#except some blue tape

[esbenandall]

This is my box head, of you get any of the references I'd like to know, especially if it's one of the harder to spot ones! Also tell me which side is your favorite!

[deus-ex-mona]

h e l p not the heart pose and meoto trading cards—

[thepencilnerd]

sticky-notes and leftovers

thank you to everyone who voted in my last poll! ask and ye shall receive 🫶

summary: a glimpse into your daily notions with robby after moving in, a.k.a., literally just fluff to escape the reality that s1 finale is tomorrow

the first note appeared three days after you officially moved in.

It was stuck to the cabinet above the coffee maker, slightly crooked. Ballpoint blue. Classic. Robby’s handwriting—surprisingly neat for a doctor, dad-esque, deeply serious in a way that made you laugh.

Coffee’s ready. Don’t forget to eat something.

Below that, in smaller script:

p.s. you’re not as subtle about skipping meals as you think.

You���d rolled your eyes. Smiled. Made a mental note to write back. The next morning, you left one stuck to the fridge:

Thank you for the coffee. I'm still mad you beat me to it. Again.

And just like that, it began.

It wasn’t intentional, at first. The notes were mostly functional—reminders about groceries, schedules, patients one of you needed to follow up on. But they bled into softer territory quickly. Encouragement. Sarcasm. A shared language built in 3x3 squares of neon.

Good luck today. You're a miracle in scrubs. (check the leftover lasagna before you thank me. It’s kind of a war zone in there) I love when you sing along to the radio in the shower. I wasn’t singing. The shower was. Sure

By month two, there was an entire corner of the fridge reserved for them, layered like scales, curling at the edges.

Some mornings, he’d stumble out of bed to find his thermos with a note taped to the lid:

Be nicer to Whitaker. He’s trying.

Other nights, Robby would get home late and find one on his pillow:

Welcome home. You smell like hospital. I’m still glad you’re here. I love you.

He’d stand there for a moment, reading the words, the weight of the day falling off his shoulders. You’d be asleep by then, curled up on your side, hair slightly mussed from the pillow, the soft rise and fall of your breath the only sound in the room.

He’d lean down, brushing a kiss to your temple, careful not to wake you—but still, you’d smile, faint and sleepy, like your body knew he was near even before your mind did.

Sometimes, he’d whisper something only the walls could hear—missed you today or you’re everything—then set his phone to silent, take a shower, and crawl in beside you, the note tucked into his journal.

The ritual became a comfort. A constant. Something grounding when the days were long and the shifts were brutal. When you barely saw each other except in passing, there were always the notes.

Until the day you had the worst shift of the year.

It had been back-to-back traumas. A code blue that didn’t end well. A young patient who reminded you too much of someone you used to know. You didn’t cry, not in the moment. Not until you got home, peeled off your coat, and saw the Post-It on the inside of the fridge:

Soup’s in the fridge. Eat first. Then fall apart if you need to. I’ll be home before midnight – M.

You’d pressed your thumb over his name like it could hold you together. Ate the soup. Didn’t fall apart.

Not until you saw the follow-up note stuck to your pillow:

You don’t have to be strong for me. Just be.

You left your reply in the bathroom mirror, scribbled while brushing your teeth:

I love you. (also, we’re out of toothpaste)

He never brought it up. Just replaced the toothpaste. Kissed your forehead like it was all part of the same conversation.

One morning, months later, Langdon accidentally opened your lunch container in the fridge and found a note stuck inside:

Remember to eat. (yes, I know you will forget) This is me pretending to be surprised ~OoO~

Langdon had stared at it. Then took a picture. Then texted Dana, who texted McKay, who dragged Collins into it.

By the time your shift ended, the entire department was in on it.

You returned from rounds to find a Post-It stuck to your locker:

If he doesn’t marry you, I will. - Dana

Robby’s handwriting appeared below in green ink:

We’re taking applications for flower girls - Robby

Collins passed you in the hallway and grinned. “Power couple energy.”

McKay gave you a thumbs-up and said nothing. Langdon winked. Mel smiled shyly. 

You shook your head, embarrassed but smiling. Your heart full.

You never asked how they knew.

You didn’t need to.

It was a Wednesday night when Robby found you standing in front of the fridge, rereading the corner where you kept them. The notes were a riot of color—blue, yellow, green, pink—some faded, some brand new.

He stepped behind you, sliding his arms around your waist. Rested his chin on your shoulder.

"You keeping all of them?"

You nodded. "Even the one where you said the leftover stir fry was cursed."

"It was cursed."

You leaned back into him. "I like them. All of them."

"Even the stick figure one where I drew you doing a laparotomy with laser eyes?"

You laughed. "Especially that one."

He was quiet a moment longer. Then whispered, "I’ll keep writing them. For as long as you’ll let me."

You turned in his arms and kissed him, soft and slow.

"That better be a promise, Robinavitch."

"Sticky note vow," he whispered.

And when you pulled back, he was already reaching for the notepad.

[hysteria-things]

CAN YOU MAKE A STORY ABOUT MATT AND HIS GF, THEY HAVE SEX AT A RESTAURANT, SHES SITTING ON HIS LAP AND COCKWARMING AND THEN THEY HAVE CAR SEX AND CHRIS CATCHES THEM THEN WHEN THEY GET BACK TO THE HOUSE CHRIS FUCKS MATTS GF VERY VERY VERY VERY VERY SMUT FILLED

PURE ECSTASY (part one)

read part two here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bf!soft dom!matt, pervert!dom!chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a friend throws a birthday party at the club, but the night doesn’t end there. or with your boyfriend.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: PURE FILTH, swearing, p in v, cockwarming, public sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), slight spit kink, oral (female receiving), getting caught, fingering, finger sucking, cheating (please don’t!), degradation, spanking, choking, sex tape, hair pulling, daddy kink, dumbification, overstimulation, breeding, begging kink, stomach bulge, ROUGHHH ASF

THIS IS NOT A THREESOME!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3,017

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: THIS REQUEST😟 (i love it) my new favorite fic holy moly it’s also ovulation week and when that happens i become one with the smut.

hope it’s okay that it’s at a club except restaurant!

for @sturniololovers :)

chatter fills around the booth, and the group gets ready to sit. it’s your friend’s 21st birthday, and of course she chose a club. the volume of the music and drunk people around make it extremely loud that you have to scream to talk to somebody.

purple, blue, and pink lights illuminate throughout the place, and the dance floor is packed with people. most of your friend group already made it to the bar or by the DJ, including nick, madi, and nate. chris sets his jacket down by everybody else’s stuff.

“i’m going to get a pepsi and join the others on the floor. you guys staying here?” he talks over the music, pointing behind him.

“for now.” matt replies, for some reason shimmying in his seat slightly. you shake it off as he tries to get comfortable, waving at chris as he walks off.

the two of you talk, some friends coming and going from the booth to put drinks down or mingle with you guys.

you lean into matt’s side, smiling at what he’s saying. he places his hand on your thigh, making you nuzzle into him more. “sit on my lap.” he says abruptly.

you’re confused, but lift yourself off of the seat to slide yourself to hover over your boyfriend’s lap. he guides your hips down, and you gasp from the sudden stretch.

he smirks. you’re not wearing any panties.

his pants were just past his dick, the thing that your sitting on right now. you feel it growing inside you, cockwarming him in the middle of the club. “matt, we’re in public.” you whine.

he only shrugs. the dress you’re wearing is long enough to cover your sides, so if somebody looks over it seems that you’re innocently sitting on his lap.

“love the way you feel.” he groans in your ear, subtly squeezing your tit.

you glance around mortified, wondering if people can see you. the spot you guys chose is against the wall in the back, but it’s not like you’re invisible. “ride my cock, baby.”

this is crazy you think, but still grip onto the edge of the table anyway. you’ve learned your lesson multiple times before whenever you disobeyed matt, and if you did this time, he’ll likely spread you out on the table and fuck you so everybody can purposely see.

you start by grinding, gasping whenever his girth rubs against your walls. the way he feels already has you clenching. your arousal starts to coat his base, a sign for you to start bouncing.

not so hard, but softly. the grip you have on the table help you steady yourself. you can feel your face turning red, still looking around the club through your lashes. you like the thrill of somebody seeing you guys, but it’s also horrifying.

your head falls between your shoulders to hide your face of pleasure. moans lowly fall from your mouth, your eyes rolling back each time his tip brushes against your g-spot. “o-oh, matt, baby.” you moan in a high pitch, biting your lip when somebody walks by.

thank the lord people are too tipsy or distracted to look over here. you shake in his lap, another pitched moan flowing through the air. you exhale, lifting your head so it rests on the side of matt’s cheek.

he kisses your temple. “go ahead, baby. cum on my cock.”

whimpering, your orgasm washes through your body and onto his dick. you sigh of relief, catching your breath at the same time. “gonna cum in this beautiful cunt.” matt grunts when he twitches inside you.

you squirm, mumbling something along the lines of it spilling out of you. “don’t worry about that, honey. i’ll take care of it soon.”

the bottom of your dress is hoisted past your stomach, matt’s hold on your legs firm as you’re spread out in the backseat of the minivan.

by ‘taking care of it soon’, he meant cleaning it up for you.

the club’s music still bumps to the beat of the song it’s playing, even if you guys are in the parking lot.

you twitch beneath him, your eyes crossing and mouth agape. his tongue works wonders between your legs. you still feel sensitive from your previous orgasm from inside the club, the same orgasm that leaks around his lips as he digs into your needy hole.

soft moans and whimpers escape you, the windows fogging up from the heavy breathing and sweat.

he pulls away, bringing his face to hover over yours. he’s smiling foolishly at your trance. your arousal glistens around his mouth, his hair disheveled. “think you can take me again?”

you grip onto his biceps when he starts railing into you, your face scrunching up. you squeeze your eyes shut, but they open as soon as his hand grabs your jaw. “open your mouth.”

you obey, and he spits in it before kissing you open-mouthed. he consumes your sounds, the way your bodies are conjoined causes a slap noise every time his hips meet your pelvis.

bang bang bang.

the both of you jump at the fist hitting against the window, stopping in position. even though the windows are fogged, matt can tell who it is.

he rolls his eyes and sighs heavily. “what do you want, chris? we’re kind of in the middle of something, here.”

“stop fucking and open the goddamn door. i need my chapstick.” there’s silence. “and don’t be naked.”

matt pulls your dress down, zippering his pants. he crawls to the front seat to unlock the door.

the door immediately swings open, chris leaning on the passenger's side to grab his chapstick that’s in the cup holder.

you tap your fingers on your chest, patiently waiting for this weird encounter to be over. you see chris in your vision, looking at you. you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes scan your body, but you’re not entirely sure.

“sorry to break this up but you guys need to head back in. everybody’s looking for you,” he says before leaving.

what a buzzkill.

lil skies music blasts throughout the house, scaring you awake from your sleep. it’s the early morning, around 3 AM.

you’re spending the night at the triplet’s house, your dress now substituted with one of matt’s shirts. you must’ve fallen asleep on the couch because once you adjust to the dark you realize you’re in the living room.

you check your phone, squinting at the sudden brightness.

my boy💙

went out on a long drive, i’ll pick up some mcdonald’s when i’m on my way back :)

2:47 AM

and you know nick’s staying over at madi’s tonight, so the culprit for the disruption is no other than chris sturniolo.

you groggily lift yourself off the couch, shuffling your way down the hall. you don’t bother knocking, and you make your way into chris’s room. his back is facing you, the tone in his muscles showing.

you clench your thighs without knowing.

he’s doing something on his phone when you mumble, but he clearly can’t hear you.

“can you turn that down? i’m trying to sleep,” you say louder, and he turns his head to you. he pauses the music, walking over.

“what?”

“please lower that. you woke me up,” you say lowly, staring at your feet.

he chuckles. “sorry.”

he takes his finger and lifts your chin so you look at him, his eyes set on your mouth as he takes his thumb and grazes it over your bottom lip. “you’re not as much of a prude as i thought.”

“e-excuse me?!” you stutter shockingly, another chuckle coming from the boy.

“you think i don’t know that you rode my brother in the middle of the club? then you guys went to the car to finish the job, no?”

your face goes pale. you understand how he knows about the car since he caught you guys, but not when you were at the club.

“h-how do you—”

“i observe.” he cuts you off. “i watched the way you bounced on his dick. can’t forget the pretty sounds i heard from the cracked window matt forgot to close.”

your cheeks become hot, your thighs yet again squeezing tight.

“thank you.” chris smiles at the bartender, spinning himself in the barstool to look around the club. this isn’t quite his scene, but he couldn’t miss out on a friend’s birthday.

he sips his pepsi, his elbow resting on the bar’s surface before landing his eyes on where your guy’s seats are.

you’re bouncing subtly on matt’s lap, face turning in different expressions.

chris grabs his crotch, his dick twitching in his pants as it threatens to grow at the sight. he’s not stupid and knows exactly what you’re doing.

his brother whispers something into your ear before placing you back next to him and taking your hand to walk out of the building.

he waits a few minutes before following you guys, leaving a tip for the bartender before doing so.

the van catches his eye instantly, the windows slowly becoming fogged and moans echoing in the air. your moans, the moans he wants to cause more than anything.

his plan to not get hard fails when his pants tighten, the sinful sounds becoming more intense when the car starts to rock.

before he knows it, he’s jogging over and banging on the window.

“you-you pervert!” you shout, wanting to remove chris’ stupid thumb from your lips; but you don’t. he hums, leaning to where his lips ghost yours.

“yet you’re turned on by it.” he whispers. “you’re telling me you’re not dripping between your legs right now?”

“i-i’m not.”

he takes his other hand and reaches under the shirt, his theory confirmed true.

he smirks. you’re not wearing any panties.

the same smirk matt had in the club when he realized you were bare underneath. your boyfriend matt. his fucking brother.

pull yourself together, y/n.

“you sure?” chris says, passionately connecting his lips with yours. he rubs two fingers on your slick slit, your breath hitching.

pull. yourself. together. y/n.

he rubs once more before inserting the fingers into you, making you break the kiss and moan pathetically.

the thumb that was on your lip now goes into your mouth, and you suck on it. your hands bunch on his chest.

he lifts one of your legs to make his fingers plunge deeper into you, curling to hit the right spot. the leg he’s holding quivers desperately. “is the needy bitch going to cum on my fingers?”

you hum approvingly on his thumb before he removes it, your eyes never leaving contact with his. you tense, smearing your white liquid on his fingers.

brain foggy, you grumble two syllables. he heard you right, but wants to hear it loud and clear. “what was that?”

“fuck me.”

because he certainly doesn’t have to be told twice, he picks you up and props your ass up on his mattress.

he unties his plaid pajama bottoms, grabs your neck, and shoves your face into the pillows. he smacks your ass. hard.

“such a bad girl.” he slaps again, aligning his tip with your entrance. “gonna let me fuck you, even though you’re dating my brother.”

he spanks you three more times, tears building up in your eyes from the pleasurable pain. you grip onto the pillows when he starts to slowly fill you.

you utterly hate to admit this, but he’s bigger than matt. you gasp loudly, your pussy morphing into the shape of his dick when he’s in.

he throws his head back, eyes closed as he smiles smugly. he’s been wanting to do this for months.

his hips start rutting into you harshly, squeals leaving your lips the deeper he gets.

it gets to the point where he pulls out to just the tip and slams back into you. he repeats this action over and over again.

you bite down on the pillow to suppress your loud moans, the headboard banging against the wall.

he squeezes your throat tighter. “you filthy fucking thing.”

his hand meets your asscheek once again, and your body shakes from a sob. “he-e’s coming— back— soon.” you manage to say between whines.

“good.” his tip reaches your spot, your toes curling at the bliss. “maybe he can walk in to see his girl creaming all over my cock instead of his.”

once he said that you smear your release around him. his jaw slacks, quickly grabbing his phone that he threw on the bed the moment you came in.

you came in just as he was about to pull up your instagram — like he always does — whenever he needs something to masturbate to.

this, however, is so much better.

