#motherfuckers i think im simping for this fictional character

[eleganteldritch]

haven’t received anymore of these yet, soo thought i’d do one for everyone’s favorite eldritch edgelord úwù

☆ 🥀·they are soooooo cool looking — aside the jokes he gets on looking like a formal emo lookin’ dude, i really love his appearance in canon and all the artistic interpretations of him; he’s by far one of the coolest ones!

☆ 🥀·everyone but me is wrong about them ❤️ — Dark apologist, defender, sympathizer, and simp speaking. i will speak nothing but good things about him /lh /hj

☆ 🥀·if they were real i would be afraid of them — have y’all seen this man? sure he seems to throw temper tantrums and lose his shit like a little kid, but just…think about it-

also, again on some of the artistic interpretations i’ve see of him-you do not wanna get on his bad side..

☆ 🥀·if they were real i would marry them — please sir i am begging 👉👈💍

☆ 🥀·they’re like a blorbo to me — pocket eldritch 🖤 he’s v comforting

☆ 🥀·they’re deeper than they seem — have y’all seen the lore for this motherfucker?? he is one of the d e e p e s t characters Mark had ever created to date (alongside Wilford and Actor). it’s amazing how far he’s come and how much he’s grown, and how i’ve been here since a bit before A Date With Markiplier

☆ 🥀·i like them enough to project my own issues onto them — ..no i will not go into detail other than he’s relatable to me so 💀

☆ 🥀·free space — Dark was the first character/ego i became familiar with when Mark started on the path of making more cinematic adventure-based videos, and the first one i deeply fell in love with. he also pretty much started the fixation for Mark’s content so cndf

it’s just been a crazy ride, and i honestly do not regret ever getting involved in all of this. Dark has become such a comfort character to me it’s a little surreal sometimes 🖤

☆ 🥀·wow! they are a horrible person — not even the best fluffiest fan fiction or fanon content will change my mind. hell not even myself simping on main for this dude cndnf

and yes ik he hasn’t necessarily done anything awful in canon, but look me in the eyes and tell me he’s a good guy 👁

☆ 🥀·why do they look like that — emo lookin’ ass (affectionate) /r

☆ 🥀·im mentally ill about them — nO FURTHER EXPLANATION. BRAIN GO B R R-

☆ 🥀·wow… they are LITERALLY me! — won’t be going into detail on this either, or else i risk completely embarrassing myself oop

☆ 🥀·they’ve never done anything wrong in their life ❤️ — ‘nough said 🥺

#wow #this is by far one of the longer ones #i have a lot of thoughts about this man 👁👁💧 #n E WAYS- #have fun seeing my absolute obsession with Dark #voices from the void #the void rambles? #elegant eldritch : Darkiplier #markiplier #darkiplier #iplier egos #character bingo #ask #ask game

[sil-te-plait-tue-moi]

Mitch.

Quick summary: So, this is basically a rewrite of that one scene in American Assassin where Annika helps Mitch with his wound, except, here, there is no Annika, there is only Y/N.

Word count: 6.9K

Warnings: Lots of foul language; SMUUUUT (not that graphic detail, but I dunno whether this'll be too much for some of you guys); sort of a little bit of angst (it's basically just Y/N feeling lonely a lot).

A/N: This is my first time posting smut on Tumblr. Honestly, it wasn't that terrible writing it since I read a lot of it. However, there are only so many words to describe the breathing and the general thrusting of it all, so if it gets kind of repetitive, please be nice. Also, this is the same word count as my Newt story, so that's pretty neat. Anyway, have fun reading an everything. Here, Y/N is female, by the way.

***

The humming darkness sits heavily about the small, quaint flat, licking at our faces and at our souls as we both try to forget about the fact that we were knocking at Death’s door just a few short moments ago. I suppose that, because I’m more used to it, I'm much calmer than he is, greeting the darkness as an old friend – it's been with me for a while now, stalking me after my first mission, after the second, and then, to my shock, comforting me after the next. But Rapp—Rapp is experiencing that watched sort of feeling that all new recruits feel after their first mission, like there are judging, red eyes at every turn, analysing the way your hands are placed, the way your eyes are glazed over, the way your very footsteps fall unevenly wherever you go. I can see it so clearly; I can see how shaken he is from what happened at that physicist’s hotel room. Just from the way he’s so stiflingly silent, I know how numbingly afraid he is right now – that Rapp always has something to say, either cynical and sarcastic or brooding and intense, but, currently, my American assassin is finally quiet, tenderly cleaning the wound on his right side, the dazed look in his eyes only interrupted occasionally by split-second flashes of hot pain.

“Let me help you,” I sigh, prying the cloth from his hands – it’s obvious that he doesn’t know what he’s doing or what he should be doing, and so, since I have medical training, why shouldn’t I help him? Rapp tightens his hold on the cloth, alarm darting across his dark eyes. “Give me the cloth, Rapp,” I whisper under my breath, only just loud enough for him to hear, scared that if I raise my voice any higher, he’ll lash out at me. And, you know, I’ve seen him when he lashes out. It’s enough to ensure that I have an eye on him at all times, and enough to guarantee that I won’t be sleeping contentedly tonight.

Rapp sighs from deep within his chest, letting go of the taut cloth between us, then dragging a hand down, down, down his tired face. He attempts to fix the weaknesses in his eyes, on his expression, but I know that look of nauseated, prolonged terror far too intimately for me to just ignore it. He sits down silently on the edge of the cheap, squealing mattress, and wrings his hands together firmly. “You scared?” I ask with a smile teasing at my lips, trading the ragged cloth for an alcohol wipe, selecting some tape and a cotton bandage square as I do. I hear Rapp’s breathy scoff scraggle through the air from behind me – he’s probably wearing that annoying, condescending, arrogant look on his face again, isn’t he?

