Levi let out a whine as Erwin lifted him by the hips and set him down on top of the desk. Erwin tugged on Levi's briefs, freeing his cock. Levi's tip was an angry red color, precum leaking from his slit. Erwin's fingers ghosted along Levi's dick, causing it to twitch.

"My pretty boy..." Erwin said softly, looking into Levi's hooded gaze. "I want you to touch yourself for me, Captain..."

Levi swallowed, wrapping his hand around his shaft. He took a breath and stroked upward. Levi swallowed, watching shakily as precum leaked from his tip.

"Close your eyes, Captain." Erwin crooned, stroking Levi's thighs. Levi scowled but nevertheless obeyed, squeezing his eyes shut. Erwin smiled, then opening a drawer and pulling out a small bottle of oil. He spread Levi's legs and pushed them back, revealing his tight, twitching hole.

Levi was holding back his moans, stroking himself at a rather slow pace. He didn't notice when Erwin pulled out the bottle and coated his fingers in oil. Then, when Erwin dragged his fingers against Levi's tight entrance, Levi jerked, a moan slipping from his throat.

"Easy, Captain..." Erwin growled, holding Levi by the legs. " I didn't say to stop."

Levi whimpered, stroking a shaky hand along his twitching dick. Slick began to drip from his hole as his body began to relax. Erwin pushed two fingers into Levi's slick entrance, curling them upward to press against his prostate. Levi gave another jerk, his thighs trembling.

He was supposed to be pleasing Erwin, not the other way around, but he looked into the Commander's eyes and saw that same feral lust he had when he first came into the room. He was enjoying himself. Levi groaned, throwing his head back as tears welled up at the corners of his eyes. He felt a warm, slick liquid pooling on his abdomen and he thought he had cummed already, but when he looked he saw that it hung in clear strands from his tip.

Then Erwin pressed his thumb against his taint, massaging his prostate from the outside as well. Levi cried out, arching his back. His dick twitched as semen began to ooze from his tip. Heat pooled in his groin as his abdominal muscles clenched spasmodically, forcing cum out of his throbbing cock.

"Oh, Captain..." Erwin growled. He pulled his fingers away and Levi let out a thin wail. He pulled Levi closer to him and pressed the tip of his cock to Levi's slick-wet hole. He then pushed in and Levi cried out .

"Oh god, Erwin! I'm cumming!" Levi gasped, his back arching. Erwin leaned over him, pulling out of Levi slowly before slamming back in. Another growl tore through Erwin's chest, making Levi shudder.

"You like it, don't you, Captain..." Erwin growled, a sultry smile spread across his face. "You like it when you're treated rough..."

Levi moaned, more semen dripping onto his stomach. His legs trembled uncontrollably, his eyes rolling back, but Erwin was relentless. The sound of his pleasured growling rang in Levi's ears as he milked him for all he's worth.

"C-commander! C-commander please!" Levi wailed, struggling to find purchase on the slick wood of the desk. Erwin growled, nails digging into Levi's hips as he pounded into him. The stimulation was slowly becoming too much, and when Levi arched his back again in the beginning of another orgasm, he was dismayed when he came dry. Tears were now flowing freely, his body trembling violently as Erwin finally neared his peak.

"Oh, Captain!" Erwin gasped, now growling continuously. The sweat-soaked leather straps of the muzzle rubbed against his cheeks as he shook his head, tipping over the edge. "Shit-!"

Levi felt the warmth of Erwin's cum fill him up and seep out of his hole. Erwin pulled out slowly, watching as cum slowly dripped from Levi's ass onto the floor. Levi's hair was plastered to his forehead, slick with sweat, and Erwin felt a twinge of sympathy. He lifted Levi gently into his arms and brushed his hair out of his eyes.

"You alright, Levi?" Erwin whispered, stroking Levi's cheek. Levi looked up at Erwin with a tired look in his eyes and reached towards the back of Erwin's head. Erwin's eyes widened as Levi unbuckled the muzzle and tossed onto the floor.

"I'm fine, Erwin..." Levi whispered huskily, running his hands through Erwin's hair. He leaned closer and pressed his lips against Erwin's, kissing him gently. Erwin melted into the kiss, his heart pounding in his chest. Levi pulled back and snuggled closer into Erwin's arms, relishing his scent. Erwin smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead and took him to his bedroom to clean him up.

#bottom levi #sub levi #erwin smith #erwin x levi #omegaverse #attack on titan #eruri #shingeki no kyojin #alex's self indulgence fics

[flatstarcarcosa]

The thing about Sam is that he’s honest to an infuriating degree. Reese and I used to plan ‘surprise’ parties for each others birthdays with him just for the amusement of watching him try to lie his way out of direct questions about it.

Sorry if this is how he finds out about that, by the way.

It also means he’s direct. There’s never any question about what Sam means, or why he means it. There’s no ambiguity. I don’t remember enough about the world before the Rising to know if that ever bit him in the ass, but in today’s world, it’s an asset.

When he told us about becoming our legal guardian, that was exactly what happened: he told us what the situation was, what our options were, and the idea he’d had. Then he left it up to us to choose. No hard feelings, no strings attached.