“c-cumming inside you.” he moans lowly, shooting his load deep into you.

his thrusts become slow, panning the camera to the mess you guys just made. “christ.” he whispers, pulling out to watch you leak his cum. “look at that.”

you’re not able to catch your breath when he’s fucking into you again. this time, faster.

hoarsely whimpering, he removes the hand from your neck and instead grabs your hair. he pulls your head up from the pillows, your moans now echoing throughout the room.

chris brings the camera in front of your face so you can see yourself.

you’re completely wrecked, strands of hair that he’s not holding all up in your face. your mouth’s open wide, spit dangling from your bottom lip and onto the sheets below. eyes rolling back when that familiar spot gets hit, spilling tears.

“say hi to matt, ma.”

“mm— h-hi matt,” you say incoherently, chris letting go of your hair, your head falling face down back on the pillows.

he brings the phone to his face, still drilling into you like he’s never going to stop.

he grins at the camera, lips swollen and red. “this pussy’s fucking incredible. thanks for letting me use her, man.”

he props his phone against the lamp on his nightstand, making sure to have a good angle. especially of the shirt you're wearing, specifically matt’s pink shirt with a teddy bear on it. the shirt that he loves on you.

“daddy!” you whimper, too late to take it back. “g-gonna cum, daddy.”

you let out a series of scream-like moans, chris hissing from the back.

“fuck, don’t do that to me.” he exhales, throbbing in your cunt. “you’re so fucking tight. all of this cum for me?”

“ah— mhm!” you choke out.

chris isn’t so far behind, but he wants to hold it for his own sake.

he turns your head on its side so you can look at the camera once again, his hand returning to your throat. “see that? this is exactly what the whore needs to look like.” he says into the phone as if he’s talking to someone. as if he’s talking to matt. “no thought in that brain except the feeling of a cock fucking the shit out of her; until she begs you to stop.”

he knew that the last part of that sentence was coming soon because your eyes were starting to close.

your pussy pulses, another orgasm threatening to escape. you try to crawl out of his grip, but he pushes you back onto him more. this brand new spot he’s hitting has you seeing stars.

“don’t run from me now, my dirty little cumslut.” he pants, looking at the dick imprint inside your abdomen. “holy shit. you’re fucking bulging.”

“please, daddy!” you mewl. “s-stop! it’s too much, chris—” he squeezes your ass, catching your mistake. “daddy! to-too much!”

in all honesty, you’re not exactly sure if you really want him to stop.

“i know, angel. just a few more minutes, okay? i know you have one more. what are we at, four now?”

“gonna cum nice and deep in ya, so you’ll be walking around for days with a swollen belly full of it.” his hand makes contact with your ass, your eyes shooting open. it has to be bruised at this point. “this is exactly how sluts like you should be treated. isn’t that right?”

“ngh— y-yes, daddy. cum in m-me, please.”

your body weakens, becoming limp. you’re in an overwhelming amount of pleasure you can’t even moan anymore. instead, you pant like a dog and stick your tongue out because of the overstimulation. your body rocks at the inhuman pace he’s going. your vision starts to fade, like you’re going to pass out.

pure ecstasy, is what it is.

his thrusts become sloppy, slowing down before coming to a halt. he moans, the feeling of his sticky substance filling your womb. “thank you, daddy. thank you, thank you!” you chant, eyes closing.

he pulls out slowly, the squelching noise music to his ears. there’s a string of cum connecting from his tip to your cum-filled cunt.

he takes his phone, doing a shot of the way your abused hole swallows his ropes of white. “this pussy let me breed you real nice.”

spreading your folds to do one final show of his cum spewing out, you jolt from the sensitivity of his finger pushing it back inside you. poor thing, red and swollen. the flutter of it making it easier for his orgasm to spill out. he ends the video, whispering praises into your ear while kissing your face.

you hear a camera click behind you as he snaps a quick photo of the disgusting mess you two made. the smell of sex floods your nostrils.

chris isn’t that much of an asshole to where he’ll actually send the video to matt. he’s cocky, only having the sex tape to himself to jerk off to. it’ll boost his ego tremendously, that’s for sure.

what’s in the back of his mind is if matt pisses him off in the slightest, he’ll have no problem showing him what his girlfriend looks like clamping down on his brother’s dick.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @idkhowtosleep @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @rootbeerworshiper @heartlessturniolos @chrisloyalgf @yoinkurnanuhoe @smoothies-are-cool @strtuniolo @1800chokedathoe @sturniolowhore @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani

[ruesol]

Part 2 of Ghoap watching you eat fruit.

Notes: suggestive (sorry for leading you on), I know I called Ghost Simon in the last one but it was too late until I realized that. AFAB!reader is called doll. Not proofread.

main masterlist

The day was hot. The sweltering heat had gotten to everyone. Except for Johnny MacTavish of course.

He was borderline skipping on his way to the common area, dull rattle coming from the plastic container of strawberries in his hand. His cheeriness irritated all the soldiers on base.

“What’s got you so chipper?” Ghost asked as he joined his walk. He probably already finished sharpening his knives so he joined Johnny, not having anything else to occupy his spare time.

“You’ll see,” the younger man simpler smirked, too excited to even look at his senior. Blue eyes sparkling with a momentary glance at the container in his hands. “I got a present for our friend.”

The two burly men entered the lounge space and the entire room suddenly felt too small despite two windows shinning ochre rays of the sun. You were no victim to the heat either; with your normal fitted t-shirt swapped for a thin tank top and pants switched for workout shorts.

You were quick to turn away from your meaningless task at the sight of their imposing presence. “Oh, hey, guys. What are you doing here?”

Johnny raised the box of strawberries in his hands. “I know you like fruits so I snagged these. Let’s share some,” he winked. Ghost was starting to understand what Johnny had planned.

He pulled his mask half way up his face. To cool down, of course.

Much to Ghost’s hidden dismay, you conveyed your gratitude to Johnny by hopping up to his face and kissing his scruff cheek- leaving a thin film of fruit scented lip balm.

The base you all had been stationed in was the one that received the least amount of funding- which explained the tiny lone couch with a sad box tv from the 80s. It even had a storage unit for cassette tapes, making whoever who used it feel like they had travelled through time. The two men took the only two seats on the couch, giving you no space to rest your legs. You couldn’t even squeeze in between them if you tried because of how they had their expansive thighs spread. “That’s fine, I’ll just-“

Ghost was quick to pull you down, holding you on his firm thigh. “‘S’alright, love. We can’t let you stand while we relax.” Johnny said as rubbed his rough paw on your knee, nearly engulfing the area.

Your blood ran hot as you observed the scene from an outsider’s perspective. Two burly men, sitting side by side with a pretty doll on one lap. Surely, it was all innocent. Surely there wasn’t an ulterior motive on their minds. They were your best friends so you trusted them with everything. That included your body.

You could sleep in nothing but an oversized t-shirt between them and you knew you’d be alright. Fleeting touches, unwanted flirtation, and uncomfortable proximity was never a problem because it just never happened.

You hadn’t thought of them in that sense until this moment right now, where both of them were looking like they wanted to eat you more than the fat, plump strawberries.

Johnny opened the box of strawberries and placed them on the cardboard-box-turned-coffee-table. The strawberries looked like they had dropped from the shrubs of heaven- huge and swollen to the point of seemingly saccharine ripeness, begging to be bit into.

“Here, love, you get the first and the biggest,” the more talkative of the two didn’t even wait for you to extend your hand before placing the fruit right on your lips. He didn’t move it until you took a bite. “Go on.” His bushy eyebrows were unnaturally raised. You could see the sheen of sweat forming on his forehead- a part of you wanted wipe it for him.

With your eyes staring into his eager ones, you took a bite. It tasted unlike any strawberry you had eaten before. Mostly sweet with a kick of tartness. You unconsciously let out a small moan of satisfaction, prompting Ghost to shift in his seat a little, rattling you in the process.

“How is it?” Ghost rumbled from under you. You hadn’t noticed when he had pulled close to his chest. You could smell the gun powder and sweat permeating off him. “It’s sweet,” you said.

“Really? Let me check.” You thought the man was going to grab the same strawberry, but you were surprised to see his hand move to your neck instead.

“What are you-“

And you were interrupted again- but this time by a searing kiss on your lips. Ghost took your surprised gasp as a chance to enter your mouth. His wet muscle explored you, tasting whatever was left of the sweet fruit. You couldn’t even fight off the sudden attack of his mouth with how he held you tightly in his arms. You had no room to move.

After what felt like ages, he pulled away. “She’s right, it’s sweet. Here, you try.” Ghost effortlessly picked you up and placed you on Johnny’s lap. Much to your confusion, Johnny didn’t mention that he already had a strawberry in his hand. But you didn’t bring out your concerns- Ghost’s kiss had you dazed.

Johnny didn’t waste any time and planted his desperate lips on yours. Gasping every time his mouth opened, licking up remnants of the little juice Ghost left for him.

He pulled away, arms around your waist to make sure you wouldn’t leave (though you couldn’t bother escaping- your wobbly legs would probably give out on you if you tried).

“There’s nothing to taste. You took it all,” the Scot inveighed. “Have to try another one. These were expensive to get, y’know.” He rolled his eyes as he grabbed a few, not enough to be a handful but enough to satiate his much larger appetite. “Fuck, there goes seven pounds down the ground.”

Ghost made a mental note give Soap a good hard smack on the back of his head afterwards. Seven pounds per strawberry? Somebody give him a fucking break.

Soap took the strawberries to your lips once again but you looked at him with a confused expression. “I thought these were for you? I can’t fit all of them in my mouth.”

“Yeah, they’re f’me, but I’m gonna have ‘em like this.” The man crushed the strawberries over your mouth. You sucked in a breath of surprise, it was all so sudden. Your eyes closed as the pieces of fruit burst on your face- droplets beneath your eyes, cheek bones, and of course, mouth. The juices dripped down your lips to your chin, eventually trailing down your neck. Johnny eyed the pink stains left behind by each trailing drop.

“Soap, what the fuck?” You went on to wipe the juices off your face but Ghost grabbed both your wrists with a single hand and held them behind your back. “Relax, he’s just tryin’ to taste it.”

You turned back to look at Ghost with a shocked face, but as always, his blank eyes conveyed no emotion. Not even an apologetic glint.

Soap’s calloused fingers gripped your jaw as he turned you to face him while he used his other hand to hold you down by your waist.

You only remembered the crazed look in his eyes before he leaned down to devour you. Wet tongue painting your mouth and cheek, mopping up the tart juice. The hand gripping your jaw went down to join his other one that was holding on to you, kneading your sides.

You moaned (voluntarily) at the feeling of his fingers roughly pushing and poking your skin.

It was all so hot. Literally. You could feel your sweat dripping down your back, reaching the little peek of skin below the hem of your top, where Ghost had your hands pinned. Something about his gloved hands touching your bare skin had you grinding against Johnny’s thigh.

“Fuck, now it tastes sweeter,” he chuckled against your lips. His mouth trailed down to your chin, licking up the remnants of the sticky juice there. Your ears felt like they were on fire when you heard him loudly smack his lips, savoring the taste.

His mouth continued to go down further, moving towards the column of your neck, squeezing more strawberries and licking up their juices. At this point, the smell of your sweat mixed with the taste of strawberries had him intoxicated.

Ghost was beginning to get agitated. He wanted to touch the pretty doll on Johnny’s lap too. With a cautious gaze, he slowly loosened the grip to see if you would get up, but you didn’t move an inch away from Johnny. Hell, your hands were still placed against your back, too blissed out to notice that Ghost had freed them.

He moved closer towards you and Johnny and slowly trailed his hands up your thighs to your breasts, lifting your tank in the process. Johnny complied with his lieutenant’s movement and put his hands on your thighs instead. You realized that the man needed to touch some part of your body while having his mouth on you.

Ghost began to massage the area right beneath your breasts and left small kisses on your temple as you mewled reluctant protests of wanting to be left alone.

“We can’t stop. We need to finish all the strawberries. Captain can’t find out that we spent food ration funds on this,” Johnny mumbled between leaving deep burgundy hickeys on the swell of your cleavage.

Ghost hooked his fingers beneath your sports bra, hoping to pull it off along with your scrunched up top, but froze when a familiar voice barked at the entrance of the lounge.

“Which one of you bastards bought gourmet strawberries?” It was Captain Price.

But as soon as the three of you looked at him, his angry gaze faltered to a curious one.

His eyes landed on the box of now almost empty container of strawberries on the makeshift coffee table.

Then on Johnny’s face- scarlet stains all over his mouth.

Ghost, the man who didn’t even show a single fingernail, had half his face visible to the world, pressed up on your cheek

And then of course, he looked at you- best for last. Lips swollen, clavicle littered with irregular purple spots, and the most delicious sight of all- your clothed breasts pushed up (courtesy of Ghost’s hands.

“All of you in my office. I have the perfect punishment.”

—

I- yeah, idk what I wrote either.

[everrinsly]

a/n; think i started this one in uni but i never finished, also writing for blue lock rin's hands made me think of haikyuu rin's hands; i can see suna, sakusa, kuroo, mattsun (and maybe college tendo!) wearing rings i think, they're like the pretty tall bois.

also from one healthcare worker to another, hugs and applause... p.s. send help also ahaha

blurred line, best friend vibes

rings off, tape on with suna. fluff. fem!reader. | not proofread.

