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ceruleanchillin · 8 months

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141 x Reader: Biker!AU

Note(s) -

1.) Nobody asked for this, but here I am combining two obsessions. Congrats, you’re a biker’s old lady now 🎉.

Any media with hot guys in a group should have outlaw MC AUs

2.) I love roughneck Simon. Please give me more of him. I wanna talk about the guys in this AU so badly, don’t (DO) feed my inbox. BlueCollar!Simon, Mafia!Simon, Mechanic!Simon, Idc I love it all.

3.) If you saw this before, no you didn’t (plus I added more to it). I decided to keep them all together, and it’ll just be long as hell. A long fic stored under a cut never hurt nobody.🤷🏾‍♀️

Simon

Nobody can get him as soft as you. There’s a 3-ringed barrier around his heart. Outsiders < The Club < You.

He loves doing mundane things with you, the kind of things he never saw for himself when he swore to stay single in this life. Like, after a good run fattens his wallet, letting you run wild in the shops.

“C’mon on then lovie, give us a spin.”

You squealed, spinning so the soft fabric fanned around your upper thighs. “I love it! But Si, it’s too much.”

“You let me worry about that sweetheart. Just let me see how it looks comin’ offa ya.” He gripped the very thighs you teased him with, eager for his favorite part besides your smile.

He’d pick up as many extra runs as it took to keep you in small luxuries, as long as he was the one that got to keep that look on your face.

They all have tattoos, but Simon is the king. His body art is top notch, because he’s very discerning with his artists. He’s had the best from Europe to the States. Now, he only trusts Price’s old lady, Johnny, and you.

In fact, that’s how you met. You started your apprenticeship under an asshole who bailed before it was over, and took a chance on the dangerous shop everyone warned you away from. Mrs. Price was everything you were afraid of AT FIRST. You later understood it was because the shop is 141 affiliated, and she had to be harshly discerning to protect herself and her family.

Once you got over that phase, she was unendingly sweet, and dedicated to helping you hone your craft.

Simon saw you when he came to fix the sink in the shop’s little kitchen. You were the only one there, intensely focused on a practice skin arm.

You were beautiful, hair wild from you tugging at in concentration, and your tongue poking out slightly. How long had you been working here?

“I knew you needed a hand around here, but that’s a bit far isn’t it?”

You jumped, startled out of your practice, the buzz of the tattoo gun stopping. “Oh my god! I don’t know what scared me more, you, or that joke.”

The two of you kept each other company in your respective tasks, until he was done. In admitting you were aching to do a real tattoo again, he found himself volunteering on instinct.

At first you resisted, worried about the ethics in your mentor’s shop, and he came up with the genius idea of going back to your place. Smooth Simon.

By the end of the night he was sure he’d never need another artist again.

He’s often as busy as Price, sometimes more so. It takes a lot to run a charter as is, but to establish a table so far from home calls on him more than any other era in his time with the club. On top of that, he often pulls double duty, acting as an enforcer with Konig.

That’s where he really appreciates you understanding, and accepting, his lifestyle. You’ve made a home for him, and he only hopes he conveys how much he appreciates that.

—

He comes home with a headache taking up residence in every corner of his head more and more these days. It was all he could do to kick his boots off, and not collapse on the nearest thing that could hold his weight. His room felt miles away. Downside of living in the dorms.

He drug himself to the clubhouse kitchen, prepared to dig around for some painkillers, when he saw a post-it note on the island next to a napkin with two pills.

Ignore if not Si!

Dinner in the fridge + cake in the dish on the counter. Eat and get your ass in bed with me.

He chuckled, headache long forgotten when he realized you were in his bed. However, his heart and stomach wouldn’t let him ignore the home cooked meal in the fridge, and once he’d savored every bite, he was a blur on his way to his room.

You were curled up in one of his shirts, sleeping soundly on the side of the bed he favored. He stripped, leaving his clothes on the floor, only stopping to deposit his kutte on the dresser, before scooping you into his arms.

“Si..” you murmured sleepily, burying your face in his chest, seeking something to lay on after being picked up.

“‘s alright sweet pea.”

“Glad you’re home, don’t let go.” You were slightly more awake now, but not by much.

“Was never an option.” He got into bed, relaxing in the warm spot you left behind, and situated you next to him in his arms.

Assuming big spoon position, his hands roamed your form, finding momentary purchase wherever they could. He felt a little guilty for further waking you up, but it occurred to him that you must have seen the day he’d had, and had taken the time to attempt to make it a little better. You could be home in your own bed, but you chose to be there for him. He was starving for you.

His lips created the same desperate patterns across your cheek and neck that his hands created on your body. He gripped your thigh, giving the plush skin a squeeze, before hooking your leg back over his.

There was a sharp inhale of air from you, and you pushed back against him, undoubtedly feeling him firming.

He laid his other arm under your head, letting you lay your cheek against his arm as he grasped your face. He tilted it up to grant more access to your skin for his lips.

“Taking care of me pretty bird?”

“It’s what you deserve, baby.” You slurred, squirming in sensory overload at all of his attention.

“Swear m’ going flat hunting tomorrow.” His fingers skimmed over your covered heat, grinning when your lower half bucked.

“‘s what you deserve sweetheart. Somewhere to put all your nesting to good use.”

You moaned rolling your hips back into your solid wall of a man. “Don’t tease me, I can’t help it.”

“Oh, m’not teasing pretty bird, m’ appreciating.”

He’s been called on to do many dark things for the club. Price doesn’t leave room at the table for anyone not to pull their weight, and he’s even tougher on his titled men. However, the darker jobs fall on Simon more often than anyone else, because he’s thorough, and can put the deed away somewhere, somehow, every time.

When he pulls on his mask, and just surrenders to being no one but Ghost, he’s ready to work. He never cared what anyone thought about his actions, he never had to, until you.

You’d been around rough crowds in your lifetime, but Simon was a career criminal, and so was his found family. He was sure some recollection of his deeds would reach you, and that’d be your line. In fact, he was waiting on it.

He was shocked, truly floored, to find that wasn’t what triggered you. It was how you felt he was being utilized. You didn’t like, what you felt, was the unequal distribution of the extreme jobs, and you told him as much.

When he got over his shock, his reaction was fiercely defensive of the club. It was your turn for shock, but he couldn’t help it. He felt judged about the family that owned his loyalty, by the woman that owned his heart.

You were taken aback by his ferocity, but it didn’t change your view. It created a hotbed of tension that threatened what the two of you had built, until he understood why you felt so strongly. Simon was the one taken aback when he realized your intensity came from your love for him, not a judgement of the 141. He still couldn’t wrap his head around someone loving him to that degree. In his heart of hearts, he didn’t think he was worthy of that. That’s how he was supposed to, and did, love you.

He admitted as much when the tired topic reached a fever pitch.

Simon’s close cropped blonde hair was riddled with evidence he’d been running long, frustrated fingers through it. Those same fingers pulled a cigarette from his pack,, and lit it with a calmness that didn’t reflect the current mood.

“So now you tell me what I can and can’t do? That it then?”

You snapped at the accusation, breaking the promise you’d made to yourself not to raise your voice. “I’m not telling you what you can and can’t do, stop reframing what I fucking say!”

“Grow the fuck up, you’re not a bloody baby. You knew what I did when we got together. I protect the group, I’m meant to be the first line of defense. I pull my weight, my life be damned!”

Your eyes widened in shock at the underlying implication of his words. His own expression wasn’t familiar enough to you for you to place.

“The table doesn’t make me do the ugly bits, most times I volunteer.” He flicked ash onto the pavement, his finger tapping with more force than necessary. “Whether I die, or get pinched, I can be replaced. ‘s my job to stand in front of the ones that can’t.”

His chest heaved with trapped frustration, voice guttural, raw with emotion. “That’s my use.”

You couldn’t place a time where your heart had ever hurt for anyone the way it hurt for him in that moment. It was a physical pain, pin pricking across your chest in a wave, and momentarily halting your ability to speak. You loved this man, fuck the moon, he hung galaxies in your eyes, and that’s what he thought of himself?

Simon, studying your expression and not liking the shame it made him feel, turned away. He didn’t know what to do with shame, especially in front of you. He’d said too much, and his mind was racing to find a way to undo it. Stiffening at the feeling of your arms barely meeting around his large form, he fought the urge to pull away.

Your voice was shaky, laden with the tears you didn’t bother fighting the fruitless fight to stop. “I wish I could get you to understand how untrue that is. I wish I knew where to start.”

He turned back around, but refused to meet your eyes. That startled you. Simon had never been afraid to lock eyes with you. He backed down from no one.

“Wasn’t an answer you liked then lovie? Sorry to disappoint.” He said quietly, taking a last drag before he ended the cigarette under his boot, and walked off back towards the clubhouse.

Tears streamed down your face at a faster rate now, and you tried in vain to swipe them away quickly. You weren’t sure what to say. Not then, too much was in the air as it was, and things needed to cool, but this clearly wasn’t settled

You only knew what you wanted to do. Hold him. Hold him until he saw how fucked his outlook was, and how much worth he really had.

Long out of town rides to create a bubble with just you and him. No specific destination, you just ride until you can both believe you’re the only two people you know.

He throws you a surprise party when you get certified as a tattoo artist, and Mrs. Price releases you from your apprenticeship to a chair of your own.

No one can believe Ghost is throwing someone any kind of party, but they don’t dare deny him as he enlists them in different tasks. He took the whole thing very seriously, and left no room for mistakes. No one, not even Soap, was careless enough to spoil the surprise. Simon wanted perfection.

It was obvious to anyone who watched his love struck gaze follow you when you were around, but if anyone doubted it before, they didn’t now. This man loves you.

Simon sometimes comes to you with a design he’s made for his next tattoo. It’s never elaborate, and it’s usually more utilitarian than aesthetic. He trusts you to make it pretty, he knows you will. He just wants to better convey his idea, or so you think.

In reality, he just likes when you praise him, and he can be part of your passion. He’s constantly amazed by your artistry, and humbled that you let him be a part of it. Essentially, you two collaborate on his tattoos in an undeniably intimate way.

He unceremoniously comes to you with a scrap of paper, something he’s sketched over the past few days.

“Somethin’ f’ya to look over when you get the chance.” He mutters before giving you a long kiss and leaving the shop.

You study the lines, shaky but serviceable, and the design clear. Your mind immediately began to think of ways to tie it into his existing tattoo’s style and his tastes. All the while, you kicked your feet, ecstatic that once again, the most complex person you knew was trusting you with this responsibility.

Si had some serious, high quality pieces on his body, and he thought enough of your hand to add to that.

Simon is usually more affectionate when you’re alone. In public, it’s mostly gliding fingers across your back, or a quick brush of his lips across your forehead. BUT, sometimes his intrusive thoughts win, and he has to slap your ass. This can happen anywhere, anytime.

You’re bent over the tattoo chair, disinfecting and scrubbing, and you swear you hear his hand cutting through air before you feel the smack.

“Si!”

“You put it there sweetheart.”

Shooting range dates. You’ve been judged by some of your more…conventional friends, but you’re a gun girlie (which turns Simon on like nothing he’s ever experienced), and you don’t care. They tried to make you feel like he was being inconsiderate taking you there. Meanwhile, it was damn near your demand.

Simon loves having friendly competitions, random kisses, and exchanging shitty jokes. Seeing you get excited, and engaging in a little tech/spec talk about a gun you love, gets Simon bricked up in 10 seconds flat.

You truly believe he’s taken you in hidden parts of the range more than either of your beds at this point.

Makes you keep track of football season when he’s away. Almost put you in a box and mailed you far away from him when you assumed he meant American football season.

“Don’t ever hurt me like that again lovie, I won’t be held responsible.”

Punishes you with edging and cockwarming if you miss any important details. It’s especially excruciating when he’s just returned, and all you want is him to stretch you out. Simon is a mean dom, and he won’t be moved by sympathy.

“Please Si, I only missed one game.” you whined, trying to get him to come back to where he’d just spent time building you up to fall on his tongue, only to pull away at the last second.

He smirked, rising to his feet which clued you into the fact that he really wasn’t going to finish you off then. “That’s a bad girl. Have the missing orgasm to match.”

——-

Gaz:

Lives for where you live. Your little house is his home away from home. Sometimes the gang can be on business that keeps them on the road for weeks, and the last thing he wants when he comes back, is to continue to be locked in close quarters with other guys.

That’s when you know he’s skipping clubhouse life to crash with you for a while. You love it as much as him.

Scented candles and incense, sweet laundry detergent, soft materials, home cooked meals. It’s such a soft juxtaposition to his previous journey.

Your hands are all over him, soothing bruises and kissing him over in mapped out patterns only known to you.

Kyle may not know the difference between a single thing on your beauty table, or much about the things in your bathroom cabinets, but he knows he loves how it all smells/looks on you when he’s running his nose across your skin.

“Baby, I gotta get ready for work.”

Kyle hummed in acknowledgement, but kept you pinned to the overstuffed couch, kissing your thighs in his own personal ritual. The two of you had been sequestered away for two days since he’d been back, but he still couldn’t get enough of you.

“Be good for me love, I won’t make you late.”

“Liar.” You giggled when he pinched you in retaliation. “If you do what it feels like you’re about to do, I won’t make it to the shop until noon.”

“Not a liar babe, you know that better than anyone else.” He pushed your knees up until they pressed against your chest. “I promise, you’ll be the first one there. Can’t say in what state though.”

Being the club secretary, it may seem like Kyle has the plushier job at the table. Wrong. He sees as much action as the other guys, and he likes to stay in shape. That’s fine by you, because you reap the benefits when you get to watch him working out at your place.

Kyle Garrick doing burpees and up-downs in your tiny backyard, clad in nothing but gray sweat shorts, and a thin gold chain against his chest, isn’t a sight that should be free. Yet, after Kyle has finished his mission of witnessing you walk funny at least once, it’s a sight you’re treated to when he sinks back into his home routine.

You somehow think you’re safe to creep-watch from the back doorway while you enjoy your green tea, even though Kyle catches you every time. He just always knew when your eyes were on him.

Without even turning to give you a look he called your name, laughing softly. “I should start charging admission.”

“I was thinking the same thing!” You stuck your tongue out at his back, slamming the door when he revealed he somehow saw that too.

Kyle comes to the salon and hangs with you between appointments. Sometimes he watches you work, and fake flirts with customers to get you more money. He’s great for business.

“Cost a little extra, yeah? But myself, I love a bird that sweats the details.” Kyle’s brown eyes and bright smile were a lethal combination against free will, you knew this for a fact.

The soccer mom in your chair ducks her head under his attention, cheeks filling in with red, as she tells you she changed her mind about the rhinestones.

You appreciate the efforts towards fattening your wallet, but sometimes he’s so effective, you get annoyed and drag him to the break room to remind him you own him.

When you ride with him, he loves looking down and seeing the pretty designs of your nails grasping his chest. Something about the contrast of hot pink, or pearlescent purple against the black leather of his kutte does it for him.

Kyle is definitely on the calmer side most times, especially for his lifestyle, but the fastest way to break that is someone meaning you harm.

You were out at a crowded club with the 141, their ladies, and some friends of the club. It was a celebration of good finances and a successful legal dodge.

The guys clung to a dark VIP section, there for the drinks and victory lap more than the dancing. On the other hand, you and the other girls were not there to sit idle.

After a tense few months, the cause of your respective relationship ups and downs with the guys, you guys deserved to cut loose. The table agreed, with your men shouting words of encouragement and flirtatious innuendo to hype you up.

The whole bar was enthralled by you and the other girl’s dancing, singing, and general untethered energy. It was contagious. You especially, you had a few drinks in you, and all that could currently keep your attention was the music.

There was, unfortunately, one outsider who got a little too enthralled with the performance.

When you peeled away from the group, following the uptempo rhythm, he thought that was his time to make his move.

You felt him press up against you while your eyes were closed, assuming it was Kyle, you almost ground back against him. Then you smelt the liquor. Kyle liked a drink like everyone else, and you’d even seen him drunk, but this was someone who’d been at it for a while. Disgustingly sour, too close, and ultimately not your man.

You sent a sharp hit back with your elbow, turning to confirm what you knew. It wasn’t Kyle. He grunted, but pushed forward again making you hold your hand up in a warning.

“I don’t think so.” you waved him off, laughing at the prospect of entertaining him.

Angered by your laughter, he got bolder, shouting to be heard. “Well I think so, but I’m real interested in knowing why you don’t.”

“Because I said what I said, and I have a man.” You were tipsy, but there was an underlying fire to your words lending them solidity. “Fuck off!”

