#blue elemental blast

[mtg-cards-hourly]

Blue Elemental Blast

Artist: Richard Thomas TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

[arckiaym]

legundo doobles while i'm at work :D

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than tummies

Been thinking about plushies lately and wanted to make a set of fabric-themed Etrian Odyssey classes for playing as and fighting plushies

Scissorblade - A melee class that specializes in attack buffs and basic attacks, and wields limited elemental damage. Sharp Snip: Melee cut attack. Basic attacks guaranteed to crit next turn. Temper Blades: Increases physical damage and crit chance to one ally line for 3 turns. Double Attack: Passive. Gives a chance to make two basic attacks. Heated/Frosted/Static Edge: Increases physical damage and imbue basic attacks with fire/ice/volt to one ally line for 3 turns. Burning/Frigid/Voltic Cut: Melee cut+fire/ice/volt attack to one enemy line.

Ragstainer - A melee class specializing in ailments, with attacks that lower bind/ailment resistance and ailment attacks that can splash ailments. Rip Up: Melee cut attack. Lowers bind+ailment resistance for 3 turns. Mud Blot: Melee bash attack. Inflicts blind on all enemies in the row. Mud Splash: Inflicts blind on all enemies. On failure, reduces bind+ailment resistance for 3 turns. Bleach Bash: Melee bash attack. If the target has an ailment, remove it to greatly increase damage.

Night-Knight - A defensive melee class that can create extra HP in the form of padding and share it with allies to soak up damage. Fluff Up: Gain a large amount of padding. Auto Fluff: Passive. At start of combat, chance to use Fluff Up for free. Swaddle Ally: Gain some padding. One ally shares user's padding for 3 turns. Swaddle Line: Gain some padding. One ally line shares user's padding for 3 turns. Selfless Swaddle: Gain some padding. For 3 turns, all other party members share user's padding, but the user does not. Pillow Hammer: Melee bash attack. Spend all padding to increase damage proportional to padding spent. Nightfall Hammer: Melee bash attack. Stronger with less remaining HP.

Stitchstabber - A melee class with high speed that can use splash and piece attacks to stitch enemies together; when one enemy is hit by a single-target attack, all stitched enemies are hit. Side-Stitch: Melee stab attack that splashes to adjacent enemies. Hit enemies are stitched together. Straight-Stitch: Ranged stab attack that pierces enemy lines. Hit enemies are stitched together. Rending Needle: Accurate melee stab attack that reduces the target's evasion and physical defense this turn. Painful Needle: Melee stab attack that reduces the target's accuracy and physical attack this turn. Sever Life: Remove stitches to make a powerful ranged cut attack on all stitched enemies with a chance to instant-kill.

Laundromancer - A melee/support class with damage and healing skills that purge buffs/debuffs to increase potency. Dry Out: Melee fire attack that purges a buff and a debuff. If a debuff was removed, increase damage. Wring Out: Melee bash attack that purges all buffs and debuffs. Increase damage for each debuff removed. Soak: Heal an ally and purge a buff and a debuff. If a buff was removed, increase healing and restore TP. Wash Away: Heal a line of allies and purge a buff and a debuff. Increase healing and restore TP to each ally that lost a buff. Good as New: Revive a dead ally and restore a large amount of HP. Spin Cycle: Ranged ice attack to all enemies that purges all buffs and debuffs. Increase damage to all enemies for each debuff removed.

Threadspinner - A ranged class that can strike and bind enemy lines with lashes of thread, or throw needles that hit bound enemies extra hard. Head/Arm/Leg Lash: Ranged cut attack to an enemy line. Binds head/arms/legs. Coiling Lash: Ranged cut attack. Binds head+arms+legs. Piercing Needle: Ranged stab attack that pierces enemy lines. Increased damage to bound enemies. Vicious Needle: Ranged stab attack. Increased damage for each bind on the target. Needle Rain: 8 ranged stab attacks to random enemies. Cannot hit the same enemy more than three times. Increased damage to bound enemies.

Dyesplasher - A ranged class wielding elements, buffs/debuffs, and ailments, giving it a versatile and flexible toolkit. Red/Blue/Yellow Splat: Ranged fire/ice/volt attack. Inflict panic/poison/paralysis. Red/Blue/Yellow Wave: Ranged fire/ice/volt attack to all enemies. Color Cloak: Increases elemental defense to all allies. Red Ruin/Blue Blues/Yellow Yelp: Reduce fire/ice/volt resistance and physical attack/elemental attack/bind+ailment rate to an enemy line for 3 turns. Rainbow Mixture: For 3 turns, increase an ally's elemental damage and ailment rate, and make fire, ice, or volt attacks become fire+ice+volt. (note: due to the way damage types work in Etrian Odyssey, more elements is always better)

Plushstuffer - A ranged/support class that uses builds up stuffing as it uses basic skills, then uses it for powerful plushie skills. Cotton Catapult: Ranged elementless attack. Get 1 stuffing. Unwind/Pluck Off: Remove a bind/ailment from an ally and restore a small amoung of HP. Get 1 stuffing. Tiger Plushie: Spend all stuffing (max 3) to make 5 ranged bash attacks against random enemies. Cannot hit the same enemy more than twice. Increased damage with more stuffing. Frog Plushie: Spend all stuffing (max 3) to heal all allies and remove binds/ailments. Increased healing with more stuffing. Unicorn Plushie: Spend all stuffing (max 3) to attempt to revive/heal all allies. Increased chance with more stuffing, 100% at 3.

Outfitter - A support class with a wide arsenal of buff skills, which can be spread to buff multiple allies or combined to use multiple on one ally. Can also steal enemy buffs and bind them with restrictive clothing. Daring Clothes: Unlocks the Phys/Elem Attack, Act Speed, and Bind+Ailment Rate clothing skills. Practical Clothes: Unlocks the Phys/Elem Defense, Endure Chance, and Bind+Ailment Res clothing skills. Comfortable Clothes: Unlocks the Regeneration, TP Discount, and Accuracy+Evasion clothing skills. Fashion Line: Use a clothing skill on an ally line. Mass Production: Use a clothing skill on all allies. Custom Fit: Combine two clothing skills into 1 buff on an ally, then double the duration of that buff. Bespoke Garb: Combine three clothing skills into 1 buff on an ally. Catwalk Showoff: This turn, buffed allies deal more damage. Flattery: Steal a buff from an enemy and give it to all allies. Mask/Mittens/Heels: Inflict head/arm/leg bind on an enemy.

Patchmender - A support class with healing and cure skills that apply patches to allies, boosting their stats or negating binds/ailments. Athletic Patch: Heal an ally and boost their phys/elem attack for 3 turns. Athletic Mending: Heal a line of allies and boost their phys/elem attack for 3 turns. Reinforced Patch: Heal an ally and boost their phys/elem defense for 3 turns. Aromatic Patch: Heal an ally and give them regeneration for 3 turns. Patched Tear: Revive a dead ally and give them a chance to endure death once in the next 3 turns. Mended Knot/Stain: Remove a bind/ailment from a line of allies and negate the next bind/ailment they would receive in the next 3 turns.

[jayrockin]

Avian Homeplanet

Star: F-class (yellow white) Vegetation: blue and black Axial tilt: 11 degrees Gravity: 1.12 g Position from star: fourth

Over 90% ocean and blasted by the light of an intense star, the avian homeplanet is prone to hot, humid weather and enormous monsoon storms. In spite of this, the planet’s very slight axial tilt gives its poles a coating of year-round sea ice, whose sifting, dune-like surface plays host to a strange variety of slow growing plants and hardy animals. On solid land, the dominant photosynthetic life is a clade of “plants” ranging from dark blue to cerulean, and a clade of sessile tube-dwelling “landworms” with black flesh and frond-like appendages. Their dark colors selectively absorb and reflect the harsh, high-UV light of the sun.

The crust of the planet also has an usually large amount of the element cobalt. It compromises over 5% of the planet’s crust, comparable to iron on Earth. Cobalt compounds generally have a much higher solubility in water than iron compounds, though, and the avian oceans are stained a purplish red from huge amounts of dissolved cobalt nitrate, cobalt chloride, and cobalt carbonate. Mineral veins of cobalt compounds can be found commonly in the planet’s rocks, forming streaks of red, blue, black, green, and sometimes yellow depending on composition. Sand and soil are sometimes stained purple and blue by cobalt salts, as well.

The clade of avians has a difficult evolutionary history to track, given the limited amount of dry land and intense development over the past thousand years. The current theory is that a flying sophont ancestor originated on the planet’s largest landmass, an Australia-sized continent, and radiated outwards to evolve into the 5 extant species of avians.

In modern history, avians have often run into space issues developing their societies, and metal as a resource has been at the center of some particularly bitter wars. Most land on the homeplanet is currently colonized by the Dominion of Tiiliit, and now in the space age, imported metal and helium is being used to add new land in the form of artificial islands and floating cities.

Avians tend to use simple, writable icons to represent their nations. Though traditionally, the Hotsuuv nations use local cultivated varieties of seal fruit as icons, and the mineral rich south pole uses dots of pigment.

Map art rendered in Photopea by the stellar @cmaidaartworkblog! Edited in CSP by me.

PATREON | Runaway to the Stars

[aryxchse]

the hot lifeguard. | percy jackson x daughter of hera! reader.

a / n : no one's requesting for my husband so i simp for him on my own (and with my girl annabeth chase ofc)

warnings ; cursing, you being a simp (totally not inspired from me), him being a simp, maybe nsfw mentions idk just horny teens, hot percy jackson, my baby annabeth because she's too cute for you to handle, ALSO LONG ASS FIC WTF, well you know me, i'm a sucker for daughter of hera trope

having a crush on percy jackson was normal in the campers.

he was hot, powerful, funny, sarcastic, kind, loyal, and believe me, the list goes on.

so when he started working as a lifeguard in the camp, suddenly everyone was in the water. he, the little shit he is, surfed once in a while too, to give a little show to the girls and boys. he was the aphrodite cabin's precious, which piper was disgusted. but he was proud.

today was another day for the camp to be at lake, swimming. annabeth dragged you out from the peaceful hera cabin, saying that you should at least get in the water to survive this hot weather. even though you wanted to stay inside, she was right, like always. the weather was hot and you started to get embarresed from the amount of times you asked jason to create a wind for you.

now you were going to use percy's element to cool down, which is, your secret crush.

"having a crush on percy isn't bad as you think." annabeth said quietly, carrying her and your beach bags. you, who was carrying the snacks and your surfboard, sighed. "oh yeah? i'm literally in a fucking cult annabeth. the 'i-have-a-crush-on-percy-too' cult. and believe me, there's so many of us."

annabeth laughed at you and found a good spot while you were rambling. she put the bags down on the sand and pulled out a blue picnic blanket to claim the area.

"i know the cult, i was a member of it when i was like, 12." she joked, now putting the bags on top of the blanket to keep it in place. "then i left, realising i wasn't really in the cult."

you smirked at her as you took off your big camp shirt, laying on the blanket with your matched blue bikini. "see? you should know what i feel."

annabeth shrugged, taking off her own camp shirt, leaving herself with her yellow swimsuit. "not really." she said. "besides, there's no one like you in the cult. you're quite famous yourself."

you raised an eyebrow at her, taking a lemonade from the little fridge standed beside you. "how so, blondie?" you asked, taking a sip.

"well, you're the only daughter of the famous hera, and literally the definition of good. everyone knows and loves you, you're always helping people. the little kids call you mom sometimes for gods' sake." she explained, and you chuckled.

"what's that have to do with percy?" you asked as you grabbed a diet coke from the fridge. annabeth groaned, taking the diet coke from your hand. "what i'm trying to say is, you probably have his attention already. you're as famous as him and you're literally gorgeous."

you 'awww'ed at annabeth which she gagged playfully. you left a kiss to her cheek. "thanks annie, but i'm only successful at being little boys first love. not getting the famous percy jackson's attention."

annabeth groaned louder, laying on her back. "man, people talk about the skinny white boy like he's some god." she said. "when he was twelve, he was basically a loser."

you laughed at her and stood up, taking your surfboard. "how nice of you to talk about him like that." you joked, and annabeth made thumbs up to you. "anyways babe, i'll surf a little. there's a lotta good waves goin' on right now."

annabeth looked at the ocean and sighed. "you sure? it looks dangerous today." she said, and you only giggled at her worries. "oh please, you know i'm good at surfing as much as percy."

"yeah, sure. don't let piper hear that'." annabeth yelled after you as you walked away. you waved at her without turning back.

you looked around a bit. the apollo kids was blasting music in the food corner, which was now full of demigods. dionysus kids was making cocktails without the alcohol, because their dad's were watching them. chiron was just chilling next to mr d, a sunglass on his face, and the aphrodite kids was playing beach volleyball with the demeter kids.

then you looked at the right. oh, there he was.

percy jackson, sitted on the guard chair -you really didn't know what it's called- with that tan and muscular body of his. he had a sunglass on his face and an ice cream stick in his mouth. he lazily swinged his feet once in a while, and the blue shorts of his were looking so damn good on him. the red whistle hanged around on his bare chest, not that he touched it often.

you stopped staring when a girl accidently bumped you, apologising right after it. you smiled and said it was nothing, internally thanking the girl for making you turn back to life again. you were damn sure annabeth was making fun of you.

little thing you didn't know that percy, was observing you in that blue bikini, behind his sunglasses. what do you think was the reason of him wearing them? to be cool? nah, he doesn't even need those to be cool. he's just watching you secretly. you, didn't had any idea you were making an eye contact with him until that girl bumped to you.

he watched you dive in the water like you were poseidon's champion or something, getting on that white surfboard of yours like a damn model. percy felt like he was drooling at the sight, which he probably was.

he was snapped out of his gaze with mr d yelling at him. man, you were just about to bend over and stand up on that board.

"yes, mr d?" he said lazily, rolling his eyes behind the sunglasses.

"this little shit needs to find the bathroom, go show him." mr d pointed some little boy who was holding his shorts like his life depended on it. percy jumped down from his seat like it wasn't 2 feet tall, and smiled at the boy.

"don't mind him, he's an old man who's angry he can't drink." he said to the boy, ruffling his hair. the boy only nodded. "i don't really care anyway, i just need to pee."

percy chuckled as he picked the little boy in his arms, already taking him to the bathroom. "i'll carry you little fella. just be careful not to pee on me."

"i won't, thank you percy." the little boy said. percy wasn't suprised that he knew his name. "no problem. what's your name kid?"

"peter." he said. percy chuckled again. "yeah? mr d used to call me peter. he still does sometimes."

the little boy laughed as percy entered the bathroom. "really? so that's why he calls me percy sometimes." he said, forgetting he had to pee. percy smiled. "probably. go and let go all your pee boy, i'll be back on busin-"

he couldn't finish his sentence when annabeth rushed to the boys bathroom. "percy!" she yelled.

percy turned around to look at annabeth and smiled. "hey 'beth, nice to see you. not a really good spot for meeting don't ya thi-"

"there's no time for joking seaweed brain! she's fucking drowning!" she yelled at him. percy immediatly took of his glasses as they already start running towards the ocean.

"who?" he asked.

"y/n! you know her right?" annabeth said breathlessly.

of course he did, he fucking adored her. percy's worry only growed when he saw how big those waves were. the demigod's were already in panic as they looked at the sea. chiron called percy and said that the daughter of hera needed to be saved immediatly. percy didn't even stopped to listen to chiron as he dive into the water.

you thought you could handle it, or at least swim up and sit on your board. but no, poseidon was definetly in a bad mood, and he was taking his anger out from you, probably.

as you lost your balance and fell into the water, you didn't panicked and started swimming as usual. but big and strong waves hit you back and forth, until you were tired, swallowed too many water and fainted.

when you opened your eyes, you thought you were in elysium. or it was just some another version of the little mermaid.

percy smiled at you as you opened your eyes, his big hands cupping your face. he was panting, not because he was tired from all the swimming, no. he was panting because he fight with the thought of losing you for the past five minutes as he worked on getting out the water you swallowed.

"there you are, breath honey. can you do that?" he asked, and you caughed a bit. you nodded softly as he lifted you until you sat up, his strong arms still supporting your back.

you looked around, there was only the two of you, the crowd was long gone. you looked at percy again as your hand find it's way to your forehead. "what happened?" you asked.

"nothin' to worry about angel, just some big waves." he explained, caressing your back softly. you let your body rest on his chest, sighing as you remembered what happened.

"didn't thought the waves would get this crazy." you said, voice still hoarse as you caughed again. percy nodded as he patted your back. "me either."

after a minute of silence, percy finally speaked up again. "i... i'm sorry i was late, i took this little kid called peter to the bathroom because mr d asked me to, i swear i'd help you quicker if i didn-"

"percy, hey, it's okay." you shushed him, your hand caressing his arm. "you already saved my life."

percy nodded again. "yeah i know, i know. but i just," he sighed. "i don't know what i'd do if i lost you before i even asked you out."

you giggled to his chest. "yeah? you were gonna ask me out? when?" he smiled into your hair.

"today. been watching you for sometime now."

"creep." you joked.

"observing beauty, i'd say." he said, smirking.

you sat straight and looked deep into his eyes, which now matched with the color of the sea.

"i'd love to grab some lemonade with you, as a way of thanking you i guess." you said as you smirked back at him. percy chuckled as his hand caressed your cheek.

"who am i to refuse a sweet thank you, right?"

[averywiseanimatedcat]

6 months on it still thinking about how much of a shock that kiss must’ve been to Aziraphale.

The way Crowley steers his cooperation around really gave Aziraphale no warning at all. I was thinking about the development of their body language and it’s interesting to me so have an analysis under the cut.

Crowleys body language doesn’t change all that much over the course of their history. After their initial meetings as angels then in Eden, Crowleys already leaning in, orbiting and slinking around in quite a comfortable, familiar way. He tends to angle his body towards Aziraphale and stands quite close to him. He shows no sign of being fearful or uncomfortable. He quite happily moves in and around Aziraphales personal space without a care in the world even when they hardly knew each other yet.

Aziraphale however starts out looking guarded and unsure. He often stands facing forward while talking to Crowley sideways.

As we go through history Aziraphale becomes more comfortable. He opens up, starts to angle his body more towards Crowley, stops guarding with his hands and moves into Crowleys space on his own. And he starts to initiate physical contact where it’s not even necessary.

But the only times I can think of Crowley initiating physical contact before the kiss are ones that could easily be written off as just friendly or something else like

The wall push (which was aggressive)

The magic shop handshake is practical for sealing the deal

The handhold for the swap (mutual initiation, also practical we assume)

Sitting on the arm of the chair and kinda sorta leaning on Aziraphale when Muriel turns up

Crowley also tends to reject Aziraphales touch by removing himself from it like in the 1800’s, dodging with some roundabout footwork or leaning away. With moments like the pub or the shoulder touch he doesn’t have much of a visible reaction. Granted his eyes are hidden but Aziraphale probably thinks he just doesn’t like being touched. And yes, apparently they like holding hands, but do they know the other likes holding hands?

And I can hear you say ok then why does Crowley always put himself within touching distance if he don’t wanna be touched? Yeah, he does, but from Aziraphales perspective Crowley has always done this. He’s always been standing close or leaning in. It’s just how he is. Aziraphale is the one who’s changed. He’s become walking megaphone just blasting ‘please hold my hand before I discorporate on the spot pleasepleaselpleaseplease…’

Aziraphale is clearly a physical touch being. Brilliant acting and direction with Michael and how Aziraphale reaches for Crowley in the most stressful or emotionally charged moments. How there’s times where he seems to stop himself mid motion from touching Crowley. Such as after Gabriels appearance and Az is trying to keep Crowley calm

When Crowley says he’s going to take the humans out

And when Crowley goes to take Maggie and Nina out of the bookstore when Heaven and Hell are there. There is a safety element here as it’d be unwise for him to show his affection with Heaven or Hell around but Aziraphales first instinct is to reach for him. And again, great direction and acting with how David just gets out of the way like Crowley does it all the time. It’s another dance they do, Aziraphale pursues with physical affection, Crowley avoids. And Aziraphale doesn’t want to cross boundaries he’s perceiving Crowley to be putting up around physical affection so he’s holding it back.