more reads!

~~~~~

V.League game day is always a little chaotic—the press and their cameras, the hard slam of volleyballs during warm-ups, and the last-minute checks and rituals in every corner of the athlete tunnel.

You're used to chaos, of course. But, chaos at the hospital is organized, scheduled, methodical even. You know where every patient is, where every medication is, where all the crash carts are. There is a method to the madness.

What hospital chaos is to you is what V.League chaos is to Suna because he moves through it all like he’s made of water. Smooth, unreadable, and impossibly calm.

Except for right now—right now, he’s tugging you into a quiet corner of the EJP locker room with a hand curled around your wrist, a little more insistently than usual.

“I could’ve stayed in the stands,” you say, clutching the small roll of tape he shoved into your hand a minute ago. “You have, like, six trainers plus Komori and Washio. They tape fingers well."

“None of them tape like you,” he says simply, sitting down on the bench in front of you, already spreading his thighs and resting his forearms on them.

You give him a look, one that says, 'Are you for real or do you just want to be babied.'

(He wants to be babied).

His gaze flicks up, steady with a faint trace of mischief, and his voice drops just a touch. “C’mon, angel. You know I like when you do it.”

Your fingers fumble slightly around the tape, heart thudding fast. “Don’t.”

Just one simple word from you, but he knows what you mean.

“What?” he says, all lazy innocence. “I’m just being honest.”

You roll your eyes but step between his knees anyway. You’ve done this before—taped his fingers before a match. Dozens of times.

And every single time, it always feels like... the kind of too-close quiet, the kind where his eyes follow every movement of yours, even when he pretends not to, the kind where you can't help but trace over every scar he's accumulated in his volleyball career, the kind where every brush of your hands against his feels like it means more than either of you can say.

But still, every single time, you agree.

You hold out your hand, a small drawstring bag at the ready. “Rings.”

Suna extends his right hand first, then his left. The five silver bands glint under the overhead lights—minimal, well-worn, familiar. You’ve seen him wear these since college. Some gifts. Some he splurged on. Some he just picked up and never took off because he wanted to be 'your bad-boy best friend.'

But, one of them is the ring you gave him—a small, brushed silver band with a tiny green-yellow stone that matches the color of his eyes. He’s worn it on his left middle finger ever since the day you slid it across the table at some random café during one of his rougher seasons.

You gently start sliding each one off, careful not to tug too hard, fingers grazing the inside of his knuckles as you go. You put each one in the drawstring bag.

The moment you reach that ring, his fingers flex ever so slightly.

You glance up at him.

He’s already watching you.

“That one doesn’t go in the bag,” he says, voice quiet and deliberate.

You blink. “Hmm?”

“That ring. The one you gave me.” His gaze softens a bit, and then—so casually it shouldn’t make your heart pound—he reaches for his neck and tugs the chain out from under his shirt.

It’s a slim silver chain. You've seen it peek out from his collar before but never fully.

“I want it on me,” he murmurs. “Just… not on my finger, obviously. Can you thread it on?”

Your breath hitches, and your heart flutters, but you nod. You step closer to him, now fully between his spread legs. His hands come to rest on the backs of your thighs, chin pressing against your stomach.

"Rinnie—!"

"...I'm not doing anything. Just want you to have better access to the clasp."

"Oh... sure, of course, Mister."

He mutters something incoherent into your shirt as you lean over him to open the clasp.

You pull away slightly to find his hand, slipping off the ring from his middle finger and gently sliding it onto the chain. You slowly guide the ring down until it drops perfectly on the chain, your knuckles brushing against the warm skin of his neck.

"Done," you whisper, soft and light because you don't want to ruin whatever moment this is.

He lifts his head from nuzzling your stomach, eyes dark and hooded. "Thanks, angel."

He tucks the chain back beneath his shirt, the metal brushing against his collarbone.

Your voice is quiet when you speak but heavy with curiosity. “Do you always wear this one like that?”

He shrugs, lips tugging upwards into something small, a twitch of a grin. “Yeah, I do. Before every game. Takes me longer to open and close the clasp myself though... but I have my little cheerleader with me today.”

"Stop," you giggle. One word because that's all you can push out with your heart hammering in your rib cage.

Your throat tightens around words you don’t know how to say. So instead, you kneel slightly and pull his right hand toward you, beginning to tape his fingers.

You start with the thumb. It’s always the one he sprains. You wrap the tape carefully, smoothing it with your fingers each time—not looking up, not trusting yourself to meet his eyes right now.

“You’re shaking,” Suna murmurs. “Nervous for the game?”

You scoff softly. “You wish. You just make me... nervous sometimes. I mean—”

The words slip out before you can stop them.

There’s a beat of silence.

Then his voice is low and teasing. “Only sometimes?”

You groan and avoid his smirk as you move to the next finger. “You’re impossible.”

“Still let me pull you into the locker room.”

“Because you were being annoying and whiny.”

His voice dips a little darker. “Mm... I think you love it.”

Your fingers falter slightly as you finish taping his ring finger and pinky together, just like how he likes it. His skin is warm on yours, and his breath is calm and steady above you. His legs are still bracketing you where you kneel.

You're more aware.

And he watches your every move.

“I usually keep my rings in my duffle,” he says softly. “But not today.”

You glance up. “No?”

He leans forward just a touch, his voice near your ear now. “I want you to hold them while I play.”

Your pulse stutters.

“Rin...”

“Like having a part of me with you,” he murmurs. “And knowing you’re watching.”

It shouldn’t feel intimate. But it does.

You eye the ring-filled drawstring bag on the floor beside your foot. “I’ll keep them safe.”

His smile is soft. “I know you will.”

You reach for the last of the tape, smoothing it down along the side of his left pointer finger. His hand flexes under yours, slow and purposeful, like he’s resisting the urge to grab your wrist and keep it there.

(And you’d let him. Just for a second).

You stand back up when you finish, and he tests the tension of your work.

Then he looks at you—really looks at you.

“You’re good at this,” he says, voice rough.

You reach down to pinch his cheeks, but there's no real bite. "I've been doing it since college, silly. I probably tape your fingers more than you do yourself."

He smirks, his hand catching your wrist before you can pull away.

“You always take care of me,” he murmurs.

“You always let me... and you're a big, needy baby, so someone's gotta do it."

He leans in like he’s about to say something else, but Komori yells from the hallway.

“Suna! Court! Now!”

His hand lingers a second longer before he lets go.

Then he grabs his towel, stands, and lets his eyes rake down the length of you one last time.

“I think I like being your big, needy baby,” he says over his shoulder, walking toward the door.

And like clockwork, your heart flutters.

[itgirldraco]

do you have any fic recs?

yes!! so many!! please check the tags for each!

all time favorites:

way down we go: an absolute classic. werewolf harry, chronically ill utterly miserable draco, post-war in small town america. enemies to lovers slowburn with protective harry and hopelessly gay draco.

in hopes that you may drown: SO much of my art is based on this author's harry and draco. such a lovely fic. post-war, draco raising delphi and absolutely perfecting the stressed yoga mom vibe. harry is instantly smitten.

in our blood: about haunted houses, parenthood and growing to care for each other. I love this one.

you'll still find stone: arranged marriage. draco expects the worst and harry is an absolute sweetheart. angst but so heartwarming. (mind the tags!!)

ANYTHING by corvetteclaire! their blood link and in the mirror series are severely underrated and genuinely took my breath away. some of my favorite writing and plots.

inside grey eyes: so so beautiful. quite dark and yet exceptionally hopeful. all about draco's recovery from a nightmare situation and harry's unending support. (mind the tags!!)

anything by tessa crowley!! an absolute gem in the fandom with an impressive variety of works.

the mirror of ecidyrue series: perfection.

in your arms, rests my world: “You make me feel safe, Potter. You keep me safe.” yeah..yeah. (mind the tags!!)

anything by toxik_angel tbh..one of my favorites is infairitance even though it’s incomplete; fairy draco is a game changer

oxytocin: angst, angst, angst, and so much cuddling. slowburn in the best way possible.

Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm: i read this some time ago but i remember adoring it.

Diffraction Patterns (I Don't Know How to Forget You): another incredible old read .

everything by beloved @rockingrobin69 !! this is one my favorites ever i never stop thinking about it

fluff/humor:

manlet: PLEASE read this one! so so cute and adorable and hilarious ft sweet giant harry and tiny angry draco and wickedly funny narcissa. will definitely open your eyes to small draco.

screw you: extremely funny and extremely hot.

like a star across my sky: SUCH a good fic! feels like a romcom.

title of their sex tape: as funny as it sounds.

flirt: really sweet. disaster flirty draco and awkward yet charmed harry.

married to a brute (ongoing): genius and hilarious

smut:

it beats me black and blue: absolute perfection. no notes.

let me roll it: so delicious. clueless mess draco and grumpy harry who hates everyone except draco.

his little something: size difference excellence

scenes of surrender: a combination of smut, love, recovery and caretaking

a perfect fit: hung harry and size queen draco

come up for air: veela draco

fawning for you: harry is completely obsessed with draco's videos. very cute, muggle setting.

burning the ground: creature fic

ongoing/other faves:

one elephant at a time (ongoing): i recommend this fic to EVERYONE. genuinely incredible. think yellow wallpaper, jane eyre, crush by richard siken, and the author mentions being inspired by my dark vanessa as well. so essentially a modern romance with a dark gothic backstory. every single sentence in this fic stands out to me. every characterization, every conversation, is just so honest and genuine. also!! draco has a cat called lady di!! and he loves to wear earrings! (mind the tags!!)

within the hollow crown: more of pre-drarry tbh. such an interesting plot!! harry grudgingly cares for an increasingly spiraling draco who is except under close and constant watch by the dark lord-every second of his sixth year. currently has an ongoing sequel.

imperfection (ongoing): another fic by robin! and another of my all time favorites, so so lovingly written and so tragic and lovely and heartbreaking. really digs into draco's psych and his manic mindset and constant spiral BUT there is light at the end of the tunnel and so much love surrounding him even though it's hard for him to see it. (mind the tags!!)

saviour series (ongoing): wouldn't necessarily call this drarry? more of a stockholm syndrome gothic novel type of fic but i recommend it all the same. the writing is truly extraordinary and the pacing is incredible. will leave you breathless. part one is complete. (mind the tags!!)

perspective series (ongoing): the original books with alpha harry, omega draco in gryffindor, and an adorable friendship dynamic between the golden trio and draco. really sweet, and super interesting. no romance as of yet but there are little moments.

tales of the potters: very interesting take on the arranged marriage trope! i recommend all of this author's works; they have a gorgeous way with words and their work really brings harry and draco to life.

the veiled boy (ongoing): one of the most intriguing recent fics i've read. really delves into character dynamics in such a realistic and refreshing way and draco is so endearing in it. every chapter has gorgeous illustrations.

never in extremity: reread this one recently. equal parts heartbreaking and heartwarming. (mind the tags!!)

[sourszt]

𝟏:𝟓𝟓 𝐚𝐦 | 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐬

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — art the clown x gn!reader

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 — fluff, art meets someone who isn’t scared of him, art goes to kill u but alas you are … autistic!reader, nonverbal!reader, lowkey a projection of me and how i regress/how art makes me regress lol, also a little theory as to how art gains strength/why he kills so relentlessly as a demon, not proofread!

a demon must feed off of fear. it’s how it gains strength and power. art was no different.

it was his luck that his appearance alone usually struck the fear of god into people. tall but lean in a black and white clown suit, sometimes stained with a strange red substance. face painted white, black outlining an eerily smiling mouth and wide blue eyes. at least, sometimes they were blue.

when he was knee deep into brutally slaughtering people, his eyes would go pitch black from excitement and because his strength was slowly doubling.

everyone who had the misfortune of knowing of his presence feared even his name. all except one.

he’d encountered many who feigned tolerance towards him, some even daring to embrace him before meeting the same fate as everybody else. because they reeked of the same fear as the rest. he could tell in the way they tried to steady their shaking hands, the way their eyes glazed over as they realized they had lost the fight.

but you. you.

you were different. he’d tracked you down after watching you walk home from a little neighborhood party, and he observed you for a couple of days. you lived alone, hardly touched your phone, typed and typed away on your computer with your glasses hanging onto the edge of your nose. completely indifferent to the rest of the world outside.

nobody would miss you. nobody even turned their heads towards your house as they walked by it.

so obviously nobody noticed when he slipped into your house that night. the inside was drab. nicely decorated but it still felt empty. perhaps you’d just moved in not too long ago.

when he found you in your bedroom, comfortably sleeping, he found that wasn’t quite the case. all of the decor, if you could call it that, was stuffed up in here. merchandise from several franchises were nailed, taped, displayed on every surface of your bedroom. sonic, ninja turtles, spiderman.

art stared at it. then at you. you were swarmed by stuffed animals, arms wrapped tightly around a particularly huge fuzzy stuffed sonic plush. the side of your face squished into it and you hummed in your sleep.

he set the garbage bag he had slung over his shoulder down and began searching for something to dismantle you with. the metallic clinks echoed in the room and seemed to wake you up when your muffled grunts became clearer and you began to stretch out your curled limbs.

it took you a while to notice him, but when you did you only blinked. art figured it was a shock response and gave you a taunting smile, baring ugly teeth. your eyebrows knitted together while you sat up, but still you said nothing. not even a scream.

art rose to his feet, towering over you even on your hip-high mattress. in his hand, he had a hefty tool that glinted in the moonlight. fear should have been radiating off of you by now, but that rush he was expecting never came. perhaps you thought you were dreaming.

but as your eyes scanned him from top to bottom, you seemed to accept it as reality. even as you reached out and gingerly tapped his bloodied, gloved hand with the tip of your finger. you didn’t question it.

art hesitated. but only because he doubted he would be strong enough to take your head off with one clean swipe. he wasn’t even close to half of his full strength yet. why was this taking so long?

you turned to the side, searching for something in the sea of stuffies you were haloed with just moments earlier. plucking a smaller one out of the heap, you offered it to the mysterious clown at the side of your bed. it was one of your lesser favorites because you didn’t want him to get it dirty with his white-stained-red gloves. a little fuzzy bee you got from a museum years back.

art pointed at himself, and you nodded with a gentle smile. you half thought that was what he wanted. some strange stuffed animal reaper.

he reached for it, and the cleaver in his hand hit the ground with a thud that made you flinch and cover your ears. almost instinctively, you leaned towards him.

you weren’t scared of the knife itself but the loud noise. art was baffled that somebody could look to him for protection. had you any idea who he was? the miles county clown, was the name every tv within a 50 mile radius was echoing daily because of him.

well, you probably actually didn’t. in the days he watched you, you neglected to turn on the news or scroll through social media. was that why you weren’t scared of him?

either way, his palm found the top of your head, awkwardly patting it with a force that told you he was also trying to push you away. you peered up at him with a straight lipped smile, and gently grabbed the wrist of the hand on your head. he tensed, shocked, but allowed you to flip his palm upwards, watching as you ran your finger over his red stained glove.

you spelled out your name, letter by letter, and pointed to yourself. you also couldn’t speak. or you couldn’t at the moment.

art could only tilt his head at you, genuinely frowning because his presence wasn’t scaring you shitless. he was more confused than anything else.

you gestured towards him and handed him your own palm. he was to etch his name onto your skin.

it took him a second to do it, letting his hand cradle yours while he dragged his finger across your palm. A-R-T.

registering the name, you nodded up at him. it was quite fitting for him, you thought.

the clown grinned and waved your own stuffed animal in front of your face before booping your nose with it. he found he liked the sound of your giggle, which brought him both comfort and unease.

you were sad when he left so quickly, dropping your stuffed bee into your lap and grabbing his garbage bag. he put a finger to his lips and wagged his fingers at you before retreating back into your hallway. the sound of your comforter shuffling made him pause and he found you bent over, picking his cleaver up off of your floor.