He bristled at another dismissal. “Bitc-“

Kyle had appeared, most likely having started making his way to you once the man got too close, and clapped him on the shoulder. His expression said that he had heard at least some of what was said.

“Hi baby!” You shouted, a little loud even for the club, but that made it endearing. “That’s my man.” You told the asshole.

“Use your ears before I send you home carrying them.” He was gripping the man’s shoulder so tightly you should see the sharp knuckle bones flexing, his rings catching the light.

The man looked at the kutte, and the expression on Kyle’s face, and the exact moment he realized the man would act on the threat literally became apparent.

If that wasn’t enough, you had the ladies at your back, and the table alert and waiting for the call. It was over for the bastard before it even started.

He raised his hands and scurried into the crowd, aiming for the door.

“I love you baby.” You crooned, throwing your arms around him and covering his face with kisses.

He laughed. “I love you too, even when I know I’m going to be holding your pretty hair back all day.”

When the gang has to have a tense table vote in a briefing, their equivalent to some other mc’s “church”, you always wait for Kyle. As secretary, it’s his job to gather information on other gangs, as well as any important changes in the area, and his council is called on first.

You’re waiting for him right after, inviting him back to your house for the night, knowing he won’t want to stay in his dorm. He won’t show it then, but he’s disappointed, and when you get him home, you let him vent to his mind’s content.

All the while, you’re drawing him a bath, doing a light skin routine on his face, greasing his scalp, and curling up on the couch with his back against your chest.

You know his brothers have his best interest at heart, and respect his role in the club, but sometimes he can get in his head about it, and that’s when you step in.

——-

Soap:

Johnny kept his lifestyle a secret from you at first. You’d only been hooking up for a couple of weeks before you both confessed to wanting more.

The crew had mocked him relentlessly about his inability to keep a relationship casual.

“Give it up mate, you ain’t even foolin’ yourself!” Gaz had clapped him on the back, laughing right in his face. “You start up with a girl right, and it’s over. You’re looking for a house by sunup.”

“Och, piss off with ya! I can keep it casual!” Indignant, and maybe a little drunk, he elbowed the man on the other side of him. “Tell em’ Ghost.”

Simon glanced at him sideways, bourbon halfway to his lips, careful it didn’t spill due to the prodding. “Johnny, some pretty bird starts chirpin’ in your ear and it’s curtains. Now fuck off.”

He couldn’t believe his friends, no — brothers, had such little faith in him.

Cut to a few days later, with him balls deep in you, confessing he wanted more.

“I’ll be good to ya bon, I swear it. I’m all for ya, just be for me?”

The only thing that lessened the embarrassment of proving his friends right, was that you seemed relieved, and admitted it was what you wanted too.

He couldn’t help it. Ever since he’d been patched in, besides the camaraderie, he was enamored with the relationship between Price and his old lady. There were plenty of solid old lady/old man pairings around him, but something about the way the club queen cared for her man, kept the other girls in order, and still maintained a life for herself was astounding to watch.

He couldn’t help chasing that in every girl he’d gotten with since he’d joined up. So many girls wanted the mystique of a sexy biker, but that’s all he was for them. Either a living dildo, or an attraction they could make their friends jealous with. Things never got very far outside of the bedroom. Except once, but that didn’t go over so well in the end.

He wanted that ride or die bond so badly, he couldn’t wait to have the perfect old lady to wife up and fill a house with brats.

With you, he prayed he was it for you, because you had quickly become it for him.

You were a good girl. Specifically, his good girl now. He felt it was highly unlikely you would go for his lifestyle, and so he kept it under wraps at first. He knew he had to tell you at some point, but he wanted to soak up as much time as he could in case you checked out.

“Nah sweetheart, it’s nah like that. We get a little rough, but mainly, we just appreciate bikes.”

“Do ya think I have what it takes to be in a criminal organization? And with ya not knowin’ no less!?”

“Let’s talk about something else bon, did ya ken your thighs look cute warming my ears?”

Guilt eating through him like acid, especially when the club picks up on the fact that he hasn’t brought you around. Anytime Soap has a girl in his bed more than once, he’s parading around the club with her in no time. They know there’s something special about you, and that baffles them even more. Soap claims it’s because you live one town over, which you do, but Gaz calls him on his shit.

He’s hyper defensive, and fights until he’s blue in the face before he admits it’s true. He’s afraid you’ll turn out like the others, or reject him all together. He’s so far gone at this point, he’d rather you use him than leave him.

Price doesn’t like it, and councils him against lying to you any further for numerous reasons. Soap promises he’ll tell you soon, but he’s trying to convince himself as well as his president.

Eventually he couldn’t hide it anymore, but it wasn’t exactly his choice when the curtain got pulled back.

The two of you had been to a late movie, Johnny finally having had time to squeeze in a date with you after a series of back-to-back runs. You’d suggested coming to him for once to take the burden off. Before he could object, you’d admitted that you were already in town, and he’d rushed to meet you.

Though he was nervous about you hearing something, or seeing someone off-color that he knew, he couldn’t deny he loved the day he spent with you.

He never needed a reason to want to kiss you, but something about your soft smile under the parking lot lights compelled him right then. Maybe because your expression said just how content you were to be with him, and he buried that in his heart.

“Wait a minute.” He stopped you, lips on yours before you could ask why.

Parking lots didn’t exactly get safer as they got darker, and emptier, but he couldn’t stop once his lips touched yours. Then you started tugging on the curly hair of his Mohawk like you did when you’d really gotten into things.

He was just about to suggest he stay over at your place, when you were interrupted by a cop. You assumed he was going to warn you about loitering and apologized, but he and Johnny knew that wasn’t what it was about. He called Johnny “Soap”, and you were confused as to how they knew each other.

“Oh, Scotboy here goes back with the law a long ways back home.” The cop tried to clap Johnny on the shoulder only for him to violently dodge it. “Easy. I’m not booking you on anything…tonight.”

You were at a loss for what the cop thought he could book Johnny on, and called it out as harassment. Johnny knew, by the sick expression on his face, that the cop was eager to spill it all once he realized how little you knew about the man you were clutching. He tried to prevent that from happening.

“Yeah well, you’re just wastin’ time then, and we have a drive.” Johnny’s arm tightened around your shoulder as he started to lead you away.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what he’s told you, but if you were my daughter I’d want you to know. That’s a dangerous man you’re on the arm of.”

“Shut up.” Johnny growled, and he knew you had to be thinking about how you’d never seen him like this, but he’d also never been this angry around you.

“Johnny…” you pushed at him to try and get him to move, but he was rooted in rage.

He knew where the cop was taking it.

“This was when you were a prospect back in England right? The number you did on the guys from that other charter…interpol still talks about it. Oh wait…they never proved it was you did they?”

Johnny thumbed his nose and sniffed, jutting out his chin in utter opposition of the man in front of him. “Nah, wasnae even in the country at the time.”

“That’s right. You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve only read the reports our precinct got when you boys moved to town.” The obnoxious officer bounced his palm off his forehead in a mock gesture.

Johnny felt you squeeze his arm, grounding him for the moment, and he thought you might be saying something. His ears sounded like the Grand Rapids ran through them. A hot rage was settling into his chest, and spilling into other parts of his being.

The smug expression of the cop, one of the ones on the force who’d made things personal with the club was

“Johnny!” You shook him, finally getting through to him. “I want to leave.”

He exhaled, softening at your expression. Little tremors of adrenaline wracked through him, but he still led you towards his bike by a firm grip.

“You know, they included pictures in those files they sent over. What you did to those guys..” The cop whistled from behind you.

Johnny helped you into your helmet, watching as your eyes raced with questions, but you were so good for him. You would wait to ask him.

He brushed his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks. “Ignore him bon. Whatever he says, please.”

“But, the real shame is what happened to Anna.” The cop continued.

In a straight shot, Johnny launched himself at him. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth!”

“They cut her up pretty bad. Was her nose always on the side of her-”

—

He knew it was bait, and he admitted as much later, but he’d taken the active grenade in his hand all the same. The wounds that piece of shit poked were too raw not to, on top of probably killing everything between you and him.

Everything was designed to hit a critical point in him. His past deeds, Anna, and most importantly, you.

All he could think about was if he was going to lose you after tonight, there was no way he wasn’t going to make it count all over the bastard’s face.

The local police had been looking for something, anything, to get the club on, but they’d been too careful. That’s what Price had told you on the way to the precinct. Johnny had dialed for you while the cop was getting back to his feet.

“Was any of what he said true?” You were clutching your purse the way you had since you’d gotten into the car with Price and the club’s lawyer.

“I don’t know what you mean love?” Price looked at you cooly, not giving anything away, though you were sure he knew what you meant.

“Never mind.” You shook your head. “I know it’s true. Did Johnny really hurt those guys? Who’s Anna?”

Price kept his eyes on the road, while the lawyer kept his attention on his phone. The air couldn’t have been more tense,

“You should talk to your boy sweetheart. Don’t let some future desk-riding prick make you doubt the man who’d rip out his own heart just to show you it’s yours.”

You swallowed, hard, and didn’t say anything else until you got to the station.

“Um…I think I’m just going to Uber home. Tell Johnny I’ll call him.”

Price nodded, but his look was disapproving. “‘m sorry to hear that,” he adjusted his dark beanie. “But if that’s what you think is best.”

You did not call him. Not later when you were sure he had been released, and not the next day. You wouldn’t even open the never-ending text thread between you two.

He texted you early enough to be apologetic about it, and you had to push your phone to the far side of your bed to stop yourself from responding.

You went about your daily routine, getting ready for your shift at the diner. Your one room apartment didn’t allow you the luxury of pretending your phone wasn’t blowing up with text messages, but you were too afraid you’d cave if you saw the screen while attempting to silence it.

He showed up at the diner, and you pretended to be too busy in the back until he left.

He waited outside of your place, but you wouldn’t come down, going so far as to turn off the lights when you realized he was there.

No call was answered, no text replied to.

Johnny was a wreck. So much so, that as furious as Price and Ghost had been, as much as they’d come down on him, they weren’t sure he’d even heard it. They saw his regret, he did have his brothers and their families in mind, along with the fact that he was a higher ranked member who set a piss poor example for prospects and basic members.

The fact that his stunt could’ve cost them their freedom. He saw all of that.

But he was HURTING. Physically, mentally, emotionally. It was all Johnny could do to roll out of bed and do the basics before he crawled back again.

All the club girls dropped by his dorm. Some to be flirtatious, which he lashed out at, some to show sympathy.

Mrs. Price and Ghost’s girl were especially gentle. It’s the darkest period in Johnny’s life, even when factoring in the Anna situation. It’s clear to all around him, you’re it for him. His soul is yours, and he’s dying without you.

It was Simon who came to you and changed your mind. He couldn't take seeing Johnny that way. The whole table was worried, but Johnny was a little brother to the taciturn specter. He’d only see him like this once before, and this was ten times worse.

In the early afternoon, the diner’s customers were nothing but truckers and elderly folks. So when the 6’4 blond with trunk-thick arms, and a permanent scowl walked in, there was no ignoring him. You noticed the kutte, and thought about making a break for the back, but his look said ‘try it’, and you thought better of it.

Instead, you wound up in a back booth with him, taking your 15 minute break.

“‘m not the preachin’ sort, so I’ll get on with it.” He stared right through you, lighting a cigarette. “‘s no business of mine what you and Johnny decide to do, but you need to talk to him.”

You started to tell him no smoking, but didn’t feel like exerting the effort. Let your boss deal with it if it mattered.

Your hands trembled, so you put them beneath the table in your lap. “If it’s none of your business, then why are you here?”

”Because, it’s destroying him. You’re destroying him.” He turned for a moment to exhale away from your face, and then his gaze was cutting right back to you. “Lad’s a mess and a half without you. We’ve tried to sort him out, but it’s gonna take you.”

”He lied to me!“ the exclamation left your mouth without a thought to volume control, and you pointedly ignored the stares you knew were at your back.

”You knew.” he said simply. “You may not have known the specifics, and we told him not to do it that way, but you knew.”

Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly, trying to express the million thoughts in your head.

”You may be a town over, but our name gets around. I know you’ve heard somethin’.” He tipped the ash in the glass of water you’d gotten him. “You’re a smart bird by Johnny’s account.”

“If you told him not to lie, then why are you telling me not to be upset?”

“‘m not, ‘m tellin’ you to hear him out. Put him out of his misery, whatever you decide.”

The man left the booth, standing back to his full height and casting a shadow over the booth.

“He’s a right fuckin’ mess. Loves you more than life.”

“More than Anna?” The name that had been swirling around in your mind came out in a semi-bitter question.

There was something that could have possibly been a flinch, but you weren’t sure. It made you regret mentioning it either way.

He stubbed out the cigarette. “He’ll be round yours by the time you get off.”

He was. Looking completely unconfident and nervous about being there. His eyes were bloodshot, and his beloved mohawk showed signs of too many anxious tugs.

This wasn’t what you were used to with the confident man, and you didn’t like it. You understood, you looked the same way, but you didn’t like it.

He was apologizing constantly, between spilling streams of exposition that only served to confuse you, instead of clearing things up. You finally had to tell him it would just be easier if you could ask questions instead, and he sat back and became an open book.

It went all evening, and then well into the morning. Every question led into lengthy conversation.

—

“Who’s Anna?”

“...A good lass who didn’t deserve what she got.”

—

“So it’s definitely more than just appreciating bikes. Why?”

“They’re my family, and they’ve always had my back while lettin’ me be myself. If I have to do somethin’ a lil dodgy now and then, that’s a small price to pay.”

—

“I don’t doubt you love me Johnny, you make it impossible to, but how can I trust you after this?”

“By takin’ the chance to believe me when I say I’d rather die than go through this again. If honesty brings you back to me, I’ll never leave it out again.”

The sun is rising by the time the two of you are talked out. You make him stay, seeing that his sleep deprivation was starting to collect its due. It was you who didn’t sleep while you pet his hair from where he laid on your lap, and thought over your feelings.

He wakes when you inform him he has a phone call. He tells you to answer it, and you realize it’s a gesture towards the honest leaf turn.

He took the time to honesty dump with you, so you admit to him that while you’re still hurt, your mind's made up about taking him back.

It should have frightened you how quickly you sank back into things with Johnny, but what actually frightened you was the reason why. You realized you were just as addicted to him as he was to you. How had you lasted the past couple of weeks?

It’s a mutual obsession, only strengthened by a period of absence. Something he vowed would never happen again.

You let him give you your first tattoo, and you even let him pick the design. He couldn’t believe you trusted him with the honor, and he wound up asking if you were sure five times.

“Baby, yes!” you laughed, squeezing his cheeks as a form of cute aggression over his heart eyes.

This was such an intimate act for him, that he made sure you were completely alone in his dorm room when the day came. The room is spotless for once, sanitized to government standards. You can’t help but notice that he’s lit candles in your favorite scent, and his playlist is all soft music for once.

He spent weeks sketching the perfect concept, and even created variations for your choosing. He went through soooo many pages, unwilling to settle when it came to his girl.

In the end, it was decided, and he got to work on the inner wrist tattoo. All the while, he was checking in with you to make sure you were good.

“It’s just a small piece baby, I’m ok.” You always pressed a kiss to his nose to reassure him and get him back to work.

He looked so handsome, locked in concentration, that it almost completely distracted from the pain. You’d seen him work before, and you loved it, but this wasn’t just work right now. He was giving you something important, and you sensed that.

When he finally finished, he sheepishly, almost fearfully, asked you what you thought.

“It’s everything Johnny. When everyone asks who’s the talent behind it, I can’t wait to say he’s my man.”

Soap has no regard for anyone or any place when he wants you, which is all the time. You’re all over the clubhouse together. The couches, the hallways, the armory. Officially, clubhouse outer-walls are your spots during cookouts.

Gaz walked into the storage room, focused on finding a part for a customer. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed you through the empty space on a tall shelf.

“Hi, eh, Kyle!” All that was visible was your face, and he wondered for a second why you were out of breath.

“Hey (Y/N), what’re you doing back here?” He gave you a side glance and smile, his attention mainly on the organized shelves.

“I’m..” you bit your lip, unable to form another word as your eyes rolled back.

Kyle froze, realizing what was happening. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me mate?!”

“You walked in on us!” Johnny’s indignant cry came from below his line of vision.

Sooo many lunch break dates. Technically, Johnny is on shift at the garage, and should be preparing for the next day’s run, but his best girl needs him :( . You work so hard at that cafe, and they never appreciate you. Not like he does.