“Me? I’m not scared,” he says as decisively as he’s able to, letting out another chuckle just to persuade me so. But I’m not, of course – if anything, it’s just a confirmation of just how new and inexperienced (no matter what he or Hurley thinks) he is to this job. He’s trying so hard to prove himself worthy, to prove that he can detach his emotions and his humanity, pack it all up and hide them away in a box under the stairs, and go to work, but, by God, he’s going about it so wrong. He’s got to occupy himself properly, distract himself so that a tremor can’t find his voice. He should take a shower, make a strong drink, make conversation. He shouldn’t be sulking on the edge of the bed. He’s so still, so small in this room, that it makes it all the easier for me to point out the emotions of anger, shock, terror, guilt, and longing on his face. Frowning, I sit next to him on the bed, pushing his arm out of the way (to which he responds with a low grunt) and press the alcohol wipe right on to his wound. Rapp hisses loudly, flinching away. I meet his eyes, and then he seems to remember that he’s supposed to be acting tough, resumes his seating position, and dutifully allows me to continue cleaning the ugly, bruising wound across his ribs, this time wearing a painfully controlled, neutral mask.

“What about you? Aren’t you afraid at all?” He turns to me, eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t act afraid.”

I grin widely, laying the bandage flat against his warm skin, “I’ve been at this for quite a while, now, so you can understand. You should stop trying to act so tough, though.” I tape down each side of the cotton square, sliding my thumb smoothly against the masking tape in order to secure it properly. Rapp inhales sharply and rolls his neck.

“I’m not trying to act tough,” he protests, mumbling a small thanks afterwards.

“Uh-huh,” I say, replacing the supplies back on the table where they came from. I can feel his eyes following my movements, calm and steady and unblinking. I glance back around at him, hoping to maybe catch his eye, but he quickly averts his gaze to the surveillance cam. Perhaps a part of me is looking for that distraction I mentioned earlier. But, knowing what happened to him with his little girlfriend and all, he’d definitively reject my advances and then the entire dynamic we have, the one where I’m not soft with him and he’s not soft with me, gets utterly and totally ruined. Besides, it’s bad luck to fuck a colleague, right? I turn around and, this time, his eyes remain on mine. Tilting my head, I quickly run my eyes over him, over his wide chest and broad shoulders, over his rolling skin and well-built arms. I don’t want him to feel objectified or anything, but I’m not against him being aware of the fact that I wouldn’t mind him taking me against the wall.

“Hey, uh,” Rapp hesitates, clearing his throat and pointing up at the clouded bruising across my face and neck, “is that—are you alright? Want me to help you?”

I snort, “Rapp, it’s just a bruise – it’ll go away just fine.”

“That American was a real asshole. He shouldn’t’ve hit you—”

I cut him off, eyes narrowing, “But he hit you.”

“Yeah, but he shouldn’t’ve hit you.”

I pour myself a glass of tangy water, and ask him, “Because I’m a girl, eh?” A small part of my brain hardens at this possibility – it was difficult enough to clamber my way into the field because of the fact that my training program was predominantly male and my assessor was inherently sexist. Even when it was clear I was the best, I can just recall the leering sneer that pulled at his face when he sent man after man into the field just to spite me. “I can fight just as well as you,” I tell him firmly before I allow the fuzzy water to coat my tongue and slide down my throat.

Rapp smiles, “I know. You fight real good. I liked the part where you stabbed that one guy's foot.” Laughing, I brush the hair out of my face, acknowledging the fact that little Rapp actually just smiled a genuine smile. He continues, “I didn’t mean anything by it, but he really didn’t have to hit you or anything.”

“And he had to with you?”

“Well, I am a pretty big dickhead.”

I hum in agreement and he smiles again. He looks nice when he smiles; his eyes crinkle at the edges endearingly and the lines of his face run gold with something mutedly attractive that I can’t quite place. My hands itch to touch him, but, instead, I tighten them both around the glass. I think he notices. “I’m gonna go take a bath,” I say to him, trying to prevent myself from putting him in a situation he probably doesn’t want to be put in. He nods and smiles up at me. I gently put the foggy glass on the table behind me and, before I make my way into the bathroom, place a cold hand upon his warm and bare shoulder in a comforting way, I hope. His skin feels like it’s draped with rich silk against my calloused, unworthy palm, and the fresh and faded scars alike feel grainy and rough to the touch. Rapp’s breath hitches at contact, so I quickly pull my hand away and walk over to the bathroom, beginning to run a cold bath to help my bruises fade away faster.

I sit alone on the edge of the bathtub, watching, mesmerised, as the water fills higher and higher and higher. The water is ice-cold when I dip my hand in, biting and nipping at my fingertips as I do so. I’m about to start undressing when Rapp promptly enters the white room. “Fucking hell, Rapp. What’re you doing?” I shoot, though also with a smile on my face, quickly turning off the running tap. “You scared me.”

His eyes dart around the room nervously as he bites his lip and swallows hard. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. Rapp starts shaking his head lightly, and then leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

I sit in a confused silence for a few heartbeats, and, just when I reach for the hem of my black shirt, he enters again, but, this time, unhesitating and walking straight for me, bending down, his hand grabbing my chin softly and tilting my head up towards him. Rapp presses his chapped lips against mine, his eyes screwed shut as if he’s forcing his way through this, maybe even as if he’s imagining somebody else in my place. I should stop this, I think to myself as he angles my head to the side and reaches a hand into my hair, his thumb playing at my earlobe. If he doesn’t want to do this, why is he? The very reason he got involved with the CIA in the first place is because of her, because of his girl who died – I know that she’s the very reason he’s still functioning, and if she came back to life and told him to kill me, he would, so, clearly, he isn’t ready to move on. His nose presses against my cheek, exhaling hot air onto my hot skin.

“I haven’t slept with anyone since Katrina,” he whispers against my lips, eyes still shut.

I reply, “We don’t have to. You don’t need to.”

“But I want to,” he whines. “I’ve been so fucking lonely for the past two years.”

I get to my feet, hands running over his shoulders, over his arms, his neck, his hair, his back, and kiss him again, deeply, sighing when his hands wrap around my waist. He pulls me impossibly close to him, fingers apprehensively playing with the bottom of my shirt, perhaps contemplating whether or not to go through with this. I let him think – I don’t want him to feel pressured – bringing my hands to rest on the sides of his face, pricked and poked at by his short stubble, resting my forehead against his, our panting breaths mixing sinfully between us. “Mitch,” I whisper.

His eyes open. I never call him by his first name – never. Calling him Rapp maybe helps me to distance myself from him – first names are too familiar, a symbol of friendship and intimacy and knowing, so I always tend to avoid using them. For everybody, not just for him. “Call me that again,” he says quietly.