you sheepishly held the heavy handle out to him.

you were quite tall. still significantly shorter than him, but taller than he was expecting. wearing a slim fitting tank top and some athletic shorts. you even had some tattoos on your arms and on your thighs. things he hadn’t seen past your sweaters and jeans.

he took the cleaver and prepared to take his leave, but was stunned when you suddenly wrapped your arms around him. for a moment, he was the scared one. but he soon realized that you were only hugging him.

“thank you,” you whispered, so softly and shakily he almost missed it over the buzz of your electric fan. still, you held no fear of him.

you smiled when his arms briefly closed around you.

and then he was gone.

i love him sm 😞😞

[rimatsu]

alcoholic hallucinosis

bucktommy, m, 2k words. read on ao3 Alcohol has dulled his sense and alertness enough that alarm bells don't immediately go off when the camera tilts back to reveal a wider shot of Buck's wooden headboard. It's only when the video shakes and refocuses on a familiar head of chestnut curls that Eddie begins to regret every life decision that brought him to this particular moment. (In which Eddie receives an unsolicited, accidental sex tape.)

Eddie is 12 hours into a 48 off when his phone pings with a new text notification.

Outside, the blue haze of daylight has lifted to reveal the moon. He's been languishing on the couch with a drink and bad TV as his sole company for longer than initially planned. There's a tiny gulp of amber liquid left at the bottom of his Glencairn glass where grains of charred wood have started to sediment. It's the barrel-proof stuff, casket-aged and bold and explosively flavorful, pricy and usually reserved for special occasions.

Eddie isn't the type to indulge for no reason, but he figures he deserves a treat after dealing with Gerrard's machiavellian schemes at work and withering familial radio-silence courtesy of his son. The text he's sent this morning — three whole paragraphs detailing his week and asking about Christopher's new friends and the robotics club he's joined — had only garnered a thumb-up in response

So it's 9:48pm and Eddie is 2 fingers away from buzzed, and he's watching fictional characters make mistakes more disastrous than his own stupid blunders with a pleasant fog cushioning his thoughts, eyelids heavy and guards down, and naturally that’s when Buck decides to send a cryptic video his way.

Eddie is used to receiving pictures and random factoids and links to obscure forums whenever Buck descends into one of his manic research deep dives, but they usually come with some key context. The newest addition to their chat log is a lone clip, with no caption or introduction or explanatory details. It's about 12 minutes long and the preview thumbnail is mostly indecipherable: brown, blurry with motion and too close to the lens for identification.

Against his better judgement, Eddie shrugs, mutes the TV and taps play on the video file.

Alcohol has dulled his sense and alertness enough that alarm bells don't immediately go off when the camera tilts back to reveal a wider shot of Buck's wooden headboard. It's only when the video shakes and refocuses on a familiar head of chestnut curls that Eddie begins to regret every life decision that brought him to this particular moment. His eyes bug out as he tries to compute what he's seeing unfold in rapid increments, something like dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

On his screen and in his hand and in HD resolution, Buck’s right cheek is smashed into a pillow, face sweaty and so red his birthmark no longer stands out against the backdrop of his skin. His mouth is an open wound gasping for air, and there are thick-knuckled fingers twisted in his hair, keeping him down. His brows are furrowed like he's in agony, except that's not pain twisting his features; it's not the expression that haunts Eddie from a half-dozen near tragedies and hospital visits — no, that's a face crumpled in uncomplicated pleasure.

“Arch up, sweetheart,” comes out of the tiny speakers, and that's Tommy's voice, laced with something unrecognizable, low and warm and whiskey-soaked like the scotch Eddie has been sipping all evening; loud because he’s holding the phone this was filmed on, because that's his hand cradling the back of Buck’s skull, big and proprietary and unrelenting. “Give me something nice to look at.”

Eddie's entire central nervous system shuts down after hearing that request, and he’s left gaping at his screen, stunned stupid, staring unblinkingly and in morbid fascination the way passerbys might gawk at a car crash, awful but ultimately fascinating.

Distantly, Eddie wonders if he’s perhaps experiencing some acute form of alcoholic hallucinosis.

Now, he’s borne witness to his fair share of disturbing sights throughout the years — viscera and gore, absurd accidents and gruesome deaths. With two military tours under his belt, he’s developed quite the steel core; Eddie knows how to push past shock to go through necessary motions. Still, no amount of training and field experience could've prepared him for this, because in the next second the video frame shifts again, pans down Buck’s neck and the broad expense of his back and along the sine wave of his spine—

And yep. That's definitely a POV shot of Eddie’s best friend taking it up the ass.

When his synapses start firing again a heartbeat later, horror cuts through the petrified and intoxicated daze clouding Eddie’s brain like a punch to the sternum, sudden and sobering.

“Oh my God!” he screams, shrill and panicked and undignified, and then does the instinctual thing, which is to toss his phone across the room like it's contaminated by the bubonic plague.

It lands facedown near the TV console with a loud thud. Unfortunately, the distance does nothing to muffle the telltale, slick and rhythmic noises of skin-on-skin or the pornographic grunts of masculine pleasure coming out of the loudspeakers, resonating against the walls of his too quiet house.

Eddie stares at the mobile device like it’s radioactive, the tip of his ears burning hot in embarrassment and delayed indignation.

What kind of sick fucking joke is this?

Badly-lit, homemade, amateur porn. Of the gay variety. Starring Buck and his boyfriend — his two closest companions these days. That's what Buck shared with him tonight for some depraved, incomprehensible reason. Because he's apparently a lunatic with no understanding of the concept of privacy or boundaries or socially acceptable behavior. Either that or Buck is experiencing a stroke, or being hacked, or this is his way of letting Eddie know he’s been kidnapped, or maybe it’s all a huge mistake they’ll maybe laugh at ten years from now when Eddie can remember this moment without wanting to gouge his eyes out of their sockets.

Eddie presses the heels of his palms into his lids until stars replace the afterimage seared onto his retina, and then prays for deliverance from this wretched, godless existence.

"Daddy," he hears, rough and saliva-garbled and pleading, and nope.

No.

Absolutely not.

Eddie scrambles for his phone so he can put a stop to the auditory torture. Since his life is a joke, the jump over the coffee table he attempts in his haste proves to be too perilous for his tipsy, uncoordinated limbs. His toes get caught in the folds of his area rug and he ends up a screeching, scandalized heap on the floor.

"Ow!" Eddie yelps, a few feet from his phone that is still taunting him with moans.

Once he finally manages to press the side button, Eddie collapses back on the ground, hands shaking with residual adrenaline. His screen is cracked and his knees are throbbing from the force of his fall, but silence sounds so blissful Eddie can barely find it in himself to be irritated.

He flips on his back and stares at the ceiling, suddenly exhausted.

Maybe Eddie is the problem. Maybe he’s an enabler who invited his own misfortune.

Buck has always been prone to over-sharing, but there had been a time early in his relationship with Tommy when he had acted unusually tight-lipped. In the spirit of unconditional support, Eddie had reiterated that nothing had to change between them — that Buck didn’t need to censor himself just because he was seeing a man.

(“So you want the details?” Buck had asked, eyebrows raised skeptically.

Eddie had made an unimpressed face in answer. “I never want the details, but it’s not like that ever stopped you before.”

“Your funeral,” Buck had said with a grin and a shrug, and then spent the next few minutes recounting the epic tale of his ‘tumultuous journey to rid himself of his gag reflex’. Eddie had listened in a mostly dissociative state, doing his best not to wince at the very descriptive portrait painted before his eyes until he’d realized Buck was messing with him by testing the limits of his tolerance.)

That had been only fair, since Buck is the type to readily lend an ear for ex-nun girlfriend troubles — and with minimal judgment to boot — but now Eddie is starting to regret the gesture. Maybe Buck had heard ‘you don’t have to keep it PG for my sake, I'm totally down with the queers’ and understood ‘if you ever need constructive criticism on the angles of your sextape, I’m your guy!’

Eddie briefly entertains the idea of sending Buck a vindictive voice message demanding he explains himself, maybe even relay the various ways he wants to throttle Buck for his crassness and his exhibitionist tendencies and his wild disregard for the sacred bonds of pseudo-brotherhood, but he still feels off-balance, and in the end Eddie chooses to resort to a less confrontational coping mechanism: drinking the trauma away.

He ignores the abandoned glass sitting on his side table to take long gulps of whiskey straight from the bottle instead. It's not the kind of liquor made to be chugged down, and the alcohol burns his throat all the way down his stomach, but he welcomes the flame, grateful for the physical distraction.

He’s working himself into an inebriated stupor when his phone starts vibrating like a hummingbird's wings, pinging madly with texts after texts.

When he unlocks the mobile with the apprehension of a soldier stepping into a minefield, it’s to find 42 new messages from Buck.

Eddie takes another fortifying swig of booze and opens iMessage.

The first ten text bubbles are strictly comprised of delirious keysmashing, confirming the inadvertent mistake hypothesis. That’s a relief: Buck hasn’t temporarily lost his mind to jealousy again and didn’t try to mark his territory because Tommy had taken Eddie to a WBC championship last week. Thank God for small mercies.

Eddie scrolls past them to read the more coherent ones.

OH FUCKKKKKK

ASFHJBCAVKJVCHK

NONONONONOOO

THIS CANT BE HAPPENING

THIS IS LIKE EVERYONES WORST NIGHTMARE

EDDIE

EDMUNDO MIDDLE NAME DIAZ

DO NOT

I REPEAT DO NOT WATCH THE BIDEO

IT WASNT MEANT GOR YOU

IT WAS A MISTAKE!!!!!!

NOT ON PURPOSE

SERIOUSLY DONT OPEN THE VIDEO

it will hurt your fragile relapsed catholic sensibilities and send you into cardiac arrest

IT WAS MEANT FOR TOMMY AND NOT FOR UR PRUDISH EYES

SERIOUSLY SCROLL PAST

SPARE US BOTH THE HUMILIATION I BEG OF YOU

you were the last contact i texted

my big fat thumb must've slipped

shittt the read receipt

welp it's so over...

ig that's done and over with

sorry

when you're done pouring bleach over your eyes

let me know you're still alive so i can sleep at night with a clear conscience knowing you didn't lobotomize yourself or something

again I'M SORRY

A HONEST MISTAKE that's surely mortifying for the both of us but mostly ME

please tell me i didn't irreparably damage our friendship

just so you know tommy’s been laughing for the past 10 minutes. i’m glad SOMEONE is enjoying this shitshow

You owe me an emergency therapy session with Frank

And a screen repair

did you freak out and break your phone

I threw it at the wall

ok drama queen 😂

No. There's nothing funny or dramatic about it

I'm not gonna be able to look you in the face for the foreseeable future

I'll have to ask Gerrard for a transfer

Ravi says the B-shift is very welcoming

Maybe I'll find a new buddy there. One that doesn't send me his nudes unprompted

Hell maybe I should move back to El Paso

This could be a sign from the universe to take matter into my own hands instead of waiting idly for Christopher's forgiveness

you don't believe in signs

Maybe I do now

Maybe your little fuck up was the catalyst needed for change

c'mon man

play it cool

if you get embarrassed then i'll get embarrassed

and if we're both embarrassed then who's flying the plane

Your apologies suck balls

just like me

What the hell Buck

WAY TOO SOON

sorry

shame is an emotion i refuse to feel so i’m just owning it now

ok can we just agree to forget this ever happened

and maybe delete the vid from your cloud

Yeah ok

Way ahead of you

My phone has already been scrubbed clean

Do me a favor and check twice the next time you send Tommy a dick pic

dw lesson learned

so.......

did you watch the full thing or

be honest

it’s okay if you did you can still be straight

Scratch that

Consider our friendship irreparably damaged NOW

I’m blocking you

EDDIE NO

I WAS JOKING TO DIFFUSE THE TENSION

EDDIE!!!!!

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° what's misery without company?

♡ a/n — BIG SPOILERS FOR NEWEST CHAPTER IN THE MANGA!!!

♡ word count — 1.8k

♡ content — nagi seishiro x reader, made nagi's parents absent, set after he gets ( SPOILER!! ) 'locked off' , reader is his childhood best friend, unrequited love (?), angst, nagi is depressed, reader gets frustrated with him, kinda hopeful ending, not proofread.

♡ synopsis — even if nagi seishiro never got to play soccer again, at least he had you. but how long could you deal with who he's become?

once again; this fic contains heavy spoilers for the newest chapter of the manga. please do not read ahead if you don't want to be spoiled.

SPOILERS UNDER DIVIDER!!

They drop him off without even stepping inside.

His mom says, “The fridge is stocked.”

His dad mutters, “Let us know if you need anything.”

Then the car pulls away.

No hugs. No questions. No how are you holding up?

The apartment feels cold when he walks in. Sterile. Too clean for someone who's supposed to be living there. A box of fresh fruit sits on the table. A card taped to the front says “Cheer up!” in careful handwriting that isn’t either of his parents'.

Like disappointment is just a fever. 

Like enough Vitamin C will fix it.

He stares at the basket for a full minute before moving it to the corner, out of sight.

Then he sinks into the couch, hoodie up, phone on silent, and disappears.

You show up the next morning, like always.

You don’t knock—you never have. You’ve had a key since you were fifteen and Nagi was too lazy to answer the door during summer breaks. Back then, it was a convenience. Now, it's a lifeline.

The door creaks open, and nothing greets you except the low hum of the TV and the faint scent of fabric softener.

He's curled up in the corner of the couch, knees to his chest, controller idle in his lap. He doesn’t look up.

“Hey,” you say, voice too loud in the silence. “I brought that strawberry soda you like. And a cactus.”

That gets a blink, barely. His gaze flicks to the little green plant in your hands. You walk over and set it beside the one already on the window ledge—tall, spindly, with a little blue card sticking out that reads You Did Your Best!

You glance at it. “That from your parents?”

He shrugs. “They sent a basket, too.”

“Fruit?”

“Yeah.”

You roll your eyes, hands on your hips. “Of course.”

As if a basket of grapes, watermelon, and several other assorted fruits could fill the void that Nagi is experiencing right now.

When all Nagi really needs is a hug from his mom, a talk about how he’s still good enough for his dad.

He says nothing. You sigh, grab the remote, and sit beside him.

The silence stretches.

His mom texts you the next morning.

Can you check on Seishiro? He’s not answering again.

I checked on him yesterday, he’s no better than he was when he came home.

That’s what you want to say. That maybe if she’d just offered her son to come home instead of to that apartment they pay for- maybe she wouldn’t have to text you. 

But everyone’s still too scared to say anything about soccer, even his mom.

But you’ve never really been scared of Nagi Seishiro. Not since he used to hide behind your backpack in elementary school when he was too shy to ask the teacher for a new pencil.

You walk past the untouched meal you left for him yesterday on the counter. 

He doesn’t move when you drop onto the couch next to him.

"You smell like sock and despair," you mutter.

"Mm," he grunts. Which you take as a ‘welcome back.’

You stare at the side of his face, trying to find anything—a spark, irritation, something. But he’s just... blank.

"Alright," you say, standing up. "That’s it. We’re going out."

"No."

"Sei—"

"I said no."

There’s steel in his voice, the kind that’s not usually there. But you don’t flinch.

"I don’t care if you’re pissed or embarrassed or feel like shit, you’re not gonna rot in here like some forgotten leftover. That’s not you."

"You don’t know who I am anymore."

You freeze. The TV keeps playing.

For days, it goes on like this. You come over. You bring food, dumb movies, your presence. Nagi barely speaks. He doesn’t go out. Doesn’t text anyone. He watches you move around the apartment like you’re something distant, safe, unreal.

And maybe that’s why he lets you stay.

Everyone else is too scared to say the word. Soccer. Blue Lock. Twenty-fourth place.

Everyone walks on eggshells.

Except you.

“Sei,” you say one night, sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through takeout containers. “You know it’s okay to be mad, right?”

He doesn’t answer.

“You can punch a pillow or yell at the sky or tell Ego to shove it. You don’t have to act like this doesn’t suck.”

He shrugs. “It’s whatever.”

“No, it’s not. It’s everything.” Your voice cracks. “It was everything.”

Still, he doesn’t look at you.

And you hate how familiar this is—caring too much while he stays five steps removed. You’ve known him since childhood, and he’s always been like this. Unbothered. Aloof. Somewhere far away even when he’s sitting right next to you.

But this? This is worse.

Because back then, Nagi Seishiro was just unmotivated. 

Now, he’s empty.

You used to be the loud one. 

The pushy one. 

Always dragging him around, always getting him to try just one more thing. 

You were there when he picked up a soccer ball for the first time. When Reo showed up and everything changed.

And even when you lost him to Blue Lock, you told yourself you were okay with it. That he was chasing something real. That he'd come back stronger.

But the boy who came back isn’t stronger.

He’s not anything.

And day by day, you feel yourself dimming just to match the low-light gloom he lives in.

You start losing sleep.

