#i just want to evaporate out of here somehow

[hvertz]

.

[st4rrth0ughts]

Fingering Aventurine till he cant take it anymore. ♣️🎲

tw/cw: fingering, begging, dacryphillia, rough sex, against the wall, semi public-public (office, unlocked and door half open), missionary, creampie, petnames (angel, darling, sweetheart), belly bulge, cervix fucking, mind break A/n: hi im back

He was being a brat all day, ignoring you because you had paperwork to do, refusing to give you your daily kiss, and spending all night at the casino, gambling. If only he knew how pent up you'd been all day… he wouldn't be in this position, trapped on your lap. But naughty boys deserve punishment, don't they?

The way Aventurine keeps bucking his hips onto your two fingers shoved deep into his pussy, whimpering and moaning softly as slick dribbled down his bare thighs, your gloved hand running smoothly over his chest, all while his hands are gripping your collar in a death grip. Behind the desk, it merely looked like Aventurine and his lovely bodyguard were just in another stupid intimate position, which may IPC members often find the two in. Despite the many warnings and yelling you two received from Diamond and the occasionally Topaz with Numby's aggressive squeaking, it didn't stop the two of your from fucking right here in the dead of night.

A small cry escapes him as he cums on your girthy fingers for the 3rd, 4th time that night? He's lost count, but its not enough. "hnn…darling, nh, p-please, i want your cock, pleease!" The gambler's hips were bouncing on your fingers incessantly, his beautiful purple eyes hazy with lust and need as a bit of drool slipped past his lips. You've punished him enough, if you left him like this, he'll be sure to hiss and complain until you give in. Pulling off your pants which Aventurine had already undone, somehow, and pushing him up against the wall, a satisfied grin on the gambler's face arises.

It quickly dissipates as he's screaming into your shoulder as your length plows into his slick pussy, no matter how many times you two had sex, rough or gentle, Aventurine was very sure he'd never fully get used to your length. Your cock hitting that sweets spongy spot deep inside him, the way your finger reaches down to assault his clit, pinching and rolling it between your finger in tandem with your movements, the only thing he's able to do is moan and drool as his eyes roll back, cumming around your cock as it hits his cervix.

He doesn't know when, but suddenly, the two of you were on the couch in his office, fully visible if anyone walked past the half open office door. His back was pressed against the couch, and he almost faints when he sees the bulge in his belly, crying out as your cock pounds against his cervix, wrapping his legs tightly around your waist, his breathe coming out in heavy puffs and tears spilling down his reddened cheeks, his hands weakly grasping at the cushion behind his head.

When your hips jerk and he feels warmth spilling into his body, filling his cunt full of your seed, his mind goes blank as his thoughts evaporate into nothing, his pupils hazy as the gambler's body twitched weakly. You pull away as his legs falls back onto the couch, cum spilling out of his puffy cunt into a small pool, his legs jerking slightly as he squirts. A soft wail emerges from the blonde's throat as you ick him up, sitting behind him as his back is pressed to your chest, legs forced open as he feels you thrust your still hard cock into his leaking pussy.

Aventurine almost instantly squirts again, a loud shriek escaping him as you fuck your cum right back into him, the thrill of anyone walking by, deciding to be nosy, and just stumbling upon the senior manager being fucked like a cute whore was too much for him to handle as his mind blanks out, creaming around your cock as his body goes limp, his bright diamond pupils melting into pretty hearts as his legs spasm. Cooing softly as you release in him, pulling out as it spills from the gambler's folds and onto the floor, humming as you shut the door from where the two of you are seated, locking it. He looks pretty when he's fucked dumb like this, maybe you should do it more often.

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Strawberry Fields Forever

Blurb: You go on a picnic date with some friends, not expecting to rile Eddie up.

Pairing: Perv!Eddie Munson x Friendly!Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ This is basically smut with a tiny bit of plot, cursing/swearing, some light mentions of alcohol, corruption kink, praising, exhibitionism, oral (f & m receiving), oral fixation, choking, fingering, teasing.

-

The sun flushed the earth with an unwavering heatwave and everyone in Hawkins was struggling to keep cool during this scorcher of a summer. There was no hiding from it. The humidity even penetrated the shade- no where was safe.