And I think all that is part of the reason Aziraphale looks angry after the kiss. He’s possibly thinking (among many other things) that Crowley has rejected or ignored his physical affection all this time, making Aziraphale think he didn’t want it when he did. And that would be a painful thing to realise when you thought you yearned alone.

So I don’t blame Aziraphale for being upset when he gets this sudden enormous dose of physical contact out of the blue. He had no warning. On the contrary, Crowleys been acting like a big, prickly, demonic cactus. And it would’ve been endlessly confusing to be kissed after years believing the want for even the lightest of touches wasn’t reciprocated.

[purplephloxpress]

Another year, another Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day!!!! If you are a writer of fanfic, please know just how appreciated you are!! Fandom would be such a different space without your creativity and labors of love. 💜

Holidays are all about making traditions, and the bookbinding friends with @renegadeguild once again came together to bind copies of fics for their authors as a show of our appreciation. This year I had the absolute joy of binding Emergency Help Wanted by the wonderful @piyo-13 and even got to collaborate with her on some of the design elements! It's a Modern AU Jiang Cheng/Lan Xichen fic that starts with a "help wanted" ad.

EMERGENCY HELP WANTED

I lied when I got my job. I told them I had a kid so I could leave early from work to pick him up from daycare, take him to doctor's appointments, and occasionally miss a day when he's sick. Long story short, I'm in too deep. I didn't think it through. Looking to rent a kid for bring your child to work day. Must be a boy ages four to six, longish dark hair, likes soccer. Must also be artistic as the macaroni noodle paintings I made seem a little advanced for his age. Also, I will pay extra for someone willing to play the role of husband when dropping him off. He's a prosecuting attorney who often brings his work home. Message me for further details. Serious inquiries only.

Ok. So. I may have gone a little feral with this one. Online "help wanted" ad spiraled into loading wheel scene dividers, spiraled into fake Google search result headers, spiraled into FULLY committing to those authentic looking text messages. In full color. (There are so many. I typeset in MS Word. It was SO worth it, but god what a struggle at some points.) And don't forget the "recent searches" title page! Or the computer cutout on the cover! (It's bluescreening, just like Lan Xichen through this entire fic!) Also that cover/title page image that I just kept adding details to. (It's supposed to be Lan Xichen's desk, so it simply didn't feel right until it had sticky notes on the computer, #1 dad on the mug, scissors and measuring tape, scribbles on the sticky notes) Did I have a ton of fun designing this one? Perhaps. Couldn't say. Maybe just a tad. (This is a lie I had an ABSOLUTE BLAST!)

Historically, I've waited until I finish at least the typeset before reaching out to the author, but not so with this one! I got the idea for the fake google search results from Piyo's authors notes, teasing the contents of the next chapter. But! Those didn't start until about chapter 4! So I reached out and asked if we could collaborate and I'm forever glad I did! Not only does this have teasers for each chapter, I also got to bounce design ideas off of her, including what shade of blue and purple for the text messages. Because my friends, that is a serious matter and changed SEVERAL times throughout the process.

Also shoutout to all my Renegade friends who gave input and encouragement over the past year while I worked on this (what endpages to use? how to make this shade of green perfectly Nie Huaisang? how do we feel about this text message design? or how about this one?) - I love you all dearly and appreciate you so much for putting up with my nonsense at all times.

Binding details below the cut!

Fandom: The Untamed/Mo Dao Zu Shi

Pairing: Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin / Lan Huan | Lan Xichen

Bookcloth: Aqua/Purple Dubletta from Colophon Book Arts

Endpapers: Craft Consortium Ink Drops - Ocean pack

Textblock paper: short grain cream from Church Paper

Titling: We R Memory Keepers foil quill

Endbands: leather cording core, DMC embroidery floss for the bands

Body Font: EB Garamond

Title Font: Berlin Sans FB

Text Messages: Roboto

Additional fonts: Times New Roman, Kunstler Script, Magis Authentic

Title page image from Rawpixel and designed in Canva

Various computer graphics from The Noun Project

Tumblr insists on eating and doubling text in this section at its own whim, so if there's something missing that you're curious about, feel free to DM me an ask!

[megamindsecretlair]

heyyyy sugarplummm, you already know why i’m here🤭🤭🤭. i’d love to a request for teddy richmond??? im thinking smutty smutty down to the ground, but i NEEDDDD overstimulation from oc to teddy and him tapping out??? some crazy crazy shit LMAOOOO please and thank you, i would forever be in your debt🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂

A/N: Hope I did it justice! I read a FILTHY fic from @planetblaque, make sure you check her fic out here! Good & Plenty

Ruined

Pairing: Daddy Dom!Terry Richmond x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving), fingering (fem receiving), teasing, size kink, dirty talk, face sitting, mean Terry, daddy kink, praise kink, overstimulation, reader is able to be picked up, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some, rushing.

Summary: See Ask. Story by @uniqueoutlierblog . Terry has been spending more time in the gym lately, preferring to retreat into his head like he often does. Tonight, however, you aim to take his mind off of his worries if only for a little while.

Word Count: 3,232k

AO3 Link

A/N: Ya'll don't ask about this man no more! I need to focus on this book, lordt LOL. He has rotted my brain, enjoy! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Your favorite part of your nightly routine was watching Terry workout. He was never more so in his element then when he was pumping iron, blasting his metal music, and in the zone. He became so focused, lifting weights, leg day, arm day, biceps, triceps, and whatever else he managed to hone into a deadly weapon.

You joined him most nights, but quickly became entranced in the way he lifted his body doing pull ups. Or working his legs out on the machine. Your home gym was nothing to sniff at. Making him deck it out in all of the equipment he ever wanted when he got his settlement from Shelby Springs. 

You liked using the bike mostly, setting a program, and pretending to ride up the side of a mountain. You were able to zone out, picturing the mountain air and the subtle breeze. It was a wonderful sight to behold but did little in comparison to Terry’s massive form. 

Terry had been a little distant lately, spending more and more time in the gym instead of resting. You entered the gym now to find him facing the wall of mirrors along the far wall, watching himself as he lifted heavy weights in his arms, doing curls. 

Something was bothering him. You bit your lip as you watched him. What could it be? 

He was focused, not even noticing that you were standing in the doorway. He wore a dusky blue tank and black shorts, compression shorts underneath showing off massive thighs. His earphones were in his ear, probably listening to his favorite band. 

You thought over what could possibly be his problem… it occurred to you. It was the anniversary of all the shit that went down. Losing his cousin, violence, racism. You sighed, wondering why he didn’t say anything. Then again, he wasn’t the type of man to burden others with his thoughts. 

You sauntered into the gym, taking off your pajama shirt as you did so. You wore no bra underneath so you were bare to the heated room. Your eyes were trained on Terry beside you, soaking through his tank top with sweat. The tattoos on his forearm moved with him, the star and moon on his arm curling.

You stopped beside him, taking off your sleep shorts and panties in one fell swoop. You grabbed your own set of weights and went through a series of light reps, stretching out your limbs and loosening up your body. 

Terry looked over at you and then faced forward. He did a double take, nearly dropping the weights in his hands. He caught them at the last minute, placing them down on the dumbbell rack. 

“What you doing?” He asked, a smirk curving his face. He took out one of his earbuds.

“Working out, what does it look like?” You asked. You didn’t look directly at him, opting to look at him in the mirror. That was easier. Easier to admire his face without having to look at his eyes dead on. Sometimes it seemed like he looked right down to your soul. 

He licked his lips, siding up to you. He was huffing with exertion, reaching up to grab your shoulder. You sidestepped him, tsking at him. “You didn’t finish your workout,” you said.

“You gon’ do me like that?” His voice. Good god. He pitched it even lower, sounding put out and superior at the same time. 

“Finish your workout. Go on,” you said. You switched up your stretches, adding in lunges and stretching your thighs. 

Terry admired what you were doing, the jiggle in your ass, and the sway of your breasts as you moved. He looked at you in the mirror and you smiled at him. He nodded and then yanked off his tank top. 

You faltered in your own routine. His body was insanely ripped. Like a lifelike painting. Like an artist painted each and every ab. You admired the way his body moved. Effortless. Easy. His eyes were trained on you as he took off his shorts and compression shorts, letting his dick spring free.

He was already semi-hard, long and thick, as the tip slapped against his inner thigh. He pulled his other earbud out, tapping away on his phone to put on a playlist you both enjoyed to pump through the house’s speakers. “Coming Undone” by Korn began to blast through the speakers and the dirty beat had you feeling excited. The vibrations in the floor tingled your bare feet. He moved back to retrieve his weights, standing beside you as you both got into your workout routines. 

No words were spoken as you looked at each other, eyes dragging along each other’s bodies like a physical caress. His wide chest glistened with sweat as he pumped his arms, curling those biceps that you just wanted to sink your teeth into.

Your plan was to take his mind off of things, coax him into relaxing, and then talk about what was in his head. But you were making your own self bothered, staring at his lean hips, thick thighs, and strong legs. 

Your pussy throbbed, as you stared at his dick moving with his effort. Wet slick starting to pool between your legs. 

You grunted as you lifted shaking arms to put away your weights. You weren’t as skilled as him and that was okay. You would work yourself up to his level. Sculpting your own body the way you wanted. 

You free-stretched, lifting your arms above your head and pushing out your chest. The room seemed to get hotter. You felt every inch of Terry’s gaze on your body. Everywhere his eyes roamed, your body tingled. You were connected to him on a deep, spiritual level. 

Terry put away his own weights, the metal clanging above the music playing. The song continued to blast, making your body sway to the chorus. Terry stalked forward, licking his lips, eyes looking his fill as he approached you.

“Time for pushups,” you said. 

Terry smirked, encroaching into your personal space. He leaned down to kiss you and you turned your head at the last minute, making him kiss your cheek. He chuckled. “You think you’re cute,” he said against your skin.

You shrugged, a big smile on your face. “Just a little,” you said. You pinched your fingers to show him how much. He laughed, sinking down to his knees. He got into position, facing the mirrors. You climbed onto his back. He tested a few push ups before flicking his eyes towards yours in the mirror.

Wordlessly, he began. He lifted you with ease, not a grunt on him as he kept going, kept pumping his arms. Sweat dripped from his face. You felt his muscles bunch between your legs. You giggled, excited from the high of being lifted on his powerful back. 

“Good Daddy,” you purred on top of him.

Terry stopped, staring at you. You smirked and leaned forward, redistributing your weight so you didn’t hurt him. You licked the shell of his ear and he shivered from head to foot. “Such a good Daddy to me,” you moaned in his ear. 

Terry shook his head, starting up the push ups again. You rubbed his back, caressing him, scratching your nails against his skin. He groaned, body shuddering again. You continued to tease him, running your nails anywhere you could touch. 

“Fuck,” he moaned. 

“I can’t wait until you’re all done, sweaty, feeding me that long dick of yours,” you purred in his ear. 

Terry stopped again, arms extended. He smirked at you. God, he was fucking beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. He literally took your breath away whenever you saw him. A sigh carried off in the wind. 

Music thumped as you looked at each other. Your thoughts were probably broadcast all over your face. You took a quick peek at yourself. You were perched on top of him like a lazy, feline goddess. Brown skin gleaming, eyes low, bottom lip between your teeth. You looked so pretty like this. Felt pretty. Felt amazing because he made you feel like you were flying every time you were with him. 

You moaned, thinking of him. Of how wonderful he truly was to you. An entire gift. You rubbed yourself on his back, finding that little bit of friction to keep you going. “Oh shit,” you moaned, head falling forward onto his shoulder. You moaned, getting yourself there.

“Hol’ up.” Terry’s rough voice cut through your fog. He lowered himself to the ground and he rolled to the side to let you off. You climbed off of him and then faced him on the floor. 

“You think you get to play with what’s mine?” He asked. He got to his feet, pulling you up with him. 

Your thighs tingled as he stepped into your personal space. He grabbed your hand and pulled you onto the weight bench. He straddled it, laying down. You hopped onto him, and he groaned. He must feel the slick between your thighs rubbing against his stomach. His muscles flexed beneath you and you closed your eyes, pussy fluttering. 

“Mine,” he growled, winking at you. He pulled you to slide over onto his face, lips sliding through your folds.

“Oh, god,” you sighed and moaned. 

Terry hummed, licking his lips. You felt the entire motion, pussy growing wetter from the action. He began to lick you in earnest, moaning between your legs. You gripped onto the weight bar above the bench, held on for dear life, as your legs shook. 

The song switched to “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails. Terry followed the erratic beat, flicking his tongue across your clit rapidly, making you shake and twitch on top of him. “Oh, fuck, Terry, shit, oh fuck,” you moaned. 

Terry chuckled, gripping onto your ass and spreading your ass cheeks. Terry wrapped his lips around your clit and suckled. You screamed, your toes pushing you off of him from the ground. Terry held on, using his tongue to tease around your entrance. 

Stars were blinking on and off in your mind’s eye, lower belly burning with desire. “Terry,” you begged, voice weak and pathetic. Oh fuck, you were about to cum. You began to sink onto his face, putting all your weight down when Terry moved his lips. He pulled away from your entrance right before you were about to cum. 

You groaned, leaning back to look at his eyes. There was something deeply erotic about those mesmerizing eyes staring up at you from between your thick thighs. He winked at you and then pushed you off of him. 

He sat up so that you straddled his lap. “Ready to stop playing games?” He asked, wiping your essence off.

“Who’s playing?” You asked. You blinked at him innocently, wrapping your arms around his neck. His dick was nestled in your ass, growing harder as you rubbed yourself against him. He hissed, hands flying to your waist to steady you. 

You kept moving, kept rocking and rolling your hips so that your wet pussy rubbed against him. “Baby, the games have just begun,” you leaned down and whispered in his ear.

He pulled back, his eyes crinkling as a smile split his face. It was a predatory grin, full of evil intent as he kissed you. You sighed, nibbling on his big, juicy lips. He suckled your bottom lip into his mouth, and you moaned, canting your hips forward once again. 

“Another Way” by Sleep Theory came on, turning up the heat. The heavy beginning reverberated under your skin as you scratched at his nape. You moaned into each other’s mouths. Terry’s hands on your waist were no longer hindering you from rubbing on him, grinding on him. 

Terry cursed, his hand slipping between your legs. “Good fuckin’ girl. Getting wet for Daddy,” he said in awe. 

“You make me so fuckin’ horny, I can’t stand it,” you confessed, capturing his lips with yours again. It was all true. The way his body felt beneath your questing fingers. Tracing every vein, every muscle, every inch of skin. It all served to turn you on more, drive your desire higher, reaching new heights. 

“Let me train that throat,” he said, more of a command than a question. You smirked as you slid off of him, already planning your method of attack. 

Terry scooted forward on the weight bench, and you gripped his thighs for stability as you lowered to the floor. You smiled, grabbed his dick, and rubbed the bead of pre-cum across your lips. 

Terry moaned, licked his lips, tilting his head at you. Your pussy throbbed at the way it made his eyes narrow, made him look cocky. You aimed to change that. You opened your mouth, sucking him down and he groaned as you took him down to the base. 

It was hard, no lie, considering his size. But fuck, you were greedy. You breathed through your nose and then slowly dragged him out of your mouth, making sure to lick every inch of him. 

“Fuuuuck,” he moaned, throwing his head back. He grabbed the sides of your face, stroking his thumb across your cheek, before moving your head faster, making you take more of him. 

Silly boy. You resisted, pushing against his hold. He grunted before he let up and that’s when you took over. Giving him the sloppiest, messiest, nastiest head you’d ever given him. “Shit, let me get out yo way,” he breathed, his moans competing with the sounds of the song playing in the background. 

You stroked him as you sucked him off, his tip leaking cum. The salty taste of him made you moan, made your thighs tingle. You moved your fingers between your folds, rubbing your own clit as you sucked him off. 

Curses flew from his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. Fuck, he was perfect. Absolutely perfect. His mouth dropped open, jaw going slack. He groaned, eyes crinkling with the effort. You took him deep, near gagging, bobbing up and down on his length like you were trying to suck the soul out of his body.

“Shit, slow down,” he said, voice growing needy. 

You didn’t listen. You kept going, kept going faster, shaking with the effort. Rocking back and forth on your fingers and bringing your own pleasure back to the front. Back from where he teased. 

“Damn girl,” he moaned. His jaw flexed with restrained effort. You moaned around his dick, humming, flicking your tongue across his sensitive tip. You suckled him there, drooling. Your saliva and his pre-cum dribbled down your chin. You locked eyes with him, spat on his dick, and then sucked him back down. Returning to the pace you set, sucking with extra pressure.

“Fuck, fuck,” he panted, his hips pushing up. He tapped your cheek softly and you reluctantly pulled off of him. His huffing breaths were better than the music. His eyes turned deep blue like a lagoon, drunk with pleasure. 

His eyes narrowed, staring at you like you stole something. You licked your lips, licking up any extra taste of him. He watched you do it, before he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you to him.

He kissed you, lips soft and sweet. You opened your mouth to him, to his exploring tongue, to the bite of his teeth. You moaned, hands trapped by your side. 

He stood up abruptly, pulling you over to the mirrors. He wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing your back against the cold, smooth glass.

You yelped, trying to get away from it. Your skin was too heated for it, too sensitive. “Terry, please,” you moaned.

“My turn, baby girl,” he said. He grinned, sliding into you with no preamble. Your mouth dropped open with a scream as he split you open. 

“T-T-,”

“Shh, shh, Daddy’s got you,” he cooed as he moved in you like he was punishing you. He was relentless, moving like a jackhammer. Like a well-oiled machine. He held your legs spread open, taking his dick.

“T-too, mu-uch,” you cried, pussy flooding his dick. He was pounding into you so good, your vision turned black. Your ears began to ring. Your back tapped the mirror, shaking it, with the force of his deep thrusts. 

“Too much?” He asked.

You held onto his shoulder, nails digging. “Too good, too good,” you moaned. 

He moaned with you, synching up your sounds and bringing a new level of intimacy to the moment. He stared in your eyes, nose to nose, heavy breaths fanning across each other’s faces. The wet, dripping mess you made was leaking down your ass and leg, growing wetter. 

“How ‘bout now?” He asked. He increased his thrusts, angling you so that he was fucking up into you. The tip of his dick rubbed against a deep spot inside of you, rubbing up into you and making you see stars again. His dick was huge, splitting you, and god it felt so fucking amazing. 

“Meanie,” you whimpered, grip growing weak. 

Terry kissed along your jaw, your cheeks. “So fuckin’ pretty. So fuckin’ good for me. Such a good girl, creamin’ on this dick. You always know just what Daddy needs, huh?” He asked. 

“Daddy, please! Please let me cum, please, please,” You begged. 

His dick throbbed and you crumpled, falling into that abyss of pleasure. Where it filled up your entire being. All of the teasing and edging just sent you overboard, losing yourself and finding yourself in an endless loop of give and take. You twitched and jerked, moaning loud in his ear. 

“Fuck. Grip that shit. Show Daddy you love it,” he said. “Show me. Show me.” His thrusts grew frenzied, hips out of alignment, as he lifted one of your legs higher on his hip and then groaned as he climaxed.

His hot, pulsing seed filled you to the brim. “Ahh, that’s my good girl. Take all of me,” he cooed. 

“Oh fuck,” you moaned. 

You lazily found each other’s lips. He stilled against you, deeply lodged inside like he lived there. Like he didn’t want to leave. Hell, you didn’t want him to leave either. If you could live like this, you would. Never going a moment without him buried in your pussy where he belonged. Where he was always meant to be. 