Not because he asks you to stay, but because the idea of him being alone in that apartment feels wrong. Like maybe if you leave, he’ll forget to eat. Forget to move. Forget that he's still someone.

And the worst part? You’re forgetting too.

You start skipping hangouts, canceling plans. People stop asking. You stop explaining.

Your whole world shrinks to that quiet apartment and the boy slowly unraveling inside it.

One night, you catch your reflection in the microwave while reheating soup, and you don’t recognize yourself.

Your eyes are tired. Your mouth is tight. You’re wearing his hoodie.

You want to scream. Or cry. Or both.

Instead, you stir the soup and focus on the boy who you’re not sure you know anymore.

Weeks pass.

You keep showing up. 

Bringing food. 

Talking at him. 

Sitting in silence when he doesn’t answer. 

You water the plants. 

You stop telling people you’re fine. 

Because you’re not.

You love him.

You love him so much it feels like your chest might collapse when he won’t even look at you some days.

And it’s killing you.

Because how do you love someone who’s not really here anymore?

One night, you find him asleep on the floor. Just lying there, face down, controller nearby, game long since shut off. You kneel beside him and gently brush his hair from his forehead.

"Where’d you go Sei?" you whisper. "The real you."

His eyes open slowly. “Still here?”

“Yeah. Someone has to be.”

You pause. He’s looking at you now. Really looking. And it hurts.

"Why?" he asks, barely above a breath. "Why stay?"

You blink against the sting in your eyes. "Because I just-"

“I’m tired.” his yawn interrupts you.

"I know."

And you do. Because lately? You’re tired too. 

Tired of carrying hope like a burden. 

Tired of being the only one trying to pull him out of a place he doesn't want to leave.

“I don’t know if I can fix this,” you whisper.

He doesn’t answer. 

Just looks at you with that empty, unreadable expression.

And for the first time, you wonder if loving him is going to be the thing that breaks you.

It happens on a Tuesday.

You show up late, soaked to the bone, and slam the door hard enough to shake the picture frames. Nagi doesn’t flinch. He’s on the couch again, hoodie up, controller in hand—pretending to be busy. Pretending like you don’t exist.

You drop the takeout bag on the counter. Hard. You don't bother plating it anymore.

"You’re unbelievable."

Nothing. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

"You know, I used to think you were just lazy," you say, voice rising as the words tumble out. "That you didn’t care because everything came easy to you. That was annoying, sure, but it was you. It was still something. But this?"

You gesture wildly around the room—the plants, the half-unpacked suitcase, the fading card in the cactus pot.

"This is pathetic, Sei."

Still nothing. Just that blank, empty stare at the screen.

And it breaks you.

"Say something!" you shout. "Get mad! Cry, scream, throw something—anything! Stop just sitting there!"

He finally turns his head, slowly, blinking like he’s trying to process the noise.

He finally glances over. “You’re yelling.”

“Yeah, I’m yelling!” you explode. “Because I love you, and you’re just sitting there letting everything fall apart!”

The words drop like a bomb.

You freeze.

He stares.

And then—softly, like a child asking a question he’s never been allowed to voice—he says:

“…Why?”

Your breath catches.

You stare at him, wide-eyed. He looks genuinely confused. Not cold. Not cruel. Just lost.

He’s looking at you now, really looking—but it’s not awe or fear or understanding in his eyes. It’s confusion. Like he’s genuinely asking. Like he doesn’t get why anyone would choose to love him like this.

You take a breath, then another, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“Because,” you say, voice cracking, “someone has to. And no one else is doing it.”

Nagi blinks again. Something in his expression shifts—barely. A twitch. A flinch. Maybe.

"You think I’m gonna give up just because you did?" you continue, stepping closer. "You think I’m just gonna walk away and let you rot here while everything you are slips away?"

“I’m not gonna leave you, Sei,” you say, voice trembling. “Even if you don’t love me. Even if you never love me. I’m staying. Until you can breathe again. Until you can wake up and be okay. With or without me.”

He’s quiet for a long, long time.

Then he glances toward the cactus.

“My parents love me,” he says softly.

You follow his gaze.

The You Did Your Best card flutters in the breeze from the vent.

He points at it.

“They sent that.”

Something inside you breaks.

You laugh, wet and bitter. “That’s not love, Sei. That’s...”

An obligation

A way to tell their friends that he’s fine

It’s…

“Pity, Sei. They don’t know how to help…”

He looks at you, expression unreadable.

You wipe your face and sit down next to him, closer than usual. Your knee brushes his.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you whisper. “But if you ever want to come back—if you ever want to be someone again—I’ll be here.”

He doesn’t take your hand. 

Doesn’t cry. 

Doesn’t thank you.

He just leans his head gently against your shoulder, hoodie soft and damp from his hair.

And in that silence, you feel it:

Not healing.

Not forgiveness.

But a beginning.

obviously, we don't know what happens to nagi. but if he doesn't come back, i hope this helps you fans find comfort.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

❀ tags: ❀ @kenyuukissme ❀ @irethepotato ❀ @kiyy0mei ❀ @x3nafix ❀ @sugacor3 ❀ @ohagiyo ❀ @reigensuperstar ❀ @nevvynevnev ❀ join the taglist here !

⋆.˚✮ 2025 ©airybcby ✮˚.⋆

[harringtons-cupid]

steve and reader are friends with little too no boundaries and one time they get high and push it too far

A/N: I really liked this idea, I think this would be a perfect concept for a while fic! I hope you enjoy it 🤍.

Reader is: she/her

Warnings: Sexual content ahead! (18+)- cunnilingus, touching, getting high. Kissing, slight biting. Female cum swallowing. Smoke passing through mouths, slight begging. Friends to lovers 🤍

Please reblog, like or send a request to support me! Tysm 🤍

You and Steve had been friends for a while, the same routine happened every Saturday night. Steve drove over to your house with a bunch of discounted videos for you both to rate.

Whilst you waited for Steve, you prepared the essentials one of them included rolling some blunts.

You were the only one that Steve trusted to smoke with. You felt flattered but reassured him that it was only weed.

This week you were excited because this year, your favourite book was being released The Princess Bride. Having read it a few years ago, Steve had managed to swap a copy for you. As well as Steve’s anticipation of Predator, even though you weren’t really sure he liked action movies.

Maybe there was a man crush in there somewhere.

It was 7:50pm when you heard the guttural sound of Steve’s BMW, smiling into your rolled blunt. You were wearing a baby blue summer dress, the window was blowing a cool breeze between the curtains.

It was hot and stuffy in your room, you were debating whether to move downstairs to smoke. Similarly to Steve’s house, there was a large pool in your back garden but behind the family shed was a smoking area.

Your parents rarely went outside anymore, the shed was full of cobwebs. The smoking area was very shaded, much cooler than your room.

Steve appeared in your doorway, white and a short white t-shirt. His hair was gelled slightly but you were sure it was from sweat.

“Hey?” He grinning at you,

“Wanna go outside first?” You hinted as you finished licking the final blunt.

“Lead the way baby” he teased, allowing you past him.

Your stomach flipped at his nickname, slipping a lighter into your pocket. The cool evening breeze wafted at the bottom of your dress, it was cooler in the kitchen.

Steve grabbed you both a beer and followed you outside, the evening sun glistened on the empty pool.

Once you were both sat in the cream deckchairs, he budged his chair closer to yours. Your hands grazing as you held the lighter in one hand and exhaled the blunt.

“So, how was work? Mr trainee manager” you smiled, raising your eyebrows suggestively.

He blushed from the heat and your question, he felt slightly embarrassed that he was a new manager but you constantly reassured him.

“Well, you’ll love the films that I brought back for us” he blinked slowly.

Taking the blunt in his hands, he was so hot when he smoked weed. Slowly exhaling with his eyes closed, your hands loosely intertwined on the edges of the chairs.

After the first two blunts were finished, you and Steve were able to contain yourself from laughter.

You both stumbled back into the house, into the glaring sun as you clung to him for support.

It always happened, you’d both get too high and touchy. Except nothing more than cuddling happened.

You collapsed onto your double bed as Steve set the first tape into your custom VCR, he teased you for the hand painted and stickered design on your box.

He rejoined you as the tape whirred to life, waiting for the start up screen to begin. His arm slung loosely around you, sipping on his beer.

The dress stuck to your skin from the sweat throughout the day, you desperately needed to take it off.

You tried to ignore it as the film began to play but half way through the film, Steve paused it for a slight break. Turning to look at you as you moved in your spot.

“Will you please get changed? You always get like this when you’re high” he sighed, rolling his eyes playfully.

“Okay but turn around” you waved at him as you stood up.

You were unsure what you could change into that was looser than your dress until you spotted it.

Steve’s favourite bikini.

He always blushed and complimented you when you wore it, unable to focus on anything else.

Since nothing had ever happened between you both, you felt comfortable enough to slip your underwear off under your dress. Before clumsily sliding your bikini on.

“Careful, there” he teased, standing up to help you with your balance.

His hands felt like fire against your skin, his hands rested comfortably on your upper arms as you struggled to fit the clasp on.

As you leant round to do it up, your dress fell from around your body. Steve’s breath hitched when it revealed the bikini, you assumed that it was the weed imagining things.

Because you were sure that you could feel something pressuring against your lower back, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he quickly clipped the back of the bikini together.

“Thanks” you breathed, feeling less sticky.

You politely smiled before slipping out his grasp, the film was still paused when you tried to return to your spot.

But Steve’s hands held yours, forcing you to stay close to him. The high wasn’t as overwhelming when his hands cupped your face, licking his lips before shakily kissing you.

He had never kissed you before.

You had imagined it, in fact you had dreamed about it but never had the nerve to do it.

He was soft and gentle, his hands stayed on your face as you melted into his lips.

Your eyes were half closed, pushing yourself closer to him for more. Growing desperate by the second, he let you push him closer to the bed before stopping.

The pause in the kiss made you crazy, trying to refrain from moaning. You bit your lip and took a step back for some air.

“Umm, how about we grab a drink or finish the film or something?” You said rapidly.

You were growing nervous now, it was something you never experienced with Steve before.

“Okay, baby. We’ll do whatever you like” he smiled, smoothing down your hair planting a tiny kiss on your lips.

Your stomach fluttered, it felt somewhat different now he had kissed you.

You were confused at what you wanted, did you want to get more high? Probably not, you and Steve will end up doing much more.

Instead you decided on getting another drink, something cool and refreshing. You wanted to finish the films before it got complicated.

Steve pressed play on the film as you resumed our positions, his eyes flickered towards your chest as you laughed.

The film was good, Steve’s fingers were circling your skin. Making your breath hitch towards the end of the film, he moved suddenly to swap the films over.

Making you release that you needed his touch on yours, the high was slowly fading as the next film began to play.

You drank your cold coke cola, removing one of the blunts from your pockets and offered it up to Steve.

The need to hide the smell was not important, your parents were rarely at home. Leaving you alone for most of the time, meaning you could do what you wanted.

Like smoke indoors with the boy you fancied.

He took the blunt between your lips and lit it, slightly annoying you since you wanted to light it.

“Open your mouth baby” he mumbled onto the blunt.

You pinched your eyebrows together with confused but followed his loose instructions. Your eyes were focused on him as he removed the blunt from his mouth and instantly closing his mouth before placing his lips on your and exhaling.

Inhaling the tiniest bit of smoke that had been passed to you before you leant forward for a kiss. He gave you a small kiss before taking another toke of the blunt.

After finishing the blunt between kisses, he unpaused the film and pulled you close.

You enjoyed both of the films, completely forgetting your usual rating tasks and fell into an embrace.

His hands cupped your ass as you moved closer to kiss him, falling into a perfect rhythm. He didn’t do anything rougher than bit on your neck.

Naturally sliding himself so that he was lying on top of you, the sound of the night crept through your window. Neither of you noticed that it was now dark outside, the film title was playing as his hand slipped under your bikini.

“God, I love this on you” he growled, tugging at you needily.

He was one of your closest friends, you had never heard him speak like this.

You could feel his semi erection pushing against your thigh as he kissed down your body, sucking on your skin making you breathless.

Everything felt amazing with Steve, he was passionate but soft.

“Can I take these off?” He asked, looking up at you softly.

Your stomach flipped as you looked at him, his fingers were looping around your bikini bottoms. You nodded in response, keeping eye contact as he softly pulled them down.

The sound of his gasp at the sight of your pussy made you twitch, no one had ever been so desperate.

It was attractive, how much he wanted you.

His actions were slow and deliberate, wanting to taste every ounce of you. His tongue licked the folds before they reached your clit, his tongue sent a bolt of electricity through you as he licked your clit.

No one had been so painfully slow before, you were bucking your hips in desperation for more friction.

“Steve, please” you heard yourself speak.

Feeling quite shocked at your sudden demand for more you covered your mouth before realising that he had picked up the pace.

Switching between slow and quick movements against your clit, it made you grind against his mouth. Becoming more vocal by the second, your knuckles gripping onto the bedsheets.

His eyes burning into yours as he continued to eat you through your orgasm, swallowing down your cum. Not feeling satisfied until you were shaking from overstimulation.

He was your best friend and he had just given you the best orgasm of your life.

[orelicia]

"You get periods?!" By MC <3

Xeijun's Letters: My first post, I guess? Anyways, thank you so much to @tsukii0002 for inspo for these scenarios. Hope you like them. I added a bit to them for my own personal headcanon.

|| Pt. 1 || Pt. 2 ||

Warnings: kidnapping, cannibalism, gouging out eye, petty, obnoxious, vanitious Lucifer, personal headcanons. Almost fem! coded reader? Because I'm fem...so. A bit OCC due to hormonal imbalance in our bois.

Lucifer

Walking around, you pulled out yet another feather from your hair..Searching for Lucifer on his periods was dire work, you could have become an investigator. EASILY! With him and his nest revolving around the hidden rooms which move around House of Lamentation, it's like 'Where's Waldo', but with Lucifer to comfort him.

Having almost beaten Beel in eating just a few days ago, with chewing something every few seconds; chips, cup ramen, dinner left-overs, five tiffins packed for RAD, demonus frozen into cubes for him to chew on, some demon who pissed him off?...And now, he's nowhere to be seen, not touched a single morsel of food..How great.

Huffing you pushed the brick in the hallway which was a doorway, hoping it'll lead to where you need to go and thankfully it did...except it looked like, well...a Rapunzel's tower, without the Rapunzel or the beauty of it and made from whatever, as you huffed,

"Lucifer! You here?!" you called, as Lucifer's head popped, upside down. On his periods, he definitely had more confidence, more vanity, cared less on what others thought and was so much more obnoxious..kind of disgusting if not for you almost finding it hot,

"Oh, missing me already?" he asked, smirking, "How darling of you to do that~" his wings ruffling, the barely light coming from this brick wall room putting light on his horns and wings, both of glowing softly iridescent a baby blue almost.

You sighed, as the moment he ruffled his wings a few more feathers got off, it's like having a cat, if you were honest. His wings spread over the width of the room, almost 10 feet, as he smiled and jumped down from his upside down position from the edge of his nest.

How lovely it was when his eyes fell on a strand of white which he plucked off, his nails decorated red with skulls from Asmo a few days ago when Lucifer had been admiring himself in a mirror, as he looked at it, his white scleras almost fading like ink in water to become black,

"Hanging out with Solomon, were you?" he asked, hissing as you sighed, groaning, of-course he figured it out. His senses were out of this world, everything was out of sight, but nothing out of eyes or mind, it seemed.

A guttural noise rumbled in his throat, which almost shook the ground, it felt like as he scoffed, like a petulant child and within a blink of an eye, had got over the edge of his nest, back into the depths of comfort. Mad at you for hanging out with that shady sorcerer.

As you sighed, "come on, peacock boy. Pull me into your nest, I went to him for help. I promise, he didn't do anything.." you said, looking for an opening, which ou did with Belphie's head stuck through and mouth taped, as you hitched back.

"Lucifer...What's Belphie doing here?" you asked, as his hand pushed out a large hoodie which you were sure belonged to Beel from the smell of curry on it, as his head poked out a bit, though his horns got stuck,

"He was sleeping in the hallway, I think he was cold. My little brother" he said, pouting almost..Oh how he changes during periods, gross.

As you sighed, pushing Belphie in as you poked in through the hole despite Lucifer's protest, as he placed Belphie through the opening again to block it up as you rolled your eyes.