So when he takes the work pickup truck to get you, knowing Price has told him a million times it’s not for that, he can’t be bothered to care.

“Johnny, tell me you did not go across town to buy me this sandwich.” You already knew the answer, and you wanted to scold him for neglecting himself again. “You’re gonna be late getting back to the shop!”

“You love it though. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of ya.”

“That’s not the point, you-“

“You’re so pretty baby.”

And you melt and forget to be upset.

You can’t stay mad at Johnny with heart eyes and loving, grabby hands. Especially when those grabby hands start to get a little more focused…

What happens in the work truck, stays in the work truck. Until he gets drunk and brags at a club party….

The fun times were well and good, but Soap knew that the day would come when you got a glimpse at the uglier parts of the life. He barely got you back, and you throwing up your hands and declaring it was all too much was all he could think about.

They’d been having issues with the Shadows MC, and it was starting to boil over. They didn’t like the 141 moving in on their territory, but his table had made it clear that wasn’t up to them. This resulted in many skirmishes he could keep under wraps, but then it came to a head.

They’d hit the Shadows hard at one of their core locations, and in preparation for retaliation, Price and Ghost had called a lockdown. This meant all old ladies, kids, and friends of the club were to hunker down at the club compound until they gave the ok.

The day was here, and he’d been dreading it. He couldn’t very well leave you out there, he hadn’t exactly been subtle that you were his girl, but surely you wouldn’t go for it.

Nothing had been asked of you so far, and he was trying his best to keep from burdening you like the typical old lady. He felt you’d be less likely to leave if he kept the weightier things from you.

He must have paced up and down your street in the dark for over an hour. His phone was blowing up with demands he ‘get his ass back to the compound’ with you, ‘NOW’, but he had to do it right. It wasn’t easy to say “We mowed down some of our enemies, and destroyed their operation, and some guys could make you pay for that.”

He could lose you tonight. He could relive his past.

When he finally did get up the nerve to tell you, he was shocked at how well you took it. He knew you were scared, and you couldn’t have been too happy either, but he loved you for your strength in that moment.

All you did was quietly pack, while his mouth ran a mile-a- minute. Swinging wildly between telling jokes, assuring you you’d fit in just fine with the other old ladies, and apologizing. You kept telling him you were fine, but your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

It took a week to beat the Shadows back. In that time Johnny had been in and out of safe houses, with barely a spare minute to check in with you. If he was being honest, he was terrified.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that when he got back to the compound, you wouldn’t be there. You’d be long gone, and when he went to your place, the things he’d left (so sneakily) would be in a box waiting on the doorstep.

He was so sure of this, that he wanted to go by your place first, but his bone-weary brothers were barely sitting upright on their bikes. Battered and bruised to hell, he couldn’t ask them to indulge his paranoia. The table didn’t like to be too far from each other until they were fully assured they were whole back home.

He was the last to walk through the door, to the shock of his brothers, but he didn’t want to tell them he was probably about to scream his throat raw when he saw you weren’t there.

He clenched and unclenched his aching fists in anxiety. ‘Just look around the room you daft fucker!’ He mentally scolded himself.

He didn’t get a chance to. You barreled into him, arms locking around his neck. He stumbled back, weariness and shock combining to make his footing unstable, but his back hit the solid metal door behind him.

“I was so fucking worried.” You whispered into his neck, and he felt his neck dampen with what he presumed were tears.

“I was too…” he admitted, finding it in him to grip you to his person with a desperate strength.

Relief flooded his body when you started pressing kisses all over his face, and all he could do was stand there. Receiving your love.

“Oh!” You tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you. “Johnny put me down, the girls told me about how tired you guys are when something like this happens. You should be resting.”

“I’ll get to that bonnie, just keep kissing me like that.” He whispered, hands slipping into the back pocket of your jeans to keep you close.

You took over as soon as you got him back to his dorm room. You helped him undress, made sure he didn’t collapse in the shower, and even straightened his precious Mohawk while he struggled to pull on the sweats you’d grabbed him. All the while, awkward apologies from him. From you, excited recollections of all the things you’d learned from the strong women around you over the week.

Johnny supposed he had them to thank. In the back of his mind he’d been wondering what flipped the switch, and gifted him the kind of welcome home he used to envy the taken members of the club for getting. You were the best girlfriend he ever had, but an old lady was something else, yet here you were, excelling at that too.

And later, in his room after the hot shower, he collapsed face first on the bed. It took one, deep inhale of the fresh linen to know someone had done laundry. He exhaled with a hum, openly appreciating the clean scent.

“Yeah, you can thank me later.” You laughed, entering the room from his bathroom.

Johnny heard the sound of a lid pop, but was too far gone to look back and see what it was. Then you straddled his back, your soft hands kneading out a week’s worth of tension, self-inflicted and otherwise. He groaned, feeling the soothing lotion follow your hands over the peaks and valleys of his muscular frame.

“Addin’ this to my tab then?” He slurred, half in the dream realm, half with the love of his life.

“Yep, but I know you’re good for it.” You leaned down, nipping his ear, and making him mewl in frustration as he hardened against the mattress, knowing there’d be nothing he could do about it at the moment.

He used the last of what he had to flip you over, mentally cataloging the adorable squeak you let out. Cupping your cheeks, he shared a soft look with you for just a moment, before he sealed his lips over yours. All he could do was hope you could feel everything he wanted to say behind the movement of his lips.

Judging by your soft sighs, he guessed you could.

He pulled away, settling half on you, half off. “I’m settlin’ my debts soon as I’m up hen. Bet on it.”

He makes Ghost promise to take care of you if something ever happens to him.

“Johnny, shut fuck up,” Ghost glared at him, faint facial scars following his frown. “You’ll outlive us all.”

Johnny stared at him from across the meeting table, more serious than a personification of the sun had any right to be. They were the only two in the briefing room, for some reason the place felt sacred enough to Soap for such a request.

“‘m serious VP, that’s ma heart, I love her.” His accent thickened with emotion, and he sipped his bar as if to wash it back.

His fingers flexed around the sweating glass. “‘m gonna marry her.”

“Lads and I knew that the first time you talked about her.”

Soap smiled at that, but his expression quickly returned to its serious state. “Sweet girl and me have been talkin’ about kids, preferably after.”

A fond quiet bloomed between them at that admission. The two of you had told no one else, and Johnny felt guilty violating your pillow talk confessionals, but he hoped it would get Ghost to agree.

“Want that more than anythin’ VP, but I can’t pull the trigger until I know they’ll be looked after.”

“The club-“

“Not just the club!” He ran a hand through his mohawk in frustration.

Why couldn’t the stubborn fucking giant just agree?

“I know the club will look after them in general. I know I can trust our table, hope I can trust the other charters.” He sighed, refocusing. “You’re my best friend Simon. I just have to know my girl, and my bairn, would always have you at their back. If I died.”

“Wouldn’t happen. I’d lay my life down so you could make it back-“

Johnny shook his head, choosing not to repeat himself. Instead, he gave his friend a pleading look.

He could see a storm of thoughts and emotions competing for dominance in his friend’s mind. His expression didn’t change much, but it was in his eyes if you knew him.

He saw why Simon was resisting, he didn’t feel worthy of being looked to in that way.

Finally, Ghost responded after grinding his cigarette out in the dish on the table. “Promise the same f’me then. I’ve fucked her life up enough, shouldn’t still be doin’ it when I’m gone.”

“On my honor.” Soap didn’t even have to think, it was an instinct.

“Then tell your missus you’re ready. I’ll cover my end.”

———

Price:

Head honcho. Chief. The Boss. Captain of the ship. It’s all the same no matter who calls him what, President Price is in charge.

He founded the club after leaving his original due to lack of loyalty, and thoughtless endeavors. He works overtime to make sure his club doesn’t fall in the same way. His code of ethics may not make a lick of sense to anyone outside of the outlaw life, but they’ve garnered the respect and admiration of some of the toughest men around the globe.

They’d follow him through hell because they know he’d be the first one in.

When they’re on a run, selling guns or attending a meeting in neutral territory, John’s mind is all business until business is done. Then it’s all you. He loves hearing his guys talk about how they’re going to spend their new check, or swapping stories about their old ladies. Sometimes, he even joins in.

But what he really wants to do is celebrate with you. Most times you’re already up at the compound. Seeing to the legitimate businesses, taking care of the girls, helping the member’s families, etc.

He respects what you do, what you’re capable of, beyond borders. However, he can’t help but be jealous. You always come to him first, tight hug and a long soft kiss, but then you’re quickly looking over his guys. The men revel in it, almost becoming kittens under your motherly ministrations. Especially Soap and Gaz, who you’re in the same age group as, but you scold all the same.

When the last man has been sent on his way, he’s dragging you away to the little bedroom off his office. He knows you find it amusing, to see his selfishness win out over any tiredness he’s feeling.

Before the door can even close, he’s pulling you close and kissing you his favorite way. A kiss he didn’t know he was capable of until you became his wife. Anytime he was gone too long, you did something that knocked him off his feet, or your affection wasn’t directed solely at him, he kissed you that way.

He cradled your head, holding you steady when he pressed his lips to yours. He left no room for there to be room between the two of you. Rough thumbs slid under your chin, tilting your head up slightly before he slid his tongue between your lips. He knew he had to release you soon, let you remember how to breathe, but it was hard to fight the hunger.

“Nothing flatters me like my big biker husband being unable to share me for two seconds.” you teased, but your teasing came out in short puffs, as your lungs weren’t cooperating with you at the moment.

He could feel you swaying, going dizzy, and he brushed his beard over your ear to make you squirm before he said. “Jump love.”

You did, feeling his heavy hands grasp your thighs seconds later. He slid your legs over his hips, encouraging you to lock down around his waist.

“I’m just making sure you take care of what’s yours.” he thrust upward, hardness touching. “I promised it to you that first time.”

He laid you across the bed, staring down at you with a darkened smirk. “Take some responsibility for the state of your possessions.”

He’s the head of an organization that now exists in several countries. All that responsibility is tiring, even for a man so skilled at navigating it, and there’s been many a day when all he can do is lay his head down for the pain of the headaches.

You can’t count how many times you’ve come up to the club when he didn’t come home, only to find him furiously puffing a cigar and downing shots to dull the pain.

The guys had families to feed, there were good men behind bars for them that needed to be taken care of, he had tables back home that needed guidance, there were property expenses, legal retainer fees, and more. Much more.

That meant more risky non-legit work, which meant stretching the legitimate business to cover what that brought in. He had to know when it was time to expand, when it was time to halt, and when it was time to move to something else.

But he’s just a man, one man, and you’re there to remind him of that.

“John?” You had been expecting to find him in his office, but the moment you stepped into the club house, you saw him at the bar.

He wasn’t alone.

Phillip Graves, president of the Shadows MC finished off his drink and clapped John on the back.

“We’ll talk again.” He nodded his head towards you with a wink and a smile. “Ma’am.”

Your narrowed eyes followed him out of the door, remaining there until his motorcycle’s engine was a distant roar. At that point, you turned back to your husband.

He was gripping his forehead, lit cigar balanced on the heavy crystal ashtray next to him. The last remnants of whisky mingled with the melting ice in his glass, which he threw back before attempting a fake smile.

”Hello darling, you just close up shop?”

”Yeah, and I got home to find my husband wasn’t there. What the fuck John? You said you were going to work on this.”

You tossed your purse on the counter. “And Graves?! I can’t even-“

”(Y/N), don’t start.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do not have that in me right now.”

Sighing, you placed one hand on his back, using the other to put out his cigar. He protested with a disapproving grunt, but was too tired to do more than that. Your face softened at that realization.

He pushed back from the bar a little, allowing you to slide onto his lap, legs splitting over his thighs. “I’m just worried. You can lead a table, you can lead the whole organization, but you can’t carry the whole thing on your back.”

You cupped his head like he often did to yours, and massaged the base of his skull. His eyes slid shut, body going lax, and he practically purred.

Leaning down, you scattered gentle kisses on his face, careful to leave no spot untouched, before going in for a whiskery kiss. It was here John took over, thanking you for the attention.

“You know that it’s not you I don’t trust right?” you asked between kisses. “It’s him.”

“I know, and you know I value your judgment.” He got underneath your shirt, hands rubbing your sides slowly.

There was a moment of domestic peace and quiet. You massaging his temple, and he massaging your sides. Though you trusted the capable man going soft under your hands, you hoped he wouldn’t regret whatever Graves was bringing to your door.

John doesn’t come to your shop often, but it’s not because he doesn’t support your career. It’s because he can’t watch you work for very long without wanting you biblically on every surface.

You love his open attraction to you, so it’s not exactly the easiest thing to ignore. No matter how much you try to stay focused on the job, the man is the love of your life, and he looks handcrafted by god.

Hunched over a client’s thigh, your brows were drawn in concentration on the elaborate Victorian cameo piece.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see John lounging in the plush desk chair he’d dragged over. A good distance to respect your client, but close enough, he could keep eyes on his favorite person.

Your client was amused, laughing through a wince, she nodded in John’s direction. “You’ve got a not-so-secret admirer.”

“I’ve been caught lovely, what to do now?”

”Ignore you.” You quipped before glancing up at your client. “He’s my husband.”

”Oh,” she hummed. “That explains the heart eyes.”

At that, you did have to look up, instantly wishing you hadn’t. It was a visual trap.

John, sitting there like the king he was, manspreading with no shame. Black beanie, tight jeans, dark sweater with his royal kutte draped over the sweater, and leather boots. You told him more than once he could model, to which he feigned offense.

“Focus on your work.” John admonished, but the smirk he said it though was pure sin.

Your eyes had strayed below the belt, and John was fully aware of this. Reveling in it really.

”Don’t you have a bike to fix? A prospect to bottle feed?”

”Nope,” his arms crossed behind his head, an action you saw out of the corner of your eye. “I belong to my missus this evening.”

Your client cooed, undoubtedly enjoying the banter between you and John. You did too, too much, and his bit about belonging to you made you have to pause and readjust yourself.

”Every evening really.”

”That’s nice John.” You hissed, lifting the gun from her skin to wave him off.

Your client laughed, trying hard to hold herself steady for you.

“Don’t encourage him.” you turned yourself at an angle slightly, trying and failing to ignore him.

“Well, it’s really far more than just evenings isn’t i-“

You lifted your foot from the pedal, and placed the tattoo gun on the tray next to you.

“Kitchen, now.” You gave your client a sheepish smile. “We were due for a break anyway hun. Can I get you anything?”

She was visibly entertained by you and John, after all, the two of you had become a legendary couple in these parts for a reason.

“I’m good, take your time.”

John winked at your client, strolling behind you into the back. You waited until he was in the kitchenette before sliding the door closed.

”You’re such an ass.” But your hands were already under his sweater, running up and down his chest.

You appreciated that he took up so much space in the little room, forcing the two of you together. You could blame the room’s dimensions for being all over him, and not your unwavering attraction to the man.

“I haven’t seen you in 15 hours, yes, I counted. I’m always counting when it comes to you. You can’t ask me to behave.”

Large hands slid into your hair, fingers interlocking to cradle your head. He didn’t even have to pull you in to kiss you, and he grinned, clearly also appreciating the size of the space.

“You think she’s a big enough fan to give us thirty?”

You actually have three rings. Your engagement ring, your wedding ring, and one of John’s rings that he gave you the first night you fucked.

In the quiet of the briefing room, somewhere you were surprised to be, you sat on his lap. The two of you soaked up the afterglow, the party raging outside fading to a dull noise outside of your own world. Coming down from your high, you let out a soft noise of surprise when John gripped your hair to kiss you with one hand. The other hand grasped your own, the one that had come to rest on his chest when you’d ridden him into his throne.

He slid the silver, braided band onto your ring finger, promising. “The first to come”

He loves to get in the ring and show off for you. Sometimes, there’s a loud mouth from a visiting club, or another table visiting, and John takes them to the ring they have in the back of the club’s compound.

Usually, it’s Konig’s or Simon’s domain, but it’s not because John doesn’t love dishing it out as much as them. That becomes apparent when he delivers careful, strategically brutal, blows to his opponent. Enough to win, and then a few more to humble.

You had long ago stopped lying to yourself about how much it turned you on. So when John emerged from the ring, panting, abs catching the compound’s lights on a sheen of sweat, you always dragged him off. Under the guise of cleaning him up of course ;).

John’s breeding kink goes wild when he sees you with a baby, or any kid really. He’s been around the club life long enough to see many couples welcome kids. One of the first outings the two of you made as an official thing was to the hospital to see the birth of a member’s baby.