Terry kissed your temple and slowly, so slowly, pulled out of you. He looked down as he watched himself exit, a thick load of cum spilling out behind him. Your pussy contracted, trying to push him all out. You shivered as the cum slipped down, leaking onto the ground. 

“Ruined,” he said, smug smile to accompany his words. You looked up at him and kissed him, needing his lips on yours just one more time. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” you whispered against his lips. He smiled against yours, leaning back just far enough to look you in the eye.

“I think I have a few ideas for the sauna,” he said.

“The sauna?” You asked. He fucked you so well, you didn’t think you could walk straight at the moment. However, there were plenty of areas to sit in the sauna. Light bulbs flashed in your mind, thinking of what dirty schemes he was up to.

Terry grinned, turning away from the mirrors and heading towards the sauna. You giggled and talked to him the entire way there.

The end.

There will be more, but seriously ya'll. Stawp distracting me! The Secret Terry Richmond Files

Taglist: @planetblaque @chaos-4baby @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide

@browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @xo-goldengirl @superhoeva

@avoidthings @lovedlover @blackgurlnhermoods @flydotty @sageispunk

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[fanaticsnail]

Cross-Guild Masterlist

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Buggy D. Clown:

You Kissed the Clown? (15/15 Series)

An upper-class tinkerer finds herself amongst the crew of the Staw-Hat pirates. Falling within the blast of a giant flash of red smoke and captured with her crew in the claws of the Buggy Pirates; she is confronted by her flight, fight and freeze response. Immediately, she finds another way of distracting the infamous clown-captain: a passionate and disarming kiss. As time and distance fall between them, feelings of romance, infatuation, fascination and longing cling to the clown and the tinkerer in each other's absence. How could they feel so deeply for each other; they only shared one single kiss?

Happy Birthday, Pumpkin (one-shot)

Buggy longs to kiss you but always shies away in case his affection is not reciprocated. Finally, an opportunity presents itself for a consequence-free kiss and he can barely hold himself back in anticipation. Happy birthday!

I Can't Do This Without You (one-shot)(smut)

Buggy attempted to use some unusual, waxy pollen to form into a "buggy-ball". He was an idiot. He can't manage the consequences without his loyal and ever faithful crewmate to help him out.

A Small Kindness (Smut One-Shot)

A blue-haired man with a round red nose is down on his luck. He's lost everything, not a single berry to his name after being defeated again by the straw-hat crew. A small kindness from a stranger propels him to get back on his feet. How could he repay you? Surely you needed something in return.

Headcanons & Drabbles:

Soft-Dom BuggyBratty BuggyCross-Guild InterrogationThe Clown Apologises

Buggy x Reader x Mihawk:

Swing, Sway, Shag, Smimmy (Buggy x Reader x Mihawk) (4/4)

Buggy is infatuated with his prized acrobat. He issues a dance night-off for his pirate crew, choosing to "make a move" in the hopes of charming his beautiful acrobat under the hawk-like gaze of his guest of honour. Unbeknownst to Buggy, the feeling of infatuation is mutual regarding the acrobat. Can they learn to 'play nice' to woo the acrobat? Yes, yes they can.

Dracule Mihawk:

The Apprentice (6/7 Series)

Mihawk is a bitchy boss, the apprentice is his bratty underling. Professionalism, sword-mastery and affiliation for wine consumption drives their relationship.Mihawk pushed his apprentice a little too far, prompting her to submit a formal resignation effective immediately. Calling her bluff, he attempts to chaperone her towards a cellar door to begin an afternoon of wine-tasting, only to find absence at his side as his apprentice simply walked away from him. And he was angry about it.Ongoing series.

You Should Be Sad (Completed Series):

Upon rising to the title of Warlord and Worlds-Greatest-Swordsman, Dracule Mihawk began to neglect his fiancé and her desires. Unable to provide her with the one thing she truly longed for, he remained apathetic as she broke from their lengthy courtship.A decade later, and many a bottle of brandy relinquished, he drifts to Baratie in hopes of drowning away the memory of her: only to have his hopes shattered as the hired band begins to play with his ex-fiancé singing her vengeance at him.

Let Me Take Care of You (one-shot)

The personal assistant to Dracule Mihawk notices he is not quite acting himself: a small wince as he reaches for his breakfast wine glass, a grimace as he draws it to his lips and the narrowing of his eyes as he begins to slouch. Luckily for the both of them, the assistant has a resume of many a skill: remedial massage being the key element provided to the broody warlord. He reluctantly accepts their touch, longing for the burden to be released from his shoulders.

El Tango de Mihawk (one-shot)

A talented thief manages to obtain an invite to the marine ball and decides to utilize it as a great opportunity to steal from the wealthiest members of the world government. Mihawk immediately recognizes them and decides to toy with their scheming, tango dancing ensues.

The Marine's Mistake (request) (one-shot)

Something horrible occurred to rid the warlord of his signature facial hair. Cadets had gathered and began whispering in hushed tones as Garp held a seated meeting with the warlord at a table in a run of the mill tavern. A new transfer does not recognize the sleek cheeks of the handsome gentlemen and immediately decides to approach to flirtatiously engage him over a drink or two. Mihawk is amused.

My Love Mine All Mine (request) (one-shot)

Mihawk returns to his castle in kuraigana nine days after he was due to return. He finds his lover sleeping in his bed, face falling to rest atop his pillow. Soft drabble, pining, longing.

Hanahaki: The Hawk and the Fledgling (request) (one-shot) Part 2

Mihawk notices his Fledgling, an apprentice he took under his wing, has become lazy in their training. Upon one final vocal reprimand, they collapse; sputtering a cocktail of saliva, blood and... petals? Is that petals in their hand? Surely not.

The Spear and the Sword (request) (one shot)

Drabble Part 2

Mihawk is required by Vice-Admiral Garp to obliterate an approaching armada of barbaric pillagers from their attack on a marine base. As this army was not enough for him to handle alone, Garp calls in another warlord, a ferocious warrior-woman armed with a spear, to aid in his ability to complete this task with as much succession as possible with as little damage done to the defenseless base. Both begin their armed ascension, showcasing their abilities in contest to see how many troops they best by the end of battle, against how many injuries they themselves acquire in the thralls of combat.

Little Sparrow (one-shot: drabble)

Mihawk has been up with your daughter, soothing her as she experiences her leap weeks. You spend some moments with your husband as he holds her in his arms.

Sapsorrow: (9/10 Series)

Upon receiving an invitation from the lord of Kuraigana to train his wards, you never expected your career as a governess to lead you here. As your tour of the keep was conducted, a ring was slipped onto your finger: invoking an ancient curse you truly did not understand. Setting three conditions for marriage, your newly betrothed immediately made haste to complete them with you blissfully ignorant that his life hung in the balance should be fail his task.

Macule Drihawk (drabble)

When Dracule Mihawk drinks, he becomes an entirely different person. That person's name is Macule Drihawk.

Pretty Bird (series)

Mihawk is an injured avarial trapped in his raven form while healing. You nurse him back to health, and he becomes smitten with you.

Obsession (one-shot)

Many believe Mihawk keeps the knowledge of his spouse a secret because he is a private man. Truth of it is, he is simply obsessed with you and doesn't believe any other pair of eyes is worthy of meeting their gaze with your majesty.

Happy Trail (mini fic)

Mihawk is not as well groomed as he usually keeps himself. You notice, and you can't help yourself.

Sir Crocodile:

My Favorite (Sir Crocodile x Reader)

Sir Crocodile has founded a league of highly trained assassins named "The Choirs" - all coded after the nine choirs of angelic influences. You are his favorite: his prized "Seraphim" who's ferocious brutality is only outmatched by your incredible beauty. Not truly knowing if your affection is all an act to continue being paid a wage in berry, he has not made a move of his own aside from calling upon you to sit on his knee of an evening, and have you utter praises into his ear. It is only when the two other members of the Cross-Guild begin flirting does he find his limit being tested. Will he bend, or will he break?

Sands of Time: Intentions of Series

Sir Crocodile thought he was safe from the intentions of the haunting Sapsorrow Queen. His soul has been laid claim, his time is running out. How can he have a stranger fall in love with his within the year? Would she truly take his sould should he fail?

When We Wake (one-shot)

Blissfully waking within the arms of your lover, you are both struck with the thoughts of how precious you have become to one another. Whispering confessions of adoration to one another while the other slumbers, you are both completely overcome with such deep devotion.

The Duality of Sir Crocodile (NSFW drabble)

Misc Multiples:

The duality of a dominating gentleman. Spoiling and endearing, encumbering and brutal.

Warmth (One-Shot)

Sir Crocodile is out for a walk in Arabasta with his pug, and he is stopped by a curious child who desires to pet them. As you, their guardian, approaches, Sir Crocodile is intrigued by your candor.

Get Well Soon (Drabble one-shot)

You're sick, and they do their best to support you through it. Zoro, Sanji, Mihawk

Please, I'll be good (one-shot)

After rescuing you in the heat of battle, he can no longer contain his desires for you. He was so good. He can keep being good if it means you'll keep kissing him.

Koby, Sanji, Corazon, Sabo, Buggy, Shachi, Ace, Penguin

How They Kiss (drabble)

Four different kisses with all of your favourites. Where would you place them in these categories?

Hallmark Piggyback (drabble)

Short piggyback on @indydonuts post about OP characters in a hallmark movie. Drabble is for Law x reader x Mihawk - amnesia trope

You're Angry at the Tall Men: Drabble (One-Shot)

He knows what he did to earn your wrath; your fury ignited in your eyes and the flames physically tangible and searing the room with your scorn. Your brow was furrowed, your lips curling into a snarl to bare your pearled teeth at him.Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Corazon, Doflamingo.

An Affectionate Embrace: Drabble (One-Shot)

It was a simple reaction, an impulse you felt organic and out of your control. Their cheek was right there, and the swell in your chest and spike of adrenaline prompted you to lunge forward and capture their cheek beneath your lips. How do they react to such a soft touch? Do they shy away, or do they respond in kind?Buggy, Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Shanks, Benn Beckman

Forehead Kisses (short drabble)

You're being a brat because they're neglecting you. Prepare to be greeted with the forehead kiss you crave from them.

Zoro, Crocodile, Kid, Killer, Beckman, Mihawk

Interrogation (crack dialogue)

Cross-Guild crack dialogue x reader

Dreaming of You (One-Shot) NSFW

They couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in their dreams. The way they had you wrapped around their body as a marionette in their minds, dancing for them as they awoke to sticky blankets when they jolted upright. Their thoughts got the better of them, and they are wracked with guilt. Sir Crocodile, Buggy, Dracule Mihawk

[mtg-cards-hourly]

Blue Elemental Blast

Artist: Richard Thomas TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

At First Sight 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (Plus!short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You are so drunk. Not just tipsy, you are loaded. The lights glare fuzzily around you as bass thumps in the floor and into your body. As you sway and rock to the music, you barely remember where you, hardly recognise the faces of your own friends.

Rhonda is entwined with a guy, so close they may as well kiss, and Starla is just as shameless with the pretty redhead she pulled from across the floor. As usual, you're the odd one out, but you don't mind. You're having a blast. You're so blitzed, you can't be anything close to lonely.

You throw your arms up as your favourite Beyonce song blares on. Rhonda entangles herself with her boy toy completely, tongues desperately mashing together, and Starla has her arm over the redhead's shoulders as she points to the bar, walking in that direction. As you turn to watch her go, your back collides with another body.

Before you can apologise, two hips curl around your hips. You squirm, unused to touch. Insecure as even the large paws that have accosted you can't make you feel waifish like your gorgeous friends.

"Hey," the grizzly voice undercuts the music, "how ya doin', honeybee?"

You blink, clueless as to what to do. You look at Rhonda but she's consumed by her partner and Starla's still off getting a refill. You touch the man's wrist but quickly recoil. How do you do this?

"Honeybee?" You force your voice put to compete with the music.

"Mmm, yeah, you look sweet," he growls as he squeezes your hips tighter, pulling you back against him, "sorry, not mucha a dancer."

"Oh, um," you look up, trying to see him over your shoulder, "uh, me either."

"Look good to me," he counters as his hot breath seeps into your scalp and he inhales, as if catching your scent, "you smell sweet too, honeybee."

Your body is both alight with flames and stringent with ice. You try to sway but he's planted firmly. You gently touch his hand again, and manage to turn yourself to face him. His grip hovers on your hips.

"Should we start with names?" You smile shyly as you get a look at him. You're nervous as he peers back. You hope he's not disappointed.

"Mm, I like ya just as much from the front," he winks, "name's Sy."

"Sy," you repeat before you give your own name.

He's not bad on the eyes, tall, broad, and bright blue eyes. His beard's a bit thick for your liking but you’re not picky. You can't really be.

"You want another drink?" He offers as his hands run up to your waist and your catch them, squiriming.

"Sure," you accept, hoping to get at least a little space so you can get your head straight.

"Alright, honeybee," he purrs and draws his touch away, only to turn and put his hand on the small of your back, "you like the sweet drinks?"

"Uh, yeah, I don't mind cocktails," you agree, cringing at your own awkwardness.

"You're cute," he says as he urges you through the crowd, "I like that."

You stagger drunkenly but don't fall. You try to play off your little stumble and he slips his hand across your back to grip your waist and pull you closer.

As you near the bar, Starla detaches herself with a fresh drink of her own. She notices Sy and raises her brows before sticking out her tongue. Her other hand is around the redhead's as she tug her back toward the dancefloor.

The man easily bulls his way through the crowd around the bar and signals at the bartender. As she nears, he turns back to you.

"What d'ya want?" He asks.

"Rum and coke is fine," you answer with your default. Usually you just get whatever the others get.

He turns back and issues his order to the bartender. He waits, tapping his fingers on the leather trim until the drinks appear. He pays and says some unheard words to the bartender. He takes the glasses and turns, offering you the dark rum and coke.

Your stomach gurgles as you accept it. You only really get a free drink out of pity. One of Rhonda or Starla's hookups feel like they have to me nice to the 'other one'. More than the anxiety, the unreadiness, it's the alcohol already swishing around in your gut.

He sidles you along the bar to an empty space. He sips from a pint of amber bear, the foam sticking in his beard around his mouth. He wipes it away with the back of his hand.

"You from around here, honeybee?"

"Um, lived here a few years, yeah."

"Whatcha doin' in a place like this?"

You sip, more nervous than thirsty. Ugh, it's strong. He wouldn't order a double.

"We're just about to graduate," you chime brightly, happy to have something to talk about. "Yeah, fourth years over, exams are all done..."

"Smart girl," he remarks, eyes sparkling. “Bet ya can guess I'm a bit past all that.”

He brushes his hand over his beard, a few grays catching the lights as the change hues. He doesn't look that old. And you don't have to do anything more than talk to him. You're not the type to go home with a stranger. Not that you ever had the chance.

“I didn't– well, what do you do?” You ask evasively. You take another gulp.

“Military,” he answers bluntly, “can't say much more than that, ya know. Confidential stuff.”

“Oh,” you can't help your surprise. You feel even more out of your depth. “That's interesting.”

“Nah, sweet thing like you don't care about war stuff. Ugly business,” he dismisses, “how your drink then, honeybee?”

“Um,” you look down. It even smells strong. “It's good. Thank you.”

[stellar-solar-flare]

Volatile | Chapter 2/3 | Steve Rogers x Reader

Explicit - 18+ only - Minors DNI.

Steve Rogers returns from a mission only to be immediately alerted about a medical emergency: you, the Avengers Initiative's leading science expert, have been hit by a potent, unknown aphrodisiac on your own mission. Pressed for time and out of options, he has to, together with the AI's medical department, figure out a solution.

Mutual pining, smut with feelings, eventual happy ending.

Content Warnings: explicit sexual content, sex pollen, non-consensual exposal to sex pollen, dubious consent because Reader is under the influence of an aphrodisiac (but all sex is very much mutually wanted), protective & possessive Steve Rogers, Captain kink, praise kink, very light dom/sub elements, dirty talk, pet names, thigh riding, finger sucking, mention of non-con.

Reader specifics: She/her. Works as a science specialist in AI under codename Dr. Chiral for her chemistry proficiency. Six times PhD, an Avenger. Late twenties, no description of appearance given.

Alternate Universe: The Avengers Initiative (AI) continued SHIELD's work after its collapse to corruption, with Steve as the Head Strategist and Tony as the Director. The Avengers are living together in the Tower - Bucky has healed, and Civil War never happened because Tony and Steve worked through their differences like adults.

I do not own anything Marvel related. This is an unofficial fan work. No copyright infringement intended. This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

FIC MASTERLIST | AUTHOR MASTERLIST | AO3

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Chapter 2: Flammable

Chapter notes: This is just smut with some feelings thrown in. Read the content warnings before divign in, please, and do not proceed if any of that isn't for you.

6,198 words.

As Steve stepped through the airlock into the dim-lit containment room, you untangled yourself from the tangled sheets on the king size bed. The air condition was blasting but despite that, the only thing you had on was a white, thin t-shirt type hospital gown that was not doing a damn thing to hide your peaking nipples. It fell onto your mid-thigh, and while under some other circumstances, it might’ve been reasonably modest, right now it clung onto your damp skin tighter than a bathing suit as you moved to sit on your knees on the bed. There was a feverish glaze clouding your eyes as Steve locked the airlock door behind himself. Other than the bed and a small desk with a chair, there was a table loaded with water bottles and some fruit and protein bars you had obviously not even touched. The muted color scheme – a neutral combination of blues, greys and whites made the room feel like a hotel room or a set in a movie. The bed you sat on was a small ocean of tangled satin sheets, and the thought of you rolling in those in feverish wanton need…

“Steve,” you said, your throat dry.

His eyes raked over you, ever so slowly, and as he did, he saw your breath quicken. You didn’t seem to really believe that he was there. Maybe you had fantasized about this before he had stepped in. Maybe you had fantasized about him. Even with everything you’d said on the tape, all the things you wanted him to do to you that were now playing on repeat in his head, he just wasn’t quite sure he could believe that it wasn’t just the aphrodisiac talking.

But whether you wanted him for anything beyond this room or for just this moment, it was clear you trusted him. You trusted him to help you out in this situation, with something this incredibly intimate and volatile and vulnerable, and there was no force in the universe that would’ve made him deny you. Especially when that meant that he could touch you. There was no other reasonable solution to this. That choice had been taken away from him, and that meant he could let go. And maybe… Just maybe…

I was too much of a coward to tell you in Verona. That made two of you. And this certainly wasn’t the way he had envisioned this going down but he would be lying if he said that whatever that was coming was a task he was reluctant to take on. His eyes stayed on your naked, glistening thighs like he’d been possessed. The room reeked of you, the pheromones of your arousal whispering sweet invitation to him, and Steve gathered every last shred of his self-control as he reached for a water bottle on the table with one hand and put the shield down to lean against the wall with the other.

“Hey, Ace,” Steve whispered. “You asked for me.”

You blinked at the sound of his voice and scooted to the edge of the bed, standing up. It could’ve been a hallucination conjured up by your feverish brain. And you could’ve hallucinated a lot worse than Steve stepping through the airlock of the room in the stealth suit of all things. But his voice sounded familiar – it echoed through your hazed state like a beacon in the night. You had been aching for him, for his touch, every last bit of your soul and body calling out for him. And he had heard. He had come to you.

“Are you here?” you whispered back, trying to make sense of it.

He hadn’t been there in the lab. There had been only Bucky, and Sam, and both had smelled wrong. Both had been wrong. You wanted just Steve; you had always wanted just him. Verona. Moonlight. Words that seemed to have no bearing to anything that was happening now when the only thing your throbbing blood was saying was Steve. You weren’t sure if you had been waiting for him for hours or for days or for centuries or for seconds, lying on the bed and floating in the half-delusional myriad of fantasies, touching yourself to the images of him but feeling no relief to the burning.