You almost felt compelled to pull him into a hug like usual, but didn't because the last time you did...Let's just say, you ended up a scar across your face and an eye gouged out on accident, thought it was easily fixed by one of Solomon's potions and frankly, you didn't want a repeat of it as you shove some cotton into Belphie's ears and made place and sat down on the ground.

Lucifer's wings ruffled a bit, as one of his wings gently stroked you as you smiled, "I just went to Solomon to get my scar fixed" you assured him with a smile, as he grudgingly shifted from his sitting position to look back, his scleras black as he glared at you, though you could see them soften.

"Fine.." he scoffed, as he extended one hand and you crawled closer, shifting to snuggle again him as he huffed, pulling you to fall back against the pillows in his nest. Oh my Diavolo...Lucifer was burning and freezing, almost too high or too cold...You couldn't tell if you were to shiver or remove your shirt.

And he sat there, patiently as if waiting for something, his wings ruffling every few minutes as he waited intently, while you were busy coughing out feather plumes and feather strands blowing them away from your face.

As his face contorted into a frown when you were taking so long and didn't even look like it as he shifted his wings back, crossing his arms over the loose black shirt he had been wearing, feeling weird feeling of insecurity and sadness pool in his gut as he waited and waited and waited, as you seemingly didn't notice.

Lucifer ruffled his wings again, hoping you'll get the hint...you didn't.

His moments of no sleep, eating too much and hormones over the place led to anxiety and slight paranoia. As he almost feel bugs on his skin, before he adamantly spoke. How dare his favourite human not appreciate him? Almost the perfect being in all realms,

"What? Why are you not complimenting me?" he asked, words laced with venom as you looked up.

Oh...Poor Lucifer. You almost had to laugh as you snuggled against him more, removing your jacket,

"Your wings..They look nice Lucifer. So shiny and colourful!" you smiled, admiring your the way the baby blue shined different shades as he proudly smugly grinned, as he hugged you, almost purring softly, thankfully Belphie woke up somewhere and teleported out or something, cause there was an opening.

"You're not leaving. Ever" he whispered smugly, as if he read your thoughts about leaving, "we can buy cervical pillows then, hm?" you suggested as he nodded, purring just slightly louder.. As you smiled, leaning back against him as he wrapped his wings around your,

"So...Can I leave? I think I'm gonna pee my pants.."

"No."

Mammon

You sighed, groaning and putting aside your plate of some human world fruit Barbatos was so nice to bring to you, as you were stuck on the second floor of Mammon's room, above the car, but also in the high walled nest of his, for some reason.

He got too protective yesterday when you weren't there when he came home ince you were in the toilet and he went into a literal panic attack and the house had caught FIRE...somewhere, don't ask..

So you were stuck, cleaning the place up a bit, lights of his dimmed like Levi's usually was, but without the glowing tank..only soft golden fairy lights you'd convince him to put up for you to live in and not go insane.

The past few days Mammon had somehow put too much attention on everything and yet no attention at all, he got 6/100 in maths, which i weird cause he got the best marks in maths of-course with a test which said grimm everywhere.

And so, you thought you'd have time until you learnt the day his period came, so you were stuck in Mammon's room.

You had already stepped on a little snow glove, a shiny golden painted lego, screamed your lungs almost when stepping on a foil ball and even a necklace clasp which was a bit too shiny.

You sighed in relief, when Mammon did come home, his eyes glowing golden bright and pupils round and covering his irises as he lunged at you, jumping onto you and kissing your lips roughly.

"loveyouloveyouloveyou!—I got human a little shiny thing!" he said brightly, after pulling away and digging into his large pockets to pull out a tiny little D, possibly a low level one and an Envy one, so the poor thing was nervous and almost thee size of your palm

"Now ya won't be hu'gry" Mammon said proudly with a bright smile, showing off his fangs as you smiled awkwardly, taking the little D in your hands and setting him free when Mammon wasn't looking as he was ready to be showered in praise as you took a step back, stepping on a little jewel and wincing as you groaned

You seriously needed to clean this nest...

Until then, you held the jewel in your hand and decided to present it to Mammon, as you smiled to him, holding out your open palm with the jewel resting in it and you swear you saw angels singing for you in his eyes with his pupils becoming hearts and eyes almost tear up!

Mammon jumped onto you, his leathery wings fluttering behind him like little fly's wings in excitement as he peppered kisses, like all others. He got too open to show feelings during his period, as you gently pulled off a few wings you knew were itchy with the way they got stuck in the spikes on his wings and threw them off somewhere...

He let out a soft whistle, almost a squawk like noise from his throat. It was high pitched and yet gentle, like crows during a rainy night as he snuggled against you, looking at you as if asking "Did ya miss The Great Mammon while he away?" as his eyes looked at you expectantly as you smiled, gently tapping on his back and wings as they ruffled,

"I missed the Great Mammon SOOO MUCH while he away!" you said, hugging him tightly as he snuggled into you as if trying to bury himself into your skin.

Another thing was, Mammon refused to be in his normal form, walking around in his demon form, scaring the shit out of most, since he was mostly in demon form when angry and everyone assumed he was livid.

So his hands hastily worked on the buckles of his jacket in his demon form, for one. still snuggling his head under your jacket, though his hands clumsily worked, barely doing anything as he almost growled in annoyance and desperation.

Seeing your boyfriend, Mammon's fruitless efforts, you smiled and sighed, lifting your loose shirt you were wearing a bit, one of his, as he immediately wrapped his arms around you and while one hand ran through his hair while his hands held onto you under your shirt, the other worked to gently unbuckle the straps of his leather jacket.

Gently undoing it, it fell off as he snuggled into you, burying his face in your tummy while his hands held you tightly, feeling the skin-to-skin, as he gently as he growled and whistled gently as if telling you about his day as he rubbed his wrists or his neck gently on your wrists or neck, as if spreading his scent and presence to you.

While you gently preened Mammon's wings, pulling of wings which were growing weird and sticking to his wings to make it hard for him while fixing others which were growing correctly,

"Oh, how in Diavolo's name did you preen your wings before?" you asked, grinning softly while you gently fed him slices of the fruit while he fed you, though it was a bit sour for him while it was sweet to you.

The Great Mammon was just so happy to be with his human, purring like a little corvid rumbled in happiness at times. Like right before they cawed, it sounded like that, his eyes round and glowing, like a baby crow's...Oh how lovely!~

Leviathan

You sighed, feeling the humidity already stick to you as you entered Leviathan's room. Levi seemingly buried under piles of blankets and clothes in his bathtub which was spilling water, in-fact the entire floor was covered in water, his PC and everything wrekept on loft stands with water resistance spells, so those were safe..

But it did feel like Levi's aquarium had spilled overwater, as you walked past the watering some slippers, which did little since water touched your feet anyway, you gently whistled and called,

"Levi? Levi! You here?" you softly asked, digging into the tub, as your hands brushed similar scales of Levi's tail, before it slipped out of your hands far deeper than what the tub's actual depth was..

You figured he was down there, in the underwater caves which his tu was enchanted to lead him to as you pushed off the blankets a bit, turning off thee humidifier and applied a underwater breathing spell, just in-case.

As you called to him, as softly was possibly, as gently as possibly, having not seen him and only heard his hisses and hums and grunts, you'd gotten well to understand him non-verbally, but you hadn't seen him in a long while, sometimes asleep or sometimes not even in the tub.

"Levi?~ Sweetheart, come on up.." you gently called, when you saw the tub, inky navy blue show the glow of a gently snake-like swish in it, as you sighed in relief. Levi's tail..

"Sweetheart? Darling?..Come on up, I wanna see ya" you whispered gently, as Levi's head gently poked out, his hair was a bit disheveled and almost cut short. His eyes glowing gentle iridescent purple-orange with his scleras black, as he softly hissed.

His tongue softly came out, almost forked like a snake's as his horn also glowed gently, his scales on his neck, throat and cheeks glowed in the almost dimmed out lights of his room, no light on, the aquarium's dim glow enough to give him a headache at times.

"There you are, Levi.." you softly cooed as he let out a soft hiss, almost shifting back, as if saying "You're only pitying me by being here, aren't you?"

His skin was feverish, as if he'd not been intaking enough nutrients, which he probably was since Lucifer did tell you Levi'd be so insecure, he'd refuse to do basic things.

But you ignored his hiss and gently shifted closer, extending your hand and letting him snuggled his face against it very hesitantly, cupping his face and snuggling against it while you were placing a moist towel on his head to cool him down.

It was so nice to see your boyfriend was okay at-least, thank Diavolo..

His horns branched out, almost majestically large, like ones you'd expect from Levi as his title of "Devildom's Navy Commander" and he glowed, his fingers long and pointed with glowing webbed skin in between it, as he softly hissed, almost debating if to snuggle further or pull away because you HAD to be lying!

Why would ya like him? But you refuse to let go, so he chose the former option, gently humming and squeaking against your cheek, your skin wetting gently more the water on him, but never mind.

Levi gently hummed, pulling you close, his nails gently stroking your wrist as he pulled you into the tub, not caring if your clothes got wet, before he suddenly got shy due to his bold action that he dipped inside the tub to hide somewhere. Of-course Levi made sure you couldn't follow him, but you were nothing if not persistent.

Using spells and powers to track him down, you got underwater too. Thank god for that earlier underwater breathing spell, no? As you gently looked around, finding Levi hidden in some very deep cave, almost hard for you to breathe, as you poked your head up, the cave having the tiniest bit space to let you breathe which was above water.

Levi gently hissed, his eyes teary as he moved to show this glowing scales on his tail, his skin, his arms and his glowing horns, as you softly smiled, "There you are, pretty boy" you smiled as he hissed as if denying it, his black scleras somehow making his eyes stand out and cuter.

"Now now, lt's not self-hate. I promise on my head you're very cute" you said, as Levi hissed, his tail wrapping around your waist for warmth as you giggled from hos cold his tail and his hands were as he hissed, very gently with a smile.

You didn't mention to bother the slightly dulled-out scales, but he gently extended his hand to you with his little crystals, almost usual as he smiled, thanking him.

Levi put his hands gently on your hips, looking u at you from under the water's surface, while your face was just above, right under the crystalline, rocky caves of the ink waters, very softly purring as he smiled gently, gently scratching his shoulder.

Levi wasn't wearing a shirt, only his pants from his demon form, eeing as he scratched and tore the shirt off due to being so itchy, so you hoped he wouldn't do the same to you, because you had no scales to protect your nips like his.

You softly stroked his scales, very gently, hoping nothing was being too itchy, incase you lose a finger with how sharp his nails were currently, as you smiled,

"How pretty!~" you whispered, cooign to him as he let out a hiss to disagree, "I am not saying it out of pity..ut if you do think they're ugly..well" you paused, giggling as he poked his head to stare at your eyes above the water level,

"You're going to start eating protein and not Hana Ruri-chan ramen" you said as he almost gasped, letting out a hiss of disbelief as you grinned. Oh Levi..

© orelicia. I do not give permission to modify, translate, copy or repost ANY of my works. Reblogs are very much beloved!

[vivicas-dollhouse]

Colors

You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece

Genre: smut

Characters: bloody painter/helen otis, fem reader

Desc: Art school was always a dream, but the constant competition was suffocating. You always felt behind, especially when the guy painting in red in front of you was so perfect.. but getting to know him, you realized your just like him.. he is art. And you're his muse.

Cws: porn with plot, pnv sex, sex tape, mild degrading, blowjob, friends to lovers, nice helen bc my original idea was very different, idk its fairly vanilla

4.1k words, enjoy!

You were fascinated by him.

The man who sat at the front of your still life class, quietly painting whatever was in front of him with the skill of a seasoned artist, one whos paintings hung front and center in an exhibition. He used the same red hue to sketch, and when you had thought about it, it made sense. It was a unifying underpainting, it harmonized everything into a crimson tinged tone.

You had never dared approach him, he seemed so focused that you felt it would be rude to interrupt, but he drove you insane. His blue eyes seemed to cut into your heart, shattering the shell you had built up over the years of ridicule over your skill level. You didnt want to get close to him in case he did the exact same thing, you weren't worthy of his attention.

Yet, he noticed you.

It had started with a bump, a accidental nudge as you set up your station. You had apologized, as your paint stained his blue jacket but he simply dismissed it.

“Its ok, art is messy,” he had said, face deadpan except for a glint in his eye that sent a flutter through you. He had simply walked away afterwards, setting his station up and beginning. Yet, you found him glancing over his shoulder at you every once in a while, falling behind on his work in favor to meet your eyes. You had smiled back at him, watching for a smile from him, but his face had remained stoic.

After the class had concluded, you stood back and admired your piece, or what you had of it. Time had gotten away from you yet again, your smock stained with acrylic despite the lack of paint on the canvas. You furrowed your brow, sighing with defeat.

“Its not that bad you know,” a voice spoke from behind you. You jumped, turning quickly to see the man in the blue jacket.

“O-oh, you think?” You stammered, watching as he stepped towards the painting.

“No, it just has a few technique issues. You have the colors matched pretty well, its just the foreshortening giving it that uneven look.” He said, turning to meet your flustered face. “My names Helen by the way, its nice to meet you,”

“Hi, my names (Y/N), im glad you like it. I have seen your work too, its beautiful,” you smiled. His face remained still as you began to pack up your station. “I love that red underpainting you do,”

His face seemed to brighten as you said this, a shocked look in his eyes. “Oh, that? Its just an old habit. It makes it look more… human.” He trailed off.

“Well i think its smart. Do you want to go eat something with me? I think we are holding up the next class,” you giggled, watching for any hint of a smile. Nothing.

“Id like that, thank you. Theres this great coffee place close to the main campus, do you like scones?”

–

It was easy to see why he liked this coffee shop, it was quiet, just some ambient chatter with excellent pastries. You werent a fan of coffee, but the tea you had bought hit the spot.

You had spent at least two hours there, just talking and flipping through each others sketchbooks. It was interesting to see how his brain worked, the hundreds of life studies in that same red wash of what seemed to be thinned watercolor. He wasnt judgmental of your works, simply pointing out some things you could change and showing you techniques on how to fix it. He complimented your cartoons, something that most people didnt take seriously as an art form.

“No, really, it is good. I cant draw cartoons for the life of me, its its own skill set. I think its cool that you can have two distinct styles, it shows range.” He flattered, taking a sip of his mocha.

You smiled, rubbing the back of your neck. “Thank you, it doesn't really get taken seriously at this art school. Its what got me into art, i wish people understood like you do.”

He set his coffee down, closing his sketchbook. “I do have to go unfortunately, but we should do this again. It really was lovely, i dont have many friends and your nice to talk to. We should come back after next class, if you want to.” He said, standing and collecting his items.

“Id love to!! And im glad i can be considered your friend,” you beamed, packing up your pens and pencils.

He looked at you, a gentle smile playing at his lips. “Thank you for this, really. Be safe getting home.”

Your heart fluttered as you looked at his smile, something you didnt realize you needed until it was staring you in the face. Helen… was your friend.. at least enough to want to meet again.

That was enough for you to smile the whole way back to your dorm.

–

As the week flew by, you caught glimpses of him around campus. You had never noticed him around before, but now that you knew him, you saw him everywhere. He lingered in the shade, always drawing something in his sketchbook as people walked by. Walking from class to class became a wheres waldo game, just trying to locate him in the campus grounds. You were getting obsessive, and you knew this. It was hard not to be, he spoke with such an eloquence and was eager to teach you anything. You spent the time in the cafeteria daydreaming with a slice of pizza that you were back at the cafe with him.

Then the day came.

You sat at your easel, trying to focus on the subject and not on his presence. You wanted to impress him, show him that you had learned something from his tips. But every time you glanced over, you saw his painting getting more and more life-like and you were floored. Every time you looked at your own piece you felt discouraged. How do you get to his level?