His old lady bonded with you, and you were quickly given child holding privileges. It came so naturally to you, and John felt what he figured the two of you would get to eventually quickly build itself a home in his chest. New Kink unlocked: breed you on any surface he could find.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, it was hypnotizing. His family around him saw it for what it was. Their president had this future scene, starring you and him, written all over him.

He thought the intensity of it was something he had to keep under wraps until he noticed you had the same feelings.

Baby showers, shopping for 141 babies, school drives and charities the club did for the local youth, seeing cute kids on social media. It didn’t matter, John caught on to the fact that you fucked him like a feral rabbit whenever you got that maternal glint in your eye. He didn’t call you on it until after you were married. The day when your shop receptionist went on maternity leave.

You’d been going on all through dinner, and then while doing the dishes, about how cute the kid would be, and you loved helping her with her nursery, and how she was already glowing. The more you ranted, the harder he got, until finally, he trapped you against the counter.

“I reckon it’d be easier to just say you want to be a mum.” he lifted one leg to his waist, and bucked against your clothed heat. “Say it.”

You stammered, eyes wide, pupils blown. “J-John..”

“Say it.” his voice somehow found a lower octave to sink to, choked with desire.

“What are you talking about?” you whined, embarrassed at being found out.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m hard as steel love, you feel that?” he grabbed your wrist, kissing the knuckles before quickly brushing them over his length.

“That’s how bad I want to make you a mum, can’t you just admit it too?”

Tilting your chin up, he placed tiny kisses under your chin, purposely dragging his beard across the soft skin after each kiss.

“C’mon then, tell your husband the truth so I can give us what we both want”

You whimpered, clutching the fabric of his t-shirt. “John..”

“Go on, invite me in.” he slipped his index finger in the top of your panties just enough to play with the elastic. Stretching it until it threatened to fly back against your skin before he eased it back in place.

You moved forward in an attempt to make his finger slip lower, and he laughed darkly, holding you in place. Shaking his head, he repeated his precious statement.

“Give me a baby John.” you huffed, frustration rising until all that you could do was spill the truth.

Gasping, you felt the cold tile of the counter beneath your thighs. You tried to process how he’d gotten you up there so fast, but your mind didn’t want to focus on anything other than your husband kneeling before you with the most determined look you’d ever seen.

As he slipped your panties and pajama shorts down your legs, he whispered how it’d be best if you prepared an excuse for work while you could still think straight.

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nouearth · 1 year

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servicing justice: superman [1]

pairing ; kal-el / clark kent / superman x m!reader. fandom: ; dc, superman. word count ; 2144. series ; servicing justice. genre ; smut. rating ; m. warnings ; bigdick!superman. blowjob. gloryhole. handjob. mouth-fucking. oral (reader giving). sexworker!reader. note ; yeah, okay. maybe i've been watching too much of a certain video genre, ahem. but i hope you guys enjoy my first smut! it's been a WHILE since i've written one, so i know it's rusty, HAHA. looks-wise, i mostly had maws's superman in mind (because the art style is so good and so himbo), but feel free to imagine it with any superman!

it isn’t the most comfortable position to be in. you’ve been kneeling on the floor for quite some time now, waiting for your assigned client. your palms begin to sweat to a minimal but uncomfortable degree. did i fuck up already? you ask yourself as your mind clouds with questions, doubts, and even judgement regarding this new job.

“jesus, what did i get myself into…” you recall the long process it took for you to end up here. the intensive (and ridiculously long) process of reading and signing multiple forms and documents almost had you backing out of this opportunity. though looking back at it, it was understandable since it’s quite unheard of to be… a sex worker for superheroes.

for an incredible pay, your privacy will essentially be stripped away starting from today. all phone messages, calls, and social media activities will be monitored during your venture as a sex worker, and that post-graduate life was not going to pay itself. for the most part, so far everything seemed… great? being driven to work by a chauffeur, having your own personal room and health coverage provided, and most importantly… eating free lunch was not bad at all.

or maybe you’re just naïve.

all you had to do was kneel and suck a few superhumans off. as the newbie, you were told that you’ll be starting on gloryhole duty due to privacy reasons; at least until you built enough camaraderie. though, you didn’t even mind since there would certainly be less strain on your body.

you couldn’t help but snicker at the mere thought of an entire league of superheroes holding a meeting regarding this subject matter. especially since almost everyone in the world, including you, holds these superheroes in such high regard.

“meeting is adjourned until 9 am tomorrow! until then, please help yourself to some delicious food trucks from outer spac-“ your humorous imitation of a noble superhero is silenced when you hear the door opening. within your private booth, all that blocks you from meeting your approaching client is another door with a hole cut through.

your curiosity is piqued when you catch a sight of the man’s physique through the hole. plaid shirt and jeans aside, and assuming he had to underdress, he’s huge. maybe because you’re kneeling right now, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve never been near a superhero before, but you couldn’t help but be in awe at the size of the man. your eyes complete a full body scan by the time he approaches the door and before you could say something, he does.

“sorry i was late-“ a gentle voice echoes behind the door. contrary to his soft voice, the man’s large hands work aggressively at his belt, unlooping the leather with impatience yet eagerness as he anticipates the mouth that’s been waiting for his arrival. “there was this whole thing with this cat in this tree and then this school bus got hijacked- not my best day, unfortunately.”

“i’m sorry to hear that. sounds like a stressful day, yeah?” your voice is compassionate. you felt bad for the unnamed superhero and a part of you wanted to continue the conversation further, but your job isn’t to listen to their feelings. it’s to pleasure.

“yeah…” a huge sigh of relief expels from the man’s dry throat when he pulls his pants down. frustration stains another one of your client’s sigh, clearly troubled by the restrictive fabric guarding his erection. you watch with parted lips as he couldn’t help but give himself a needy stroke through his tight briefs, fondling his balls then beelining his palm to the very plump tip of his cock. your own cock hardens at this scene, and you find yourself doing the very same. mimicking his impatient hand to tend to the sensitive pressure below, you tiptoe the fine line between frustration and pleasure as your tightening pants and briefs define what it means to be an absolute nuisance. “very stressful.”

it doesn’t take much time before you’re faceful of cock and somehow, you manage to salivate more than you did a minute ago. the man’s throbbing erection is brimmed with thick pre-cum, stress practically leaving his body with every drip. it’s a heavenly sight that’s enough to make you stick your tongue out just in time to catch the substance into your mouth, not wanting to waste a single drop. the salty taste always catches you off-guard yet at the same time, it puts you under a spell. a tantalizing spell that commands you to drag your warm tongue over and back the underside of his thick shaft, completely avoiding the plump glans to have his cock leak even more… stress.

the taste of his musk drives your palm further into your erection, palming at whatever you could as you preoccupy yourself with teasing the man. you almost felt bad for him. contrary to his build, his whimpers are… so small, so weak. you notice his hands grip over the top of the barrier, and it turns you on upon realizing how this supposed hero could become so fragile at the simple taunt of your tongue.

“please…” the superhero whimpers out, needlessly fucking the air in hopes of granting his cock some type of friction. you’re amazed, and a little proud, by how much pre-cum he’s been leaking by now, and it all goes right onto your tongue. the wet muscle follows the natural curve of his cock to meet up with the wet and plump head. his hips buckle into the barrier and feeling it shake, you keep him steady by wrapping your hand around his shaft. you’re addicted at this point. addicted to the salty taste of his pre-cum as your tongue licks and explores into the slit of his cock, while at the same time, your hand works at his large cock in slow, but steady strokes.

“oh christ-“ he breathes out, repeating the same two words under his shaky breath as you continue to pleasure him with your tongue and hand. after a few licks, you pull away to give your tongue a break. in doing so, your grip tightens around his shaft to pace your strokes quicker. when you find a moment where your wrist needs a break, you let your client catch his breath. his cock throbbing more and more with every passing second when your tongue and hand aren’t exploring him, and you bask in the sight of it. you believe you deserve a medal at this point. not for doing a great job (though, it doesn’t seem too far-fetched), but for having control. you haven’t even sucked him off yet, but you’re content on remaining just like this for a while longer. though, that wouldn’t be fair for the superhero.

before he could whimper out another plea, your warm mouth finally wraps around the head of his cock and your ears perk at the sound of his low moan almost instantly. your hand returns to its rightful position around the lower base of his penis as you cycle your tongue over the glans, satisfying your need to taste his musk once more. seconds later, your hand lets go when you push your head farther, taking in an inch more of the hero’s cock. your knees dig into the floor as you push your head more and more, stretching your mouth with his cock until you feel yourself gagging.

“fuck.” you sniffle out when you pull back. perhaps you were challenging yourself too hard. you think to yourself as you catch your breath, using the remaining moment to sloppily jerk him off with your saliva. part of you wanted to challenge yourself to deepthroat him, impress your client on the first day. but you already know you wouldn’t be able to take it… at least, for now.

“you could hurt someone with this, y’know?” for some reason, you thought you needed to crack a joke as if there was an awkward silence that needed to be filled. maybe you just wanted to hear him talk again. his voice is warm and inviting, somewhat fitting for a superhero or even a television host as the moment you hear his voice again, you felt safe.

“i have before- oh god.” you lube up his cock with your spit as you continue to jerk him off, refraining yourself from fucking his slit with your tongue again to concentrate on his words. “which is why i don’t do this much- sex and stuff… it’s all troublesome, really.”

“yeah?” and just when you talked yourself out of challenging yourself, you feel the competitive spark ignite inside of you again. “well, i guess you just have to find the right one. could be anyone, even people you just met.” you try to play it nonchalantly, hoping that double-handing his wet cock would distract him.

he was beyond speechless at this point, moans drawn out by means of your sloppy strokes. you swear you can hear his heartbeat behind the barrier when you lean your head closer to suck him off again. you moan along with him, drawing out every breath of yours as you bob your head up and down, taking more of his cock every time you come down. your hand twists and strokes the remaining few inches that isn’t violated by your tongue and mouth, following your mouth like a reel as your intent to make him cum is fervent more than ever.

it hurts. your mouth hurts by how large your client is and tears brim in your eyes as you hold yourself back from gagging. but you don’t stop yourself because you’ll know it’ll be worth it. your endeavor to please him to the fullest has you drowning out his groans into white noise and you can barely register the fact that you’ve been on paused for a while now. you find yourself in a closer position than before, where your mouth is open, lips fully pressed around the carved hole as the superhero fucks into your mouth, fucks into your gags like you’re his personal flesh light. you didn’t care how dirty you looked, how you had saliva and spittle dripping out from the corners of your mouth and onto the floor. who would see? and you didn’t care that you were too preoccupied to touch your dick right now, because you know you’ll be thinking about this very moment for the rest of your life. and right now, you didn’t know if you wanted to be covered in his cum or to have your mouth be filled with it.

remaining in this position, you glance your teary eyes up at his grip over the barrier again. the strength in his grasp forms small cracks in the material of the barrier and that was the sign you knew you fulfilled your sense of purpose.

“christ, i’m going to come-“ your eyes shut again and you breathe through your noise, bracing for impact. he pushes his cock down your throat and hits that sore spot one last time before unloading his cum into your mouth with a stifled groan. warm, hot seed quickly fills you up and you pull your head back an inch to fully enclose your lips around his cock, ensuring none escape your lips.

in a heartbeat, you swallowed it all. his warm cum coats the back of your throat like medicine and you moan around his cock at the taste, intoxicated. you made sure to lick every inch of his cock clean, calmly slurping any saliva and cum that threatens to leave your mouth as you pull back up with a soft pop, swallowing the remaining remnants of his stress away.

“t-thank you. i needed that…” he pulls his softening cock out, careful in avoiding the hole as he was still sensitive. “did you need a tissue or anything? i think i have one somewhere…” you can hear him rummage through what you can only assume would be his bag and you find it charming, a quiet laugh leaving your swollen lips as you lean back onto your elbows to take a breather and stretch your legs out.

“no, no. i’m okay. i, uh, don’t think i wasted a drop.” you proudly brag, only for him to respond with a shy chuckle. you watch him tidy himself through the hole from a leaned back view, occasionally tilting your head in various angles to see if you could catch a glimpse on who the mysterious superhero is, but the barrier remains an obstruction to your view.

“well then, i… uh… thank you for your service.” he covers up the silence with another laugh and you join in, re-adjusting his pants and belt before turning his back towards you and heading out the booth. “i’ll try not to be late next time.”

#clark kent x reader #clark kent x male reader #clark kent x you #clark kent fanfiction #clark kent smut #nou.fics

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idesofrevolution · 1 year

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Requiescat

"Alright, my Musical Mentees, welcome back to my Channel! I am your friendly neighborhood musical critic, Kyle Donaghue, and today we're going to be reviewing something a little bit out of our typical wheelhouse!" Kyle sat with feigned excitement in front of his webcam. Though on the outside he eagerly drew out his intro for the 250th episode of his "Musique Critique" web series, internally he was livid. The young YouTuber had dreamed of becoming the go-to modern music critic on the platform but after almost two years of barely breaking a thousand views, he recognized he needed to do some market research on what his 347 subscribers wanted to see.

Thus, after asking his audience for requests, the music of some newer wannabe rockstar gained traction to be reviewed. To the music conservatory graduate, such low-brow "music" was beneath him; yet reality dictated that the business of content creation was based upon supply and demand. His audience demanded it, and if he wanted to gain any traction whatsoever, he needed to pivot. So, when the band in question, Catalyst, announced a new single drop, Kyle decided he was going to be the very first reviewer to tear it a new one.

"So you guys have been requesting I listen to this band called 'Catalyst' for a long time now, and today is finally the day. Apparently, the lead singer of Catalyst announced a few days ago that a new single was going to be released. I haven't heard much about them, so I did a bit of digging." Kyle clicked around on his computer, dredging up whatever he found in his five minutes of "research" the night before. "So, this band literally came out of nowhere. They're independent and are in talks with some record company about a deal, but nothing has come of it yet, so I'm going into this completely blind. They're out of Austin, Texas, and it's four guys who started the band out of this lead singer's parent's garage. The guy's name is Jaxon Black."

Kyle was literally reading off of some Tumblr fan blog about all this, but his audience certainly didn't need to know that. Why would he put in any effort for a band of this low caliber? "Black is 27 years old and started the band in 2013 when the four of them were in high school. They haven't really found any success, which is one of the reasons I'm surprised you wanted me to review them in the first place. They play in dive bars and some small venues, but nothing really outside of that." Scrolling through the blog, a picture of Jaxon Black actually appeared on the feed. He looked like any run-of-the-mill traditionally hot bad boy that you could find on the cover of GQ. What was so special about him?

"So, it's interesting too. This guy looks completely different than he did back when the band was formed. I totally get he was a kid when he started it, and there's puberty and whatever. But I mean, can you say plastic surgery? C'mon, guys. This guy is a 'serious musician' to you all?" Kyle sighed and wiped his face clear of the disgust he felt inside, putting on the eager façade he felt he needed to emulate. "But for you guys, I will make an exception, I'll give Jaxon Black and Catalyst a chance. I'm doing this for you! Just know that!" With that, he began to screen share, and the handsome visage of Jaxon Black was plastered on his screen as it would be for the whole review. The single didn't have any album art or anything, it was just a Soundcloud link; so in hopes that his audience would see right through this charade, he let would make them look at the face of the man who wrote whatever terrible song he was preparing to hear.

"See what I mean, guys? Ugh. I'm sorry, anyways. Here it is. The link that's posted on this fan blog brings me to Soundcloud, and there's no title or anything. It's just called 'Untitled', so we're off to a great start. But like I said, let's give the guy a chance. So without further ado, here is Catalyst's 'Untitled.'" With the press of the space bar, the sound of a slower ballad began to play through his earbuds.

The song began with a slow and heavy bassline in A flat Locrian, immediately an odd choice to start with. Contrarian, in Kyle's opinion. In terms of influence, it was an odd mixture of stereotypical hard rock like Guns n' Roses or Aerosmith, prog rock like Yes and Pink Floyd, with a random hint of Santana? Kyle did his best to stifle the cringe which trickled down his spine, but his face could do nothing to hide it. He felt the corners of his lip tense up and purse, his left nostril tweaking in pure annoyance.

"Starting off in Locrian... that's an interesting choice." He muttered under his breath. Looking at the progress bar, he saw the song was a full seven minutes and thirty-six seconds long. Lovely. "I feel like this is gonna be 'Hotel California' but bad, not gonna lie to you guys." Though, as the electric guitar faded in, quiet and subtle, it took Kyle by surprise. The technique that Black employed in his riffs, with precision he'd rarely heard outside of a classical guitarist, was nothing short of impressive. "Okay, the guy's got some skill. I'll give him that."