“I am, doll,” Steve said. “I’m yours if you want me. And only if you want me. The second you tell me to stop, I will.”

No. You absolutely weren’t going to do that. No chance in hell, when you finally had him.

Even in the small room, walking up to him seemed to take an eternity. His scent was faintly of musk and leather, mixed with something and something that might’ve been blood. It blended seamlessly into the deep, masculine note of the sandalwood-based cologne he always wore, blended with cedar and cypress and rosewood; a fresh forest smell that made your mouth water. In stealth suit, fresh from a mission. Shoulders accentuated by the uniform cut, wide chest above a flat stomach, strong thighs, large hands. He was the epitome of the masculine V shape, and he was yours. In the stealth suit.

By the time you reached him, you were barely able to hold yourself upright on your shaking legs. But Steve would’ve never let you fall. Before your legs could give underneath you, his free arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you close to rest against his body. The pleasantly cool, smooth Kevlar-like material of his suit felt like heaven against your body as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck. He was looking at you, studying the fever burning in your eyes as you shivered upon the contact. Without letting go of you, he opened the water bottle.

“I need you to drink,” he murmured. “Your vitals said you’re dehydrated. You’ll need your strength.”

Obediently, you turned your head to the side and allowed him to lift the bottle to your lips. You hadn’t felt thirsty until you actually tasted the cool water Steve carefully held for you, but after the first sip, you greedily chugged the whole bottle. Steve’s eyes stayed fixated on your lips as you did, and he didn’t turn his gaze even as he put the empty bottle on the table and grabbed another.

“Still thirsty?” he asked.

The whole length of your body was pressed against his, and his thigh had slipped between yours to stabilize you further. Even through the fabric, he could feel against his palm how hot your skin was. You had come to him, out of your free will – as free as it could be under the influence of the aphrodisiac – and you were there, now, rising to your tiptoes and pressing your face against the crook of his neck before drawing a deep breath in. Just the scent and the presence of him seemed to calm you down, and maybe that meant he shouldn’t –

Your tongue licked a long, languid stripe over the side of Steve’s neck, tasting the salt of his skin and the musk that was simply Steve. As you did, your hips – the bare, soaking wet, burning apex of your thighs – rolled against his thigh, and the high whimper that left your mouth made every single thought empty from his head. He barely registered the drizzle of cool water that hit his cheek as the water bottle he had been holding had exploded in his flexing hand. As you lifted your head to look at him, not even noticing the water that had also hit you, Steve dropped the crushed remnants of the bottle and raised his hand to cup your cheek. Every single cell in his body was alight, painfully aware that you were still rocking yourself against his thigh, slight graceful movements of your hips chasing that delicious friction.

“Tell me you want me,” Steve whispered, looking into your eyes. “I need to hear it one more time. Tell me you want this.”

You looked into his eyes, and for a second, Steve felt like you saw everything, every single last fantasy he’d conjured in the darkness of his bedroom over the last few months, every thought of his that screamed how much he wanted this. But then, as his name left your lips in a desperate whimper that came combined with you pressing even tighter against his body, he realized that was all your lust. Heightened by the aphrodisiac but yours.

“Steve. I want you. I need you. Steve, please.”

His lips came down on yours, rough, greedy, claiming, and your body caught fire with that taste of his, that control and command that laced the kiss. Lust so violent that nothing you had felt during previous hours or ever in your life could compare slammed into you, crumbling into beautiful, empty whiteness everything except Steve. Your hands clawed on the suit, desperately trying to figure out how to get the damn thing off and have all that warm, masculine skin against yours. With his every single brain cell consumed by the kiss, Steve’s hand moved on muscle memory as he released the suit’s cleverly hidden clasps, the arm draped across your back never leaving its position. It was you, just you, your taste and your warmth and the delicious, tiny sounds you were breathing into the kiss as his mouth pressed against yours and his tongue ran over the pout lower lip he had stared more than he should’ve during all the meetings, his head running off with fantasies of just bending you over the damn briefing table and having his way.

His. You were his.

As the clasps opened, you yanked the suit almost violently down to bundle around Steve’s trim waist, and then finally, finally you could get your hands on all that muscle covered by silky skin. Had your lust-shorting brain had any remnant of control, you would’ve thought that it was almost ridiculous how he looked like a Greek god, how it was not possible for a human to be this chiseled artwork but frankly, you weren’t too concerned by that. He broke the kiss only to look at you, a large palm grabbing hold of your gown and yanking, and as the fabric gave like butter, he tossed it aside. It was his turn to get his hands everywhere, running over every curve of yours as you arched in his touch. Your hips rocked back and forth against the strong thigh between yours, and as he tensed the muscles, you whimpered. The fabric, smooth as it was, was almost too much in your overwired state and yet, you couldn’t imagine moving an inch as Steve’s dark gaze was fixed on your face.

“That’s my thigh, honey. Does that feel good?” he rasped, his hands moving to cup your butt for added stability as your own thighs trembled.

In response, you yanked his mouth down back on yours, delirious for the taste of him.  Steve’s skin was warm and you had an inkling it should’ve been feeling like it was overheating you even more but instead it seemed to help you concentrate onto something other than your burning. Every thought was emptying from your head as the coil was tightening in your belly, heat pooling down down down and sizzling with a promise of a climax that might finally bring at least a drop of relief. God, he smelled gorgeous. He was still fresh home from a mission, and there was that hint of pure peak of man in his scent that made you whine as you chased the peak.

“Steve… Feels so good…” you moaned to his lips.

“Good,” he said, pressing a kiss onto your jawline and ghosting his lips down to whisper straight into your ear. “I’m going to make you come for me until it’s all out. I’ve got you now, honey. Let me take care of you. Let me see you come undone.”

Coming on his thigh, with those words falling into your ear like dark warm sugar, had sometime in the past felt like a filthy fantasy, and it was filthy, but it was exactly the right kind of filthy. The climax, coaxed further by his words, struck like a lightning, finally giving you a hint of shade when you had been lying on the desert sand. It was nowhere near enough, and the moment you stopped trembling and opened your eyes, the heat was already creeping back up. You needed more.

Good thing that Steve was looking at you like he wanted to eat you alive.

I’m yours if you want me.

Keeping your eyes in his, still panting for air, you pressed your palm flat against the washboard of his stomach and slid your hand down, past the bundled suit on his waist, past the waistline of his boxers. Your fingers brushed tentatively over the base of his cock and then wrapped around it as you swallowed at the sensation of the size of him. He was burning hot in your hand and despite all his self-control that bordered on superhuman, he was breathing in ragged pants as your hand slowly caressed him.

“I need you,” you whispered.

And oh, he would give. The next thing you knew, you were being backed against the wall of the room as he tore the suit completely off and kicked his boots away, and then yes, all of him slamming you against the wall, all that glorious godlike physique yours to…

keep?

The thought circled somewhere around the edges of your scattered brain that was more concerned by the fact that you were being hauled up to the wall and his fingers were brushing up your thighs and –

“Oh fuck, honey,” he groaned as his calloused hand slid over your soaking wet core. “Oh jesus.”

All those times he’d fantasized about you. All those pictures he’d conjured in the darkness of his bedroom, all those ways he had imagined he would make you sing. All within his grasp. His lips were ghosting your ear, a gentle tug of teeth here and there and you both never wanted this to stop and needed it to stop because you wanted more, more, more, everything he could and wanted to give you. Steve’s voice was low and strained as he carefully slid a finger inside you:

“So wet for me,” he whispered. “So greedy.”

He was easily holding you up on the wall by one arm slipped under your butt as his other hand worked your core, the heel of his palm rubbing gently against your clit. Even as you were sensitive from the drug, it was a different kind of sensitive, something that made you whine and wither on his touch not out of discomfort but out of pleasure you hadn’t quite imagined possible. The chase for that primal satisfaction had you shameless; coming for him just minutes before had been a sip of cooling water but what raged inside you was a wildfire that had evaporated the relief almost as soon as the last wave had washed over you.

You needed more than his fingers. You needed to be full of him.

“Steve… Just fuck me, please.”

Steve Rogers was a strong man, but there was no possibility that he could’ve resisted the feverish plea that fell from your lips, you calling out to him, you asking to…  He wasn’t even thinking about resisting, no, the second the words had left your mouth he was shifting your weight in his hands.

“Don’t worry, doll, I said I’m yours,” he said, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I will. That’s what you asked me to do, didn’t you? To fuck you against the wall like this, with my cock deep inside you?”

You barely recalled the words, the message you had sent, and it mattered fuck all now that he was here, lining up to finally, finally, finally give you what you wanted.

“That was a question, doll,” he rasped, his forehead pressed against yours and sweat sprinkling on it from the effort of trying to maintain at least an inkling of composure.

“Yes. Yes. I need you. I need you to fuck me and I need you to come for me; I need you to come inside me.”

You were so needy for him that he slid inside the second he pushed against you but despite the wetness, despite the burning, it was still a sensation that made your head drop back against the wall as you adjusted to his size. God, yes. This sensation of being full of him, precisely him and not just anyone, had been something you had craved from the second the sweet vapor had floated into your system.

The feeling of you wrapped around his cock slammed into Steve’s brain, the force of the impact pushing out anything and everything except for the feral, primal animalistic need to keep doing precisely what he was doing. You were helplessly pressed between him and the wall, squeezing him, and with his hands full of your body and his ears full of your sweet moans, he was certain he was approaching some sort of ascension.

“Good girl,” his low, hoarse voice filled your ears like warm syrup. “You’re being so good for me.”

The feeling of your walls clenching even harder around his cock made him chuckle against the skin of your neck. He was throbbing inside you at the feeling, wanting this to last and wanting to chase the release he knew would be out of this world. You were burning hot in his hand, clawing at his back, incoherent at the feeling of him pressed against you and sheathed to the hilt inside you, his hips rocking with torturously slow pace that was pushing you towards the edge again.

“You like that, don’t you? You like me telling you how perfect you are for me, how well you’re taking my cock, doll?”

You were so close, so so so close again, and this time, it was going to be even better than it had been coming on his thigh. He had you, just like he always had you back on the field, that’s what you loved about him among many other things, the control, the command… And he had asked you a question. Before you could think, the words fell out of your mouth:

“Yes, Captain.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. In that second, someone poured a gallon of gasoline over Steve and threw a lit match to follow. Your words scorched every last cell in his body, the way his title rolled off your tongue making his head spin. His eyes flared into a blue inferno and his body slammed tighter against you as he lost his rhythm for a moment before stalling. You met his eyes and swallowed, because something had changed. Steve Rogers had dipped into Captain America, and you had seen that gaze of a hunting predator in his eyes on the field but had never imagined it in a context like this.

Truth be told, you had. But you had never imagined it would one day stare at you in the eye, his cock deep inside you. He had stopped, and you were barely coherent, swaying right there on the edge for him.

“Is that so, doll?” he chuckled, smiling like a shark that had smelled blood. “You want your captain to take the reins? You want to just focus on being a good girl and doing what you’re told?”

Your brain ways beyond being able to form anything resembling a sentence, you faced his gaze and nodded. You did trust him, from the bottom of your heart – you had known the moment you had started succumbing to this that if there was one person you trusted to get you out of this, it was Steve Rogers.

Your Captain.

The second your head moved in agreement, he slammed his mouth on yours, his hips moving to retreat almost completely out of you and then right back in with force that told you he had been holding back. And you wanted, needed, had to have everything of his. You buried your nails to his back as he ravaged you, his pace almost inhumanly fast but not for a second hurting. He would never. The climax that had been building itself up by coiling your entire body tighter and tighter was almost on the edge of snapping, almost almost almost –

“So fucking wet for me. So perfect for your captain. Come on my cock, honey. Let me have it.”

“STEVE!”

The fire that washed over you rivaled a supernova and you could feel your muscles clamp down on Steve’s cock almost desperately, and the combination of that and his name ripping from your throat in a desperate sob was too much for Steve, too. With one final thrust, he buried himself as deep inside you as he could and came, your core fluttering around him in a way that awakened some deep, deep hunger inside him. He knew how you felt now, he knew how his name sounded dripping from your lust-crazed lips, he knew how wet you were for him.

He was so utterly, utterly ruined.

During the momentary lapse back to reason, he ran a hand over your hot cheek, looking into your eyes. You both were breathing in gulps of air as Steve slowly slid you down the wall, sliding out of you and pulling you to him. His hands landed possessively over your hips, and you hummed in pleasure, positively drunk over the feeling of being his, completely unashamed of anything as he kissed you.

“You did so well, honey. So good for me. I’ve got you; we’ll get through this,” he murmured against your mouth.

He wasn’t done with you – not for himself, and not for you. Not by a long shot. He could feel the burning on your skin, and when he mouthed the pulse point on your neck, he could still tell that your heart was beating like a hummingbird. And the second your hand dived between your bodies and wrapped around his cock again, he was hard for you.

God bless the serum and the heightened testosterone that followed. Even as his plans for you sat firmly in the realm of unholy.

The second you touched him, his palm covered the nape of your neck, grabbing it firmly to make you look up to his eyes. The climax wasn’t the relief you had been hoping for, not yet, it was something worse and something better, a tease, a promise of eventual one but not yet, not before you would come for Steve again and again and again. As of now, you were burning, burning still. Burning for him.

“The bed. On your hands and knees,” he growled, and you obeyed.

Of course you did. When he said it like that, just like he did on missions, it was a sign that he had the control and you could trust him. It was alright. You could let go. You could forget everything and let him lead, and there was freedom in that. The surrender was a cherry on the top of the lust boiling in your body, and when you felt him kneel on the bed behind you, his large palms caressing over your thighs and hips, you shivered. He leaned over you, above you, and you could more sense than feel his broad shoulders shadowing you as he kissed the back of your neck. You were trembling in anticipation as you felt him position himself against you, almost pushing into you but not quite. Not yet.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, his voice a dark whisper on your neck. “So good at following orders.”

“Yes, Captain. Please, I need… Please.”

Steve chuckled, and his teeth carefully nibbed your shoulder before he talked again:

“Good girls get rewarded.”

Any chance of you forming a reply to the words was gone the second he pushed himself back inside you, and the angle had him brushing against every single perfect spot inside you. He was so deep, even deeper than he had been and you threw your head back in crazed whimper. He was still draped over your back, and his left hand slipped under your body, pulling you tighter against him.

“Up, honey,” he rasped into your ear.

It was more a warning than an order, because in the next second, he had shifted on the bed to sit on his heels, pulling you flush against his chest as you straddled his thighs. He was all hard muscle and musky masculinity behind and underneath you. He positioned an arm between your breasts so that you were almost caged in his grip, his palm spreading possessively over your collarbone as his breath tickled your ear. Instinctively, you moved in his lap, arching back and grabbing the back of his neck for support even as his arm held you in place with ease. His bicep felt impossibly wide as it pressed against your side but you were far more focused on the fact that he was deep enough in you that he was hitting places you weren’t aware had existed. You flexed your thighs to cradle his in between, and god, those thighs were like two tree-trunks. The curve of your butt was pressed against the washboard of his stomach, and you felt his free hand caress the side of your hip before it roamed to your inner thigh. He still wasn’t moving, even as you were slightly rocking yourself back and forth, his patience almost impossible.

“Easy, doll. We’ve got all night,” he said, but contrary to his words, he pressed two fingers to draw small circles over your clit as he finally, finally moved. “We’ve got as long as you need.”

“Steve…” you whined as he rolled his hips.

He moved his hips and your entire body with such ease that you could feel electricity crackling on your skin. It was this apex of a man buried deep inside you, this impossible demigod that was so under your spell that he was already panting against your neck.

“I’m right here, honey. Fuck, you’re so tight,” he said. “Squeezing me so good.”

His far too teasing fingers brushed over your clit in time of his rubbing thrusts, and you were being wound tighter and tighter, another climax already building inside you and the peak was building higher than you had ever felt it, preparing for the collapse that was as inevitable as it had been to end up right here.

“I’m yours.”

“Oh yes you are, doll. All mine. Looking so pretty on my cock.”

Steve was mouthing the side of your neck, grazing with his teeth until he found a spot that made you whimper and latched onto that, sucking firm enough to leave a mark. You pushed your hips forward against his fingers, trying to get more pressure, trying to get him to move faster. The second you did, he pulled you back tighter against himself, preventing you from moving on your own but continuing to move both of your bodies himself.

“You’re going to let me, doll,” he growled. “You wanted to let go. So let go. Relax. Let your captain take care of you.”

He brought his fingers up from between your legs to your lips and you let your jaw drop open without a thought at all to taste the salty, tangy combination of you and him. As your mouth closed around his fingers in wet, warm softness, Steve moaned a strained curse against the your shoulder and picked up the pace.

You were gone. You were floating somewhere beyond all reality, somewhere where the only thing that existed was the man behind you and inside you and the burning in your veins that craved. Him, this, anything he could and would give you.

The feeling of you sucking on his fingers and your soaked core trying to desperately keep him from retreating as he moved his hips, your muscles clenching around his cock, was beyond Steve’s wildest fantasies. He was beyond any conscious thought whatsoever, his brain focused only on thought of spending the rest of his life buried deep inside you, pulling a peak after peak after peak from you until you were all spent and all his. With a lewd, wet sound, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth despite your whiny protest and pressed them again at your core to continue touching you in sync with his movements. You were almost there, strung tight with desire in his lap, your core slick and burning around his cock. He mouthed a path from your neck to your earlobe and teased it with his teeth, his breath hot and filthy and dripping with sin in your ear as you whimpered.

“You’re going to come for me, love. You’re going to come for your captain,” he rasped, the authority unquestionable. “That’s an order.”

His words pushed you right over the edge, collapsing the mountain that had been rising from the sea within you and the earthquake that came did Steve in, too. You could hear him moan your name into your ear as he came, the feeling of you irresistible as you came undone for him. It was an explosion that scorched through you, a heat that consumed the previous burn that had been in you, swallowed it whole like an exploding supernova swallowed a galaxy. Whole, and without mercy. It sent you falling back into what felt like a cooling pool of water after you had been catching fire, after a whole day spent in the scorching sun.

The whiteness that came after was still and absolute for a second or two and then you felt Steve’s chest rumble behind your limp body, his cock still buried deep inside you and his hands holding you so close.

“Better?” he chuckled, leaning over your shoulder to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Yes,” you whispered.

It was. You were starting to feel like you weren’t going to spontaneously combust but even as it was the case, you were far from exhausted, and Steve chuckled again as he felt your core flutter around him.

“Not done?”

You shook your head and he retreated back, kissing your temple and then whispering into your ear:

“Good. Cause I’m far from being done with you, too.”

In the late night, you descended back into your body from somewhere between fever dream and consciousness to find yourself comfortable in bed. A shape like a warm rock wall was pressed against your back, and you were being held in strong arms: safe. So safe. At some point during the night, when you had been finally feeling like you could sleep, Steve had carried you to the shower and spent long minutes washing your body. And of course, you had returned the favor, and gotten a taste of him. And of course, Steve had been able to take only so much of you kneeling on the shower floor with his cock in between your plush lips before he had had to haul you up and slowly, almost languorously have you against the tiled wall. And of course, you had come for him one more time even as you had been forced to consider that the next climax might be the one to shut your brain off completely.

There were worse ways to go.

In the dark room, wrapped in satin sheets that would probably have to be burned after this, you stirred once more. A gentle breath tickled the back of your neck, and even half asleep, you felt your lust wake, heat pooling into the bottom of your stomach and tingling all over your skin. The past few hours seemed like a pleasant, hazy dream that still caressed your body.

More. More more more more.

The greediness of your hindbrain coaxed you back to life. You rocked your hips back against the man that was spooning you, and drowsily whispered his name, still unsure which part of you actually knew it was him.

“Steve.”

The answer to your whimper was a dark chuckle and a slightly sleepy kiss onto your earlobe.

“Right here, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Do you need me again?”