So, I do: “Mitch—” he kisses the corner of my mouth, “Mitch—” he kisses the point at which my jaw and my neck meet, “Mitch—” he kisses my mouth sweetly, lifting the shirt off of my body. Perhaps his name is a key to him; perhaps he and his girlfriend used to do this as well. I murmur again, “Mitch,” and he tangles his fingers in my hair. “Touch me.”

“I am touching you, sweet girl,” he smiles against my skin.

I run my hands over the ridges of his belt, “Mitch.” His erection presses against my stomach through the rough fabric of his jeans. His hands glide down my back, eliciting little goosebumps all across my body. Rapp sits me back down on the rim of the bathtub, coaxing my thighs apart as he kneels between them. I silently undo my trousers and slide them off, leaving my underwear on to give him another chance to back out. I’m sure he will, this time, but he just doesn’t. He only pulls them down my legs and looks me right in the eye before burying his tongue deep into my leaking pussy. I cry out loud, and then immediately bite into the back of my hand to muffle any other noises I’ll inevitably make. My other hand attaches tightly into Rapp’s dark mess of hair, twisting so hard that he lets out a little sound of pain that reverberates throughout my core, and I utter a small apology.

All I can think about, as he savours me, is how long it's been since I've had the time to fuck somebody. Doing this job, this type of work, always means that I have to put my mission before myself. I've gone a whole year without sex before, you know, and the person who helped break my celibacy wasn't even that satisfactory. Rapp's nose pushes against my clit, and my toes curl tightly in response, hips rolling upwards rhythmically in a way that's instinctive and primal. His large hands dig slightly into my legs as he draws even closer still. Fuck, what a shame it is that I probably won't fuck anyone for months after this – his touch will be haunting across my skin for an age, it'll seem, and I'm not sure any other person will make me feel anything quite like to how I'm feeling now, like my entire being is on fire and, somehow, me being thankful for it.

"Fuck," I mumble against my hand, biting at my knuckles when Rapp's tongue slides roughly against the roof of my pussy. My hand is slick with my saliva, now, and my fingers are throbbing with hurt from how I'd just clenched my teeth around them harshly. I bring my hand away from my mouth, "Fuck, Mitch—" he hums lowly, the vibrations of his voice making me pause in ecstasy for just a few more seconds, "—fuck, I'm gonna cum."

At this, Rapp pulls away from me slightly and looks up, his chin shining with my juices, his brown eyes heavy and drowned with lust. Good. Good to know I can make him feel that way too, I think to myself. And then something glazes over his eyes – God, what is it? Is it mischief? I hold his gaze for what seems like a lifetime, trying not to come across as desperate or needy for his touch. My pussy aches and sobs in protest, wanting nothing more than for me to unbuckle his jeans, tug down his underwear, and swallow the whole length of him. I feel my clit pound and pound as this fantasy flashes before me. I run my fingers gently through Rapp's hair, hoping to signal for him to go back down on me, but all he does is continue to linger his gaze on my sweating and heaving face. He becomes aware of himself after a couple more moments filled only with the sound of the toilet's buzzing extractor fan, and lowers his heavenly mouth back onto my weeping cunt. Though, now, he takes his goddamn time with it. His tongue strokes firmly against the walls of me, putting just the right pressure in all the correct places.

It somehow feels even better than before. Fuck, the way he's having me is like he hasn't eaten for weeks, hasn't felt sweet taste play about in his mouth for years, hasn't been familiar with the weight of a meal on his tongue for decades. And it feels so good. It almost makes me entirely forget that my hands are still stained with a rubbery coat of someone else's dried blood, that my very face stings with the aftermath of that American mercenary's punch, that my arms threaten to go limp with exhaustion at any moment. If it hadn't been for the remnants of adrenaline coursing through my veins earlier, I wouldn't've given him a look in the first place, and I'm sure that it's the same way for him.

I finish hard on his tongue as he sucks slowly on my clit, my grip tightening effectively on his hair and making him groan into my pussy. "Good girl. Good fuckin' girl," he says under his breath, thinking that I'm not able to hear him. I bite back a whimper, trying to stop the fluttering sensation overwhelming my legs. My eyes fall shut as I try to compose myself – Rapp wipes his chin and scrapes off the excess of me onto his chest, leaning back to assume a kneeling position of prayer before me. "You alright?" He asks me, his words rasping from his throat, ever so slightly slurred together like that of a drunkard's. All I can do is nod sporadically, attempting to shake off the relaxation of the post-orgasm feeling, wanting to step back into the role of the always aware, always ready CIA agent who doesn't let anything faze her. Sex – good sex – makes the guarded part of me strip back and leave the rest all exposed. It makes me say things I don't want to say and promise things I shouldn't promise. I can't slip up with Mitch. Rapp, I mean.

I open my eyes and watch him get to his feet, biting his lip softly as his eyes roam and trace my only slightly, I'm sure, exhausted form. "Well, what?—do you wanna stop?" He says, his voice laced with concern as well as the look on his face.

"No, I was just—" I trail off, not knowing how to word it without embarrassing myself. Rapp grins; his body tenses like he's about to move towards me, but then, ultimately, relaxes when he decides to stay where he is. "Do you wanna stop?" I ask him pointedly, knowing that he has more holding him back than I do.

"No," he says confidently, and I believe him.

I run my thumb under the circumference of my bra, feeling my skin become irritated by the combination of its coarse, old fabric and the sheen of sweat covering my body. "Well, d'you want me to go down on you?"

Rapp laughs out loud, bringing a hand up to hover around and hide his smile. I just look up at him earnestly, biting the inside of my cheek. "Uh, yeah, but do you want to? I don't want you to do anything you don't want to."

I all but get down on my knees in front of him, backing him up, up until his back rests comfortably against the plain wall behind us. The radiator hums beside his unsteady legs. "You nervous?" I ask him as I unbuckle his belt with nimble fingers, and it thuds against the floor when I pull the thing off. Rapp shrugs and makes a face down at me, something between a smile and a frown, but doesn't reply beyond that. Katrina's most likely running through his mind. How lucky he is to have felt, to feel, so strongly about another human being. I can't say I've had the experience – detached mother, detached and dead father, one dead sibling, one estranged childhood friend, my current boss, and that's about it. No relationships worth mentioning. But Rapp – he had his best friend and his girlfriend wrapped up in one person, and he had her for years. Maybe if this had been a different situation, I would feel raging jealously for him, but, now, I only take off his jeans and palm him lightly through his underwear. The all but helpless noises that escape his mouth are enough to silence my every thought.