The music felt lugubrious, giving the sensation of swimming through a vat of molasses, pushing and pulling at great tension. It was near impossible for him to put into words, but the gravelly tenor timbre of Black's voice deftly began to soar atop the dredging music below. Evoking Eddie Vetter or perhaps even Jon Bon Jovi, the words were not exactly easy to decipher. Frankly, the song was almost trancelike, as if he'd taken a handful of mushrooms before embarking on his musical journey.

"Guys, I don't know how to explain it, this shouldn't work but it... it kind of does? I don't... I don't know." Kyle leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. The song had actually piqued his interest and intrigue, it was unlike anything he'd ever really heard before. Yet, it felt so familiar in ways far outside his comprehension. Waves of goosebumps washed across his body, barrage after barrage. The music became a full-body experience, and he was rendered speechless for the first time in his life. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Kyle tried his best to analyze the theory engrained into the song but found his mind to be a mere void that was seemingly being filled with viscous liquid. The longer the song went on, the more his mind felt entirely numb.

"I'm... I'm impressed, guys..." Words began to falter, his tongue feeling swollen and heavy. Behind his closed eyes, ribbons of bright colors danced against the black backdrop, bursts of red and purple illuminating the periphery like clouds of heat lightning. He could feel the notes meandering through the air and landing on his body, pressing down with the force of a boulder each time. "He's... he's really good, guys..." A thick dribble of saliva oozed through the gap in his open lips.

It was as if he was being drained of all his energy, all of his willpower, every last ounce of strength which propelled him to live. And yet, despite the darkness he could feel creeping over his body, he was oddly at peace. As if moving of their own accord, Kyle felt himself shuck his shirt from his body, now covered in a sprinkling of sweat across his limber torso and head. The music pulsated from within him as if he were the amp himself, seemingly making the muscles in his arms expand and contract. "I can... I can feel him in there..." Kyle couldn't even fathom how he'd gotten here. He was in his room, sitting in his chair and yet, he was somehow with Black, inside the music. With every heavy pick of the bass, his biceps began to swell and firm; veins distinctly snaked down his strong forearms and into his callousing fingers. His body temperature was now sweltering, shedding every ounce of water and liquid within him into the beadlets of sweat which cascaded down from his thickening pecs and cobbling abs.

The drums and synthesizer came in, further enriching the already complicated chords which tickled his ear like a soft, warm breath. The bass line was an ebb and flow, weaving and bobbing as the song soared through the chorus, a melody that sent a ripple of lust across his body. It was as if he were on a ship in a storm, one which was luring him deeper into the dark waters as his thighs began to balloon out of the sweat-stained shorts he wore. The power of the music seeped into his veins, imbuing him with a foreign energy from a distant shore beyond his corporeal being. His calves spasmed and inflated, while his feet stretched out wider and stronger in his quickly ripening socks.

Black's voice was now all that Kyle could hear in his head, every indecipherable word rang as some existential truth. Kyle's thoughts were no longer his own, he was just along for the ride, a passenger in his own mind. He was no longer in control of his actions, nor his thoughts. His breathing had become heavier, slower... The music had invaded his very being and taken control. Spatterings of black ink began to sprawl across his glistening smooth skin, each with some sort of esoteric reference which he would not yet understand. Grim Reapers, skulls, geometric designs of unhuman origin now proudly displayed across his strong body.

"Fuuuck, man. This shit is amazing..." His voice gradually grew scratchy and smoky from years of singing for crowds of headbanging punks in cramped, smelly bars. He reached to his left, eyes still closed in euphoric bliss, snatching the small joint which now sat on the edge of his desk. Kicking his sweaty, buttery feet up onto the wooden surface, he brought the smoking j to his lips, dragging a heavy dose of creative vapor into his powerful lungs. "Fuckin' hell, you guys... I mean... shit." He blew out a heavy, grey plume of smoke from his wide nostrils. "This song is fuckin' incredible."

He pulled down his shorts and briefs, letting his lean but long dripping cock slap against his navel. Strings of pre seeped out of his pulsating cockhead, making winding rivers flowing down toward his sagging sac. A large prince albert ring now adorned the top of his uncut shaft, with three frenum piercings towing down his urethra in succession. The slightest touch from his calloused fingers wreaked immeasurable pleasure, radiating from the groin all across every inch of his body. Thus, as he wrapped his hand tightly around the limber shaft, gently caressing the prince albert with the tip of his index finger, he could barely breathe without a quiet moan escaping his throat. Quickly, the fondling turned into a measured, intentional pump with each beat of the music.

The drums and bass were now coming together in a thunderous crescendo, Kyle could feel his very blood bubbling beneath his skin as it made his way up his strong neck and toward his skull as he hastened his pace. The room around him began to blur and distort. Bookshelves formerly lined with music theory textbooks and repertoires of classical mainstays were warped into racks of well loved guitars: Fender, Gibson, Sqiuer, & Ibanez. The pristine white duvet-covered bed was now clad with sleek black satin sheets and a shiny vinyl comforter. The portraits of famous composers which once adorned the wall were now a collage of posters: Black Sabbath, Def Leppard, Motley Crue, Metallica, AC/DC, The Ramones, Aerosmith, Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Led Zeppelin, Iron Maiden. Piles of ripped up, weathered clothes, marinating in the sweat of shows past now littered the dingy red carpet.

The blood had finally arrived at the precipice of his brain, and like a tidal wave crashing against the rocks, it overtook him. His hair darkened to a deep black, his brows furrowed, his lips now plump and curled into a permanent cocky smirk. This was his kind of music. This was his genre. This was the message he was born to bring to the masses. It was a message of rebellion, of raging against the corporate machine of whitewashed mass-marketed culture. A flash of bright red and teal illuminated the room from behind Kyle's closed eyes as rope after rope of his spunk shot from his cock onto the laptop and camera. He roared in climax, louder than he'd intended, but nothing his neighbors were unfamiliar with in regards to the activities the apartment notoriously beheld.

The music had stopped, the final note hung in the air for a moment before retreating back into the abyss as his shorts melted into a dense magenta slime, moving down his muscular legs until they covered his entire lower half before hardening into slick gator skin pleather pants and a pair of beat up black combat boots wafting the scent of his musky feet. Axel opened his now black eyes, letting out a sigh of complete satisfaction.

"Now that's what I call fuckin' music, man! See why I wanted ya to experience it? It's like a requiem for corporate machine, man. That's why Catalyst is my fuckin' muse. Their music is gonna take over the whole fuckin' world." A loud pinging signaled Axel to check his phone, where his bandmates, performing as Hammerthrow, were confirming their next gig in L.A. "Fuck yeah, guys. Just landed the Cali gig. I'm thinking we cover this masterpiece and mind fuck them into oblivion. Catch us in Azuza next week, kids. You don't wanna miss it." With that, he ended his recording, smirking mischievously as he uploaded it to his channel. The song certainly was going to change the world, even if the world itself wasn't ready.

#male transformation #body transformation #original #transformation #musky #gay transformation #punkification #rocker transformation #music transformation #badass transformation #bad boy

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bunnypeew · 7 months

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Under star-lit skies - Moon/Sun x reader part 1

Okay so I started writing this cuz my obsession for Sun and Moon came back since I keep getting posts and fanart of them so here is the first part of the fanfic you can read it on Ao3 linked in my bio :3c

it was one of those days, one where you and your class had to go to a stupid location outside of town. You weren’t eager about it since you preferred being closed in the confinement of your dorm room, but an outing was necessary even for you. You got up from your bed unwillingly and started getting dressed, some sweatpants a t-shirt and a hoodie on top, was pretty easygoing and comfortable for a day out.

you weren’t sure where you were going until it came into focus, the Freddy Fazbear Pizzaplex for some reason you weren’t going to question it since your school did choose some random places all the time, not caring if it’s educational or not, but you guessed it was because of the way the pizzaplex was built, could be really interesting or maybe how the animatronics worked. You all went into the pizzaplex being greeted by some basic-looking bots holding maps

“Take a map, take a map,,

you take one and look the other way a little creeped out, you hope those poor things weren’t sentient like the bigger ones otherwise this would’ve been fucked up. The tour starts then, going around the entire pizzaplex from Gator golf to Roxy raceway, it was pleasant meeting the big animatronics in charge of entertainment. Roxy, in charge of Roxy Raceway, was a wolf animatronic with long grey hair and a puff of green in the front, while Gator Golf was attended by Monty, an alligator-like animatronic with icon star-shaped sunglasses, he was pretty cool. Then you arrived at the star of the gang Freddy Fazbear himself, he was a nice bear animatronic with a little top hat on his head and an iconic earring on his left ear. He waved at everyone with a happy smile on his face, you waved back catching his attention, noticing you he winked at you also doing finger guns, you smiled and blushed a little bit at that (blushing over an animatronic? Are you okay??)

You then arrived at your last stop, the Superstar Daycare. It was a place full of kids, also full of toys and arts&crafts stuff (of course like the name said it was a daycare) but something caught your eye, the animatronic that was attending the children, it was a jester-like robot with a sun for a head that could spin around when it wanted to

“Hello everyone! I am Sun! the daycare attendant I hope you guys had a lovely tour so far!,,

he says lively his rays on his head spinning around happily, Sun huh? (ironic isn’t it) You were fascinated by him, he was really, pretty? I guess you could call him pretty.

When you got back to your dorm you picked up your laptop right away and started doing research on Fazbear Entertainment, finding a lot of weird stuff about some lawsuits and shit like that, you didn’t care you went on to look if the pizzaplex out of town was looking for a job, you really needed one and that was a big place so maybe they did need some human personal, you were also hoping you’d get to work near or in the daycare, you wanted to know more about Sun. Thinking about that you looked up the Superstar Daycare for some more information and found yet another lawsuit about the daycare this time, you read through it.

“my son was traumatised by your stupid daycare attendant and can’t sleep with the lights off anymore, whatever that thing did to him. You should decommission it right away it is not safe for children,,

you scrunch up your nose at that, because there is no way this person was talking about Sun seemed like a nice guy! So you did more research finding out the animatronic they were talking about was not Sun, but an animatronic called Moon, he was the nap time attendant and apparently, they were two separate animatronics, which intrigued you even more.

Doing even more research you find out they were actually looking to hire someone, it didn't say in which position but you weren't one to complain about stuff like that so you wrote an email and sent it, you weren't expecting a reply right away so you decided to go to bed.

It was dark, and something was bothering you but you couldn't put your finger on it, you found yourself in a jungle gym of some sort crumbled up like a pretzel, you started moving in front of you or what you thought was in front of you, while moving you could hear some sort of music, like a soft melody getting closer and closer until it stopped, you stopped as well, looking around now trying to understand where you were.

clang.

BOOM.

You wake up in your bed full of sweat and your heart beating super fast, you get your phone from your nightstand only to see it is 2 am, you definitely can't sleep after this weird ass nightmare you just add so you decide to start scrolling through social media. Before you get the chance to do that tho you get a notification from your emails, saying that Fazbear Entertainment sent a reply to your email, accepting your application!

You get up to do a little victory dance happy for it to begin.

tomorrow is another day.

this is how they will look in the fanfic since they are separate animatronics here the one in the middle is my persona ignore them I insert myself in every fandom I go in lol!!

#moondrop #sundrop #fnaf moondrop #fnaf security breach #fnaf sun #fnaf #fnaf moon #fnaf sb #fnaf fanfic #fnaf fanart #fnaf fandom #ao3 writer #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 tags #ao3 stuff #fanfiction #archive of our own

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yuseirra · 3 months

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I've been thinking over this god thing over and there's another idea I have related to it!

Earlier I've said that ame-no-uzume(god of the arts) and her husband sarutahiko(the great bright god) may be related to Ai and Hikaru.

Their story might also have been inspired from Izanagi and Izanami and they're very famous, so I believe I wouldn't have to explain a whole lot, (and I bet there are people who know it in more depth) but.. Izanagi and Izanami (the creator gods of Japanese Mythology) have Amaterasu(the sun god), Tsukuyomi(the moon god) and Susanoo(the god of the sea and storms) as their children. Ruby has something to do with Amaterasu and we have a girl who goes by Tsukuyomi as a character, Aqua, with the full name being "Aquamarine" has a name that has to do with the sea.

The reason I've brought this up is because of the lore between Izanagi and Izanami. Izanami dies, and Izanagi tries to bring her back to life but fails. It rings a bell, right?

Yes, this story of theirs also aligns with the things that have been mentioned in Mephisto and Fatal. Those songs revolve around a person who desperately wants to meet their love again (who's likely passed away) but cannot.

I've been wondering just why the ED's title was named Mephisto. Mephisto is the name of the devil, right? When you have a wish and the devil in the same picture, it means there's some kind of pact.

If the person singing in the song's been kamiki (which I've been pretty much stressing over and over through multiple posts now) it'd mean he's had gone through something like that too, to revive the one he loves.

This could be why there is a "stage" that's mentioned in BOTH of the songs, he's in a deal that he can't back out from.

この舞台で足掻くことをやめない

I will not stop to struggle on this stage(Fatal)

だけどステージが逃がさないいついつまでも憧れ　焦がれているよ

But the stage won’t let go I'll keep yearning and longing forever(Mephisto)

At this point, I'm so sure kamiki HAS done something to bring Ai back. He's made some sort of sacrifice for Ai it seems, he's probably made wishes regarding it, that come with a price but he didn't really care about his life in the first place after she's gone so he was willing to risk it. The efforts were probably in vain, though. But it could be really close to being granted if something's "filled in"

あなたがいないと生きていけない何もかも捧げてしまってもいいあなたの愛がまだ足らない欠けたものは何で埋めたらいい？

Without you, I cannot live anymore I would sacrifice anything for you I can’t get enough of your love What should I use to fill in what’s missing?(Fatal)

compared to Mephisto, Fatal seems more.. eager? energetic? but in an insane way. The speaker is actively doing something to fulfill their end goal. That's why I feel kamiki's missions are probably close to finish- he's all right with dying after having completed it

but in ch 154 he's heard that Ai wants to "help him" along with her children. and that she loved him dearly. This is going to leave him so devastated and conflicted lol because he's probably way past hope at this point. He can't be saved. He can't fulfill what Ai wants, that's going to make him very miserable. That's my guess. It's like everything he's doing had him stray even further off from what Ai wants.

Or it could be that he can't give up on Ai EVEN MORE now since he KNOWS that she loves him back too. Who'd give up on someone like that? She was like the only person who understood him and loved him. I can totally see why he couldn't let her go after all these years (may it be twisted. there is still some ambiguity in his words and we can be backstabbed) she was the one for him and he was to her, too, at least that's how he's felt when they were together. So he'd do ANYTHING for her. That lines up very well with those lyrics too.

So yeah. If my speculations are right Kamiki's so doomed... and doomed because of all the things he did that he thought was for Ai. Aligns with the respective mythologies too~.. I'd be surprised if these have NOTHING to do with the plot that's going to be revealed in the future because it just WORKS. It starts making so much sense to me.

#oshi no ko #hikaai #kamiai #hikaru kamiki #ai hoshino #if this is the case you know.. I CAN go down with this ship #I will get so invested in it lol #spoilers #it's just.. I can't see it any other way after the songs #if this guy turns out to be a real maniac psychopath and everything :/ I'm going to be so disappointed #his past was written well and things made a lot of sense to me #so I believe there's going to be something about him that will impress us somehow #oshi no ko spoilers #oshi no theories

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melting-houses-of-gold · 4 months

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It’s my ✨birthday✨ today! Give me a gift by reading these incredible fics:

I did this last year and it was so fun--one of my very favorite parts of fandom is getting to be in community with people whose work I enjoy and to celebrate them. So, in honor of my [redacted] birthday this year, we're doing another round! Maybe these are some of your familiar favorites, or it's a chance to discover something new.

All of these are listed in no particular order :) and all explanations are a little unhinged. Blame the new mom brain!

Star Wars🌟

Muse by @jewelofmandalore (rexsoka, E, one-shot): What can I say about this fic except that every time I read it, I actually stop breathing for its entirety? Modern AU. College Rexsoka. Art students. They're obsessed with each other. I'm SO SO normal about it.

Labyrinth Hearts by @chocmarss (rexsoka, T, rebels-era, in-progress multi-chapter): We have such a need for time-travel in this ship and this fic, while just a few chapters in, is delivering! Post-Malachor Rebels-era fic holds such a special place in my heart and I love love love this one.