“Need you. Want you,” you whined, rocking your hips again, satisfied to feel that he was already hard.

Wanting you as much as you wanted him. One of the hands that held you slid down to grab your hips and roll you onto your back, and in the next second, he leaned over you to kiss you even as his hand slid down your stomach. Your renewed desire had you already wet for him again, and he groaned as he parted your folds to feel it.

“God, doll, how do you ever expect me to get enough of you when you feel like this?”

He positioned himself over you again, trailing slow, teasing kisses down your stomach as you tried to rock up to coax him on. His hands were roaming up and down your body, caressing your skin with the lightest of touches and stopping to squeeze every now and then.

“You don’t have to,” you whispered. “I’m yours.”

That lit a fire. Steve let out a harsh, ragged breath and moved down to sink his face in between your legs. There was no tentativeness to it this time, not after he’d spent the last twelve or so hours thoroughly exploring you, making note of every way you reacted to his touch. He knew what to do, and a proud shiver, like a predator shaking its fur dry, shot down his spine.

His. You were his.

He was absolutely merciless, his tongue never letting up even as your whimpers of his name grew louder with every movement. He was holding you down by your hipbones, your thighs resting on his shoulders, not letting you move an inch. The burning blue flames of his eyes looked at you as you writhed and whined and moaned his name for him, and a reminder of his eidetic memory crossed your mind. He would remember this, and the way he was looking at you, he was making sure that he would get every single detail. As he gently buried two fingers inside you, you were certain that you would’ve jumped on the bed had his arm not been firmly resting on top of your hips.

“I want to wake you up like this every day,” he whispered hoarsely, his head still in between your thighs. “I want the first thing you feel in the morning to be coming apart on my tongue, and I want to go out into the world with your sweet voice moaning my name echoing in my ears.”

Yes. Yes. Yes, please.

“Fuck, Steve…”

He cursed at the sensation of you clamping down on his fingers, desperate for the sensation of being full again because you were ruined, ruined, utterly ruined by him. There would not be going back from this, not after being loved and worshipped and fucked like this by someone who was closer to a god than a man.  

“Come for me, love,” he whispered against you, command and a plea at the same time.

What was there to do but obey as his fingers curled up, brushing against a sensitive spot inside you, and the endearment fell from Steve’s lips like a confession you had been waiting for?

The minute you returned to your senses, the self-satisfied chuckle that rumbled from between your legs gave you no other option than to beg for him to fill you? And with how wrapped around your finger he had already been for months, you could’ve asked Steve to fetch you the moon and the stars, and he would’ve obeyed without question. To sheathe himself inside you was certainly not a tall order, especially not with how you wrapped your limbs around him, trying to get him as close as possible.

It was love. It had to be, wrapped into the scarlet-red silks of lust as it now was.

When it finally settled down again, your voice hoarse from screaming his name into the dim room that was luckily very well soundproofed, he still wanted to hold you close. His fingers traced lazy patterns over your back.

“God, I should’ve said something in Verona,” he rasped into your hair as your warm weight rested against his chest. “About how much of an embarrassing crush I had on you.”

You shifted closer, soaking in the comfort of being cherished and wanted and protected like this, and when you smiled against his skin, you were already halfway back in a dream. It certainly was an unconventional beginning, and as the aphrodisiac was almost out of you, one sardonic part of your brain was wondering how you’d spin the beginning of this love story for the press. Which would certainly be foaming at the mouth when it found out two Avengers were dating.

“Maybe you should say that tomorrow, then,” you whispered.   

And that was exactly what he intended to do.

Next Chapter >>

[chubsonthemoon]

Happy Binderary 2024!! Kicking things off with the fantastic Never understood a single word he said by dear friend @aboxthecolourofheartache. I had the best time beta'ing this for Box and just had to have it on my shelf! More pics and process info under the cut:

had an absolute blast packing as many easter eggs as I could into this one! it's a roadtrip gone wrong fic heh, so I went for a scrapbook/collage cover made of the same kraft paper I usually use for paperbacks, but left the hinge + spine exposed. I tore each piece from a different sheet of scrapbook paper, so the resulting texture is really fun:

I also went to town with references to some of the events in the story, particularly on the back of the cover. the postcard is probably my favorite element; here are my few first practice runs on scratch paper (along with some of my colored pencil testings for the markings on the map) before I went for it on the real cover!

I repurposed the ribbon graphics I originally drew for another bind (@feralrookie's right where I should be ❤️). the music notes on the first page notate the rhythm of the opening lines of the song the fic is based on, Three Dog Night's "Joy to the World," which I had on loop while I was typesetting this! ("Jeremiah was a bullfrog/Was a good friend of mine.") Box's taste in trigun-themed country and blues is impeccable, and I have a whole spotify playlist made almost entirely of her recs ehe :3

the blank/empty ribbon appears between chapter 1 and the epilogue for story reasons ehe; really wanted to convey the feeling of "where did the music go?", because I also listened to American Pie a lot while making this lolol.

also added little camera graphic at the end, which reminded me of meryl's occupation as a journalist, but the hands/lack of a face holding the camera also gives me the uncanny feeling of being watched/photographed (also plot relevant heh). camera graphic and the house graphic at the beginning are both sourced from Heritage Type's free vintage illustrations, from a series of packs called "Hands Holding Stuff."

the hand holding the house on the title page gave me wolfwood's confessional-on-the-go vibes, BUT it was originally held straight like this:

so I decided to tilt it to give it more of that feeling of instability and "oh shit my entire world is being turned upside down rn god the exits WHERE ARE THE EXITS (there are no exits)" feeling present in the fic :D so I guess it's more of a knives reference?? still, the kind of "what is even going on here?" reaction I had when I first saw it fits well with the title, so I went with it!

and that's it for now!! I'll be out of town for the next week or so, but I have a bunch more projects I'm really excited to share this month, along with some long-overdue author copies that I'm excited to get mailed to their rightful homes!

finally, thank you SO much for letting me bind your work, Box!!! it's always such a pleasure <333

[honorarysimp]

Chapter 8: Nobody’s Soldier

series masterlist

All is fair in love and war.

Maxine, wasting no time, immediately seizes the initiative, her hands moving swiftly in a complex gesture as she incantates under her breath.

The air around her crackles with malevolent energy, forming a potent spell aimed at disrupting Lorraine's balance.

With a powerful sweeping motion, she directs the spell towards her target, sending a shockwave of energy surging in Lorraine's direction.

The attempt is both swift and calculated, designed to catch Lorraine off guard and exploit any vulnerabilities. As the incantations echo in the clearing, the very air seems to crackle with supernatural energy.

Lorraine, wielding the power of the elements with precision, unleashing bursts of fire and lightning against her sisters. Each blast illuminates their faces, revealing the true depth of their need to win this.

Maxine — seething with rage — retaliates with a dark and ominous incantation, commanding the shadows to rise up and ensnare Lorraine.

“You'll pay for this, Lorraine. You'll never know peace again!” with a swift and purposeful gesture, Maxine summons the shadows to obey her command, manipulating them to ensnare Lorraine in their inky embrace.

The tendrils of darkness writhe and twist sinuously, snaking around her like suffocating chains.

Despite the oppressive grip of the shadows, Lorraine fights fiercely, channeling her willpower to break free from Maxine's malevolent spell.

With a surge of sheer determination, she directs a powerful burst of energy towards the shadows, shattering their hold and emerging triumphantly from their clutches.

A flicker of defiance dances in her eyes as she stands her ground, unyielding in the face of Maxine's malevolence.

As Bobby-Lynn steps forward, preparing to join Maxine in her assault, Lorraine's gaze meets yours with a mixture of desperation and determination.

"Go!" she urges, her voice filled with urgency.

"RUN!"

Through the daze, you register that Lorraine is trying to sacrifice her own safety just at a whim chance you might be able to get away.

Even in the face of imminent danger, her priority is ensuring your safety, standing her ground to give you the chance you didn’t take when you came to save her.

Maxine and Bobby-Lynn join forces, their combined energy intertwining in a formidable offensive spell. With a synchronized incantation, they unleash a powerful blast towards Lorraine, aiming to exploit any opening in her defenses.

Lorraine, with unwavering focus, shifts her attention back to the conflict, channeling her magic to deflect the onslaught. The air crackles with the intensity of the magical exchange, causing the ground to tremble beneath their feet.

As the powers collide, the clearing morphs into a spectacle of contrasting lights—an amalgamation of fiery reds, crackling blues, and ominous shadows.

The elements intertwine in a mesmerizing dance, with flashes of energy rippling through the air like bolts of lightning.

Shadows stretch and bend with their command, snaking around the combatants, while vibrant bursts of light illuminate the battleground with an eerie brilliance.

For a moment, you’re captivated, entranced even.

As you observe Lorraine weakening from the intense energy exchange, a surge of protective instinct propels you forward, urging you to leap into action.

However, just as you're about to recklessly intervene, three familiar figures materialize from their hiding spots, halting your advance with their sudden and unexpected appearance. They move with an uncanny precision, circling you cautiously, like a pride of lions staking out prey.

Despite having three formidable adversaries surrounding you, you can't help but steal a quick glance at Lorraine, who — even when being outnumbered and weary — still manages to retaliate with a spell that disrupts Maxine and Bobby-Lynn's balance.

However your moment of split attention leaves you vulnerable as one of the male figures makes swift work of your momentary distraction, grabbing you roughly by the shoulder and holding you firmly in place, preventing you from moving any further.

Realizing it's Jackson who has grabbed you, you muster your strength and deliver a powerful strike, aiming your knee firmly between his legs.

Jackson immediately doubles over in pain, a groan escaping his lips, as he clutches at the sensitive area, struggling to regain his composure and balance.

As Jackson crumbles to the ground, a groan escaping his lips, you cast a brief glance at him, uttering with a hint of dry irony "sorry, no hard feelings, buddy”.

With that, your focus swiftly shifts to the other two remaining figures who continue to circle you cautiously, their intentions and next moves unclear.

You stand firm, raising your fists defiantly, displaying an open and ready stance. A determined smirk plays on your lips as you utter a provocative challenge, your voice laced with barbed sarcasm.

You know you don’t stand a chance against them physically, but what else can you do?

"Well, well, well, looks like we got a real dead fan club” your words carry a mixture of bravado and anticipation, a subtle mockery of their unspoken threat.

"I'd apologize for the lack of autographs, but I'm a bit 'busy' at the moment. So, unless you gotta plan on doin’ more than just dancin’ around, let's get this over with”.

As RJ and Wayne lunge towards you, their movements quick and precise, you react on instinct, pivoting swiftly to the side to dodge their advance.

The adrenaline surging through your veins sharpens your senses, making you acutely aware of every twist and turn.

Focus. Move. Breath. Move. Just like high school.

With a deftness you didn't know you possessed, you manage to evade their grasp, the ground beneath you churning with the dance of your nimble retreat. Despite the precarious situation, a spark of exhilaration ignites within you, fueling your determination to outsmart your formidable opponents.

You instinctively glance at Lorraine, concern knitting your brow as you take in the ongoing battle. She's still engaged in a fierce skirmish with Maxine and Bobby-Lynn, her every strike imbued with unyielding resolve.

Temporary awe bleeds through you, it’s hard not to watch because this isn’t card tricks or little parlor magic.

Both of them. Shes holding off both of them.

The clash of their magic sends ripples through the air, creating a chaotic dance of light and shadows. Despite her resilience, you can't help but worry about her chances against such formidable adversaries.

A shriek shatters the tense atmosphere, and in a split second, Wayne lunges towards you with a wild, reckless abandon. You barely manage to sidestep his uncontrolled charge, his movements clumsy yet undeniably calculated.

Recognizing the need for something to defend yourself with, your eyes dart around, scanning the surroundings for anything that could act as a makeshift weapon.

Your gaze finds the woodpile nearby, settles on an axe embedded into a chunk of wood with its blade glimmering amidst the moonlight cutting through the shadows, an unlikely companion in this tumultuous battle.

With a surge of decision, you make a mad dash towards the weapon, strides filled with a renewed sense of purpose. The world around you blurs as you focus on reaching the axe, your heart pounding in your still aching head.

Every muscle tenses as you approach the woodpile, your fingers closing around the handle of the axe, its weight reassuring in your grip.

Gripping the axe firmly, you muster all your strength and attempt to wrench it free from the chunk of wood. The blade remains lodged in place, the wood unyielding against your determined efforts.

Frustration builds within you, mingling with the urgency of the moment. Time seems to slip away as you strain, exerting every ounce of strength to force the blade free from its stubborn resting place.

The cut in your hand aches, making the handle slippery with your blood, so quickly you tear a bit of your already ripped shirt off and frantically wrap it around your hand.

Not the best, but a momentary solution.

You continue your struggle with the axe, desperation seeping into your every action. The words spill from your lips in a plea of "c'mon, c'mon, please”, gaze darting to the side, alarm fueling your urgency.

The three men, their movements a blur of intent draw ever closer, approaching swiftly and menacingly. With every passing second, the need to break free becomes more urgent, the weight of the situation pressing down on your shoulders. Your breath hitches, a mix of determination and terror coursing through your veins as you fight against the constraints holding the axe captive.

With a surge of frustration and desperation, you muster a final burst of energy and wrench the axe loose from the stubborn wood. The moment the axe is free, you pivot swiftly, your instincts honing in on Jackson approaching you.

They’re already dead. They’re already dead.

Besides, at this point, you’re so completely fed up and exhausted with everything that you have just too many pent up emotions needing release.

In that single instant your mind and body are a whirl of honed focus, channeling every ounce of determination into a single, deliberate strike.

The blade arcs through the air, fueled by adrenaline and desperation, and comes crashing down with unwavering precision.

It whistles through the air and connects to Jackson with a sickening crunch. A spray of blood splatters across the ground as Jackson falls, the metallic scent mingling with the charged atmosphere as a guttural groan escaping his lips.

And when he doesn’t get back up, you remind yourself that he wasn’t even alive anymore, there was nothing human left in him. In any of them.

The sight sends a shiver down your spine, but there's no time for hesitation. Your focus remains unwavering, your heart racing as you brace for the next assault.

Driven by a primal instinct to survive, you grip the axe tightly against your chest, your every fiber tense with anticipation. RJ lurches forward, his presence filling your field of vision.

Without a moment's hesitation, you sidestep his charge, your movements fueled by a rush of adrenaline. You twist with precision, narrowly evading RJ's outstretched arms, the axe clenched defensively in your grasp, every muscle taut.

With a swift and calculated motion, you seize the opportunity provided by RJ's momentary loss of balance.

Your arms move in a fluid arc, raising the axe above your head and then with a burst of power, bringing it down with force upon his vulnerable back.

The impact is sickening, the sound of the blade meeting flesh resonating through the air. A surge of exhilaration and terror courses through you as RJ falls to the ground, stunned and defeated by your decisive strike.

Just as you wrench the axe free from RJ, Wayne descends upon you with a frenzy of uncoordinated movements, his teeth bared in a threatening snarl.

In a desperate attempt to protect yourself, you swiftly hold the axe handle up, creating a makeshift barrier between you and Wayne's lunge.

The strain on your arms is immense as you brace against the weight of his mindless onslaught, the axe handle quivering against the force of his jaws snapping mere inches from your face.

Wayne's bloodshot eyes burn with a haunting intensity, magnified by their proximity to yours as he continues his determined growling. With an unsettling strength, his hands grip the axe handle firmly, tugging relentlessly to wrench it away from your grasp.

The unexpected force catches you off balance, blood already lubricating the handle which causes you to release it and stumble back, footing slipping momentarily.

Panic surges through you as the axe is torn from your hands, leaving you vulnerable and at the mercy of Wayne's unpredictable nature.

Wayne - gripped by a frenzied rage — raises the axe high above his head, a feral scream tearing from his throat.

He brings the axe down with a forceful arc, its blade glimmering fiercely in the dim light. Just as quickly, you find yourself slipping on the uneven ground beneath you, your balance faltering as you stumble backward.

The descent is abrupt, and you fall to the ground with a resounding thud. The axe swings with a sickening whoosh, its sharp edge inches above your head, narrowly missing your fallen form.

With a mixture of disbelief and terror, you find yourself uttering a “holy shit."

The sheer intensity of the situation overwhelms you, and in a panicked reflex, you scramble to your feet as he raises the blade again, the adrenaline coursing through your veins urging you to flee.

Wayne’s relentless pursuit propels you into action, and you bolt away, your heart pounding in your chest as you barely dodge yet another swing of the axe. Sinking into the soil just where you’d been.

You can’t help but feel a renewed surge of desperation, your mind racing with thoughts of survival. In that moment of heightened awareness, the world seems to slow down, every detail etched in your memory.

The thudding of your heart echoes in your ears, the wind moving past you as you sprint forward, the ground beneath your feet a blur of motion. Your eyes dart around, scanning the surroundings for any potential escape routes, instincts guiding your every step.

As you flee, your senses on high alert, you catch a glimpse of Wayne clumsily freeing the axe from its grounded position.

With a sickening clarity, you see him raising the weapon above his head, his movements still frenzied yet strangely calculated. It’s as if he’s locked onto your retreating figure with a predatory precision, poised to deliver a devastating throw. The blade of the axe glistens in the moonlight, its deadly aim directed towards you.

Lorraine's desperate cry of "NO!” pierces the air suddenly, drawing your attention from the impending threat back to her.

In a heart-stopping moment, you watch as she swiftly turns her aim from Maxine and Bobby-Lynn towards Wayne, her hands trembling with urgency.

Just as Wayne hurls the axe towards you, Lorraine cuts through the air with her hands and emits a concentrated blast of magic. The two forces collide, resulting in a shockwave that sends out a surge of energy that rocks the ground beneath you.

A causality from being in the range of the blast, the forceful impact of your fall sends a jolt of pain through your body. The ground gives way beneath you, and you find yourself sprawled on the unforgiving surface — the taste of dirt and blood mingling in your mouth.

The shockwave's aftermath leaves you disoriented, your head spinning as you try to gain your bearings. As you regain some composure, your ears ring relentlessly, the result of the fierce impact lingering like a phantom reminder of the battle's intensity.

Despite the pain and disorientation, you can't help but notice the reopening of old wounds, a poignant symbol of the repeated trauma you've endured.

A groan escapes your lips as you reach up to touch your head, wincing in pain as the ringing in your ears slowly subsides. Through blurry vision, you try to make out the figures engaged in the ongoing conflict.

Amidst the haze, flashes of vibrant magic illuminate the scene, casting an ethereal glow that dances across the battleground.

Despite the visual distortion, the radiant bursts of magic remain a vivid reminder of the supernatural forces at play, guiding your attention to the heart of the skirmish.

As you regain your composure and sit up, your gaze shifts to Lorraine, who is now under relentless assault by Bobby-Lynn and Maxine.

They attack with a ferocity that borders on madness, their unwavering focus directed solely towards their target. The onslaught is relentless, leaving Lorraine with little chance to retaliate.

The once calm and composed Lorraine now appears vulnerable and overwhelmed, her slender frame struggling against the barrage of attacks.

As you observe the ongoing struggle, your attention is drawn to Wayne, who has seemingly recovered from Lorraine's forceful blast. His movements are erratic, punctuated by guttural growls that escape his throat.

It's a chilling sight, a reminder of the malevolent force that now controls him, driving him forward with a single-minded focus. The once familiar face of Wayne is now distorted, contorted by darkness and despair, his eyes devoid of humanity as he stumbles towards Lorraine with relentless determination.

With a sense of urgency, you frantically search the ground for the dropped axe, your head throbbing with pain. Time seems to stretch as you desperately scour the area, your fingers grappling along the grass to find the familiar handle.

Every second counts as Wayne closes the distance between himself and Lorraine, propelled forward by an eerie determination.

As your fingers finally brush against the cool yet sticky wood of the axe, a surge of hope floods through you. You clench the handle tightly, your injured hand throbbing with pain as you shove yourself up off the ground with effort, and fall into a sprint.