He scrawls out my name. "Please. Stop teasing." And his hand grabs a handful of my hair. I smile and pull down his underwear, and he watches down at me with dark, drunk eyes as his head tips slightly backwards.

Grinning, I look at his dick and then up at his face – thank God that he's heavy; I was counting on him being large enough to make me feel good and forget about anything and everything else – making him blush and attempt to hide his face in his shoulder. As my mouth moves to envelop the tip of him, Rapp’s head thumps harshly back against the wall and the grip on my hair increases until his knuckles go white with the force. I lay my tongue nice and flat against his head, enjoying the salty taste of his pre-cum skipping on my tastebuds. My hands come to rest at the backs of his thighs, tensing and pulling him closer when I take him deeper into my mouth. I don’t particularly like giving oral – not in the personally pleasurable way that Rapp seemed to have – but I rather like being the one in control and knowing it. His gasps and his moans and his sobs give me all the validation I need, and it goes straight to my burning core. I suppose this need of being in control affects all parts of my life – for work, I need a congratulations of a job well-done from my superior if I’m to be satisfied; when I went to school, I needed the best grades from my teachers in order to be sane; even as a small kid, I wanted my parents to give me constant validation (which they didn’t give me; maybe that’s why I remember my childhood as being an unhappy one). It’s only reasonable that all this is amplified through the passion of sex, isn’t it? Everything that he says or does makes me feel almost happy because I know that I’m doing a good job. When the words “good girl” tumble from his mouth again, I take him even deeper into my mouth, fighting the persistent urge to gag with tears springing at my eyes, wanting nothing more than to make him feel good so that I can feel good.

Rapp warns me that he’s about to cum, but I’m already too filled up with him for me to not swallow anything, so, when his whole body contracts and convulses, I drink everything that he gives me, my jaw working fluidly around his length in order to do so. He watches me in a trance, perhaps hypnotised by the way I take it so well. Rapp leans forward a little to look at me better – fuck, he just keeps cumming and cumming and cumming, his climax heightened by the fact that he hasn’t fucked anyone in a long time. His hand strokes my hair tenderly as his body starts to relax. “Oh, fuck, darlin’,” he chuckles at the ceiling. “Fuck, come here—” he whispers, and wraps an arm around my waist to pull me close when I comply with a smile and get to my feet. His tongue delves into my breathless mouth – I taste myself on him, and he tastes himself on me. His hips grind instinctively against my thigh, and I snake my hands into his hair, fingertips brushing against his scalp and making him moan softly, brokenly into me.

“Are we gonna have sex in a fucking bathroom, Rapp?” I grin against his neck, nipping softly at the running, blue vein just by his jaw. He lifts one of my legs up and starts to grind himself against my cunt, his cock growing hard once again.

“By the way, I have a—I’ve got a question,” he stutters as I suck gently on his neck. “I-I—fuck—I wanna take you from behind.” I hum curiously, laughing when Rapp ducks his head and kisses and licks at the swell of my breasts. He continues quietly, “I wanna do something you haven’t done before, something you’re gonna remember me by. You ever been fucked from behind?” Trying desperately to hide the blush on my face and neck, I tell him that, no, I haven’t. “I’ll take you again, if you want, but let me have you from the back first. Please.”

I nod shakily, ignoring the rush it gives me that Rapp wants me to remember him. With this job, it’s common—no, it’s expected to work with a partner once and then never talk to or see them again. Never even think about them. But I’ll take advantage of Mitch Rapp’s naïvety and humanity just this once, and I’ll let him think it’s okay to remember me so that I can remember him. Just this once.

“Do we—do you have a condom?” I ask, stepping backwards from him, my heart racing and my legs aching like I’ve just ran straight for miles and miles.

Rapp sighs and shakes his head, “No. No, I didn’t really think I’d be having sex on this mission, so, no, I don’t have a condom.” He finishes with a light smile before raising his hand to his lips and biting at his nails.

I pause to think, rubbing one shoulder consciously. “Well, can you pull out before you cum?” I ask, running my tongue over my teeth. I’ve never given that responsibility to a man before because, well, I don’t really like men, all in all. I always use protection. I’ve never had unprotected sex before. I haven’t trusted any other man with, you know, pulling out, purely because I’m sure they’d betray my trust and cum inside me anyway. And I might get pregnant with some skeez’s baby. Getting pregnant would sabotage my job, and the people here would think I’m less capable than the other agents – I don’t want that. But I don’t think Rapp would do that, so that’s why I’m giving him the option.

Rapp nods and runs his hand over his chin, “Yeah, sure, I’ll tell you when I’m near and I’ll stop. But are you alright with this?” A nervous smile plays on his face. “I just wanna check, ‘cause, you know, I’m sure you don’t wanna get pregnant, right?” I nod. “Right. And I’m clean, by the way. Nothing bad from me.”

I smile at him.

He guides me leisurely into the dimly lit and peeling bedroom, kissing my neck and my shoulders, and gives me enough room to position myself accordingly on one of the two beds in here – I choose the right because it’s the furthest from the window (through which a sharpshooter could potentially kill the both of us), breathing heavily as I get onto my hands and my knees like a fucking dog.

Rapp places himself carefully behind me, his warm body heat glowing onto my skin. His breath hitches nervously. Before he enters me, I quickly unclasp my bra because it’s bothering me, what with the temperature and all, and he helps me to shrug it off with delicate fingers ghosting against my shoulders. Both of us inhale and exhale deeply, about four times each, and then Rapp pushes his tip into me. My pussy instantly clenches as a reflex, making Rapp hiss and hesitate. And inch by inch, he eases inside. I battle the instinct to just scream and push him away because it fucking hurts like I’m being cut and pried open with a knife, partly because it’s been a while since I last had sex, but also because Rapp’s really quite big in comparison to the other few people I’ve fucked. “Wait—wait a second,” I force out quickly—and Rapp immediately stops.

“You alright?” He asks tentatively, leaning forward slightly to try and catch a glimpse of my face. Unfortunately, this motion of his is quite quick, and he accidentally pushes a little deeper inside, eliciting a small grunt of pain from me. “Shit, sorry. Do you want me to—should we stop? Do you want to stop? Should I pull out?”