The state-mandated therapy wasn’t something any of us chose, and also wasn’t something we could get out of. The first therapist we had didn’t like how dependent Reese and I were, and wanted Sam to put a stop to it. She even made some not-so-vague threats about dragging him to court over it, and making our new life as fucked as possible.

The problem was that she was one of those people that thought the zombies would pass. Even five years since the Rising began, she still insisted that all ‘this stuff’-- she never called it what it was, like doing so is what would make it real, not the corpses in the streets-- would go away and the important thing was making sure we’d be able to blend right back into polite society.

She even started suggesting I should move out, since legally I was well old enough, though that also meant she couldn’t make him make me.

We used to get ice cream after those appointments. I don’t know what kind of weird ass logic he had in his brain that you get the kids ice cream after two hours of them bullshitting their trauma, but that’s what ended up happening.

It’s funny enough now that I almost feel bad about the time I cussed him out about it being stupid. Almost.

He brought it up after a few minutes, being honest and to the point about what games the therapist was playing. I think Reese heard ‘separate’ and proceeded to shut everything else out; they were still defaulting to shutting up, and down, at the slightest chance of something being emotionally taxing.

I asked him what he was going to do about it.

Not, ‘what are we going to do’, but what he was going to do. I knew how the cards were stacked, and that despite being over 18 there were still some things I may not ultimately get a say in. He couldn’t make me leave, but I couldn’t make him let me stay.

Wouldn’t shut me up about it, of course, but at least I knew when fighting was pointless.

He looked at me, and was quiet for a moment.

Then he casually took a spoonful of his coffee ice cream, making a show of digging it out of the cup and said, “I think we should lie about it.”

He banked on the therapist caring more about the illusion of power she had, that if she forced enough people that didn’t have the option of fighting against her to do what she wanted, that it would eventually pay off and she would be proven right when ‘this stuff’ finally ended.

In short, tell her what she wanted to hear and she’d be happy enough with it she wouldn’t figure out we were playing her as much as she was playing us.

At the time, it took me by surprise.

Looking back, it shouldn’t have.

More importantly, it was the first time I remember thinking that maybe he actually did give a shit about us, and this whole situation wasn’t just some way he was trying to assuage whatever guilt he had about his time in the service.

The moral of the story kids, is this: just because someone presents themselves as being more powerful than you doesn’t mean they’re automatically correct. And if the most straight-laced, no-bullshit person you know is suggesting you do the opposite of what the people in power are saying to do, you should listen to them.

Also, coffee ice cream is still shit-tier.

#reese.fic #reelix au: the good the bad & the dead #little blog entry for isaac that popped into my head #didn't do the 'from the blog of' thing bc i suddenly realized it would pop up if you search him and i'm like #[tiktok noise] oh no oh no #anyway obsessed w this unnamed npc therapist we had that was like hmmmm i know these kids are traumatized and have ptsd #and have only been back in civilization for like a year but have you considered forcing them to be normal? #and sam being like 'noted. see you in hell.' #also lmao 'looking back it shouldn't have'. isaac @ the guy he helped shank his own CO: oh right i forgot he bites back-

[mayra-quijotescx]

after having to read someone claim the Barbie movie hype was giving them "flashbacks to other kids having savings accounts and going on vacations", I swear to God, with my own eyes, I want to once again beg people to understand that you are allowed to just *not* like something. you do not have to twist yourself into a pretzel to allege that the thing you don't like does harm to you and others.

Even if we were talking about something gruesome or triggering and not a movie about a children's toy franchise (one that many of us accessed via thrift store or hand-me-downs, these were not bank-breaking investments), once again, you are not being compelled to watch! Nor even to see people's excitement about it! The kind of person who makes hot takes like the above, if they go outside as infrequently as said takes suggest, lives in the most curatable corner of the human experience! Blocklist keywords! Block tags! Unfollow people who won't shut up about your own personal media kryptonite du jour! God knows I have Jury Duty For Actors blocked up, down, and sideways because I am Tired of it. (And maybe there's a genuine argument that the most sequellitis-afflicted media property in modern history is having a suboptimal effect on narrative diversity, but I'm not going to go on an axe-wielding anti-MCU moral crusade when I could be using that time watching something else. Or sleeping. Or dealing with any of the numerous Real Fucking Problems in my life.)

Yes, there will be collateral damage if a blocked phrase has a relatively common word in it, but if you're really as a grown ass adult being sent back to being 8 years old crying in the far corner of your school's library because someone else at your school went to Disneyworld last summer and you didn't every time you see a new tweet about the children's toy movie, maybe that's a worthwhile sacrifice to make until you can figure out a healthy way to deal with the thought spiral that is severe enough for you to describe with the same word that today's generation of kids use to describe remembering the mass shooting/s they survived.

Logging off and touching grass won't fix a complex like that overnight, but it's definitely a start, and one ideally taken before the 'moralizing everything you don't like into the ground' trend makes society even worse than it's already done in Florida and several other states!

#i am trying to be helpful but I cannot wrap my head around some people and why they choose to be how they are #please can we bring back 'don't like don't watch'. please. it wasn't perfect but it was better than this.