With unwavering focus, you push through the pain and disorientation, your vision narrowing into a tunnel as you gather every ounce of strength left within you.

In a decisive motion, you swing the axe with all your might, targeting Wayne's side just before he reaches striking distance. The impact is deafening as the blade connects with his flesh, causing him to let loose an echoing bellow.

You mercilessly wrench the axe free from Wayne's wounded side, eliciting a sickening sound that echoes through the air.

Your lungs heave with heavy breaths, each exhale laced with an effort to maintain consciousness. The clash of magical forces continues behind you, a mesmerizing spectacle that dances eerily amidst the darkness.

Amidst it all, you stand, a tableau of both determination and desperation, your form streaked with a crimson hue — a mix of your own blood and the blood of your adversaries.

A macabre sense of humor laces your words as you manage through heavy breaths, "how's this for cutting the tension, Wayne?"

The clash of magic and the echoes of Wayne's scream fills the clearing, trying to push himself up on to his feet as he claws his way to you, so you seize the opportunity to strike a final blow.

With a decisive motion, you raise the axe high above your head and bring it down with unwavering force upon him, severing any hope of recovery.

The sickening crunch of metal meeting flesh reverberates through the air, accompanied by a surge of exhilaration that tinges the triumph with a hint of grim satisfaction.

The ground rumbles violently, shaking the very foundation beneath you. The intensity sends shockwaves through the earth, causing the fires surrounding you to whip and dance wildly.

Maxine, Bobby-Lynn, and Lorraine all halt their magic-induced battle, their eyes widening in a mix of awe and panic as they regard the spectacle.

The air currents, fueled by an inexplicable force, swirl around you like a tempest, crackling with an unseen energy that raises the hair on your arms.

Maxine's chilling laugh echoes through the air, drawing all attention towards her, her arms lifted triumphantly to the heavens as she proclaims “the second part of the ritual is complete! The sacrifices have been taken willingly by the promised!"

Maxine's declaration hangs heavily in the air, its weight settling upon you like a suffocating shroud. The implication of her words sinks in, their meaning twisted and sickening.

Panic courses through you as you grip the axe tightly, desperately seeking answers from Lorraine as your eyes find hers across the clearing.

"What the hell is she talking about?" you shout, a mix of fear and confusion lacing your voice.

The weight of the situation presses heavily upon your shoulders, a palpable tension settling in the air. Lorraine's face pales further as she recognizes the implications of Maxine's words.

"The prophecy," she whispers, her voice trembling before shifting into an accusatory shout as she whips around to Maxine.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?”

Maxine responds with a subtle nod of her head, a silent signal to Bobby-Lynn, who seizes the opportunity to restrain Lorraine with an invisible force.

The air around Lorraine constricts and tightens, constricting her form. She lets out a sharp inhale, an audible gasp, as she attempts to break free from the unseen grip.

Instinctively you take a step forward, squaring your shoulders as you yell out “LET HER GO! This is between us now!”

Maxine turns her attention to you, a calculated look in her eyes, seemingly relishing the power she possesses. Her voice, carrying a hint of dark satisfaction, repeats the chilling verse.

"Three sacrifices, taken willingly by the one promised," she intones, her steps approaching you with unwavering purpose.

A surge of trepidation floods through you, your heart pounding against your chest, as you tightly grip the axe, your every instinct screaming to be cautious.

The air around you seems to thicken with an intangible menace as Maxine closes the distance between you, a wicked smile playing at the edges of her lips.

Your voice echoes forcefully, "they were already dead! It doesn't count—"

Before you can finish, Maxine swiftly interrupts you, “no one gives a shit about the details” her words filled with a chilling finality “it has waited too long to abide by guidelines" she declares, her expression resolute.

The weight of her statement hangs heavily in the air, its implications sending a shiver down your spine. It's becoming increasingly clear that Maxine's motives are far more complex and sinister than you could have initially anticipated.

The true extent of the danger you face is only now beginning to unravel.

Lorraine's voice cuts through the chaos, a desperate plea, "run!" she begs, “you have to run!"

Despite the alarm in her voice, you don't relent. Planting your feet firmly, you stand your ground, realizing the futility of fleeing. With resolute determination, you understand that this has to be faced head-on for it to end.

You know if you run, they will simply find you again.

With the force of a tempest, Lorraine struggles against the invisible binds, her voice echoing with escalating panic. "No!" she cries out, desperation lacing her tone, “don’t be a hero!”

Yet you remain steadfast, adjusting your grip on the axe with unwavering resolve. You take a moment to steady yourself, drawing a deep breath before taking a step forward, your gait measured and determined. Maxine, undeterred, matches your stride, closing the gap between you with an eerily calm expression on her face.

Summoning every ounce of your remaining strength, you muster a mocking retort, calling out to Maxine “how’s this for having a few brain cells?"

With a surge of determination, you shake off your body's warning signals, pushing past the dizziness that threatens to overwhelm you.

With a reckless swing, you lunge forward. Your muscles tense, fueling the forceful movement as the axe blade arcs through the air towards Maxine.

In a display of almost taunting grace, Maxine smoothly side-steps your initial swing, her movements fluid and calculated.

Frustration boils within you, fueling your desperation. You let out a cry of exertion as you muster the strength to swing again, disregarding the protest in your arms and the searing burn of your exhausted muscles.

The axe blade arcs through the air, determined to meet its mark despite the mounting fatigue—

“ENOUGH!”

Maxine snatches the hilt mid-air with surprising ease, her grip firm and unwavering. Your arms tremble with the strain, the once surging adrenaline now fading, leaving behind the stark realization of your depleting strength.

The axe blade hovers in the air, poised and still, as though frozen in time between you and Maxine. Despite your valiant attempt, you can feel your body's resolve waning, the struggle to maintain your stance becoming increasingly arduous.

With a single effortless motion, Maxine swiftly tears the axe from your gripping fingers and flings it aside.

The discarded weapon lands heavily, its significance eclipsed by the immediate threat at hand.

Her free hand seizes you around the neck, the grip harsh and unyielding, leaving you little room to maneuver.

Your vision starts to blur as her grip tightens around your throat, a suffocating sensation that intensifies with every passing second.

The room starts to spin as your senses dull, the edges of your vision darkening. The sound of Lorraine's panicked calls fade into the background as a cold wave of fatigue washes over you.

Despite the desperate grasp of your hands around her wrist, the struggle grows feeble and halfhearted, the fight drained out of you by the relentless chokehold and the profound blood loss.

You fight to maintain consciousness, but your body grows heavy, the relentless grip of blackness slowly enveloping you.

Only… it’s not her grip on you that has your consciousness fading in and out.

Amidst the chaos and encroaching darkness, you find yourself fixated on Maxine's unsettling incantation she’d been muttering since she grabbed you.

Her free hand, cold and clammy, suddenly presses firmly against your forehead. A sharp, searing pain unlike anything you've ever experienced before erupts within you.

It's as if a scorching fire has suddenly ignited inside your skull, the intensity and suddenness of the heat spreading through your veins and leaving you reeling.

The world around you starts to melt away into a blur, the agony consuming your entire being. Your body bucks and contorts involuntarily, your spine arching in a forceful, unnatural manner. The sudden surge of agony radiating through your chest intensifies, excruciating torment that claws at your very soul.

Within your mind, a cacophony of disoriented voices echo, their chants merging with Maxine's incantations in a chilling symphony of torture.

The onslaught tearing at you from the inside is overwhelming, each voice feeding the scorching intensity burning through every nerve in your body.

Lorraine, driven by a potent mix of anger and desperation, breaks free from Bobby-Lynn's magical restraints.

Every fiber of her being is channeled into a surge of strength and determination. With unyielding resolve, she forcefully breaks through the constraints, shattering the hold Bobby-Lynn had over her.

The moment she is free, her focus shifts entirely to you, her eyes filled with unwavering dedication.

The intensity you’re undergoing intensifies, the excruciating pain mounting with each passing second.

Your voice finally breaks free in a shrill, agonized scream, the sound echoing with the sheer distress and torment you're enduring. The pain sears through every nerve, threatening to overwhelm your senses.

Maxine casts a fleeting glance at Lorraine, a look of warning flashing in her eyes, but her focus remains firmly on the sinister ritual she's conducting.

It's clear that she's intent on seeing this through, regardless of the pain and suffering it inflicts upon you.

And that, just won’t do.

With a swift and forceful motion, Lorraine channels her energy, unleashing it upon Maxine. The impact sends Maxine staggering back, knocked away from your convulsing form.

The sudden release from Maxine's grip leaves you vulnerable and weak, your body collapsing helplessly to the ground near the roaring flames of the bonfire.

Lorraine, driven by desperation and determination, unleashes a barrage of blows on Maxine, throwing all her energy she has left into the effort.

Yet, despite the intensity of Lorraine's attacks, Maxine effortlessly deflects each one with an almost supernatural ease.

The deflected blows ricochet off Maxine like they are nothing, her focus unyielding and undisturbed. All the while, Lorraine desperately tries to reach your side, the urgency evident in her frantic movements.

As Maxine rises to her feet, Lorraine stands firm, poised and determined. The realization that she must face Maxine head-on settles within her, and she steels herself for the confrontation.

With unwavering resolve, Lorraine does everything in her power to divert Maxine's focus away from you. She deftly maneuvers, creating a dance-like exchange of attacks and dodges, all with the sole purpose of keeping Maxine's attention squarely on her. The air is thick with intensity as Lorraine fights, buying you precious moments.

And then, there’s a pause between them both, breathing raggedly and hands poised at the ready.

As a standoff commences, a palpable clash of wills fills the air. Maxine and Lorraine stand face to face, their expressions etched with unwavering determination.

Each woman's gaze is razor-sharp, their features reflecting a mixture of concentration and focus.

They circle each other cautiously, steadfast on the precipice of the battle continued where the stakes are both physical and supernatural.

The intense face-off between Maxine and Lorraine is suddenly interrupted by the resounding voice of Bobby-Lynn.

She interjects, her tone stern yet tinged with annoyance "Lorraine! This is so not you, it ain’t right!"

The unexpected intervention startles both women, their attention momentarily diverted. Bobby-Lynn steps forward, her expression a blend of disappointment and disbelief.

Lorraine's gaze flicks towards you, now being supported upright by Bobby-Lynn, being used almost like a human shield. The sight that confronts her sends a shiver of horror down her spine.

You stagger weakly, your eyes barely open and your body drenched in a sickening sea of crimson. The realization hits Lorraine like a ton of bricks; you're in far worse shape than she initially thought.

As she takes in the gravity of the situation, Lorraine's expression mirrors the churning nausea in her stomach. Her focus shifts sharply from Maxine to you, her concern escalating exponentially.

Bobby-Lynn, her mock sympathy reaching its peak, stretches her arm around you and seizes your face with false concern.

With a dramatic pout on her lips, she turns her gaze to Lorraine, taunting expression on her face, and utters, "you're really gonna give up everything — power, freedom, control — for this? C'mon now”.

Her words hang in the air, dripping with sarcasm and disdain as she questions Lorraine's loyalty and devotion, where it truly lies.

Lorraine, with a slow and deliberate motion, raises her hands in a gentle and non-threatening position.

Gathering her composure, she tries to plead a case “please, you don’t have to do this—“, only for Maxine to swiftly interject, emphasizing the importance of unity.

"Not so long ago, you were with us, Lorraine," Maxine reminds her, "not against us." The weight of their shared history hangs heavily in the air as Maxine's words echo through the clearing, challenging Lorraine's recent shift in allegiance.

As Lorraine's gaze shifts to Maxine, she observes the irritation and perplexity etched on her face. With a firm tone, Maxine points out the reality, saying, "Rooks left you, Lorraine. We were the ones who stood by you”.

Maxine's words hit home, reminding Lorraine of the contrasting support she had received. The mention of your return being facilitated by Maxine and Bobby-Lynn adds another layer to their argument, a reminder of the complexities of their relationships and loyalties.

Lorraine takes a momentary pause, the weight of memories and emotions tugging at her. Though she almost succumbs to feelings of doubt, the sight of you, weakened and bloodied, anchors her.

The deep-seated worry and love for you override any lingering confusion. Lorraine's resolve firms as she steels herself against the influences attempting to sway her.

With unwavering determination, Lorraine steadies herself, drawing strength from the unwavering loyalty you had shown by returning for her.

She looks to Maxine and Bobby-Lynn, her voice carrying a resolute undercurrent. "You may say Rooks left me," she says, a hint of defiance lacing her words “but Rooks came back. Even with no reason to stay after finding out the truth, yet did."

Lorraine's steadfastness in the face of doubt and conflicting loyalties shines through as she speaks up for your unwavering commitment and presence in her life.

Maxine and Bobby-Lynn exchange a quick, meaningful glance, an unspoken dialogue passing between them as a subtle understanding forms.

Amidst the tension, Bobby-Lynn holds you in her gentle yet firm grip, ensuring you don’t collapse. The weight of the situation hangs heavily in the air, the unspoken conversation between Maxine and Bobby-Lynn adding an air of anticipation as the power dynamics shift.

Bobby-Lynn turns her gaze to Lorraine, her mock innocence apparent in her eyes. "If it's Rooks' heart that you want…" she says slyly, a hint of mischief in her voice.

Her words carry a sharp edge, and Lorraine feels a pang of unease as they strike her deeply. The revelation of their true intentions sends shockwaves through her. It's a stark reminder of the treacherous nature of those she once trusted, leaving her in a state of vulnerability and uncertainty.

“…I’ll happily get it for you”.

As Bobby-Lynn's fingers splay out against your chest, the air in the clearing thick with tension, Lorraine's heart clenches in realization.

Fear floods her face, her eyes widening in horror as she processes the true intention behind Bobby-Lynn's actions.

With a sharp inhale, Lorraine screams your name as she instinctively rushes forward, her voice filled with terror and desperation.

"NO! No, please don’t!" she pleads, the panic evident in her voice.

The ground beneath and around the area of the bonfire suddenly starts to rumble and shake, causing Bobby-Lynn to lose her footing.

She lets go of you, momentarily distracted by the unexpected upheaval. The once still and stable earth heaves unsettlingly, causing them all to scramble to maintain balance, trying to steady against the tremors that rock the very foundation they stand upon.

And then, the ground splits open.

Lorraine instantly drops, hands splayed across the grass as if it could do anything to anchor her. Bobby-Lynn somehow manages to stay upright, nearly topping back into the bonfire behind her.

Maxine, having been standing close to where the newly formed gap in the ground is, barely manages to catch herself on the edge to prevent herself from falling in.

Her head hovers over the opening, the void below threatening to swallow her whole. The sudden ground shift has caused an unstable edge to form, putting Maxine in a precarious position as she struggles to regain her balance.

The violent shaking abruptly ceases, leaving the atmosphere charged with suspense. As Lorraine struggles to push herself upright, she looks up at the sound of a scream to see Maxine hurled forcefully backward, as if hit by an unseen and powerful force.

Maxine's body soars through the air, propelled in an unnatural arc that defies gravity. Lorraine gazes in shock and surprise at the unexpected spectacle unfolding before her eyes.

And when she lands, it’s hard, rolling back a few feet before coming to a halt.

She doesn’t get up, nor move at all.

As Bobby-Lynn swiftly moves to Maxine's side, concern etched across her face, she urgently calls out to her.

"Maxine! Maxine!" she exclaims, her voice tinged with worry. Meanwhile, Lorraine is presented with a brief window of opportunity.

She hastens to scramble on the ground, urgently making her way to your unconscious form, utilizing this momentary distraction to her advantage.

Lorraine's heart pounds in her chest as she rushes to you, panic coursing through her veins. The sight of your unconscious form, lying motionless on the ground, fills her with a sick feeling, a deep sense of dread gripping her.

She reaches you, gently lifting up your head and cradling you in her arms with an aching tenderness. Tears well up in her eyes as she takes in the extent of your injuries, her heart heavy with worry and fear.

“Stay with me, don’t you dare do nothin’ stupid now like die—“ she mutters, pressing her fingers against your neck and holding her breath, the amount of relief she feels when she finds a pulse is almost overwhelming.

Tears gather in Lorraine's eyes, her voice breaking as a broken sob escapes her lips. She holds you tenderly, her hand gently cradling your face, as if to protect you from further harm.

Her heart aches as she whispers words of reassurance to you, her voice low and shaky with emotions. "It's okay," she murmurs, her voice laced with tears and fear, “you're gonna to be alright. I'm here. I've got you."

Your eyelids flutter slightly as you struggle to fight off the exhaustion that threatens to overwhelm you. Despite your valiant effort to maintain your breath, the strain is evident on your face, your body clearly overwhelmed by fatigue and injury. Every breath seems labored, a battle against your own weakening body.

Lorraine's comforting words are interrupted by a sharp cry of pain, catching her attention and pulling it away from you.

Concern etched on her face, she turns to look in the direction of the cry, her eyes flickering between you and the commotion a few feet away from the bonfire.

The sequence of events unfold like a blur, with everything happening in rapid succession. Lorraine manages to catch a glimpse of the scene, witnessing Maxine's abrupt and stiff actions as she grabs Bobby-Lynn's face and slowly rises to her feet.

There's a sense of discomfort and unease in the way Maxine moves, something distinctly amiss in her unnatural stiffness.

Lorraine holds you close, shielding you from harm as she frantically scans the surrounding area, trying to find a way to extract you from this dangerous situation.

At the same time, she cannot tear her gaze away from the unfolding events a bit a ways from the bonfire, her mind racing with worry and uncertainty about what's about to transpire.

When Lorraine looks away for what is only a mere two seconds, her heart skips a beat at the horrifying sound that reaches her ears.

It's a sickening crunch, as if bone has met with something hard and unyielding.

This is followed by the distinct thud of something hitting the ground nearby. Her mind instantly reels at the sound, knowing instinctively that whatever happened was nothing good.

Lorraine's gaze slowly moves back to where Maxine and Bobby-Lynn were. Her eyes widen in horror when she sees Bobby-Lynn's motionless body lying on the ground at Maxine’s feet, her neck bent at an unnatural angle.

A wave of shock and revulsion washes over Lorraine as she takes in the gruesome sight. She instinctively tightens her hold on you, her heart racing with fear.

Maxine inhales deeply, her eyes closing with an unnerving focus. The peaceful silence of the moment is brutally interrupted as her head jerks backwards, her mouth opening to display a set of glistening, razor-sharp teeth that are distinctly non-human. Her entire countenance is transformed, taking on an eerie, otherworldly quality.

Maxine releases a bone-chilling shriek that reverberates through the night air, its pitch unlike anything ever heard before.

The sound is so unearthly and unnatural that it sends nearby birds hiding in the trees flying into the sky in a panicked flurry, their shrill caws adding to the already chaotic atmosphere.

The gears of Lorraine’s mind spin in a desperate attempt to process the situation and determine a course of action.

She fights to maintain her composure in the face of this supernatural onslaught, her determination ignited by the desperation to navigate through this nightmare-like reality.

The demon, now possessing Maxine's body, turns its gaze towards Lorraine and you, its demeanor chilling and menacing. Lorraine's heart races as she braces herself for whatever might happen next, her mind going through different scenarios and preparing for the worst.

In the dancing light cast by the flickering bonfire, Lorraine catches a glimpse of the demon's inky black eyes.

The scene is vividly unsettling, the flames casting an ominous glow over Maxine's possessed form, her once familiar features now marred by something sinister and otherworldly.

Lorraine holds you tightly, her heart pounding with fear and protectiveness. Her thoughts are a chaotic whirlwind, a mixture of fear, determination, and guilt.

"Please, hold on," she whispers down to you, her voice quivering but firm. "I won't let anything happen to you. We'll get out of this, I promise."

She scans the surroundings again, desperately searching for an escape route or a way to defend you both against the malevolent force that now controls Maxine.