I shake my head. “It just hurts a little bit.” I probably should’ve asked him to finger me a little before we started. “Can we just wait for a bit? So that I can get a little more used to—to you?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” he answers, his hands massaging soothingly at my hips and waist to try and perhaps distract me from the pain.

“Sorry, by the way,” I say to him.

“What? Don’t worry about it – it’s not a big deal.”

“I know, but it’s just that I haven’t—” I start shaking my head, “—I haven’t been with anyone in a while either. Not as long as you, though.”

Rapp is silent for a few heartbeats and, for a moment, I’m terrified that I’ve vexed him somehow. But then, he laughs breathily and rubs small circles into my hips with his thumbs. He doesn’t say anything, though – to be fair, if I were him and he’d said that to me, I wouldn’t know how to respond to either.

My walls start to loosen around Rapp, more comfortable now that I’m more used to the size of him. I tell him that he can move if he wants to, and he kisses my shoulder and says, “I’ll go all the way in, and then we can wait a little if you need to adjust a bit more, alright?” I nod eagerly, wondering how bad it would hurt if I just moved back all the way and swallowed the rest of him right now, if I went against the sensible part of my brain and gave into that primitive side of me that just doesn’t care. My stomach coils as Rapp grips my hips securely and continues to drive himself gradually, gradually into me. My hands ball into fists around the muted, floral bedsheets, and I work impossibly hard to keep my breathing rate normal – I don’t want Rapp thinking that I’m too thrown off by him or his size; it’d just feed his ego even further. His breath fails him as soon as he fills me to the hilt, leaving him a winded mess behind me – it almost seems like he’d been holding his breath as well. We pause just like that – I let my head droop down to face the mattress, chest heaving; Rapp shuffles in his spot, trying to find the most comfortable position for the both of us.

“Are you—does it feel good?” Rapp ventures tentatively, one of his hands descending under my stomach to offer a little more support.

I swallow hard and tell him, “Mm-hmm. You can move, now.”

He doesn’t straight away, perhaps capturing the feeling of sitting heavy inside me, just like I am. But then, his hips gri-i-ind against my backside, powerfully and so excruciatingly deliberate, drawing a moan and a sigh from me. He does this again, once, twice, thrice, and I feel myself become wetter and wetter with each of his actions. I find myself pressing back against him in response, delighted at the friction between us. And then he starts to bleed his movements progressively into thrusts, increasing the aggression of them as he goes along. A pleasant buzz pulsates throughout my body, especially between my legs, as Mitch – Rapp – slams his hips harder and harder and harder until I just can’t hold back the effect he’s having on me – my mouth falls open, leaving pants and whimpers and sobs and whines and sighs escape freely; my arms give out from beneath me, my entire body weight shifted forwards and allowing Rapp to drive himself even harder and faster and deeper into my poor, little pussy.

My name falls from his mouth as a small moan that travels straight to the point where our bodies join together, making me cry out in pleasure: "Oh, Mitch!" He leans forward until his chest rests over my squirming back, his breath condensing upon my shoulders and neck until they're damp and slick and hot. Mitch becomes more and more vigorous – I glance over my shoulder just quickly, Mitch darting out of the way just a little in order not to get hit by my displaced hair, and almost cum at the very sight of his face, of his open mouth, of his dark brown curls plastered thickly against his forehead, eyes filled to the brim with lust as they fixate on mine own. I watch him as he lets out a low, rumbling groan as my walls clench and squeeze tight around his cock, and his eyes screw shut and his head tips back as he curses under his breath.

"Jesus Christ, Mitch, I'm nearly—I'm gonna cum," I pant in desperation, turning my head back around and tilting it upwards in order to get enough air into my fluttering lungs.

"That's it, sweet girl," he says as the hand on my stomach travels down to that golden spot between my legs, earnestly rubbing my throbbing clit. "That's it. Be a good girl and cum all over my fuckin' cock."

And how can I not when he tells me to like that? How can I not feel that scalding coil within me unfurl and wrap around Mitch as my cunt squeezes and flexes around him? My hot liquids spurt around his shaft, the world turning a spinning and blurry black for a couple heartbeats.

Mitch's hips falter in pace, and he pulls out swiftly and finishes all over the sheets, his moans ringing out through the air as he gently holds himself in the large, flat palm of his left hand. Thick ribbons of his cum spill across his fingers, which he wipes upon the bedsheets. Heavy breaths are forced through his open mouth, and he sloppily shifts himself into a seating position, leaning back on both of his arms with his brown, honey-like eyes analysing me as I roll onto my back, eyes closed, still feeling myself drift through sunlit clouds just beneath the heavens. I suspect he feels the same.

"Shit, Mitch," I puff, eyes ebbing into focus on the textured, cream ceiling above. Mitch laughs breathily and rubs my knee tenderly. He moves to lie down next to me, his stubble scrubbing lightly against my skin as he kisses my left shoulder, and bites it gently.

"I—do you want to—to go again? I can take you again if you’d like," Mitch says with his voice layered with a slight eagerness that makes my thighs clench together, only a little, and, when I look over at him, his eyes are fixed impossibly levelly on mine. I'm sure that not even meteors raining down and setting fire to the world could direct his attention away from me in this moment – there's just something in those brown depths that make me feel like I'm completely alone with him on Earth right now, like there's no mission, no targets, no threats, no people. It's just Mitch and I.

I nod in response to his question.

"D'you want me to stretch you out a little? Need help getting wet again?" Mitch asks me as he reaches a hand down to slowly run a finger through my folds. Both of our breaths hitch as the tip of his finger pushes into me just slightly.

"I'm plenty wet already," I tell him, and this is confirmed when he withdraws his hand and the underside of his finger is all glistening and shining with me. Mitch licks my juices off of him and sighs contentedly.

And so, he shifts himself to be on top of me, arms bracing either side of my head. He whispers lowly, "Are you alright like this?" I tell him that I am, and I wrap one hand around the back of his neck, playing at the hairs at its nape. I kiss his jaw sweetly as he rubs himself against my stomach to get himself harder, and pull his head down to cradle into the crook of my neck. He positions himself at my entrance with my help – I hold his cock heavy in my hand and guide it towards me – and my hand digs at his back and his shoulder blades when he smoothly rolls his hips up and enters me—fully. I bite down on his shoulder as he lets out a rumbling moan, my legs widening for him instinctively. He begins pounding into me at a relentless pace, laying wet and open-mouthed kisses upon my neck, making me mewl and claw at his back with bared nails. I grab at his ass and push him further still into me, feeling so full that I can barely breathe. The sound of our sighs and the slapping together of our skin presses at the walls of the hotel room, expanding and expanding as our bodies both begin to contract. Mitch raises his head, pressing his sweating forehead to mine, gasping, "Oh, fuck, I'm not gonna last long, darlin'. Are you close?"