Naturally you seek out the forest, travelling along a trail with Steve, Nancy, Robin, Eddie and some of the younger bunch who had begged to come alone. They wanted to go swimming in Lover’s Lake and you wanted to have a picnic next to the water.

“Fuck me,” Eddie groans, dragging his feet behind you, “Can’t we just stay in here? It must be hotter than Hell out there.” In a huff, Eddie shrugs off his denim jacket, exposing his tatted arms as he slings the coat over his shoulder. He wore a black t-shirt, of all colours he chose black, no wonder he was melting into a puddle.

Steve wipes at his sweaty forehead with his forearm, his long mousy brown hair sticking to his sun kissed skin, “Eddie has a point, I’m sweating my balls off here.” Nancy snorts a laugh, her fingers interlocked around Steve’s bicep.

Robin marches in front of you, on a mission to try and keep up with the others children whom had snuck off into the distance, squealing and revelling in the great outdoors. Robin evidently being fearful that they were going to run off or worse- disappear.

“C’mon guys, it’s not so bad! Maybe you should have worn more appropriate clothes,” Your dig is aimed at Eddie and he rolls his eyes, panting in response. He is clearly hating how his hair seems to be gluing itself to his neck.

“I’ll take my shirt off if you pay me,” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, his lips baring a wolfish grin, “This ain’t a free show, sweetheart.” He fans at his face, his flirtatious attempt quickly evaporating with his rising body temperature.

You take a hair tie from your wrist, handing it to Eddie, “You’ll be a lot cooler if you tie up that nest of yours.”

He gapes at you, offended, “Wow…” he drags out the word, “And here I was thinking that we were finally getting along.” You giggle at him before continuing your pursuit further, trying to catch up with the two love birds who had somehow overtaken you.

“It’s not long now, only a little further.” You call back to Eddie who is slugging behind you. Usually Eddie loved being outdoors, but in this heat? He would rather be dead.

The only thing keeping Eddie alive at the moment was the view he had of you from behind. Your ass is clad in the cutest pair of light denim shorts he had ever seen, hugging your thighs and body perfectly. You wore a red checkered blouse on top that slipped effortlessly from your shoulders, exposing the mounds of your breasts to him every so often. He was already fighting for his life against an erection.

So when the pale yellow and pink picnic blanket was set down onto the unnervingly fried grass and Eddie watched you unload the weaved basket he couldn’t help but notice when your eyes light up at the sight of a massive bowl of strawberries.

“My favourite!” You squeal happily, flashing the bowl to Eddie he chuckles heartily, his legs crossing over one another as he lays back, propped up on one elbow.

“Strawbs are good, I guess.” His shoulders shrug.

“You guess? They are the superior fruit, Ed’s!” This was a debate you were willing to fight until your dying breath. You would die on this hill.

Eddie plucks one from the bowl, examining the red fruit before he pushes the whole thing into his mouth, taking a moment to chew before swallowing.

“Y’know, I’ve always thought strawberries were much better with a little bit of cream…” Eddie’s tongue dances out onto his lips, licking them clean of any juices that may have escaped.

He doesn’t mean for it to sound so dirty, but when you don’t register it that way Eddie sees this as an opportunity; to make this into a fun little game where he is a perverted fuck and you are absolutely oblivious to it all.

“Hmm,” you hum in response, not batting an eyelash to Eddie’s cream comment as you push a strawberry between your lips, biting on the pointed end of it softly- savouring the flavour.

Glancing around you see nearby on the blanket Steve has his tongue wedged down Nancy’s throat. She’s nearly choking on it as they sloppily dish out kisses. Talk about no shame..

Robin is on life guard duty- or so she says. In reality, she just wants to do cannonballs into the water with the kids, splashing them and fighting with them. Jokingly pushing Dustin’s head beneath the water whilst Mike tries to do the same to Will.

Dustin emerges, crying attempted murder and you laugh hysterically, shaking your head proudly at their free spirits.

“Are you thinking of going in the water?” You flick your attention back to Eddie and he can’t help himself from staring as you wrap your lips coyly around a massive strawberry. Your eyes peeking innocently up at him has his cock threatening to burst in his jeans and the thought of the strawberry being replaced by his thick manhood leaves him feeling dizzy.