As her thoughts race and her mind whirs, Lorraine's focus is abruptly interrupted as the demon suddenly seems to pull back, retreating into the night.

The bonfire's flames cast an eerie, flickering light over the scene as it hurries away, its retreating form blending into the shadow of the treeline and vanishing into the darkness.

And just like that, it’s over just as quickly as it started.

The bonfire still burns, casting an uneasy, wavering light over the surroundings. The bodies of Bobby-Lynn as well as the butchered remains of the men, along with the way you lie motionless on the cold, hard ground — a silent testament to the violence that has just been unleashed upon.

The night air is brisk and cool, a sharp contrast to the heat of the bonfire behind her. Off in the distant trees, the familiar caw of a crow can be heard, its mournful cry eerily blending in with the desolate setting.

Lorraine stares off — stunned, at the fact the demon simply left, disappearing into the trees. She lets out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding, her heart still pounding furiously in her chest.

Her mind races, trying to process what just happened. She looks down at you, still unconscious and vulnerable in her arms, and feels a renewed sense of determination.

"It's gone," she whispers, more reassuring herself than anything.

"For now, it's gone."

____________________________________________

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeates throughout the kitchen, its rich and enticing scent filling the air.

Alongside this, the sizzle and pop of bacon cooking in a pan on the stove can be heard, creating a comforting and familiar background melody.

Lorraine stands by the stove, frying some bacon while occasionally glancing over her shoulder. The early morning light streams in from the kitchen windows, casting a warm glow over the room.

Lorraine's face bears a mix of exhaustion and worry, her mind no doubt preoccupied with the chain of events from the last few days.

Finally the bacon is done, and Lorraine plates it, placing a few crispy strips on a dish already stacked with pancakes, and promptly turns off the stove.

She sighs, pouring a cup of coffee and taking a small sip. The caffeine is needed, as Lorraine had been up most of the night watching over you while you slept fitfully.

Not that she will ever complain.

Even when you sleep restlessly, she’s grateful to wake up from her own nightmares where she watches Bobby-Lynn rip your heart from your chest, only to find you sound asleep next to her.

Heart still beating.

Ever since that fateful night, yours and Lorraine's sleep has been restless and plagued by nightmares. It's not surprising; the trauma of what happened is still raw and fresh in both of your minds.

No thanks to her, which is a guilt she will carry with her indefinitely.

But for now, Lorraine thinks to herself, you're out of the hospital and away from the relentless questioning of the police has come to an end.

It's a small mercy in an otherwise turbulent situation.

Basically, you’ve both been house bound until the investigation is concluded, at least out here you aren’t being watched by everyone. Because unfortunately for Lorraine, her life happens to me right in the middle of town, so the manor was the only option.

You’d been against it heavily, but the scrutiny from the townsfolk eventually made you cave.

Lorraine grabs the plate of bacon and the steaming cup of coffee, balancing them carefully in her hands.

She then steps out of the kitchen and into the living room of the manor, maneuvering around familiar furniture and taking in the sight of the room she's already spent countless hours in.

As Lorraine walks through the room, she carefully navigates around the still half-packed boxes that litter the floors.

These boxes are now a forgotten sight, their contents unimportant compared to the bigger, more pressing issues at hand.

Lorraine moves past them all until she reaches the foyer, her steps a bit quicker now without obstacles as she heads up the stairs, humming a soft and soothing background melody that fills the air.

As she reaches the top, she veers to the right, deliberately avoiding looking in the direction of your Pops’ old study.

The sight of the door, now nailed shut and reinforced with a fancy lock, still brings shudders down her spine. The sacrilegious text that lies within will stay there, at least until you both figure out what to do with it, considering how burning the damn thing didn’t work.

You never did liked that room. She doesn’t blame you for it either, all things considered.

The energy seems to shift as Lorraine approaches the door leading out to the balcony patio area. A subtle change in the air, a stillness, as if the rest of the world is holding its breath. 

The atmosphere becomes more open, more inviting. The faint sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling carry on the breeze, a stark contrast to the cramped indoors.

As Lorraine steps through the open doorway, into the balcony area, she instinctively exhales, the relief almost tangible.

Lorraine's heart sinks as she glances over to see you, sitting at a small table nearby, turning to look at the sound of her footsteps.

The sight of the bandage still wrapped around your head serves as a reminder of the events that brought you both to where you are now. But despite this, she forces a soft smile onto her face, hiding the pang of worry she feels.

Lorraine approaches, softly greeting you with a whispered "hey."

She then sets down the plate filled with bacon and pancakes on the table in front of you, followed by the steaming cup of coffee.

Her movements are gentle, as if worried any wrong move might break the fragile equilibrium of the moment.

Your gaze follows Lorraine, tracking her every movement as she sinks into the seat next to you. There's an undeniable warmth and tenderness in your eyes, the adoration you feel for her written on your face. 

Your eyes linger on her face, taking in every feature as if committing it to memory. The softness in your expression belies the fear and trepidation still present in your heart, but your devotion and love for her remain unwavering.

The aftermath of the incident had left both you and Lorraine struggling to find solid ground. The days immediately following were a whirlwind of police questioning, doctors' visits, and general chaos.

It wasn't until a few days later, when the dust seemed to have settled, that the two of you were able to find a moment of relative calm to properly talk about everything that had happened.

During that time, it had been difficult to find the right timing and space to truly process your thoughts and emotions with everything else going on.

You’d somewhat touched on everything, or at least everything in regard to her role in it all, and she’d been completely honest.

For now, it was going to have to do.

The police had grilled you both for hours on end about the deaths that had occurred, demanding to know what happened.

You both had answered their questions as honestly as you could manage, but there were certain things — including Lorraine's initial involvement — that you both had deliberately omitted from your statements.

The police didn't need to know everything, especially not something that could potentially incriminate Lorraine further.

Following the incident, Maxine had gone missing, disappearing without a trace.

You had tried to explain that the situation was far more complex than the police believed, that there were supernatural forces at play.

Lorraine had backed you up on this, corroborating your tale, but the police had remained stubbornly skeptical. The idea of witchcraft or supernatural forces was too far-fetched for them to accept.

They believed you must be either delusional or outright lying.

Lorraine is pulled out of her thoughts as you dangle a piece of bacon in front of her face in a playful gesture. She quickly mirrors your smile, accepting the treat before biting into it.

"Thanks," she mumbles through a mouthful of bacon, a mixture of gratitude and amusement in her voice.

As you laugh, a small wince involuntarily escapes you, causing Lorraine to immediately sit bolt upright, concern etched across her face.

Sensing your discomfort, she gently places a hand on your shoulder, grounding you as your taut muscles instantly seem to ease at her touch.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice brimming with worry.

You're about to snap out a sarcastic reply, your usual defensive mechanism taking over. After all, you're not used to being pampered and cared for.

And there's still a sliver of resentment towards Lorraine, remembering her initial deception. But as your eyes meet hers, a soft understanding passes between you.

She did try to warn you, then set you free, saved your life, broke free from the malevolent manipulation that had a dark hold on her soul — all for you.

You fight down the snark, softening your tone as you respond “I'm fine”, albeit quietly.

Lorraine watches you closely, sensing the change in your demeanor. Her hand remains on your shoulder, a soothing presence in the midst of the myriad of emotions swirling through her.

"Are you sure that’s what you’re gonna go with this time?" she asks gently, her words laced with concern.

She knows you're hesitant to show weakness, to be vulnerable, but she's determined to be there for you, whether you like it or not.

You're about to respond, exhausted and worn out, when your words catch in your throat. Out of the blue, a familiar caw rings through the air, stealing your attention.

Your body tenses instinctively, muscles tightening in response to the sound.

It's a sound you know all too well.

Lorraine sits quietly, her gaze fixed on you, watching and waiting patiently. She's learned over time that pushing you never works, that you need space to process and speak your mind in your own way.

It's a habit she's grown accustomed to, waiting for you, but this time it's for a different reason.

Lorraine feels a sense of duty, a debt to you that she is eager to repay. She knows that your trust in her is fragile right now, and she's determined to earn it back, step by step.

You fix your gaze into the distance, a pensive look on your face, before muttering your thoughts aloud.

"I don't think accepting was a good idea," you speak softly, your words tinged with a hint of unease. Lorraine turns to look at you, her expression inquisitive, waiting for you to elaborate.

You shift your gaze to meet Lorraine's gaze, your brow furrowing in contemplation "I just think it’s weird," you begin, your words laced with skepticism, "how our case was picked up so fast by a stranger from across the country. Doesn't that seem a bit off to you? I mean — how does someone in New York catch wind of a Texas case?”

Lorraine gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze as she responds, her voice quiet and soothing.

"What matters is that someone does believe us, this someone is all we got" she starts, her words firm yet tender. "And if we get locked up..." She pauses, hesitating, not wanting to speak her next words aloud.

Right. And then there’s still that issue at hand.

You nod in agreement, understanding the gravity of the situation. You finish Lorraine's thought, your voice tinged with a mix of resignation and determination.

"That thing will still be out there," you state, the words hanging heavily in the air, “possessing Maxine, wreaking havoc."

That was also something you’d both somewhat touched on, the conversation wasn’t long, considering you both felt partially responsible for unleashing a demon out into the world.

And thus, you both felt it meant you’d have to be the ones to put it back.

Another loud caw interrupts your thoughts, the sound drawing your attention away once more. Lorraine, silently observing, simply watches you, her eyes never straying from your face.

After the caw fades into the distance, Lorraine speaks up, her voice soft and inquisitive, “they still call to you?”

You fall into a pondering, contemplative silence for a moment, your mind working through the implications of the caw.

Finally, you speak, murmuring quietly, "it's different this time," you brow furrows, voice low and thoughtful.

"It's not a warning, but it’s… a beckoning”.

Lorraine tilts her head slightly, her eyes fixed on your face, a quizzical expression on her face.

"What do you mean?" she asks, her voice filled with genuine curiosity.

In response, you look back at her and offer a shrug, a weary sigh escaping your lips. You're about to speak, your words tinged with a bit of optimism.

"I just hope this Detective can—"

But before you can finish, Lorraine interrupts you with a soft laugh, her tone tinged with amused affection as she playfully corrects you.

"You mean Private Investigator”.

Despite the gravity of the situation, a faint smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you react to Lorraine's playful correction.

Her lightheartedness serves as a brief but welcome diversion from the grim reality you're facing.

For a moment, the weight of it all seems to lighten just a bit.

Your gazes hold each other for a moment, a silent connection passing between you. Her hand rests on your shoulder, a gentle yet grounding presence. A soft intimacy envelops the moment as you both share it together in the quiet solitude.

Despite the lingering feelings of betrayal and trust, beneath it all there's a love that remains.

Lorraine has become an integral part of your life, a constant presence in the chaos.

You may not have fully forgiven or trust her yet, but she's the only one you have, and that realization weighs heavily on you.

As if attuned to your thoughts, Lorraine suddenly asks gently, her voice tentative, "do you think you can find it in yourself to forgive me?"

The question lingers in the air, leaving a tension hanging in the space between you. It's a query that cuts right to the core of your feelings, forcing you to acknowledge and confront the pain inflicted by her actions.

Your response is tempered with a hint of playfulness, but there's a genuine warmth in your eyes as you speak.

"It might take some time," you reply, your voice low but affectionate. The corners of your mouth curl upwards in a slight smile, telegraphing a mixture of forgiveness and the lingering hurt beneath it.

Lorraine understands the nuances of your response, her hand gently moving from your shoulder to tenderly cup your face.

As she does, you instinctively lean into her palm, the simple gesture evoking a sense of comfort and security.

Lorraine's voice, soft and sincere, resonates in the air between you as she speaks.

"If you'll have me," she says, her words filled with determination, "I'll use every day as a means to make it up to you. To prove myself."

Your smile grows wider as you cover her hand with your own bandaged one. Your touch is gentle, yet firm, conveying a mixture of vulnerability and strength.

You turn your head, your lips brushing against her palm as you murmur softly, "maybe some day."

You take a moment to sort through the maelstrom of emotions and uncertainty that swirls within you. Amidst the confusion and hurt, there's a glimmer of hope.

You realize that despite the current chaos, you don't want to face it alone. You need Lorraine by your side, and that thought alone gives you a sense of comfort in this storm.

The path forward is uncertain, but having her with you, even if it's a work in progress, means the world to you.

There is still the demonic entity, lurking behind the chaos and the supernatural events that have unfolded.

You know that deep down, it's only a matter of time before it unleashes its destructive power upon the mortal world.

Despite the looming threat, you feel a sense of determination.

You know the reckoning is coming, but you're confident that when it does, both of you will be prepared to face it.

Together.

previous.

AN: thank you everyone who followed along with this series! As always, it’s been an honor, a pleasure, and a privilege.

————————————————————————

Tag List: @thatshyboy1998

[kurogxrix]

150 kilometers

Police Officer!Ghost x reader

IN WHICH Officer Ghost catches you speeding way past the limit, but you to think of a way or two to avoid a ticket.

WC: 5.6k

Warnings: ANGST, smut, reader and Simon have history, oral (M), unprotected PinV, creampie, Simon’s unresolved feelings.

“My momma told me that the money outgrew you,” 

The sound of Beyoncé’s ‘AMERICA HAS A PROBLEM’ was blasting through your car’s radio, barely audible with the way the passing wind was howling so aggressively. You had no one else to blame but yourself, the numbers 150 were in blast on your speedometer, yet you pretended to fall blind to it. It was all the more irresponsible and dangerous, yet who cared if you exceeded the 80km/h speed limit plastered on the signs each few metres if there was no one to witness the act but yourself. 

Solitude greeted you upon the streets, but you preferred it that way anyway. 

Nevertheless, one of your hands left the wheel to usher the sound up. Kendrick just had that effect on people. The breeze brushed through your freshly done hair, ruffling the style that you’d wasted an hour doing that same morning. Hair be damned, you had better places to be than on that deserted road. The engine of your pink convertible roared as you pressed further onto the pedal, a precious jewel that your father had gifted you. One that you’d gotten customised to your heart's extent. 

The sudden voice of the ‘Maps’ app assistant made you jolt slightly in your seat, making your car swerve about a few centimetres to the left. You shook your head in disappointment, god knows that that’d have ended if you were on the main road. The openings of the bag resting on the passenger seat beside you ruffled with the passing wind, the sun hitting your skin in all the most comforting ways. 

Nothing on this beautifully sunny day could have prepared you for the sudden flash of red and blue behind you, which could barely be seen considering the weather. You were 100% sure that this cop had popped out of thin air, because besides the lack of hiding spots besides the road, you knew that no car had followed you off the busy main road. Unless they’d broken the law and driven 70km/h above the speed limit alongside you. You could probably use that argument against said cop, yet again you feared he’d charge you extra just for getting smart with him. 

To top the absolute mess that you had gotten yourself into, the cop just had to signal you. The sound of his blaring alarm made a wave of embarrassment wash down your spine, despite being the two lone people accepting the street. 

“Fuck,” you cursed, bring the car to a stop once you’d bordered in to the side. You brushed down the vanity mirror before attempting to take your hair quickly, because if you were to get a ticket, then you might as well look amazing while doing it. 

Simon on his side was far too busy trying to recollect himself before leaving the car, pretending to busy himself with the fetch of his talkie-walkie as he inhaled a whole yard worth of air into his lungs. The packet of cigarettes lodged in his breast pocket begged at him for a second of his time, but he also had duties calling out for him. 

Out of all odds, he’d fallen on your car with you in it while he was on duty. He could have just called it a day and let you escape with the little victory of outrunning a cop, he’d be far better than he was then. 

Nevertheless, the push of his SUV door felt even heavier than it did on normal days. He feels a tinge of unease for a man that harbours the muscles that he does, but he convinced himself that he just wasn’t in his element at that moment. 

Unenthusiastic brown eyes fell upon the familiar licence plate, and suddenly he didn’t feel as brave as he did that same morning. His booted feet were bringing him forwards but his mind couldn’t help but reel further backwards. To the times where you’d both been mindless enough to mess around, unaware of all but the sweet scent of those rose candles that you’d lit before he’d come over. To the feeling of the sheets pooled around his bare hips in the aftermath of it all, and how distant the feel of your arms wrapped around his torso as you slept soundly now felt. 

Simon shook the intrusive thoughts away, raising his head and retaking the stance of the brave officer that he was. After all, all he needed to do was give you your ticket, reprimand you and send you off to wherever you were heading to. What was all the fuss about? Even if he knew, he would let his brain bother him. 

The heavy thud of his boots stopped beside your car door, the lack of protection from the windows and roof only scaring you now. 

“Do you know why I stopped you today?” you heard the annoyed sigh come, before the familiar tune of a middle aged man’s voice hit your ears. You turned your head towards his side so fast that you believed you would have broken it. Nevertheless, here he stood before you in all of his glory; Simon Riley, the man who’d rocked your world a couple of moons ago. 

You’d both agreed on the whole no strings attached thing, but you couldn’t stop the burning feeling in your chest once you realised on that fateful night that Simon wasn’t coming back. That the brit wouldn’t be here to ruffle your sheets and leave the bed intact while you hit the showers anymore. That the scent of roses would never feel as romantic as it did in his wake. It almost pained you to throw away that extra toothbrush that you’d gotten for him considering the amount of days a week he’d woken up at your house rather than his. 

You shook the thoughts away before hitting him with that overly sickening sweet smile of yours that you offered to all the others, because it wasn’t Simon Riley that you were facing at the instant, it was Officer Ghost. 

“I don’t know Officer, mind explaining to me?” The sultry tone of your question made Simon mentally double back. Be damned, your words even shocked you for a solid second before you could recover. Whatever the fuck you were doing flirting with your ex fling just to get out of a speed ticket? Only a madwoman would know. 

But of course you would, you knew that Simon had once been weak to your charms, and if you need to use that weakness of him at anytime; it would for sure be now. The blond can’t help his eyes from drifting into your car as he processed your words, admiring the personal touches that you’d gotten done in the last few months. 

He notes the fact that you’re barefoot because of the pair of heels that we’re resting under the passenger seat. You’d probably wear them later to whatever you were heading. Could it be to a boyfriend's house? To the club maybe where you’d meet and flirt with the young, hammered men that dared to lay their creeping eyes on you? Simon shook the stupid thoughts away, so what if you had a boyfriend? There was never something consistent going on between you two, and anyways your arrangement had ended long ago. You were free to date of fuck whichever guy you wanted to, he didn’t feel like he had a right to pry. 

Yet why did he feel a tinge of jealousy each time the thought would pop up in his head, like a nightmare haunting him at every given moment. The thought picked at him, a nasty feeling stirring in his abdomen tinged with shame. He was the one who’s decided to cut off all strings in the first place, strings that you'd both agreed to stray away from. Yet all he felt was guilt for the durations of the few months you’ve spent apart after the ‘break up’. 

“Was I driving too fast, officer? I didn’t even notice.” The flirtatious giggle broke Simon away from his daydream, and his eyes quickly adjusted to the new scene. You were no longer seated, belted in the comfort of your seat. Instead, your knees were planted firmly on your seat, digging into the leather. He noticed that you were standing far closer than you previously were in your seated position, your arms extended so you could rest your palms along the place where your windows would be. 

Fuck, all he wanted to do was to take you right there. Even if this really was the last time you’d see each other in a while or at all, he just wanted to feel you for a last time after so long spent without your warmth. It was shameful really, this was the first time you’d seen each other after the events of your silent heartbreak, yet all he wished for was to have his way with you on the warm leather backseats of your car. 

He couldn’t care less about the fact that you had a convertible, nobody even used this street. Nobody other than you of course, because you wouldn’t have been in this predicament if not. 

“You okay?” Simon recognized the fake tune of concern in your question as your palm made contact with the tactical vest upon his chest, resting on the right side of his torso. His eyes were firm and threatening once they reached yours, but you didn’t back down. You'd been with him once, he didn’t scare you as he did others. His resolve completely melted away the instant that you flashed him those down eyes that you knew he couldn’t resist. 