"Nearly," I reply, my eyes locking on his fucking perfect face, moaning as I feel his cock twitch inside of me.

"Come on," he huffs, propping himself up further on one hand with his other throwing my left leg over his rippling shoulder, grunting with effort as he does. He doesn't miss a single fucking beat, and I cry out in pleasure when Mitch reaches that heavenly spot inside of me. Gold pulses through my veins, building and building pressure until I'm cumming hard around him, convulsing grossly against his comforting body as I call out his name in a pathetic whine.

"Shit!" Mitch exclaims, jerking himself out of me and spilling himself all over my chest and stomach. I squeeze my legs together securely, making sure that none of his cum sprays into me. "Sorry," he says thickly, his hot breath fanning over my skin.

Mitch collapses to the side of me as he watches me smear his cum off of my chest, cleaning off the excess upon the already-ruined bedsheets. I wipe the side of my face as well – yes, some of it reached my face – and then sit up and brush the hair away from my face with slick hands. "I'm gonna go clean up," I tell the breathless Mitch.

"Do you need help?" He asks, but I don't look at him. I just shake my head, tell him no, and walk by myself into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. The musty, stifling air of sex and lust is left behind in the bedroom – the air is clean and innocent in here. I climb into the bathtub of cold water, feeling adrenaline and desire seep out of my body like blood out of a wound, exhaling deeply as I tip back my head and close my eyes to a fierce, exhausting, perpetual and swirling black.

Once I finish bathing, I dry myself and get dressed into the clothes littered carelessly across the bathroom’s tiled floor, frowning at the stain I left in my underwear. I drain the bath and turn off the lights, exiting the bathroom only to find Mitch dead asleep on the clean bed to the left of the room. I scowl at the right bed – I don’t want to sleep on all that mess, I think to myself – and curl up beside the sleeping assassin silently and facing him, eyes tracing the shapes and lines of his face.

“Mitch,” I whisper, but he doesn’t answer. I know that this’ll all be forgotten as soon as I close my eyes and fall asleep, so I opt to stay awake for as long as possible. We won’t talk in the morning, will we? Our mindsets will both switch back to purely professional, and the most conversation we’ll have is the barking of orders at each other when we have the barrels of our guns to other people’s heads, only thinking of the aim of the mission and how to get there. He’d probably leave me for dead if he had to; he wouldn’t fight to the death to protect me. I need to stop trying to find myself in others, I tell myself yet again – I suppose this is the long-term effect of utter loneliness. If we had met under different circumstances, if I hadn’t taken this job all that time ago, I wonder: Could he like me and could I like him? It’s impossible to imagine – the closest shot I’ll get at a relationship with him is if we continue to be partners and we keep sleeping with each other casually like this. There won’t be buying a house and living together. No marriage, no children, no growing old with each other. None of the normal stuff. Because people like us don’t really deserve happiness anymore.

“Mitch,” I say again, louder this time.

He groans as his eyes open heavily.

I realise I don’t have anything to say, so I just keep looking and looking at him.

He smiles.

#mitch rapp #american assassin #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp smut #Mitch Rapp x reader smut #smut #Mitch Rapp American assassin #dylan o'brien #dylan o brien x reader #motherfuckers i think im simping for this fictional character #that wouldn't be new #am i late to the dylan o'brien clan? #Rapp could run me over and id thank him #thank you rapp for railing me #goodbye now #Dylan o brien smut

[eekohfriendly]

tw: talk of abuse and ptsd

ok but people who depict bro as this amazing hero and good guy who was trying his best as a guardian make me genuinely angry

like im not gonna judge if people like the idea of him realizing how shitty he is and putting in the work to make himself better and really apologise to dave

but people who actually think he was a good person make me sick

he did h o r r i f i c things

in daves first strife thingy in homestuck, he was legitamately getting the shit beat out of him. he was THIRTEEN, and bro was an ADULT. that wasn’t an isolated incident, either; that had been happening probably since dave could hold a sword.

there was almost no food in the apartment. dave basically lived off of room temperature apple juice and stale doritos. there were swords in the fridge.

there were cameras everywhere, as well as a bunch of sex puppets and creepy horror movie bobby traps. 

bro was most likely responsible for daves internalized homophobia.

its also clear that dave never really had a normal interaction with him. the only people he ever had conversations with were the other beta kids.

there is so much horrific and abusive shit that bro did to dave. he’s not a fucking hero.

he’s not some great parent/brother who did such a good job or whatever.

he terrorized and abused an actual child. 

STOP ROMANTICIZING BRO STRIDER.

it’s not cute. hes not cute. youre not cute.

if you romanticize him or any of dave’s trauma, i will fucking boil your toes and make you eat them. crunchity munchity, motherfucker. its not ok.

“bUt HeS jUsT a FiCtIoNaL cHaRaCtEr, ItS nOt HuRtInG aNyOnE” yeah hes a fucking fictional character, that doesnt change the fact that youre simping over an abuser and saying that he would make a good parent! yes, bro strider isn’t real, but OTHER ABUSERS ARE. and those abusers have real victims who experience serious trauma. when you romanticize one abuser, you romanticize all abusers. that shit is NOT OKAY. 

liking the idea of a redemption arc is fine. erasing his actions and their effects is not.

dave is one of my biggest comfort characters, largely because he has immense trauma and still managed to pull through. thats a huge beacon of hope for me. theres a difference between taking comfort in a character who survives trauma and romanticizing that trauma. what happened to dave was awful and i wouldnt wish it on anyone. the fact that he found his own family and has a good support system, and learned how to function in regular domestic life is amazing, and im really proud of him, and it gives me hope that i’ll make it through my current situation(which is by no means anywhere near as bad as his was).

TL;DR: stop romanticizing bro, he’s a horrible abuser. stop romanticizing dave’s trauma, it had a major effect on his physical and mental wellbeing throughout his entire life, not just his childhood.