A Remedy for Memory by @ahsokathegray (rexsoka, T, in-progress multi-chapter): I love a good amnesia-induced romcom scenario and this one inspired by the other zoey is so stinking cute. I'm so excited to see where it leads!!

Those Who Can by K.R. Closson (alpha-17/fem!obi-wan, E, multi-chapter): I'm insane about this whole series, which is different paths that Obi-Wan could have taken, but this one is the good shit. I want to inject it directly into my veins. I started it at 11:30 and stayed up until 3 am reading it because I had to keep clicking to the next chapter.

ACOTAR🌹

Poltergeist Darling by @thesistersarcheron (feysand, E, in-progress multi-chapter): Is it even a Feysand fic if Rhys isn't batshit insane for Feyre? As a lover of spooky gothic romances, I clicked into this fic so intrigued by the premise (Rhys bringing Feyre back from the dead after she dies UTM) and the writing drew me in IMMEDIATELY. The vibes are so insane, the two of them are crazy for each other, and literally every word is a gift to read.

Good Luck Charm by @whatishowedyouinthedark (feysand, E, multi-chapter): god bless the daddy kink snail in SVDG's brain because this fic was fucking unreal. College AU Feysand with eager-to-get revenge Feyre and frat president Rhys was EVERYTHING. I had to ration myself to one chapter a day because I might have died otherwise.

Castles Ever After by @separatist-apologist (Feysand, Nessian, Elucien, E, series): Every time I open a MB fic, I know I'm going to have a GREAT time, and this series was seriously so fun. When a mysterious uncle leaves the Archeron sisters three castles across the UK, each one goes on their own journey and finds love along the way. We've got everything—Modern day bodice ripping, fake fiances becoming real, battles staged on castle lawns, Lucien Vanserra being his sassy hot self, chickens—EVERYTHING.

#fic recs #acotar #rexsoka

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yeagerfate · 1 year

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camp spiderpine

characters: miguel o’hara, miles morales, hobie brown, gwen stacy

notes: this is a camp au! i love writing these so much. for my AOT followers i promise i will be posting some more stuff soon and hopefully i will get some AOT reqs. as of rn i have one that i am excited to write but i think it might take me a bit as i really wanna take my time with it. sorry i didn’t include pav in this, just wasn’t feeling too inspired with him. might add him later lol. not proofread!

warnings: none!

Being a counselor with Miguel is both fun and exhausting. Your campers have a great bond, which is always lovely to see, but they are so energetic that it is tiring. It’s always fun to do it with Miguel though! He is always super helpful, especially with things like putting on sunscreen. His hands are gentle when he rubs it in, though they seem… hesitant? When he pulls away, his face looks strangely pink, but he says it’s just because of the sun. Strange. Sometimes, Miguel will guard at the lake while some of the kids swim. It’s hard not to check him out. Yet, lately you’ve been a bit… tempted by him. His lips look more enticing than ever, his voice is sweeter to listen to, and he seems more eager to be near you. It doesn’t surprise you when you two share a kiss late one night, outside the cabin on the porch. For each other’s sake, and to avoid the nosy questions from campers, you and Miguel agree to keep it secret. You think some of the campers are noticing with the amused smirks that they give you, and the way Lyla, another counselor, giggles when she sees how close you sit together. It’s all extremely exhilarating and lively, but the summer’s ending soon, and Miguel has to go back home…. which is hours away. Will you two stay in touch?

Miguel’s favorite camper is Miles, but he always denies it. He supervises many different activities for each camp season, but the ones he does the most often are diving, paddle boarding, and baseball. He always forgets to put on bug spray, so every night you see new bug bites all over his body. Sometimes, he accidentally spends too much time in the shower. Gets yelled at for it. Loses his only towel on the first day of camp.

Miles is a nervous camper. It’s his first time at Camp Spiderpine, so it takes him a while to adjust. For his activities, he chooses kayaking, basketball, arts & crafts, and mountain biking. His bunk is right above yours. It’s nice to be bunk mates since Miles is super respectful of your space and your luggage. He shares candy with you, tells you questionable stories from his school, and lets you do messy face painting on him. You’re a bit bummed out after you finish your face painting session on him. Not because you don’t like what you painted, but because you wanted to stay being close to him. His warmth is comforting, and so are the brown hues of his eyes. The next day, when Gwen asks you if you have a camp crush, she laughs when you say Miles. She tells you she’s been waiting for you to realize since the beginning of camp. On the night before the last day, Miles finally gains the courage to kiss you, and it is glorious. It’s messy, extremely nerve-wracking, and not perfect at all, but it’s amazing. Miles promises to stay in touch with you to see where the relationship goes. You’re his first girlfriend, and he wants to make it work.

Miles loses his flashlight early into the camp session, so he trips all the way to the bathrooms in the night. During his first time kayaking, he somehow flipped into the lake, and it took him 5 minutes with your and the instructor’s help to get back in. He laughs it off but is super embarrassed. Has so much trouble getting up so early in the morning that one time he just walked around all day in PJs. Kills all the bugs for everyone who is scared of them.

Hobie’s a veteran camper, and he’s been going since he was 6. He knows where pretty much every cabin and building is at camp. He always ends up helping new people get around. For his activities, he chooses BB-Guns, guitar, paddle boarding, and hiking. The two of you meet when your counselor, Miguel, partners you up with Hobie for the first day of camp. He is required to help you find your way around, and answer any questions you may have. Soon, you learn that you get along great, and become great friends. The two of you partner up together for paddleboarding, but he always falls off. He also gets bit by the fish a lot when the two of you are in the water. Your face feels warm when he helps you get back on when you fall off. His touch is so much more… captivating now? You find yourself wanting more. Now, when he guides you around camp, his hand is rested on the small of your back and his other one lingers near your waist. It’s very alluring. At night, you wonder if maybe it could be more? Are you imagining things? Or is this real?

Hobie plans on becoming a counselor himself when he’s older. Miguel rolls his eyes when he hears about it. All of the campers know him. He’s super popular!Always comes in clutch during ultimate frisbee. His team almost always wins just because of him. Knows all of the camp songs and cheers, but his face is deadpanned when it’s time to sing them.

All the counselors know Gwen as “the quiet one”, but that’s just how she acts around them. Around her friends, Gwen is always laughing and doing weird things like “rating people’s feet”. For her activities, Gwen chooses arts & crafts, creative writing, volleyball, and snorkeling. She is the first to help you find a bed in the cabin you’re both assigned to. The two of you decide to do arts & crafts together, where you make bracelets for your water bottles and tie-dye shirts. One day, during a camp game, you’d taken a horrible fall. You tore a muscle in your leg and could barely walk around. Gwen immediately volunteered to help you to the nurse with your counselor, Miguel. Even though you were in agony, the way Gwen’s supportive words were whispered to you made you feel hot. Suddenly, you began to see her in a different way, especially when she still helped you around camp. Her caring hold was so… comfortable, and wholehearted, and swiftly your heart began to beat faster when she was around. Camp’s ending soon, and you desperately want to tell Gwen how you feel… will you?

She smells like sunscreen and sunshine. Has so many stickers on her water bottle, and half of them are peeling. Dyed her hair pink at camp so her dad wouldn’t know. Miguel was too tired to do anything about it. Her hair takes hours to dry, so her clothes are always sopping wet after she gets out of the lake.

#atsv fluff #atsv x reader #itsv fluff #itsv x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #miles morales fluff #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse x reader #into the spiderverse x reader #gwen stacy x reader #gwen stacy fluff #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown fluff

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purplepixel · 2 months

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Sendin' one back at ya! (for some reason can't asks send from my normal blog?? Shakes fist at Tumblr)

Don't think you've answered it yet (?) but would love to hear you're thoughts on 28 for the tmnt ask! - Crow

Ohai crow! :] Ready for my extremely passionate long winded answer that's been in my mind for months now? Gonna respond with rise cuz that's all I read

28) What is one thing you'd like to see explored more in TMNT Art/Fics

CASEY JONES AND HER DYNAMIC WITH THE TURTLES

What is her relationship with each of the turtles, splinter, and April post seasons 2? Where is she in the aftermath of the movie? How did she redeem herself and earn the turtle's/april's trust? How does she feel escaping a cult? What is it like to experience FAMILY. DID SPLINTER ADOPT ANOTHER DAUGHTER?

I could go on. She is prob rises most underrated character, mainly bc she gets over shadowed by junior. Which is sad bc SHES GOT SUCH GREAT POTENTIAL FOR STORIES.

I am gonna call out fandom sexism here. With my full chest I fully believe that if she were a man, we as a fandom would have more works of her. Especially bc imo Junior is less of his own character outside being a fish out of water and his trauma of the apocalypse, yet he's got TONS of fan works. He's the bucky of rise if you will. Whereas with Casey, she is passionate, chaotic, loud, will choose FIGHT every time, overly eager, wants to prove herself etc etc. She is rise's version of Casey Jones to a T.

And yet for being a prominent character in the main series, I NEVER see her in fics. She is relegated to "extra character we needed cuz we're sending in the calvary" bg character with like one or two lines. The only time I see Casey focused stories is when she's attached to a ship pairing. Which isn't bad or anything, I just didn't bother to read those cuz I want THE FAMILY FOCUS.

I would love to see the classic Casey and raph dynamic more. We got a little in the show when they were enemies, but I want to see their friendship form. Enemies to friends. It literally writes itself. And Casey and Donnie would be SO CHAOTIC. Take the two most dramatic characters, put them in a room together, and watch the shenanigans occur. Eyse's fic is the only one I've seen do something crazy with them and it's THE BEST. A spar between Donnie and Casey where he ends up enlisting the wood animals to assist him and Casey is just having the time of her life getting to go all out fighting someone? Eats that scene

So ya. Casey and the turtles. I need more of them. If anyone has ANY good fics with Casey in them, let me know. Cuz I just have two so far. (I'm promised a third as of today but I haven't read ch 25 of Spiders web with strings attached yet)

Thank you for reading this long answer haha

#thnx for the ask crow!!!#i think about this so much #and i know i can do better myself #ive only drawn casey like once #but alas i have a pretty big backlog #i daydream about a potential fic/comic that focuses on between the show and movie #that would satisfy all of my casey and hamato clan needs #as we tragically watch raph and leo grow more distant #maybe one day ill get around to actually making it #but if anyone else wants to than be my guest #casey jones #pixel replies #tmnt ask game

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meanbossart · 7 months

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Misc. Ask compilation

These aren't all of the asks I want to reply to, just some that I can answer relatively quickly to clean the ol' inbox out before things get out of hand. Thanks for your patience!

HAHAHA THANK YOU FOR PERUSING AROUND and for enjoying my work! I had a... Weird Gale experience my first playthrough which led to his characterization being what it is in my comics. Here's the beat-by-beat of all the shenanigans: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/740827466716807168/alright-i-am-like-90-sure-there-is-one-line-in-a

And here's just some of my personal thoughts on him! https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/736193145686114305/can-you-tell-me-more-about-how-you-would-make-gale

I would be lying if I said I'm not conflicted to know my style still bears some remnants of my edgy teen roots (not your fault not noticing it though, you aren't the first and won't be the last) BUT... That comic did mean a lot to me as a youth, so I guess I should be proud 🤷 and honestly it is a little cool that such a thing would survive for so long in what I do, crazy how that works.

LMAO, re: the bottom/top debacle, I was honestly so surprised to see people react to it like it's something novel. If I ever expected to get any push back on the matter, I thought it would be from people assuming DU drow was the top and taking issue with how violent and big he is (and yknow, some people are weirdly protective of Astarion as if he isn't a sneaky murder machine rippling with lean muscle)

Very disheartening to see that mindset still so alive and well among young people, but I guess it just means I gotta draw DU drow throwing more back and Astarion drooling over more ass until the stereotype is forcefully banished out of people's minds!

(more asks below the cut)

"Sleeper agent activation phrase" absolutely took me out, Thank you so much LOL

YEAH I got it pretty late though, Astarion had already told my durge that he was a vampire of his own accord (and the response was, of course, "no duh") I forgot wheter this happened before or after the first romance scene triggered, but I think after.

Since this was after DU drow decided he was gonna fuck him out of pure contrarian spite and was shamelessly laying it extremely thick, He happilly let Astarion drink his blood. Hell, he was probably a little Too Eager - the guy likes pain and he likes letting people he trusts do with his body whatever they will, and while he didn't yet trust Astarion at that point, that event might've very well reminded him of something from his past that planted a seed which would eventually grow into his genuine affection for the guy.

Ah, he definitely got a half-chub as it happened too. I'm sure Astarion noticed it and just walked off rolling his eyes and thinking "eugh of course" lmao.

Hello!!!

Oh man, I grew up fascinated with horror things. I remember from a very young age just looking at the covers and backs of horror movies at the film-rental even though I wasn't allowed to watch them. I was also easily scared but I sought those things out anyway - I think i just enjoyed the visceral reactions it drew out of me and was always curious about most things taboo.

When I got access to the internet that just opened a (very unfortunate) door to all things vile and awful like it did for so many people at that age in time. Though my tastes have changed a lot since then (Less August Underground, more The Devils kind of guy nowadays) my stories and art are just always going to fall into a horror-y category because I just... Don't think there's many better ways to showcase the human experience and emotional range without many of the elements native to the genre, and I'm all about that.

Thank you for your question and your sweet words, have a good week yourself!

I did a little write-up about that over here! https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/742508493562593280/i-dont-have-a-particular-question-in-mind-sorry

That's the result of a scene that happens relatively early in the story I'm writing ("A Novel Experience" on Ao3).

{SPOILERS} DU drow accidentally passes out on a blade which puts a relatively deep gash on his hip. Meanwhile, Astarion is weakened and starved after certain events that transpired the prior night. They have a private exchange both in a somewhat hazy-state of mind and Astarion ends up prodding and prying at his wound while feeding, so it's a laceration and bite mark that just scarred over badly.

Elves apparently don't grow body hair so never LOL guess they'll just have to slip&slide up on each other for heat

#ask compilation

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lovelymessybubbly · 11 months

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helloooo my amazing tamadachi !!!! ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆ it has been a while hasn’t it ??? i hope everyone is doing well. i am refreshed and eager to get back to sharing my art with you all as well as creating content for you !!! ˚‧*♡ॢ˃̶̤̀◡˂̶̤́♡ॢ*‧˚

there are a couple changes that i would like to make apparent to everyone; some of these are just for while i am getting back into things, and others are for the foreseeable future.

first off… i know i have always labelled my blog as a sfw place. i am revoking that title but i am NOT planning to release any nsfw content. i just do not want anyone getting the wrong ideas (ෆ ͒•∘̬• ͒)◞ i like tickling in a variety of ways and i kind of want to steer away from policing what i create. obviously some of my art is quite intimately-driven so i do not want to have to water down any of that stuff, since, well, it is what i like lol (∗ᵕ̴᷄◡ᵕ̴᷅∗)՞ not to mention, i am an adult. i curse, talk about sex and drugs sometimes. so i do not want anyone getting surprised by that thinking “sfw” meant it would be completely clean. but i also frequently get in the mood for light and fluffy tickling too, so… i just do not want to put any walls around my blog. if you enjoy tickling in any way shape or form, i want to welcome you here (*˙︶˙*)☆*°

i have a pretty strong grasp on my ability to maintain parasocial relationships with a good level of distance, so i am not adding any interaction limits or dni. if i am uncomfortable speaking with you i will let you know ┐(´∇｀)┌ otherwise, if you wanna chat and you are under 18, that is fine. just please be aware of the underlying circumstances and exercise caution. like i said before, i am an adult. i have no qualms interacting with the younger ones here because i have no interest in engaging with inappropriate topics or activities with them, so i know i am not gonna be a danger. but if my age makes YOU uncomfortable, then you are gonna have to make that call.

tags are also already pretty well divided and filtered at this point but i may make a couple changes and update them on my pinned post.

basically, tags are going to be your way of safely interaction with my blog. if you want to keep the more sensual or intense stuff out of your feed, please make sure you have reviewed my list of tags and have applicable ones blocked ♫꒰･‿･๑꒱

secondly !!

i will be a little less interactive as i ease back into it; so prob answering less asks, dms may be responded to at a slow rate (๑ˊȫॢˋ)॰∘☼ as well, content will not be pumped out like maybe it was before lol. but just give me some time to get back into the swing of things, kay ???

i have a bunch of drafts saved and i cannot wait to start reblogging all the amazing art and fics you all have been makingヽ(o^―^o)ﾉ requests and commissions are still closed for now but please feel free to drop in and say hi.

to the ticklish times ahead !!! ｀;:゛;｀;･(゜ε゜ )

#tamabijutsu #tamakucha shaberu #egg talk

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nerdy-the-artist · 5 months

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Maytroid 2024 is here!