For a split second, Simon allowed his eyes to drift down onto you. If you were shamelessly and all the more not trying to hide the fact that you were flirting with him just to escape a fine, then he shouldn’t have to hide his wandering gaze anyway. Hardened brown iris rounded the corner, observing the way your dress stuck perfectly to your body. The way you were squeezing your arms to accentuate the low cut of that beautiful dress that you wore with pride. 

He mentally cursed himself as he felt the material of his cargos tightening under his growing erection, and he had no one else to blame but you. The way you were smiling at him in that coy manner made him want to have you sobbing and choking around his cock, eyes full of tears and mascara leaking down your cheeks. If anything, he wanted to ruin you before you arrived at your destination, and a nasty side of him wished you were actually off to see a guy. 

Suddenly, Simon jerked back once he felt the palm of your hand pawing at his erection. He’s taken by surprise at your boldness, not that you were shy with him before, it’s just been so long. He grunts in disapproval at the situation before moving further away from your car to try and stop himself from actually doing what he wishes to do to you. Because it’s not fair on you, you should be yelling at him to hurry up and fine you before leaving. Yell at him for stalling just to be in your presence when he made you feel like he didn’t want it before.  

Yet, Simon watched intently as you sat up further onto your knees, a hand reaching out for him once more. He allows your hand to hover over the gear on his tactical vest before succumbing to the weak pull to your way. He could have always fought back if he wanted to, pulled further away instead of leading himself right where you wanted him to be. No matter how burly or tatted he was on the outside, he submitted to you unlike the man that he was. 

“Cmon, how long has it been Si? Have you missed this? Just the two of us here, you don’t gotta hold it in.” The silence that Ghost held was broken once your hand dipped down to his pants once more, a hearty groan escaping his throat involuntary. Your hand went to the underside of his clothed crotch, caressing what you could, what he offered. 

Yet it wasn’t enough to satiate you, and the little devil resting on your shoulder whispered ungodly things to you. Officer Ghost was just so tall, it was like the world was on your side once you’d noticed that his waistline just happened to reach above the window line of your car. It helped that the vehicle was rather low, but it failed to help with the sultry thoughts brewing in your head. The thought of sucking off Ghost out here, from your car, sent heat rushing down your core. 

“Let me take care of you,” you muttered, your hand tightening around his hard, clothed cock. A shudder ran thick down Simon's back, and he didn’t need much contemplating to make up his mind. Rough gloved hands made contact with your jaw faster than you could comprehend, and next thing you knew, the pair of lips that you’d been reminiscing fell upon yours. He took pride in the way you had to tilt your head upwards to chase his lips. 

The kiss was soft at first, almost apologetic for everything that he’d put you through. Like he was apologising for having you fall for him, and most likely for leaving when you thought things were advancing between the two of you. When his apology went through, his left hand slid further down to the back of your neck. Like a switch had been pressed inside of him, the kiss grew rougher as you felt Simon’s tongue poking at your bottom lip. You didn’t falter, fighting for dominance despite knowing that he’d always overpower you. 

Your hands were far too busy trying to blindly understand the mechanism of his belt to worry about much else, before your fingers deciphered the mess of a buckle, pulling free the belt from his waist. Simon’s fingers grasped tightly at the tiny hairs littering your nape as he felt your hand slipping past his waistband, finally offering the pleasure he seeked as your warm palm made contact with his cock. 

Hell, you’d both missed this so much. It didn’t  matter if you were the one giving, you missed it just as much as he did. You couldn’t get very far before Simon pulled away from you, huge palm gripping at your wrist to pull your hand out of the confinement of his boxers. It disappointed you at first, pulling your hands back to yourself while watching him in puzzlement. He didn’t allow you to stay upset much longer as he pulled back just enough to pull his pants down far enough for everything that needs to be exposed, to be exposed. 

You nearly drooled at the sight of his heavy cock flushing against his clothed torso, where you knew hid a chiselled body unlike the other men you’d ever been with. He’s thick, but nothing you can’t take, with a thin land of hair at the base that he keeps nicely trimmed. Pulsing veins ran across his cock in the most mouth watering way you could ever imagine, and you just couldn’t wait to take him in your mouth. 

“You really think you’re ready? ‘Mean s’been a while now hasn’t it?” The smug smile that raised upon your lips was completely involuntary, though you enjoyed the fact that the cocky Simon that you loved was once more back. One hand gripped at the base of his cock as he dragged the heavy weight down, angling it towards your eager mouth. He’s a tease, always has been, and it didn’t matter that your torso was growing an indented line from the way you were bent over the side of your car, ass in the air and awaiting his cock patiently. 

His other hand moved to grab at your jaw, a delicious cocktail between the gentleness of his touch and roughness of his palm made you squeeze your thighs together. Simon tilted your head up, squeezing your cheeks together as he enjoyed the way your lips pucker. It’s cute, he thinks. He’d like to ruin your pretty little face. 

So he does just that, his feet moving on their own as he approaches you. He couldn’t care less that you’re transgressing the law by having public relations, he’s a cop yes, but inside he’s just a man. You wasted no time getting into action, pretty glossy lips wrapping softly around the tip of his cock. It’s flushed red and leaking precum that tastes funky on your tongue, but you’re so used to it by now that you’ve actually started to like it. 

Your tongue swiped along his slit in the way you knew Simon relishes, and by the way he tilted his head back with a groan, you knew it was no different this time. Your mouth worked him inch by inch, lubricating his cock slowly by slowly with your saliva. No inch went untouched. What you couldn’t reach, you tried to force down your throat. And what you still couldn’t received a kitten lick here and there, a swipe of your tongue each time you thought it got neglected. 

Simon's hand was now fully into your hair, a killer grip to it that had your scalp burning. Front and back, his hand guided your mouth back and forth on his dick at the speed he desired. You complied with no complaints. Taking him further down your throat, tongue running expertly down his veins as he shuddered once more. You got your hands in the business too, either gripping onto his shirt for stability or altering between the base of his cock and his balls. 

He's restless, the ball of his boots digging through the dirt beneath his feet. You could tell he was close by the way his groans grew in number by the second, and the grip he had of your hair hurt better than bad. The handsome officer before you had to ground a hand down onto your car to stabilise himself as you sucked the living shit out of him, another flick to his slit and he was off seeing the stars on a holiday in the galaxy. 

For a second, there was static, and then there was a voice. It rebounded into the distance, alongside the sloppy sounds of you sucking Simon’s cock like it was the last thing you were bound to do on earth. “-ost, you copy?” Again, the voice came back and Ghost could make out the harsh sound of his coworkers voice. 

He groaned in disgust, nothing like hearing the voice of the guy you work with while getting the sloppiest head by some chick you secretly fancy. A minute passed by before Ghost aggressively threw his hand at the talkie-walkie, unlatching it from the velcro with a loud crack. Simon swore to the god above that he nearly came as he looked down to the sight of your doe eyes looking at him expectedly through your mascara coated eyelashes. 

His hands tightened impossibly further in your hair as he motioned for you to continue sucking, which you did. 

“Ghost here, copy.” a curt and unbothered reply, all in the Ghost mannerism. 

His hand let go of your hair, instead claiming a spot upon your jaw. A big thumb caressed at your cheek, making the corners of your lips twist into a smile with your mouth full. You could feel him start to rock in your mouth slightly, trying to restrain himself from fucking your mouth roughly until your jaw stayed clamped shut. 

“We need you on lane 3, s’that possible?” static again, the voice came out muffled. He thought for a solid second, a moan escaping his throat thankfully before he could press on the button. 

“Give me a minute and I'm all yours,” his eyes shifted to yours throughout the sentence, making your cunt clench over nothing as you soaked your panties pathetically. Besides you, the talkie-walkie did a dramatic jump to the leather seat as Simon threw it. It rebounded and hit the floor instead, but nothing he’d care much about. 

You brought a hand up to cup the base of Simon’s cock in your hand as your mouth took a short break to ease your paining jaw, but before you could go back to work, he was completely pulled out of the warm comfort of your mouth. A trail of saliva connected you both in an unholy mix and he pulled away, his fingers clenching around your jaw. Your eyes never met his in the exchange, too busy relishing in the way his hard length looked and glistened coated in your saliva. Fuck, you really had a problem, you could’ve sworn you’d go crazy if Simon didn’t fuck you right then. 

“Get in the back, we don’t have much time.” he grumbled like you were the one asking for too much. If anything, the way his hard cock twitched at the disappearance of your touch made you think quite the opposite. Quickly hopping in the back and abandoning your place in the front seat, you watched as Simon made his way to the back door from outside.

He opened the door, eager to have you and ready for all until- 

“Woaaaaah, nobody’s getting in with their nasty ass shoes you hear me? Get them off, cmon” you pushed at his chest before he could even open the door, making Simon stop and stare at you dumbfounded. When he made no move to untie his boots and moved to open the door once more, you pushed harder against his chest, an eyebrow up to show that you weren’t fucking around. 

A defeated sigh left him as he bent down, undoing the double knots that he’d done that same morning. You smiled contentedly in success, moving away for him to have a seat so he’d be able to carefully slide his shoes off. You didn’t miss the grumbling from the grouchy middle aged man as he sat upon your seats, large hands working together to throw his boots off cleanly somewhere near. 

You took the time being to ready yourself, slipping a finger on each side of the waistband of your panties before pulling down. The cute, patterned garment pooled by your ankles before you could pry them off with your finger, tossing the pair safely in the cup holder by the door so you wouldn’t lose it. Or rather so it wouldn’t get stolen, god knows how many pairs you’d lost ever since your altercation with a certain bulky brit. 

You faced away from Simon, only aware of his approach once his shadow loomed over you. His hands gripped your hips in desperation, by surprise as it had you silently gasping. 

“Gotta prep you?” he muttered before pulling you flushed against him. You could feel the seam of his jeans by your lower thighs, meaning that he’d had the time to pull them further down, but high enough to pull back up in case anyone was to cross you both. A breathy whine left your throat as you felt him force a hand between the both of your bodies, hand grasping at the base of his cock to reposition himself. 

You pushed yourself impossibly back into his chest, the previous question had dissipated into the air as you felt your ability to talk had been ripped from you. He wasted no time manhandling you like he wished, your left hand grabbing onto the empty space of the open window as he pushed the tip of his hard cock through the entrance of your cunt. 

He assumed you didn’t need any prepping by the way you soaked his cock the second he made contact, but who was he to complain? Steadying himself, his left hand came to accompany yours across the window place, back flushed with his clothes torso, his gear digging into your flesh through the thin fabric of your dress. 

The mewl that escaped you as he repositioned himself was embarrassingly needy but you needed him now, no time to wait. Simon got the memo if anything, earning you some short thrusts that made him sink further and further into your heat with every push. Feeling weak already, your hand trembled under your own weight. 

He didn’t seem to mind it one bit, using his free hand to lace under you as he pushed against your chest, pulling you flushed against him once more. His strength was unmatched, he could keep himself up with only his knees for who knows how long, and you suspected that he’d worked in something more complex than the police squad for a while before switching. 

It didn’t matter anyways, what did was the feeling of Simon’s hard cock now buried to the hilt inside of you. His flushed tip kissed your cervix, a delicious pain that had tears springing to the corners of your eyes. If Simon had been less hurried he’d probably kiss them away, but Ghost felt the need to be selfish today. 

Slowly, the rhythm of his thrusts began picking up the pace as you felt the car rocking softly with the heavy weight of the muscular officer behind you. A hand scurrying down between your bodies, inching your dress further up your thighs so he could access whatever he wanted to, whenever he felt like it. 

“F-fuck Si, just like that,” you whined, urging him to pick up the pace. His hipbone slammed devilishly onto your ass and the noise reverberated around the empty space surrounding you both. Simon was sure that anyone around a couple of kilometres could hear you moaning like it was your last day on earth, but he just couldn’t get himself to do anything about it. The deserted area left him with some peace of mind. 

A sudden harsh thrust had you nearly doubling over, your hand tightening around the door as you shut your eyes closed. He pushed himself closer to your back, his head now stuffed in the crook of your neck as you drowned in the breathy groans that he was letting out. Your teeth found your bottom lip in a painful game of tug and war after Simon dropped a hand between your legs to tease at your clit. Circular motions had your vision clouding with pleasure, legs jelly under your own and Simon's weight. 

“Let go darlin’, I can tell you’re tryna hold back.” He accentuated with a sharp thrust, and this time you really couldn’t hold your own body up anymore. The backseat was cramped to the point where Simon's bulky ass frame nearly caused the both of you to be squeezed off, but the proximity was enjoyable after so much time spent apart. 

You felt a familiar coil knotting in your lower belly, and all it took was a couple more precise strokes from his veiny cock and a nibble to the sensitive underside of your neck for you to let go, white clouding your vision as you clenched tightly around him. The noise that the orgasm pulled out of you was so intense that you actually believed this time that people around a mile in range could’ve actually heard the echo. 

One of your hands darted away from the door to latch onto Simon's arm that was still busy keeping you upright, contorting the limb in some strange way despite the cramped setting. Your legs gave out with the trembling, blissful orgasm still working wonders on your recovering state. Simon didn’t waste any time working on his own now that he’d successfully satiated you. 

He allowed your body you give down, unwrapping his arm from under your torso so that your upper body rests flush against the leather seat. He pulled both hands back your hips to lift your ass up, meeting his own hips as the aggressive clash of flesh made a lustful sound that fed his cravings. His right hand dipped back down to rest above your head, but it wasn’t long before he was pushing you further into the seat. 

Simon was never really a rough lover, but at that moment something had snapped deep inside of him. He fucked you like he was afraid of never getting the chance to ever do it again. He fucked you like he believed he should’ve on that last day before he left for good. His knees were digging into leather seat so harshly that you were sure it was going to leave an indent for a day and a half, 

You sobbed at the overstimulating feeling of his cock repeatedly hitting the far spot inside your spent cunt over and over again, chasing the high that you’d just gotten over recently. Your tears fell upon the expensive leather of the sofa as your cries were muffled by his unrelenting pushing hand. 

You could tell he was close again when his hands left you to gently grasp at your hair, moving them to one side of your neck as he stabilised his weight by placing both hands besides your head. You remembered how handsy and ‘fidgety’ he got in some way when he was close to finishing. Then there were the few last hard thrusts that had you gripping onto the edge of the sofa for dear life, pumping your cunt full of his seed with an actual guttural moan that had you clenching all over again. 

You manoeuvred your body to shake your arms away from the position, biting onto your thumb to stop yourself from crying out loud with the way his short little thrusts were about to send you over the edge again. You didn’t think you could handle cuming once more without making an absolute mess of your car, further less if it was Ghost that made you finish. 

Even after his movements stabilised, you could still feel the warm sensation of his spent seeping out of you in excess, pussy full and satiated for as long as it needed to be. That was new, the whole fucking without a condom thing, let alone finishing inside of you. You couldn’t say you disliked the feeling. The sensation of his raw, meaty cock inside of you was something that you could sure as hell get used to. 

It felt like hours before Simon pulled out, arousal dribbling out of your tight cunt and down into your seat. You’d deal with the stains later, if anything you’d get the whole seat redone with that hard earned money that you’d made yourself while you were learning to get over the man that sat right beside you then. 

It was crazy to think of how much time it had taken you to actually get over Simon leaving, abandoning you after things had seemed to actually go somewhere between the two of you. You should’ve been ashamed of yourself for giving in without even trying to fight, maybe now he thought of you as some easy thing that he could always come back to once or twice a month when he felt desperate. You knew you should have more self respect but yet a part of you can’t seem to blame Simon for the way things had gone down between you two. 

Obviously you shouldn’t have gotten ahead of yourself and thought he’d reciprocate those feelings that you’d so unfortunately caught for him along the terms of your ‘no strings attached’ agreement. It wasn’t really his fault for following the terms that you’d both agreed to. Yet it hurt for a while to think that you’d fallen so hard for a man that you believed didn’t even see you further than for sex. 

You heard the sound of his fly before you could even see him buckling his belt back on. The part of you who’d always thought you’d meant a little more to him was desperately hurting, but nothing you’d allow Simon to see. After all, you'd initiated what happened on that day, to get out of a ticket or not, you had no one else to blame for the humiliation that you brought upon yourself. 

“Guess that’s settled then.” the blond muttered, typical awkwardness lacing his words. Your head turned at an embarrassingly fast pace when he’d even gotten to utter the first words. 

“What?” Your befuddled state had Simon deadpanning, before referring to the speed ticket like it was the most obvious thing in the world. You itched the back of your neck nervously as your gaze fell to your dress, still hiked disgracefully upon your hips. Your hands fell in a quick mess to gather yourself and redress, mentally using the excuse that it was just in case somebody was to fall upon you both.

Even if you couldn’t hide to yourself the fact that Simon’s blatant gaze made you feel a certain way that you knew you shouldn’t. 

“Duty calls, guess i gotta go,” with your eyes burning holes at your thighs you failed to notice the longing that clouded Simon’s iris at the administration. The silent apology for everything that he didn’t and couldn’t have given you in the past. An indescribable feeling of guilt shook his chest and he just couldn’t stand to be in the same vehicle that he’d just ruined you in for any longer. 

Despite the shameful fact that he’d kinda wished you’d beg for his presence a little longer, your silence pushed him to act. A fight or flight kind of situation, like he was running from his own feelings instead. Perhaps you’d never know how Simon truly felt about you, but you did know that it took him about a minute to fully leave the scene, the sound of his heavy motor dragging about a minute before disappearing from your sight. Simon left his aching heart in the backseat beside you. 

Riding 150km/h, you decided that maybe heading home would feel better than whatever destination was still etched on your map.  

-

KEEP YOUR MW3 SPOILERS TO YOURSELF‼️ im buying the game next week.

[lilypadlys]

The ghouls and what circus acts they would perform

Aerial Silks, Tightrope, Trapeze, Lyra: Cirrus, Cumulus, Aurora, and Zephyr. You know our air ghoulies thrive in the air. Daredevils the lot of them. Cirrus especially loves the sudden drops with silks that have the audience gasping. Cumulus practically dances on her tightrope. Aurora and Zephyr are pros with trapeze and lyra and will honestly just chill on their respective perches between acts. They all have costumes in various shades of blue.

Slack Rope/Trampoline: I feel like Swiss would have a blast quite literally bouncing around the stage. Loves doing backflips and spins in the air. Also a daredevil. Flashy purple and orange costume to show his elements (quintessence and fire)

Contortionists: Water ghouls are lithe and flexible so Rain and Mist would make great contortionists. Bending into pretzels till you can't tell where Rain ends and Mist begins. Identical iridescent fish scale patterned unitards.

Fire Jugglers: Our resident pyromaniacs Dewdrop, Sunshine, and Ifrit have a little too much fun seeing how many batons they can juggle without setting themselves, each other, or the stage on fire. Rain and Mist on standby with fire extinguishers. They're not in any real danger being fire ghouls/fire hybrids and all, but the audience doesn't have to know that. Black pants. The guys are shirtless and a cage bra for Sunny.

Strongman: This one's gotta go to our strong boi Mountain. His act includes deadlifting a beam that both Dew and Aurora are balanced on. Brown pants and sleeveless forest green vest (got to show off those muscles).

See-Saw: The quintessence bois. Aether, Phantom, Omega, and Swiss (since he's part quintessence). This act requires a lot of coordination because they have to time their jumps and swap out regularly so I feel like the shared element of quintessence would help them psychically communicate with each other and maintain a precise rhythm. Purple and black costumes.

Ringleader: Copia of course, complete with a fancy top hat. Make no mistake though. Just because he’s the ring leader doesn’t mean he has any control over his ghouls. It’s still like herding cats.

Note: I wrote this a while back before I better understood what ghouls were in what eras so don't mind me shoving three different eras together :)