#not a shitpost #serious post #homestuck #bro strider #dave strider #abuse #ptsd #mini rant

[freeshavacado]

My thoughts while reading Gone by Michael Grant:

* wait how old is Sam

* He do be liking Astrid doe

* Damn so Sam is a Leader

* Ew Orc is an 8th grader? 🤮

* Ok I googled it Sam is 14

* I like Quinn

* Sam thinks he’s so awkward but he’s actually really chill so far

* THE PAIN THIS GIRL IS GOING THROUGH OH MY GOD

* Poor Mary :(

* Howard’s a bitch

* Cut to Quinn being a racist motherfucker

* I love Edilio

* Sam is WHIPPED for Astrid

* Orc is such a piece of shiiiiiit

* LANAAAAA :(((

* Poor thing is in so much pain

* Patrick her dog is alive so that’s good

* She’s deadass slowly dying

* Thank god her arm is better

* I want to make this into a TV series

* If Sam and Astrid don’t kiss at some point I swear

* Hahahaha Sam do be shirtless rn

* Why isn’t Astrid happy to see Little Pete???

* MARY. IF YOU POUR HOT ASS COFFEE ON A CHILD, DONT JUST STAND THERE AND THEN RUN AWAY. PUT COLD WATER ON THE BURN

* Aw Mary has had bulimia since she was ten :(

* Ok so what she just took her Prozac and then threw up? Wouldn’t the pill go up too? I think your stomach/body needs like 30 minutes to absorb it into the blood stream...

* HELP SAM HES CHOKING

* Bruh my ass would be so exhausted

* Quinn low key an ass tho

* Lol edilio isn’t standing for this bullshit

* Lmaooo Astrid knew 💀

* Omg little Pete has it too

* Wow Quinn is an asshole pt 2

* I feel like Caine is gonna be a villain...like he’s pretty AND nice? Nah bro too good to be true

* Fucking Orc god 😒😒😒

* Caine is up to some shit 🤨

* Lmao hold up

* Diana probably whipped tho

* Sam please only be a simp for Astrid 😩

* I bet Drake is hot

* Aww computer Jack :) DONT YOU TURN ON ME SON

* “The captain is already maintaining” Bullshit 💀

* Are they really gonna call this eighth grader ‘Captain’?

* LMAOOO THE BASTARD CANT EVEN READ OR WRITE 💀💀💀

* Lol making Sam the fire chief because he was brave enough to go into a fire one time, so therefore he is the most qualified

* Bruh that’s like if I gave a kid the Heimlich maneuver bc he was choking on a gummy worm or some shit and they were like “Well because she did that, she should be the head doctor!!!”

* CAINE IS FULL OF SUCH BULLSHIT OML

* PRETENDING TO CRY N SHIT GOD

* I already know that Diana is gonna try and seduce Sam while she’s actually a spy for the private school kids

* Which, btw, of course it’s the private school kids smh

* I feel like maybe Computer Jack will be someone who eventually switches to the Good Side

* ALSO wow jack really be thinking that he’s smarter than Astrid smh 🙄

* Jack is such a smartsass

* Diana is such a fucking bitch oh my god 😒😒😒

* “You don’t look tough, Astrid” STFU SHES THE TOUGHEST OF THEM ALL

* Ok but I bet Diana and Astrid low key have sexual tension. Like obviously nothing’s gonna happen...but still

* Bruh I hate Caine

* Fuckin Diana with her ‘readings’ bullshit smh

* YESSSS LANA 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 so strong

* Literally how do they not know how to make pasta

* “I thought your people ate tortillas,” QUINN YOU RACIST PEICE OF SHIT UGH

* Poor Bette :(

* Orc is a piece of shit, I know we’ve already established this but I wanted to say it again

* I love Edilio so much

* Orc really using a slur against Edilio huh. Imma kill him

* IM SO DONE WITH QUINN. THIS BITCH REALLY JUST SAID “let him have her” LIKE TF????

* Drake is such a bastard oh my god

* If you hate Quinn and you know it clap your hands 👏🏻👏🏻

* No seriously. I fucking hate him.

* Nooooo Bette died :((

* “I can’t kiss you with your little brother watching” AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

* Did they kiss or not wtf

* What the hell is up with this cat

* Ah so they did kiss!!

* Why didn’t I get details 🤨

* No a baby died 😞

* Quinn s u c k s

* How convenient that Sam got there *right* before Emma disappeared

* Those last 6 minutes before Anna disappeared too and was calling out to her sister, and so for what she thought was her last few minutes on earth she held sams hand :(

* Lol Diana sucks

* ‘WoRDs DONT sCArE mE’ shut up Drake

* Okay Computer Jack is definitely going to betray them because they underestimate him and take him for granted

* You’re telling me Caine and Sam could be TWINS???

* Why was the kiss ‘a mistake’ ?

* Okay NOW they’re awkward

* “But it was the first time I meant it” I CANT. ITS SO CHEESY

* I HATE QUINN

* These kids are crazy violent

* Fuck Diana

* Yikes now Sam only has some of his eyebrows left 😬

* Caine is in love with Diana 👀

* Little Pete might be more powerful than Caine 😛

* THESE KIDS ARE CRAZY LIKE CHILL

* Diana: I really dislike you Astrid: of course you dislike me, I make you feel inferior

* ROASTED ^

* Mmmm Quinn is trying to redeem himself

* “Don’t call me brah. I’m not your brother” OHHHHHHHHHHH HE REALLY WENT THERE

* that’s what you get for being a backstabbing asshole

* Poor Astrid :(

* Poor Little Pete :(

* Bro I need this to be a movie

* I love that Sam just punched Quinn like we had no choice but to stan

* Ok drake would definitely shoot up a school

* Fuck Drake

* Lana is so strong. Like she’s been in so much pain physically and mentally, and she almost died. But she saved herself and now even though she thinks she might be the only person left alive on earth, she is still keeping strong.

* What happens if the boat runs out of gas?

* Bruh these coyotes don’t give up

* THE COYOTES AGAIN??

* “Go out” “You’ll kill me,” “Yes. Go out, die fast. Stay, die slow”

* Wowwwwwwwwwww^

* Lmaooo “L.P.”

* Awwww Sam: “...she was still so beautiful that sometimes he had to look away.”