The professors timer went off, signaling the end of the allotted painting session. You stepped back and looked at the figure you had drawn, removing your smock.

“Hey, it looks much better,” he said, walking up to see the work. “Your anatomy has improved, dont beat yourself up. I can tell you dont like it, but thats to be expected. I dont like my work either.”

You smiled, a warm flush running over your face. “Thank you, I appreciate it. Yours is better though.”

“Its impossible to compare art, since everyone has different definitions of what art even is. You saw that banana taped to the wall fiasco, didnt you?” He teased, just a hint of a grin showing through his face. You laughed, picking up your bag.

“I did, isnt that fucking awful? We paid thousands of dollars to go here and a banana beats us,” you playfully smiled, turning to walk out the class with him.

“I am more and more confused by rich people every day. I dont know if this is controversial, but i do not understand abstract art.”

–

“Cmon, you seriously have never had crème brûlée?” Helen asked, face deadpan like you had come to expect. It had been about a month and a half of weekly meet ups, and you had come to realize that he only smiled when he was ecstatic. He had smiled more and more every time you met, and he had taken the time to get to know you on a deeper level than friends. He had asked to take you out to dinner.

The text you had received from him said it was “upscale dining” and that he would treat you to whatever you wanted. Your heart had skipped a beat when you read it, a warm glow smattered across your face.

“No, i really haven't,” you grinned, taking a sip of your soda. You recoiled at the taste, a salty tinge having been added to the drink somehow. “Ew, did you put something in this?” You smacked your lips. The taste was like a warhead, an almost spicy sensation in the mouth.

“No, the waiter took your drink and i got you lime sparkling water.. i figured since you liked sprite it would be the same, im so sorry,” he smiled, watching you take another sip.

“Im trying to like it, but damn, that is NASTY,” you joked, setting the drink to the side.

“Do you want me to get you something else? I can call the waiter,” he offered, taking a sip of his own drink.

“Can i have some of yours?” You asked, a thinly veiled flirt.

You hadn't exactly been secretive about your feeling for helen, you knew he knew. He had been bringing you gifts, you had been paying for food and taking him around campus. There was a mutual fondness for each other that had lead to this first real “date” he had arranged.

“Its cherry sparkling water, id doubt youd like it anymore than that,” he sighed, watching you attempt to drink more. “You dont have to drink it you know,”

“Its a willpower thing now, i will finish this,” you asserted, watching him smile.

God, you loved that smile.

“Ok, your funeral,”

“What, you trying to kill me via carbonation?” You giggled, taking another sip and cringing.

He laughed, a rare noise from him that made your heart skip a beat. “No, i just think your cute is all. Stubbornly cute.”

You made a small noise of flustered laughter, your face going red as you buried it in your hands.

“You cant just SAY that,” you mumbled, voice muffled from your hands.

“Well its true, i cant lie to you, it would be mean,” he smirked as you uncovered your face.

Your eyes locked, a mutual smile across both your flushed faces. “Since when are you flirting with me?” You giggled, watching as his mind searched for an answer. You could see the gears turning, struggling to find an answer to your prodding. He wasnt the type to compliment, at least not in the past. He had said something here or there, but the statement played through your mind like a song.

“I dunno, maybe im losing it,” he looked away, an odd expression on his face. It was a mix of his usual blank look and something you couldnt name. Almost sad..

“Do you want to get some drinks? Or could we head back to my place?” He asked, wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

“Y… your place?” You blushed, your mind blinking like a green light in a storm, something so beautiful and simple, it just felt right.

“Yeah, only if you want to,” he shrugged.

“Yeah ill do drinks. Im a lightweight, but id love to go back to your place! Maybe we can watch a movie?” You grinned, a happy glow on your cheeks.

“Sure, i have some streaming services. Ill get the waiter, my treat.”

–

The headlights rolled by on the dark highway, the soothing sound of the radio with the cool air making you even more tired. You had gone quiet, even though it was only 10pm, you felt exhausted. You were probably just full and happy, but in the back of your mind something felt wrong. You werent sure what it was, maybe you were getting sick.

“Do you want the aux? I hate late night radio,” he said, exiting the highway.

“Oh, yeah sure. You might not like my music, its very 2010s,” you replied, reaching for the cord sticking out from the beat up cars radio.

“I dont mind, as long as its not gonna put me to sleep,” he mumbled.

You went to lift your arm, but it was heavy. It was a strain to move your fingers, the sway of the car making your body flop to the side. You sighed, making a small grumble of confusion.

“You ok?” Helen asked, turning onto a neighborhood street.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes with a great deal of effort. “Yeah, just really tipsy,”

You looked out the window, watching as the apartment complexes rolled by and entered into a couple houses. “You live in a house? You must be rich,” you teased, the car pulling into a small mobile home.

“Yeah, inheritance money. Its not much but it works.” He put the car in park, removing the key with a click. The inner car lights came on, with you struggling to see.

“Jesus that's bright,” you muttered, opening your car door. You stepped out, swaying and stumbling on the gravel driveway.

You felt a hand wrap around your waist, a warm tingle radiating from the touch. You looked up at him, slowly smiling as you let him lead you inside.

“This is nice,” you blushed, leaning into his body. His grip on you tightened, an almost possessive grasp on your body.

“It is isnt it?” He calmly opened the door, the cool ac feeling nice on your warm skin. You hadn't realized how hot you had been until you fully entered the house, the lights clicking on revealing a cozy little living room.

“Oh wow, you ARE rich,” you laughed, kicking off your shoes.

“Not really, most of this is second hand. Its not really cheap living near campus, so most of my money is used on rent.” He said, removing his shoes and signature blue coat.

You went to walk forward, but stumbled almost immediately. You squeaked as you fell, quickly being caught by helen.

“Are you sure your alright? You ARE a lightweight.” He pulled you into his arms, his blue eyes quickly sweeping over you. You rested your hands on his chest, his face quickly turning red.

“Maybe.. i think ill be ok though.. at least when im with you,” you sighed dreamily, eyes softening as he led you into his living room.

“Im glad you have so much faith in me,” he teased, sitting you on the couch. “Do you want a drink? I dont have soda but i can get you a water,”

You watched him walk into his kitchen, opening the fridge. “Waters good,” you slouched back into the couch, resting comfortably in the soft cushions. He handed you a water, sitting next to you.

“What do you want to watch?” He asked, clicking on the tv.

–

You stared blankly in his eyes, spit still connecting your lips. The tv played in the background, the sound of your gasping overshadowing whatever episode of house md was on. You were more focused on his hands running up your shirt and his lips reconnecting with yours. You whined into his lips, lost deep in his love. He pushed you down into the couch, his plush lips enveloping your senses. Your reasoning was lost, you drunk him in like the water in a desert, gently resting your arms on his shoulders. He moaned a bit, moving to be fully on top of you. His pressure on your hips was a gentle one, slowly rocking into you. Your lips parted for a moment, both gasping for air.

“Please,” you breathed, a love drunk smile spreading across your face.

“Please what lamb?” He whispered, brushing a hair out of your face. The pet name sent a shudders through your body, your legs spread just enough that he could wedge his leg between them.

“Please fuck me,” you moaned, head going blank as you watched his brain turning the gears.

“Cmon, say it again,” he whispered, lips meer centimeters from yours. You made a small whine of desperation, running your hands through his soft black hair. “Say it again for me,”

“Please fuck me,” you begged, louder this time. He kissed at your neck, trailing kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone. He sucked at the skin, gently leaving little hickeys all over you.

“Please please please, please just fuck me,” you whimpered, listening to him humming into your collarbone.

“Thats it, good girl (y/n),” he pulled away, seemingly satisfied with the number of marks he had left all over you. “Can i take off your shirt?”

You nodded needily, lifting your arms as he quickly pulled it off. He tossed it to the side, sliding off his own shirt while you removed your pants. You kicked them off, laying in just a black bra and panties. He quickly got on top of you again, bashing his lips into yours hungrily, your mouths opening to each other. You hazily bit at his lip, gentle gasps escaping both of you as his tongue poked at your bottom lip. You let him in, whining as he ran his hand up and down your torso, sliding up and around your neck. He didn't squeeze, he just held it there possessively, claiming it as his. You deepened the kiss, rolling your hips into his as he groaned into your lips.

You parted, huffing for air as you quickly removed your bra. You laid there as he stared at your bare chest, running his hand over your soaked panties as he pulled them to the side. The tent in his boxers was noticeable, a wet spot forming on them from his precum.

“Lay back, ill give you head, please let me,” you whimpered, watching him quickly comply. You quickly got between his legs, sliding his boxers down just enough for his dick to leak onto his stomach. You pressed kisses to the cloth over the rest of his shaft, listening to him groan and feeling his twitch through his boxers.

“Can i record you? I wanna watch this back over and over to see that cute face,” he whispered, reaching for his phone.

You stared at him, baffled. You had never even considered the idea of a sex tape, no one had ever thought that highly of you, even past boyfriends had never had THAT much interest. The idea may have been strange, but you couldn't help how horny it made you.

“Please, go ahead,” you smiled, watching as his face reflect the light of the screen.

“And.. go,”

You went back to kissing through his boxers, taking care to look up at the camera while doing so. Your face was on fire, the idea of being captured like this by a camera forever was one you didnt know you liked.

“Cmon (y/n), just be good for me,” he whispered, watching as you pulled the boxers the rest of the way down. You spat on his dick, looking up at him through your eyelashes. Wrapping your hands around the base, you took the length in your mouth eagerly. He groaned, resting his hand in your hair. You sucked at him with hollow cheeks, lips and cheeks wet.

“Thats it, your doing so good,” he praised, holding your chin up while his dick popped out of your mouth. You ran your tongue up it, licking over the back while working your hand up and down the base. “Smile,”

You looked into the camera and smiled, the spit and precum rolling down your chin as you went back down on him. You slowly wrapped your tongue around him, gliding up and down his cock while he mumbled swears.

“You look so hot like that, all whored out for me. Look at the camera for me. Im gonna paint this, it's worth more that way,”

You whined, but obliged anyway. Your spit leaked out your mouth as he looked at you through the screen.

“Stupid slut,” he said, gently forcing your head down. You gagged as he kept his dick down your throat, grasping at his legs. “Hold on, just calm down for me..” he whispered, rolling his hips into your mouth as you sputtered. He let up on your head, pulling you off of him with a pop as you coughed.

“Cmon, take off your panties for me,” he demanded, a cold look on his face as you did so.

“Your not actually gonna paint this are you?” You whimpered, throwing your panties off the edge of the couch.

“Spread,” he calmly commanded, pushing your legs apart. You obeyed, watching as he zoomed in on your dripping pussy. “Look at that, such a whore,”

You watched him gently run a finger over your clit, such a small sensation that left your thighs twitching. He pulled you into him, aligning himself with you, slowly pushing his way inside. Your head rolled back as you whined, slowly being filled up by his cock.

“Look at that, thats gonna be a masterpiece,” he growled, moving into you as slowly as he could, gently rocking back and forth into you. He put the camera into your face, gently pulling you into him by your hips. “Look at her, shes totally cock drunk,”

“Please, more,” you whined needily, rocking into him trying to get any relief.

“Shhh, art takes time, and your gonna be patient, arent you?” He looked into your eyes, his gaze going over the screen and directly at you. You nodded quickly, and he smiled. “Good girl,”

You whined as he slowly rocked into you, slowly moving his free hand to your clit. He grazed over it, earning a pathetic mewl from your lips as you tried to buck into the touch.

“No, be patient. Your doing this on my speed. Understand?”

You whined sadly but nodded. His gazed softened a bit, making a sad noise. “Your so needy aren't you lamb?” He purred, speeding up ever so slightly.

“So needy,” you sighed, gasping as he pointed the camera down at your pussy and ran a finger over your throbbing clit. “Fuck-”

“Dumb slut, im not even doing anything and your melting,” he bit, slowly applying pressure in gentle circles. He quickly wet his fingers and reapplied them, losing a bit of resolve. He began to thrust into you at a quicker pace, turning the camera back to your desperate face. “Thatll be great in a gallery,”

“Fuck, please,” you babbled, drool leaking out of the corner of your mouth.

“Cmon, thats it, just make those dumb little noises for me, stupid slut,” he groaned, quickly rutting into you. You made strangled cries, the new stimulation melting you down into a noisy mess. The camera stayed on your cock drunk face, your cries all being captured on film.

“Fuck, faster, please fuck-”

“Look at her tits, she looks pathetic.. look at the camera,” he growled, with your head quickly snapping to the camera. “Say your a whore,”

You whined, choking on your own spit. “Im a fucking whore,” you gasped, back arched as your body gave into him.

“Smile and say it again,” he moaned, keeping his eyes on the screen so he could properly get your face.

You grinned, a dopey smile across your flushed face. “Im a stupid fucking whore,” you moaned, voice becoming ragged as you uncontrollably moaned. He pushed into you quickly now, a hand holding you down by your waist.

“Whos whore?” He gasped, quickly losing control as the slapping of your wet skin got sloppier and sloppier.

“Im your- fuck- your fucking stupid whore- fuck-” you gasped, head rolling back as he panned the camera back to your pussy.

“Tell me when your close,” he huffed, digging his nails into your skin as he panted.

“Y-yes sir,” you whined, a gurgling noise rising in your throat as your moans got louder.

“Sir huh? You are so fucking cute, the neighbors are all gonna hear what a dumb whore you are. My dumb whore, my stupid- fucking- whore- shit,” he rolled his head back as you felt him tear through you, wrecking your insides.

“G-gonna cum s-sir,” you whimpered, thighs shaking as he turned the camera back to your face.

“Look in the camera and say it,” he hissed through his teeth, quickly losing control. Your body tensed, the intense pleasure rolling through you in waves

“Im fucking cumming- im fucking- ah-” you moaned, a high pitched whine escaping your throat as he pulled out and came on your stomach. You both shook, gasping for air as the hazey room fell silent. The only sound was the quiet tv in the background and your breathing.

“Shit…” helen gasped, turning the phone camera off.

“That was so good.. fuck..” you huffed, eyes half lidded and empty.

“Let me get you a towel,” he whispered, reaching for the tissues on the side table. He passed you one, wiping the cum off his dick while you wiped his off your stomach.

“God… i need this to be a permanent thing…” you smiled, watching him look at you.

“Is that you asking me out?” He asked, a shocked look on his face, one that was out of place for him.

“Yeah, i guess it is,” you smiled gently, sitting up.

“Id love to be your boyfriend,”

--

Fic title

[gigiii1sblog]

DORM-ROOM DEVIL 014

Warnings: mature content, fluff, sexual content, teasing, dirty talk, unprotected sexual content.

Chapter Fourteen: Whats Left Of Us.

Y/N POV: A couple days later

I hadn’t planned on coming back.

The idea of walking into that dorm, into that scent that clung to his hoodie, the silence between the walls, the memories echoing in my mattress, made me sick. Literally.

But I had to come back. I didn’t want my mom asking questions, and I couldn’t keep hiding in my childhood bedroom pretending everything was fine while secretly staring at two pink lines taped behind my mirror.

So I came back. Quietly. Slipped through the hallway like a ghost, key trembling in my hand, hoping, praying, he wasn’t there.

The second I opened the door, though, I knew he was.

The air was thick. That familiar blend of weed and whatever cologne he always overused. The room was dim, music buzzing low from his speaker, some moody, lazy rap beat. And there he was.

Chris.

Laid out on the couch, hoodie halfway off, eyes red and glassy, an unlit blunt tucked behind his ear like a cigarette. He didn’t even look up at first.

I shut the door quietly, dropped my bag at the edge of the counter, and moved past him like he was furniture.

But he always noticed me, even when he was high.

“You came back,” he muttered, voice hoarse like smoke and regret.

I didn’t say anything. Just kept my eyes on the fridge as I opened it and stared at nothing but Pepsi’s.

He sat up slowly. “Y/N… Can we—can we not do the cold shoulder thing? Please?”

I blinked hard, forcing my jaw to stay locked, the pressure building behind my eyes like a storm.

“You don’t get to ask me for anything right now,” I said flatly, keeping my back turned.

He let out a sharp breath. “You said I’d never lose you.”

“Well maybe you should stop testing that theory.”