“Possibly,” he gulps, his crossed legs becoming more tightly acquainted, “You?” He cracks open a can of beer, taking a light swing to cleanse his drying throat.

You nod, looking between the lake and Eddie, “I might- it looks like they are having so much fun.” You sigh, feeling the most relaxed you have a in a while. It’s not as hot anymore now that you have sat down.

“You should.”

‘Please!’ Eddie thinks to himself. He doesn’t know why, but you have him totally bewitched. His hungry gaze never leaving your mouth as dark pink juice stains your lips. You slurp to try and prevent it from spilling all over you, the pad of your thumb swiping quickly at the leaky corners of your mouth.

Eddie thinks he might combust into flames right there and then, biting his tongue harshly to try and keep a groan lodged in his throat- can he taste blood?

“Do I have something on my face Ed’s?” You ask after feeling his eyes on you for a prolonged period of time, your fingers tips tracing your cheeks gently.

Eddie shakes his head, “No, love. Not a single drop touched your chin.” His voice is low, nearly a growl as it leaves his mouth.

From his side Eddie can sense Steve’s amused smirk on him. You might have been unknowing to Eddie’s game, but Steve knew exactly what the ‘freak’ was up to. It relieved him to see Eddie finally trying to shoot his shot with you- it had only taken him a year and a half.

“You would tell me, right?” You giggle, scooting closer to his lanky frame, “Promise?”

“Promise.” He tucks a rogue strand of your hair behind your ear and heat unrelated to the sun prickles at your cheeks, causing you to advert your gaze.

Eddie almost coos aloud at how adorable you are. He can guess that you’ll taste even more sugary than the fruit you’re sucking on, “Can I…” He picks up another strawberry, bringing it to your mouth. You hold eye contact with him as he swirls the tip of the fruit across the plumpness of your lips, allowing the lowest groan to emit from his throat.

“Open wider,” His demand comes out as a bark and you slacken your jaw, your mouth gaping open wider for him to slot the strawberry inside. Eddie’s own jaw laid slack, his soft eyes on you unabashedly, “Does it taste good, princess?”

You nod, your tongue slick with juice from the strawberry. It wasn’t foreign for Eddie to call you sweet pet names, but something inside of you stirs at his voice. Sure you thought Eddie was attractive, often times you’d fantasies over him… but it hadn’t ever gotten this intense in real life.

You’d take every compliment from him with a grain of salt, but with the way his darkened eyes are staring at you now, it leads you to believe that something may be upon the horizon.

gif by @kwistowee

“What’d you say?” Eddie’s eyebrows knit together, his eyelids narrowing at you distastefully.

“Uhm…” it takes a moment for the gears inside of your head to turn, “Thank you?” It is more of a question rather than a response, luckily Eddie seems satisfied nonetheless.

“Exactly,” He grins at you dirtily, “Don’t go forgetting your manners now, babe. I know you’re a good girl.”

An inaudible sound leaves your windpipe as you try to contain the feverish blush that has claimed your face as its own. Your heart is quick inside of your chest and you can’t ignore the fluttering of your stomach and the pulse between your thighs. No one had ever made you feel like this before. No one was crazy enough to speak this filthy to you in person. So blatant and forward.

Just before Eddie can say anything more, water hits you both. So lost in your own world you had forgotten about your friends who you had came here with.

“Are you guys just going to sit there or what?!” Robin exclaims in a high pitched tone, visibly vexed at your unwillingness to join in.

Steve and Nancy were stripping down to their underwear, something that didn’t phase you in the slightest. You look to Eddie for some sort of guidance and he shrugs his shoulders, leaving the choice to you.

“I’m happy here! Sorry- love you though!” You announce loudly and Robin rolls her eyes, shouting back that she loved you too before she was swimming off. It seemed like the group were venturing further down stream, leaving you and Eddie totally invisible to them.

“Good choice,” He purrs into your ear, making you jump slightly startled at his close proximity.

“I don’t mind spending time alone with you, Eddie.” You reply honestly and Eddie toys with a piece of your hair in his fingers, twirling and twisting it.