I am so excited to get to work on these new prompts. Last year, my entries for each day were fairly sloppy, and I was new to the series, so I was lacking a fair bit of information. Now, I’m armed with more knowledge and am eager to use it.

For those who haven’t seen what I did for Maytroid last year, what I’m going to be doing instead of art is something more writing focused. These little text entries are mostly styled after the scans from the Metroid Prime series. Matter of fact, this new set of prompts actually lends itself much better than last year’s, as I have a lot more leeway to play to my own strengths than last year (I still don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do with Gorea). These are all canon to my own Metroid AU currently, though as things change in development, these may become out of date. They will give the vibe my stories are going for, but these shouldn’t be held to as the absolute canon for them. I’ll be posting these week by week, around 7 at a time, starting today.

Day 1: Ridley

Transcript of Security Footage

Several individuals in this footage cannot be identified at this time. They shall be identified as Pirate 1, Pirate 2, and Pirate Major.

Ridley: What I want to know… is why he is not in custody.

Pirate Major: I gave them their orders, they knew he was to be brought in alive, and instead they killed him.

Pirate 1: You told us to take care of him! We thought you meant an execution, not milk and cookies!

Pirate Major: Insolent Wretch! You say such things about your orders in front of our Commander?! You know how we handle that sort of insubordination!

Pirate 2: Cool it, we’re already in hot water.

Pirate 1: We’re in hot water because of the life of some winy little nobody that begged for his life with money he didn’t even have.

Ridley: While your insolence is… aggravating… I am willing to forgive this misstep.

Pirate Major: What?

Ridley: He was an insignificant pawn. We can always find another. As I was saying, I am willing to forgive this on one condition. Did he die in pain?

Pirate 2: Yes. He did suffer before he died.

Ridley: What methods or torture did you employ?

Pirate 1: Waterboarding. Works wonders on humans. I always liked how they sound when they cough and gasp for air.

Ridley:Mmmmm… was blood shed before his end?

Pirate 2: Yeah. My partner here has… quite the way with knives.

Ridley: Do tell.

Pirate 1: Slashed his wrists. Those arteries gush lots of blood from humans. And we started pulling teeth when he lied.

Ridley: Delicious. You have escaped capital punishment, but you will still be serving as guards for the Metroid containment units. For further forgiveness, you will need to be more creative with your implements. I find Revine’s death, by your account, to be quite dull. Your are dismissed, unless you wish to enlighten me further.

Day 2: Fiery

Scan of Pipe System in Norfair

“These pipes appear be delivering superheated magma into the Norfair region. Given the proximity to Ridley’s personal quarters, likely explanations include terraforming the area for Ridley’s own comfortability, additional protective measures, or the intentional destruction of Chozo artifacts not deemed useful. The latter is most likely, as the immediate area was once a Chozo burial tomb. It is now completely submerged in magma, disintegrating much of the artifacts within.”

Day 3: Winged

Scan of SA-X Mutations

“This X-Parasite copy has suffered some form of destabilization of its copying abilities. Abnormalities include a malformed, beak like structure around the mouth, several atrophied fingers, several hypertrophied fingers, small patches of feathers, and an extraneous structure protruding from its back resembling a Chozo wing bereft of feathers. These unusual deformities could be the result of DNA infusions during childhood complicating the process of anatomical replication within X-Parasite offspring. This individual seems to suffer great stress from its predicament, but it is unsafe to assume that its combat functionality is greatly hampered. Adaptation is this species’s main trait.”

Day 4: Pirate

Scan of Space Pirate Elite

“Subject is a member of an unknown species known only from individuals working within Ridley’s special operations group, The Revenants. This group acts as Ridley’s personal enforcers and assassins, fanatically worshipping their commander as a literal God of Death. They wield melee weapons personalized to their unique fighting styles. Each weapon is charged with electricity, giving them an additional ranged attack capability. They have operated since before the Galactic Federation, making a name for themselves in fighting Chozo warriors. Their endurance, agility, and strength cannot be overstated, in spite of their gaunt appearance.”

Day 5: Mecha

Scan of automaton codenamed Mecha Ridley

“Subject is a battle ready drone, seemingly created by Ridley’s fanatical special forces, the Revenants. Mecha Ridley is heavily weaponized, as there could be no altar to the God of Death without the ability to take a life. Weapons include flamethrowers, guided munition launchers, and superheated claws. Mecha Ridley’s armor is highly durable, but greatly hampers mobility compared to its inspiration. Additionally, as a cult idol of worship, advanced artificial intelligence was not prioritized during production. Mecha Ridley displays average combat intellect for a war drone. Recommend staying moving and outsmarting the automaton.”

Day 6: Fang

Scan of Rundas’s Necklace

“Rundas appears to have begun collecting Metroid Fangs as trophies since last he was approached. Assuming one fang was taken from each Metroid he has eliminated, he has defeated 15 Metroids in the two months since he was last seen. Unfortunately, his ego has grown with his kill count.”

Day 7: Cunning

Scan of Abandoned Home

“Old Bird and Grey Voice’s abandoned home has been left mostly in tact, minus the usual signs of neglect. However, there appear to be a plethora of traps lain around the home. Various grapple snares have been detected, alongside explosive charges, beam emitters, and microphones. Much of these systems appear to be inert, and once reported directly to Mother Brain. It is clear she anticipated you might return here before confronting her. Given her destruction, several trap systems remain completely dormant. Still, any approach must be made with great caution.”

#metroid #samus aran #chozo #metroid prime #metroid au #ridley metroid #fanfic #old bird #grey voice #Rundas #Metroid Prime 3 #metroid fusion #sa x #x-parasites #mother brain #space pirates #maytroid #Maytroid 2024

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lananakay · 2 months

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Revisiting Marius...

After my last post asking why Marius sent Amadeo to the brothels, I had some conversations that led me to read "Blood and Gold" which is Marius' biography...I have many judgments! Many! But, for now I'll just focus on the brothel visits.

Before that, I have to apologize to the 2002 "Queen Of The Damned" adaptation because, while their twisting of the lore was both uncalled for and unnecessary, their depiction of Marius was pretty spot on...except for the hair of course!

Back on topic, I was surprised to find that Marius doesn't reflect on it much at all. It's also not mentioned (that is confirmed nor denied) that Marius had seen what happened while Amadeo was there. He never mentions seeing Amadeo with the English Lord either. Now, I'm not saying that these things did not happen, just that I didn't really get any more insight while reading his version of things. Additionally, he never mentions any jealousy of these events, although this is what Amadeo perceived at the time. It seems that what caused Marius' silent frustration was just his inner conflict of whether or not to turn him.

In fact, the only time he directly mentions it is when he recalls-

"I sent him off to the best brothels to learn the pleasures of women, and the pleasures of boys. He hated me for it, and yet he enjoyed it, and he came home to me eager for the Blood Kiss and nothing else." -Blood and Gold: Chapter 19

He hated it because you were acting weird. You had us both confused over here sir!

Truthfully, after pondering on it, my main thing was Amadeo's age. I know, I know, times were different, manhood was different, life was different. However, remembering that Amadeo had scarcely gone through puberty (not even being able to ejaculate when Marius had his first sexual encounter with him) The brothel thing wasn't something I could reconcile, even after others offered their interpretations and explanations for this lesson.

"I was too young for a wet pleasure.

I wonder if it was more what women feel. I thought it couldn't end. It became an agony of rapture, being caught in his hands, unable to escape, convulsing and twisting and feeling this ecstasy again and again and again." -The Vampire Armand: Chapter 2

To end this topic, It is what it is! I don't need a satisfactory explanation for all my wonderings and it's impossible anyhow. I am glad it motivated me to read Blood and Gold though. It's a book I've owned for a while and never picked up. It's also given me a lot more to think (and post) about.

In conclusion...Just know that Amadeo and I feel the same about this! lol

**Ive removed some fan art from this post. I had the foresight to credit the artist (save for the one I couldn't find), but even so, conversations on this post were only about if or how I credited the artist. Because it seems to be distracting from my words (which is the reason for the post), I decided to remove them.**

#interview with the vampire #armand #marius de romanus #amadeo #blood and gold

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kiwi-but-the-bird-not-the-fruit · 2 months

Text

Male!Nefara x fem! Reader

Minors don't interact with this one please

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Edit* needs to be edited and I need to fix a few things later*

I wrote this for request (about nefero worshiping the reader) but this is probablya little too much for that one so I'm just gonna post this one separate

Waring this has mild NSFW imagine of the reader being naked and Nefero/ female erosual/description of bitting and nail scratching on the male/hickeys

She /her pronouns

Using third person? Idk man I'm tired

Prompt: Nefero but he's just worshiping you after the deed

Image not mine

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You were just so gorgeous,so pretty, delicate yet sharp with thorns for whoever would wrong you.

Looking at you with those lovely lips, soft skin, tall with soft thighs and hip dips that he could massage in his veiny manicure hands for hours, your long eyelashes so prominent as you slept naked on his vast bed.

He loved your voice;Oh how he loves to hear it, in any way you could sing he'd melt, you could talk he'dmelt,when you moaned his royal name on his velvety sheets you underneath, all in view of your perfect body he'd marked just a few hours ago the image still new,he's hot and bothered with eagerness to just do it all again; to please you some more but he can't do it now so he'll wait for your command patiently like the servant he was for you as you slept.

He loved everything about you- nay he worship your being he'd give his whole undead heart and soul to you and if for some reason in the next millennium of both your existence and for some reason you couldn't be together he'd give it all even if it were just a touch of your hand against his cheek was all the reward hed need and then find something of more value to do it again.

You laid next to him cuddling into the pillow he had replaced himself with just so he could see you fully all the curves of your tall body your bosom flushed and covered with marks, then he looked at himself and all the scratches you left on him as you came, you had bitten his shoulders and neck seconds later saying a exasperated "sorry Nefie" while you kissed the bite you had made "no problem love" he grunted as he kept pleasing you underneath him.

The room was hot the steam linger even after a while the smell of both your perfume and his mixed so lovely in the air it drove him mad how good anything you two had would make such amazing art an art only he understood intimate, vulnerable, connected at the waist as he kept going to your desired pace.

Nefero layed back down and looked over at you replacing the pillow with once again himself, immediately your body warmth heat him up, and he let out a happy sigh, getting closed to your body he adjusted you to rest on top of his naked body wrapped his arms around your middle took one last looked at you and then he softly said .

"my darling, my queen,my goddess;you drive me insane by just a glance you give me a kiss that lingers and a smile that could make me do anything for you" he caresses your soft waist " you may know by now but I am truly the peasant and a follower of your Divine right, I will worship your body mind and existence till I draw my last breath" he kissed the top of your head "my one and only jewel...I am yours”

#smut? maybe #smut fanfiction #kinda mild though #x reader smut #how do i tag this

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signedeclipse · 1 year

Note

You can't just drop aphrodisiacs and walk away my guy smh, so here you go: Gyokko gets his s/o going with his love poison and is so thrilled they can't keep their hands off him 🏺💖

Gyokko [X Reader]

In which Gyokko uses his aphrodisiacs on his s/o so he can get the attention he wants.

You were always the affectionate kind, but Gyokko was very greedy and he could never get enough of the way you'd cling to him from time to time, or go on one of your loving tangents

I would say he wants it to be all you but he is very morally grey and is willing to have a little fun if it encourages you to hold onto him longer

So one night after you brew your usual tea, he sneaks about and drops some of his poison into your drink

He has various varieties, and he would never, ever mean to harm you! This one was a hormone of his, one that would surely give you the kick he so desperately wanted

He is very easy to read, with the mischievous grin and staring you down while you're holding your drink with that cute blush that is oh so obvious on his literally white skin

It was easy to tell something was off about your tea by that alluring smell, too, so you figured he probably wanted you to drink it

"Oh my, I sure hope no demons have tampered with my tea..."

He frowns, thinking you're going to throw it away, but it's delighted when you chug the whole thing down in an instant

He's in front of you in a moment, no pot attached, wiping a droplet of the tea that escaped and pushing that thumb into your mouth for you to lick it clean

Clearly he is eager, it makes you completely flush red

It's very fast acting, because next thing you remember you're in his art studio straddling his hips, and his hands and pushing up your back, slipping under your shirt to feel at the heat of your skin

It sends shivers through your body, since he's just so cold, but he warms up quick when he's pressed against you

You feel so hazy, and you know he's saying things- likely talking about how needy you are- but you just cant pay attention

You're kissing up his neck and chest, leaving lipstick marks all over his collars that start to blend in with his scales

Its a mixture of feeling sleepy while also feeling like you've just been teased for hours by the love of your life

It's not just want anymore, its need

It's hard to stop yourself from feeling him up and down, from rocking your hips into his and feeling whatever he's hiding press back into your pooling heat

He's giggling and panting from the excitement of seeing you so ruined without touching you

You are literally trembling from the need, so he positions one if his thighs between your legs for you to grind into

"You poor thing, you can't help yourself around yours truly, can you? How dirty~"

His scales are thicker and bumpier on his thigh, and they feel so so fucking good coalesceing into you

Gyokko likes to feel you freeze up anytime he pushes his leg up, as if its shooting electricity through you and only makes it worse

Maybe he gave his poor human too much for them to handle, he'll just have to fuck you senseless until you can rest

Or maybe he can stop and watch you desperately try to convince him to <3

Authors Note - I did headcanons because you didn't specify! Just a reminder that I usually delete any requests that forget to mention what type of post they want, but you referenced one of my other works and I love returns so I am weak and I will write,,, just this once!!!

#gyokko #gyokko x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer headcanons #headcanons #kny headcanons #kny x reader #x reader #reader insert #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader

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thatsadbietch · 1 year

Text

Critical Hit

Tickletober Day 4: Weak Spots

Yes, I am severely late. No, I will not be taking comments on it at this time. I would rather post something I'm satisfied with late than something half-assed on time. You all and I both deserve the best <3

Ryuji is tasked with leading the next Phantom Thieves' training session. Leave it to him to work in time to pick on his favorite Joker and teach something worthwhile!

Warning: Of course, tickles, and some curses.

“Joker, watch out!” Skull cried, deflecting an oncoming attack toward his leader, who had been occupied with another enemy. The attack was directed back toward the Shadow that cast it, defeating it instantly.

“Nice job, Skull,” Joker praised, finishing off his own target. The Phantom Thieves were surrounded, but not critically so; a group of lower-level Shadows had managed to get the jump on the gang. Even so, this was far from the Thieves’ first rodeo, having made several trips to Mementos, both in search of their favorite non-feline’s past and to help the citizens of Tokyo whose Shadows have become too strong.

“Truly art in motion,” Yusuke, aka Fox, commented. He, Skull, and Joker have been tasked to search a section of Mementos while Panther, Queen, and Mona search another section, having Oracle be the go-between for communications.

“Skull, your form and approach have quite changed for the better. Perhaps I can attend your and Joker’s next training session? Surely there’s much I can learn,” he asked sincerely. Skull snickered, throwing a knowing glare at his leader.

“I’m cool with you tagging along, but it’s up to the mighty leader over here. Not sure if he could handle both of us.” Joker rolled his eyes as his friend hinted at the mischief that unfolded last time.

“Yes, Fox, I think that’s a good call. And since Skull is so eager for you to join he shouldn’t mind planning our next training session.” That wiped Ryuji’s grin away.

“What?”

“Yeah, you did really well last time. And it would be beneficial for someone else to be able to lead training sessions, just in case.” Ryuji thought for a minute before nodding slowly.

“...Yeah, I can do it, no worries.” Ren smiled.

“Good, can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

“Nor can I,” Fox chimed in, “I’m looking forward to it.”

They agreed on meeting in a week’s time, when the field and track would be free and clear again. It seemed like the dialogue in Ryuji’s head went from “I’ve got a week, no big deal” to “CRAP, I have to have this ready in a few hours!” in the blink of an eye, and he still had no idea on how to lead a training session. He sat alone in the library, which was a rare sight in itself, but he knew he needed to step up.

“Come on,” he mentally prompted, “just plan training time. An hour, maybe ninety minutes. You can do this.”

“Ryuji?” The electric blonde jumped out of his skin with a shrill noise of surprise, earning him a “Shh!” from the other students. He turned quickly and saw his student council president and Queen to Mementos. Makoto sat across from him.