That shut him up.

A beat of silence fell, heavy and suffocating.

I finally turned around, arms crossed tight, heart pounding. His face was pale. Not in the way it was after a workout or a long night, but in that way where someone looks like they’re slowly rotting from the inside. He was thinner, more tired. The rings under his eyes were darker.

“You look like shit,” I whispered. “Have you even eaten?”

He smiled, and it cracked me. That same crooked, boyish grin I’d fallen in love with. Only now it looked hollow.

“Didn’t really feel like it without you.”

God.

I turned away again, biting the inside of my cheek. The silence in the room hurt more than screaming.

“Y/N,” he said after a long pause. “Talk to me. Please.”

“Why? So you can gaslight me again? Pretend I’m crazy for feeling too much while you act like your world never changed?”

His voice cracked this time. “My world did change. When you left.. it fuck, it stopped.”

I pressed my hands to the counter, body trembling.

“I didn’t leave, Chris. I ran. There’s a difference.”

He got up, slowly, cautiously, like I was some fragile thing that might shatter at any moment. And he wasn’t wrong.

“I’m sorry.” he asked quietly. “I-It was the biggest mistake I’ve ever done.”

I turned around, finally meeting his blue eyes.

And for the first time, I let him see it. The terror. The ache. The truth.

My lips parted. My voice came out like a breath.

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

Just pure, soul-numbing silence.

His mouth opened, but no words came. His eyes flickered from mine to my stomach, then back again.

I laughed bitterly, a tear slipping down my cheek. “Yeah. Shocking, right? Except maybe not so shocking, considering we were playing house without rules.”

He took a slow step forward. “Y/N… Are you sure?”

I nodded, breath hitching. “Three tests. And a missed period. And the vomiting. And my mom practically begged me to take the test after I fainted in the kitchen.”

He looked like the world was tilting under him. Like everything was shifting too fast.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know if you’d care.”

That broke him.

“Don’t say that,” he breathed, stepping forward, but I flinched back.

“I didn’t want to tell you and watch you shut down. I didn’t want you to look at me like I ruined your life. I’ve been trying to figure it out alone because… because this, whatever this is between us, it’s never felt safe enough to hold something that big.”

His eyes welled up. I don’t think I’d ever seen him cry before.

“I know I’ve hurt you,” he whispered. “God, I know that. I’ve been a fucking mess without you. Every night, I think about the things I should’ve said. The things I never gave you. And now… this.”

I sank to the floor, back against the cabinets, knees pulled to my chest. The tears came faster now, hot and bitter.

He sat beside me, silent, shoulder barely brushing mine.

“I’m scared,” I choked. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t even know if I want this.”

He didn’t say anything for a minute. Just let the silence stretch between us. Then:

“We’ll figure it out.”

I looked at him. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

“I do. I mean it. I don’t care if we’re broken, or if I’ve screwed up more than I can fix. I’m not letting you do this alone.”

His voice was low. Steady. But terrified.

“You’ll hate me eventually,” I whispered. “When it gets hard.”

“No,” he said softly. “I’ll hate myself if I walk away.”

He reached out, slowly, hand brushing over mine, trembling.

“You’re it for me, Y/N. Always have been. Even when I was too stupid to act like it.”

I let my head fall against his shoulder, tears soaking his sleeve.

We sat there like that.

Two broken kids on a kitchen floor, clinging to what little was left of us, of hope.

And for the first time in weeks, I let myself believe we might survive this.

CHRIS POV:

She said the words and everything stopped.

“I’m pregnant.”

Three syllables, soft and breaking, but loud enough to shatter everything I thought I knew.

I should’ve said something immediately. Anything. But my brain just… froze. All I could think about was her voice trembling, her knees buckling as she lowered to the floor, and the way she couldn’t look me in the eyes.

She’d been carrying this alone.

And I didn’t even know.

What kind of person am I, what kind of man, that the girl I’m in love with was sitting in her childhood home taking pregnancy tests, while I was here getting high and pretending I didn’t miss her?

The guilt hit like a truck.

The silence after her confession was louder than any fight we’d ever had. It felt like standing still in the middle of a burning building, choking on everything I couldn’t say fast enough.

“We’ll figure it out.”

I said it because I meant it. I said it because she needed to hear it. But I was lying, too.

I didn’t know how we’d figure it out. I didn’t know anything, actually. My hands were shaking. My chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vice.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about the first time I realized I loved her.

⸻

FLASHBACK:

It was late. We’d snuck out and gone to the beach, just us, a stolen pizza, and a Bluetooth speaker she barely knew how to work.

She had sauce on her cheek. Her hoodie was falling off one shoulder. She was laughing so hard she snorted when I told her the dumbest joke. Her whole face lit up like the moon had competition.

And I remember thinking:

“God. I’m gonna ruin this.”

Not because I wanted to. But because that’s what I did.

I burned things I loved. I didn’t know how not to.

But I also remember the way she looked at me, like she didn’t care that I was messy, or loud, or unpredictable. She saw through it. She stayed anyway.

And then one night, she said it.

“I love you, Chris.”

Like it wasn’t hard. Like it didn’t terrify her.

But I couldn’t say it back. Not because I didn’t feel it, but because it terrified me. Because loving her meant becoming someone I wasn’t sure I could be.

⸻

Now here she was.

Not just knowing she loved me, but trusting me with something that could change her entire life. Our lives.

And I’d almost ruined that, too.

Watching her cry on the kitchen floor was the worst moment of my life. Not because she was broken, but because I didn’t know how to fix it.

I’d never seen her look that scared before. And I’d seen Y/N in every mood, angry, reckless, stubborn, sassy, soft. But this? This wasn’t a version of her I never wanted to see again.

She kept whispering she didn’t know what to do.

And I kept thinking I didn’t deserve to be the one holding her through it.

But she let me.

She let me wrap my arms around her. She let me kiss the side of her head. She let me promise things I’m still not sure I know how to deliver.

But I will.

Because even if I’m a hurricane, she’s not just a house with open windows anymore.

She’s the girl I’ll rebuild myself for.

She’s the girl who made my chaos quiet.

And now she’s carrying something I helped create. Something terrifying and real and unfinished.

And I’ll be damned if she ever has to feel alone again because to me she looked like salvation.

And I—

I only ever knew how to sin.

I warned her.

Told her not to love a boy who kisses like he’s starving.

Told her I’d ruin her.

And she smiled like she didn’t care.

But I did.

God, I did.

And still—I let go.

Not all at once.

Not with some big final fight or a door slamming behind me.

But slowly.

With every careless word.

With that kiss I gave someone else when I was drunk and lost and looking for anything to distract me from the way I couldn’t breathe without her.

It was one kiss.

One second.

One massive fucking mistake.

And I thought that was the worst thing I’d ever do to her.

Until the hallway light hit her face,

her hands trembling as she walked in.

I questioned her once,

twice,

and she looked up at me like she was drowning and whispered—

“I’m pregnant.”

Everything went still.

The walls didn’t move.

The air didn’t shift.

But inside me, something shattered.

Not because I didn’t want it.

Not because I didn’t want her.

But because suddenly I was standing at a crossroads I never thought I’d be at 20.

And in every direction I saw her face.

I saw the way she talked about her dad.

The silence in her voice when his name came up.

The hollow ache in her laugh when she said he was never there.

And suddenly it wasn’t about me anymore.

It was about not becoming him.

I couldn’t be the guy who left.

I couldn’t be the reason another kid grew up with questions instead of answers, tears instead of hugs.

But I didn’t know how to say that.

Didn’t know how to make her believe it wasn’t just about guilt.

That I wanted this, wanted her, even if I was scared as hell.

I remember I just sat there,

quiet after begging,

while she packed her bag and told me she was leaving.

I let her leave.

Again.

And she doesn’t know this—

but I sat on that dorm floor after she slammed the door,

head between my knees,

praying to a God, I stopped talking to years ago

that she wouldn’t shut me out forever.

I love her.

I love her in the kind of way that makes your chest hurt.

The kind of way that doesn’t go away even after you’ve broken every part of her.

Even after she says she hates you.

But I can’t take it back.

The kiss.

The silence.

The fear.

I can’t rewrite the way she looked at me that night in the dorm hallway.

Tears in her eyes, throwing things.

That wild, hurt look on her face like I’d just set her whole world on fire.

But I can try to be better.

Not just for her.

Not just for me.

But for the little life growing inside her that didn’t ask for any of this.

Because this time,

I can’t be the boy who walks away.

Not when I know what leaving costs.

Not when I’ve seen what that did to her.

And if she gives me the chance—

even just one—

I’ll spend the rest of my life unlearning every part of me that hurt her.

Because I love her.

Because I choose her.

Because I refuse to become her father.

@izzylovesmatt @riggysworld @amiraisafreakokaysorry @ansteeze @pair-of-pantaloons @kitty-meow-meow44@emeraldsturns @sturnslux3 @kalel2005 @sarahsturnn @teheabrams @needchrissturniolobad @julessspoetry @sturniszn @slutforchrissturniolo2@alinagrace11 @beardedbernard @matthewswifeyy @blindedheartp

[on-the-clear-blue]

An idea I had about the Bat fam and what kind of music they would listen to

Alfred: prefers silence but on nights where he needs something in the background, surprisingly, Alfred is a fan of country music, preferint older artists but he is favorable to some newer stuff as long as it isn't stadium country.

Bruce: Old punk and metal, like the kind he heard at a punk bar he got in with shitty ids, in the late 80s high on acid with Harvey, this man thinks Nirvana was great but thought they didn't go hard enough.

Dick: as a child? Show tunes, if Disney put it out this man was humming it while kicking goons asses, later on in life? Dick has blossomed into musicals, but like, the kind your not thinking of, Dick belts out songs from Cats all the way to "Veronica open the please! Veronica open the door!" While banging on Tim bedroom door.

Barbara: Is a major fan of Lo-Fi, loves it since it is music but the lyrics don't distract her from doing her work, will play it in the library when it's slow

Jason: he grew up on the streets and that doesn't get a lot of options to listen to music...except in stores where they play the days top 100, he gets Vietnam flash back during Christmas time and he hears Mariah Carey, after his death and resurrection, he found rap and fell in love, loves all the lyricism and word play, has played Not Like Us on repeat for the last week even after the beef was done.

Cass: hard core death metal...and classical music. She does ballet dances to both. Nuf said.

Tim: as a child he was the kid who ripped fanaf songs off YouTube and played them as his ring tone, he still has those songs in rotation but has added folk punk and really obscure bands he finds with like 3 listeners...also is a fan of yacht core music...

Steph: Taylor Swift Girly, shares Dicks love of showtunes, huge BTS stan (while dating Tim she repeatedly "left" Tim for Jimin when ever they argued...Tim still has beef with him to this day)

Duke: Oldies, I can see him going through his parents old vinyls and tapes after they got jokerized to feel close to them and now he learnt all of Elvis's discography.

Damian; Anime songs. Cried the first time his listend to Blue Bird, listens to J-rock when he is painting, and even though he will try and hide it, he has a secret love for Bollywood music as well, probably was introduced to it while doing an early assassination with the League and kept with it as he left.

(Plus a few that I could think of)

Kate: she strictly listens to Alpha male work out music Playlists, heavy on the dubstep, can and will bench press your body weight to show you that no Chad SHE is the alpha here. (As well as Girl and red and Rio Romeo)

Bernard: listens to fan made game songs, meme songs (has all of the polish cow dance song memorized) chronically online taste, also has worked in kitchens so has a deep knowledge of rap and rock.

Roy: Dad music, loves a good jam sesh rocking out to KISS but because of Lian he now is immune to Baby shark being used as torture.

Jon: is a literal child. He is 12 and thinks that skibidi toliet is the best thing that has graced this world, he will tell Lex Luthor that he has Ohio Rizz, then do the griddy in the air and fly away.

[ckret2]

(I said earlier I had a fic excerpt about DEATH LAWYER AXOLOTL, here it is.)

The god hopefully turned to the time giant—

She shook her head, expression flat. "Nope. I'm a civil engineer, not a hostage negotiator."

—and then turned to the Axolotl. "You. You know how to talk to mortals like this triangle that's taken over Dimension Zero, don't you? Isn't he like the omnicidal monsters you represent every day?"

The Axolotl looked nervously at the wormhole into Dimension Zero. He could see blue fire and hear wails of pain on the other side. "Ah," he said.

####

Biologically there was really no such thing as a god, in the same way that botanically there is really no such thing as a vegetable. Tomatoes are fruits; spinach is a leaf; carrots are roots; broccoli is an unfinished flower. The word "vegetable" just indicates the cultural role a plant performs in the kitchen.

The word "god" indicated the cultural role an entity performed in cosmology: a god was anything that exerted enough power that mortals felt driven to worship it.

Different beings so honored with the title "god" handled it in different ways. For the Axolotl's part, he thought it was a useful designation to help with networking, but mostly it was a pain that meant he was put up on a pedestal for doing his job.

The Axolotl was a god of justice. Not the god of justice, but one. He held dominion over an abstract concept; over millions and billions of years, his words and decisions slowly, inexorably altered the idea of "justice" on a multiversal scale. Mercy, retribution, punishment, rehabilitation, equity, equality, fairness, and righteousness were like multicolored clays he could twist, squish, sculpt, and blend at his leisure, permanently altering what those ideas meant to the mortals they affected.

Which was to say: he was a lawyer.

He was also known as a god of rebirth. Which was to say: he specialized in afterlife law. Before going into law he'd only been a psychopomp, but after having to escort too many despairing souls to afterlives he felt were too severe for their sins, he'd decided he wanted a say in where he took his souls. Now he helped clients get their charges reduced so they were eligible for a higher-tier reincarnation, or got their purgatorial sentences reduced, or—on rare occasions—even helped them avoid damnation. (Although he didn't take many damnation cases. He didn't always win—and those ones were too depressing to lose.)

And lately, he'd been developing a reputation.

For the past few centuries, he'd been working on a damnation case. He was defending a supervillain who'd built a weapon that could slice open the fabric of spacetime—a crime against reality—and bisect planets in its wake. He'd died inside the jurisdiction of an afterlife that had legalized eternal damnation. Case law had long since established that the dead had to be sent either to the afterlife system of their native jurisdiction or an alternate afterlife system of their choice in order to be judged, provided that the proper afterlife accepted their transfer request.

But if this villain had been extradited to his home world, the heaviest sentence he could have faced was a thousand years purgatory, with an option for early reincarnation for good behavior after a hundred years. So the jurisdiction he'd died in had summoned up some bureaucratic red tape to dismiss his native afterlife's extradition request, and he'd been sentenced where he'd died. They'd wanted to establish via case law that the dead who had committed crimes against reality could be damned in whichever jurisdiction they happened to die in, and hoped they could get away with it just for lack of anyone protesting the move. After all, everyone involved much preferred that a mortal wicked enough to obliterate multiple populated planets and trillions of lives receive eternal punishment.

Everyone involved except the Axolotl. 

Taking this case hadn't made him many friends. He didn't care; he had his principles. Let an interplanetary supervillain be dragged away to a foreign afterlife just so that he can be forced into damnation, and next it'll be a planetary dictator; let a dictator be dragged away, and next it'll be a murderer; and next it'll be a burglar; and next it'll be a jaywalker that a psychopomp has a personal grudge against. If the Axolotl could establish that even the most undeserving mortal imaginable, a criminal against reality, still deserved the right to be sentenced in the afterlife of his choice, then he could establish that everyone less evil deserved the same right.

If he had anything to say about it, in two or three trillion years he'd see eternal punishment outlawed completely; but untilthen, he was not going to sit idly by and let this flagrant abuse of interdimensional law become the new meaning of justice! He would get that supervillain out of eternal damnation, personally escort him to his native afterlife, and see him reincarnated on his own home world—and mark his words, he would rain so much bureaucratic hell on the judges and psychopomps that had let this abuse of justice take place that no god would dare keep a soul from its rightful afterlife ever again, or he wasn't the Axolotl!

All of which was to say:

Yes, unfortunately. This triangle was like the omnicidal monsters he represented every day.

And so he was appointed hostage negotiator.

####

(And that's why a trillion years later he's the guy helping Bill submit an insanity plea so that he can go to Theraprism rather than get the permadeath penalty.)