* Okay he a lil’ horny

* Awe Astrid and Sam hugging I’m soft 🥺

* I’m so sick of these damn coyotes

* Bruh these coyotes 😒

* Diana is annoying

* Literally can’t remember who Andrew is, but they’re about to film his passing away like wtf

* Poor Andrew :(

* “You’re a deep sleeper, Jack. Just now, while you were sleeping? I held your pudgy little hand. Probably as close as you’ll ever get to holding hands with a girl. Assuming you even like girls.” FUCK YOU DIANA

* Okay so Diana will protect Jack as long as he ‘belongs’ to her and does what ever she wants? That’s pretty sus

* Sam and Astrid kissed again 😖☺️

* Lmaooo Albert over here running McDonald’s

* Salads disappeared quickly from the McDonald’s menu since this whole thing? Who the hell orders a salad from McDonald’s?

* So Albert kinda whipped for Mary 👀

* I haaaaatttteeee the private school kids

* Y’know what depending on where I was and who I was with in this situation, I might’ve just killed myself

* “Remember who owns you” ew 🤨

* Diana. I hate you

* Bro I feel bad for Andrew

* How is Lana back at the cabin?

* That IS Lana right??

* Okay things are moving fast between Sam and Astrid. Like she’s already saying “I just want you here with me. Safe” like 🤢

* Lana, about Sam: your boyfriend? Astrid: ThAts nOt WhAt iTs AbouT

* LMAOO AFTER SHE SAID THAT SHE SAID IN A LOW VOICE “kind of” WHAT

* Lol Lana be out here like “yeah shits crazy. Get with the program”

* Ew they’re eating pudding with their hands 🤮

* I don’t care how hungry you are, that’s gross

* Like get a spoon or something

* Lana just called Astrid “smart girl Barbie” 🤨

* Part of me is like “lol” but the other part of me is like “bruh stop Astrid did nothing wrong”

* I still hate Quinn but he is kind of funny

* Lana calling Astrid “the blonde” like girl 😑

* Bruh you’re stuck in a house that is literally on fire and getting hotter by the second as it fills with smoke, now is not the time to be kissing Astrid

* Finally the damn coyotes are gone.

* Sam is so angry and he’s disgusted with himself for being so angry, I relate

* Fuck you, Quinn

* Fuck drake

* I would gladly kill Drake

* OOOOOOOOO EDILIO LIKES LANA AHHHHHH

* SIMP

* omg I love it 😩

* Lmaooooo Sams speech wow

* Sam you should NOT forgive Quinn. Especially not that fast. Yikes.

* Orc should feel bad for killing Bette. I have no pity for him rn

* Yes please kill drake.

* I am so happy that his arm is on fire. 100% he deserves to feel that pain

* Aww that’s kinda nice that Albert is planning thanksgiving dinner for everyone

* DAMMIT DRAKE

* I hate drake so much like dude just shut up and leave everyone alone

* Orc oh my god I could not be rolling my eyes harder right now

* Tbh if Orc and his other friends die, I’m okay with that

* What tf is up with this DVD

* Little Pete caused all of this??? 😦

* I’m sooooo sick of this whole darkness and coyote stuff istg

* Where is Patrick?????

* If Patrick is dead imma throw hands

* Diana is such an evil person. Like Drake is a monster, but she’s horrible in a different way.

* Also ughhhhhhhhhh Drake is back 😒😒😒😒😒 so sick of that mf

* “So. When do we go take down Sam Temple?” 🙄🙄🙄 no one likes you Drake

* AHAHAHHSJAHSHSHHSHD

* SAM JUST TOLD ASTRID HE LOVED HER

* AND SHE SAID IT BACK

* IM. S O F T

* (like my brain is still saying “y’all have talked for less than two weeks and you’re 14”)

* But like whatever 😭❤️

* My eyes just rolled into the back of my skull once Diana appeared

* Taylor low key flirting with Sam tho 👀

* When I first met Dekka, I was all: ‘what the hecka?’

* THOSE DAMN COYOTES

* I’m crying because Quinn couldn’t kill Drake because he was scared, and now children are screaming. Ugh I really wanted him to kill Drake but I understand that killing someone is a crazy thing to have on your conscience

* Call me cold hearted, but I would’ve shot him

* This is all in theory of course ^ I bet if I was in that situation though it wouldn’t be as easy as “just shoot him”

* I don’t think I’ve ever been more annoyed with a fictional character than I am with Drake rn

* Yooo I bet Isabella has some animal powers or sumn

* Caine 🙄🙄🙄 like that emoji doesn’t even come close to describing how annoyed I am

* Wait so is Patrick back now or...?

* Caine really just. Kissed Diana. Because she “owed him”????

* THIS IS SOME BULLSHIT

* I literally hate sooooooooo many characters in this book ugh 😒😒😒

* Quinn is watching Drake kill Sam and is doing nothing. I’m so done with this piece of shit

* Ok finally he tried to shoot him

* “You know it always gets me hot when you say ‘apt analogy.’” “Why do you think I do it?”

* Y’all 🥴🥴🥴

* THOSE DAMN COYOTES

* Literally? Imagine being this heartless. Giving up hundreds of kids to coyotes without hesitation. The hate I have for Caine is real

* Once again, Orc feeling bad for what he did to Bette. And honestly? I’m still okay with that

* This kid is an a l c o h o l i c

* Computer Jack is so annoying like dude stop holding on to Sams leg. Literally

* Still hate Diana, but I like that she’s helping out Sam a little bit

* Ew Diana just kissed Sam on the corner of his mouth 🤢

* I TOLD YALL ^^^

* Yay Patrick is alive :)

* “I guess we won,” Sam said. “Yeah,” Edilio agreed. “I’ll get the backhoe. Got a lot of holes to dig.”

* ^im. Depressed

* I cannot for the life of me remember who Cookie is

* “Orc sat with Howard in a corner by themselves. Orc had fought Drake to a standstill. But no one-least of all Orc-had forgotten Bette.”

* ^good.

* Y’all Sam and Astrid flirting I- 🥴🥴

* We love to see it ^

* Awww “we’re going to the beach” y’all Astrid and Sam are so cute

* THOSE DAMN COYOTES

* FUCK. Goddamn this cliffhanger 😡

#gonebook #funny #gonebymichealgrant #goneseries #readingfunny #readingmemes #gonefunny #samtemple #astrid #caine #littlepete #thefayze #gonememes #drake #book #bookfunny #bookmemes #bookmeme #mine #funnymemes #reading #read #gone #gone2008