“I’m surprised to see you here. You looked like you were struggling, though. Anything I can help with?”

“Uh… Yeah, actually. But I really can’t talk about it here. It’s about practice,” Ryuji emphasized and gave her a look, hoping she’d take the hint. She stood, as if to say “received,” but actually said, “Of course. We can use the student council room. Our meeting just ended, so no one’s in there right now.”

They walked to the now empty classroom where student council meetings are held, and Ryuji explained the situation to Makoto. She listened intently, already forming several solutions but not wanting to miss any details.

“He just sprung it on me. And in front of Fox, how could I say “no”?” Her strategizing mind realized he was venting now, and she smiled at him.

“He trusts you, Ryuji. And he wouldn’t have asked you if he didn’t think you could handle it.”

“...you think so?”

“Absolutely! You’re his best friend, you don’t need me to tell you that.” Ryuji reflected on it and smiled, but in an instant grew panicked again.

“Wait! Aren’t you and Ann going too?!”

“Shhh! Ren and I already discussed that,” she started, keeping her voice low despite the privacy of the classroom, “it might be best to keep up appearances as much as possible. Meaning getting together in a big group all of a sudden might seem suspicious. She and I have separate training days until we figure out something else.”

“Oh… yeah, that makes sense. That’s why he’s the Leader, I guess.” Ryuji couldn’t help but be relieved; he enjoyed having Ann and Makoto on the team, but the less people at his first led training session, the better.

“So, as for your session,” Makoto started, “Always start any physical training with a warm up. It’ll help keep you from getting sore, and will help with performance during the training.” Ryuji was scribbling madly in his notebook, as if she were sharing answers to a final exam.

“Next, you need to pick the focus of your session. What did Ren do during your last session?” Ryuji shrugged.

“Ran and sparred, mostly.” Makoto looked blankly for a moment, and as if on cue Ryuji added, “Oh! He went over “observing and adapting,” saying stuff like how just charging at Shadows wasn’t always going to work. Which I still don’t know if I buy it, but his way worked, too.” Makoto sighed at his impulsivity, but continued.

“So he focused on refining a skill. You can do that. Or, you can try teaching something that you specialize in.”

“Well…” Ryuji thought, “I am pretty good at knocking down some Shadows with one hit.”

“So you’re good at finding their weakest points, and using them to your advantage?” Makoto asked. Ryuji’s eyes started to light up.

“Yeah… I can show them how I do that! Thank you, Makoto!” He suddenly stood and hugged her, running out of the classroom and not stopping until he reached the track field.

“I wonder how he’s going to teach that.”

**************************************************

“How the heck am I supposed to teach this?!” Ryuji exclaimed in his head, pacing the track while waiting on his two trainees. He didn’t have to wait long though, as he could see Ren leading Yusuke in his direction, both changed in athletic wear and ready to start.

“Hello, leader-for-today,” Ren started, “I’ve been wondering what you’ve come up with.”

“As have I,” Yusuke chimed in, “I hope to be better equipped to handle Shadows, and to gain some artistic inspiration. Seeing Joker take the lead is inspiring in itself, but you surely will offer a unique perspective,” Though Yusuke’s intentions were pure, Ryuji took this as “the pressure’s on,” and became a bit more visibly nervous.

“Uh… Yeah… totally… WARM UP!” he shouted, suddenly remembering Makoto’s advice and recognizing a way to dodge the inevitable for at least a few more minutes.

“Right! We can’t train well without a warm up! Let’s jog a few laps and stretch!” The two looked a bit confused, but did as they were told while Ryuji led the jog and stretches.

“Ryuji, are we ready to get started on the lesson?” Ren asked gently, starting to realize the task had given his second-in-command much more stress than he thought. Ryuji finally sighed.

“Okay, I wanted to show you guys how I land critical hits on Shadows, but we aren’t in Mementos and I know we don’t usually go without the others just in case something happens and I couldn’t think of anything else to do and-”

“Ryuji,” Ren put a hand on his shoulder, and it worked as if it functioned as a “pause” button.

“That’s a great skill to learn! And we don’t have to be in Mementos; I’ll be the Shadow so Yusuke can observe.”

“O-Oh, okay… Yeah! Thanks, dude!” Ryuji regained every bit of his energy and excitement, causing Ren to chuckle fondly and Yusuke to wonder how Ryuji functions so well against enemies while his train of thought was all over the place.

“I suppose that’s what I’m here to learn” he thought, watching Ryuiji and Ren take opposing stances.

“Okay, um… Ren?” his ravenette friend smiled at him.

“Just do what comes naturally when you’re fighting. Try to narrate it.”

“So,” Ryuji started, “There’s a Shadow in front of you, Yusuke. What do you notice about his stance?”

“Well, he’s grounded. And he has one arm toward his face, and the other at his torso.”

“Right. And that’s pretty normal for us: to protect our faces and middles, where our organs are,” Ryuji explained. Ren and Yusuke were shocked at Ryuji’s knowledge on the subject, and how well he was teaching it. Ryuji was even surprising himself, although he was only doing as Ren said, narrating his instincts.

“Every Shadow is going to have different areas they want to protect. They don’t have organs and some might not even have faces, who knows. But they’re weak somewhere, and their defensive stance will usually tell you where.”

“What about our Personas?” Yusuke asked, “They seem to have abilities that work well against certain Shadows, and not with others.” Ryuji blanked, he hadn’t really thought about that part.

“Excellent question, but let’s focus on the basics for now,” Ren saved, “Queen and I were actually discussing this earlier, and are working with Oracle on compiling a list of Shadow’s we’ve faced and what their strengths and weaknesses are.” Though it appeared to just be the three here, Ren wanted to remain vigilant in keeping the other members’ identities safe.

“I see, thank you. My apologies, Ryuji, please continue.”

“Yeah dude, totally ask questions!” He faced Ren again. “Now, come at me like you’re going to attack. Slow-mo, though.” Ren nodded, seeing where Ryuji was taking this part. He motioned a running start, and a punch with his right hand, the one originally blocking his torso.

“Stop,” Ryuji instructed. Ren froze in his position, right arm extended in a mock blow to Ryuji’s jaw.

“Now, I can do three things. Since I was in my own defensive stance, I can block with this arm,” motioning his left, protecting his face, “I can take his wrist and fling him behind me using his own force,” again, the both of them demonstrating what that would look like, “or, what I’m showing you guys, I can take this as an opportunity. Yusuke, what’s changed about his position?”

“Well, in order to make an attack, he was forced to uncover a weak point he was previously protecting.” Ryuji beamed.

“Exactly! You can’t do both. See,” Ryuji demonstrated, taking his pointer finger and tracing from Ren’s ribs to his hip bones. “His weak points are wide open now.” Ren inhaled sharply and winced. Ryuji looked to him, suddenly smug.

“And I do mean his weak points.” As a leader, he was proud that Ryuji picked up on small cues that could give him an edge. However, he wasn’t the acting leader right now, so as his friend he’d hoped it would go unnoticed. Yusuke hadn’t paid the brief interaction any mind, as he was more focused on the lesson at hand. Ryuji returned to his original position, to the moment just before he would have been struck by his opponent.

“So,” he continued nonchalantly, “since we decided to attack, I see him coming toward me with this opening, I’m going to dodge, and strike.” Ryuji swerved his body under Ren’s extended arm, and instead of a mock strike, latched onto Ren’s side and squeezed. Yusuke would have had to be blind and deaf to miss Ren’s reaction this time, as he squealed and recoiled from the surprise attack.

“AH! Ryuhohoji!”

“...What’s going on?” Yusuke asked, as much confused as he was amused.

“Just a demonstration,” Ryuji replied with a snicker before releasing Ren. “I think you should give it a try. Ren, you’re the Shadow again.”

“Greheat,” he replied as Ryuji and Yusuke switched places. Yusuke had a gleam in his eyes too similar to Ryuji’s to be considered “comfortable” to the Joker.

“All right, Ren, slowly. Yusuke, get ready.” Ryuji prompted. Ren exhaled, moving slowly for Yusuke’s sake. It was his job, after all, to teach his team. And surely Yusuke is serious about his training, as to not be tempted by such juvenile tactics-

“BWAH! Hehehehey! YUSUKEHEHEHE!” Yusuke did appear very serious in his training; so much so he adopted two strategies. As Joker came with his slow swing, Yusuke grabbed his wrist with his right hand. With his left, Yusuke latched onto the Joker’s ribs, noticing a much stronger reaction to his grip than Ryuji’s.

“Lehehehet go, Yusuke! Yohohou got me!” However, the artist chuckled and held firm to his “opponent’s” wrist.

“Have I done it correctly, Ryuji?” The blonde couldn’t believe what he was witnessing, and in the best way. He cackled wickedly.

“I couldn’t have done better myself. But he doesn’t look totally defeated.” Ren, still giggling against Yusuke’s ticklish grip, noticed Ryuji approaching.

“Stahahahay awahehey, Ryuji!” Ren threatened, trying with more desperation to break himself free from Yusuke. However, in response Ryuji snatched his other wrist. His giggles were already becoming more frantic, knowing how screwed he was with both of them playing this game.

“I’ve never seen you like this, Ren,” Yusuke noted, “It’s like witnessing a whole other part of you.”

“You are, dude. This, you see, is “nearly defeated” Ren.” Ryuji explained as if we were now the expert in Ren’s weaknesses. Which, in the context of which tickle spots can get Ren to buckle, he just might be the expert, Sojiro being a close second.

“I see. Are you telling me he has weaker points?” Yusuke said, still sounding like a student but adopted the smug smirk and mischievous gleam of a tormentor.

“Juuhuhust get ohohon with it!” Ren pleaded. Why were they taking so long? And talking about him like he wasn’t even there?

“Quiet, you, I’m teaching, just like you asked,” With that, Ryuji swiped his fingers along Ren’s collarbone and neck with his free hand. The raven-haired boy scrunched his shoulders up and sweet giggles bubbled forward. Yusuke would not have believed this boy, adorable in his mirthful state, was in charge of the vengeful Phantom Thieves, if he were not there in the flesh to see for himself.

“Such a sweet sound, and a precious expression to accompany it. I had not expected to find such inspiration from mere child’s play.”

Ren didn’t really have a response; he didn’t think he would serve as inspiration in this state either. Other than inspiration for Ryuji to continue leading him to his ticklish demise.

“Yeah yeah, he’s cute, we get it,” Ryuji said, and blushed himself a bit at the remark. “Here, give me that.” He took Ren’s other wrist from Yusuke and pinned both over his head.

“Now see, you’ve found your target’s weaker areas. Deliver a critical hit.” His instructions came out malicious, and Yusuke’s look of adoration turned back to sinister.

“Y-Yusuke! You don’t have to do it! You already got me, and you picked it up really quick!”

“Yusuke, you remember when we fight Shadows how they sometimes beg to be spared?” Ryuji intervened, “Well, this is one of those times. Since Ren’s right and you did get it on the first try, it’s your call. Mercy, or finish him?” Yusuke looked at his now pitiful leader, and almost felt bad for him. However, he realized this was an effect Ren tended to have on people. He comes off pretty innocent or unassuming, but Yusuke has seen first hand what he’s actually capable of.

“How will I know if he’s “defeated”?

“Yusuke!” “Oho, trust me, he’ll tell you!” Ryuji said. Ren felt his grip tighten on his wrists as he helplessly watched Yusuke approach him, claws formed with his hands.

“Y-Yusukehehe, nohoho, dohohon’t-NAHAHAHA!” Ren begged, but it fell on deaf ears as Yusuke descended his claw-like fingers into the hollows of Ren’s underarms, skittering up and down his tricep. Ren tried vehemently, but failed to bring his arms down and out of Ryuji’s grip, who he could hear snickering under his own cackling.

“RYUJIHEHEHE you JERK!” he spat.

“You know, we don’t take crap from Shadows, do we, Yusuke?”

“Definitely not. This heathen needs to learn his manners.” Ryuji was absolutely ecstatic that Yusuke was seamlessly playing along as he shifted gears, drumming on Ren’s ribs like he would a piano.

“Do you know how many ribs you have, Joker?”

“YEHEHES!”

“How many?”

“TWEHEHENTY-FFFFAHAHA!”

“PFFT!” He might have been trying to say twenty-four, if not for Ryuji throwing in a raspberry to the crook of the Joker’s neck. He could (barely) handle Yusuke prodding at his ribs or Ryuji’s raspberries to the neck, but both?

“Well, if you don’t know, I’ll have to show you.” Yusuke stated simply, starting with his bottom two.

“THAHAHAT’S NOT FAHAHAHAIR! YUSUKE!”

Ryuji laughed wickedly at his best friend’s expense, unknowing beforehand that Yusuke could be so cruel. He wasn’t sure if Yusuke could tell, but amongst the loud belly laughter and rib-counting, Ren was starting to buckle the farther up his ribs Yusuke’s wiggling fingers traveled.

“Hey, Yusuke,” Ryuji said. He almost had to raise his voice to be heard over the ravenette’s boisterous laughter. He halted immediately, and Ren took the gracious opportunity to catch his breath.

“Be ready when you get to twenty-three and twenty-four. That’s our Joker’s weakest spot.”

“I started to believe he himself was a weak spot.”

“Screhehew you bohohoth,” Ren replied, bracing himself.

“Is that really any way to talk to your pupils?” Yusuke asked, catching Ren off-guard by kneading into his belly. It was firm from consistent training, but still was quaking from all the giggle fits it helped produce. Ren threw his head back onto Ryuji’s shoulder in a surprised guffaw, nearly head-butting his nose.

“H-hey, easy dude!”

“I-ihihi’m sorrihehehe!” Ren cried, putting in more effort to hold himself up.

“Here, Yusuke, follow me,” Ryuji instructed. They led Ren to the ground, Ryuji still holding his wrists but allowing his head to rest in his lap rather than the ground. Yusuke straddled his waist.

“I suppose this Shadow’s had quite the battle,” Yusuke observed, noticing the streaks of mirthful tears on his leader’s pink face. “I’ll waste no more time then!”

“Any last words, Shadow?” Ryuji teased. Ren offered one more futile tug to his wrists and took a deep breath.

“Do your worst. Because you two are dead.”

“Tch, as if,” Ryuji played off, ignoring the slight chill down his spine.

“Bold words in the face of your demise,” Yusuke noted, also feeling a tinge of nervousness, but wasted no more time and drilled his thumbs in the topmost ribs on either side. The same leader daring enough to make such a claim in his position positively howled as his most ticklish spot was exploited.

“YUSUKEHEHEHE!” Ren bucked and kicked at the space behind them, but to no avail as far as stopping the maddening sensations playing at his ribs.

“This Shadow’s done for!” Ryuji exclaimed, then laughing along as if Ren’s giggles were truly contagious.

“It’s almost as if, once you know how to deliver a critical hit, the Shadow is not as menacing,” Yusuke teased, switching from drilling to vibrating his fingertips along the length of ribs twenty-three and twenty four.

“JUHUHUHUST YOHOU WAIHIHIT! BWAHAHAHA!” Joker cackled, somehow still delivering threats. His booming laughter soon grew silent, and he became too weak to struggle.

“All right, all right, I think he’s had enough,” Ryuji warned. As cruel of a tickler as he was (which Ryuji made a mental note of), Yusuke stopped within the same second he was asked to do so, not wanting to abuse the trust he’d been given. Ryuji released Ren’s wrists, though his arms remained limp above his head while he caught his breath, which occasionally hitched in leftover chuckles.

“Are you all right, Ren?” Yusuke asked, now concerned. But Ren chuckled, of his own accord this time.

“Yeah, heh, I’m okay.” Ren looked up at Ryuji, since his head was still in his lap.

“If this is how you plan on leading training sessions, you’re fired.”

“What?! No! At least, not every time,” he grinned, still full of mischief, “Gotta keep you on your toes, Joker.”

“And I yours. Yours too, Yusuke. You won’t know when, you won’t know where-”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, fearful leader, so scary,” Ryuji brushed off.

“...Let’s instead get some water and continue training? Actually training this time?” Yusuke suggested, as he and his eccentric blonde partner in crime helped their leader up. While the rest of the training went as planned with no more antics, Yusuke and Ryuji couldn’t help the nagging feeling their Joker was not about to forget this any time soon.

#tickle #tickle fic #tickle community #ticklefic #tickle fanfic #tickletober #augtickletober2023 #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #ticklish!ren #ticklish!akira #ryuji sakamoto #yusuke kitagawa #ren amamiya #ler!yusuke #ler!ryuji

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