He hums, intrigued, “Is that so?” Eddie knew he was pushing you, but fuck, was it fun.

You suck on your bottom lip, teeth nibbling at the skin as you nod your head, “You make me feel.. happy.” The words come out as a low mumble, your finger tips playing with the hem of your shorts as you try to busy your nervous hands.

Eddie rumbles a chuckle, “I know a few other ways to make you feel ‘happy’…” You are desperate to avoid his cocoa coloured orbs, but Eddie isn’t having none of it as he gasps your chin sternly with his fingers, pulling your face to him.

“H..how so?” You wish the ground would swallow you whole as you stumble pathetically over your words. He hadn’t even touched you intimately and yet, you can’t think straight.

From your chin, Eddie’s fingers tickle down the front of your throat, hesitating there he decided to take a leisurely second to curl his strong fingers around your trachea. The momentary loss of oxygen makes your eyelids fall to hood your eyes, “Fuck, I could ruin you.” The whole time Eddie continues to gawk at the partition of your lips, and how relaxed you look beneath his touch.

Releasing you slowly he continues his assault on your hot skin, his feathery touch causing goosebumps to erupt after their wake. He palms your breasts through your blouse, grabbing a fist full of the plush flesh which causes you to cry out quietly, “No bra? Such a little fucking tease.” Eddie clicks his tongue, pinching your coiled nipples and roughly plucking at the stiff peaks with his fingertips.

“Ah...” you mewl and Eddie’s ears perk at the sound, like a puppy being called on for the first time.

“Has anyone ever touched you like this before?” His raspy voice asks as his lips pepper a kiss to your exposed shoulder, his tongue running briefly over the skin just because he wanted to taste you. You shake your head, in total awe of him and everything that he is.

“Poor baby,” He pouts out his bottom lip mockingly before his lips stretch into a lascivious grin, “I can take care of you.” His tongue flicks at the lobe of your ear before he is pulling the flesh in between his teeth, gnawing on it playfully.

“But we’re outside…” you remind him, your eyes focusing on the slow current of the water. The sun beating down onto it, making it glisten and glitter in a heavenly way.

“Mhm, we are,” He sucks at your neck, your body jolting ever so slightly at the electricity that zaps at your cunt from the contact, “She likes that, doesn’t she.” Eddie laughs breathily as he pulls back from your jugular, situating himself between your bare legs.

“I bet your pussy tastes so fucking good.” Eddie nuzzles his nose into the soft skin of your inner thigh, causing you to giggle at the ticklish touch of his hair.

“What if someone sees us?” A look over Eddie’s shoulder confirms that the group are way too occupied with one another to even focus on you two.

“They won’t.” His voice drips with confidence and his fingers move with deliberate precision as he rips your denim shorts from your legs, taking a pause to truly admire your underwear, and the darkened wet spot that had the material slick to your pussy lips, “These are cute, baby. You always wear such pretty panties?” He perks an eyebrow whilst his fingertips dance over the lacey fabric and you look at him with wide doe like eyes, stunned by the question and his touch. You hadn’t really thought about it.

“They are just my regulars…” you admit bashfully in a hushed tone and Eddie’s husky groan declares that he really likes that answer.

“Need you so bad,” His fingers hastily hook around the thin elastic of your waistband, “Can I?” Even when he is too horny to think straight, he remains a gentleman.

Feeling just as needy, you nod, and without a beat Eddie is yanking your panties all the wall down your legs, taking them off and shoving them into his jeans pocket.

His large hands catch behind your knees, hoisting your legs up so they sit comfortably on his shoulders. He wastes no time in bringing his mouth to your mound, his tongue frantic as he laps at your soaked core, “Mmm so fucking sweet.” He mutters, his voice dripping with possessiveness. Each caressing touch of his tongue driving you insane as you wrestle to keep yourself quiet.

Your whimpers send Eddie spiralling, awakening something primal within him. He wanted to watch you whither and crumble beneath his touch- he wanted to make you his.

Eddie moans into your dripping cunt, totally self indulging in the very taste of you. Your scent was now his favourite perfume and he wanted it to be seared into his memory forever.

“Oh god…” you pant, your eyes tearful as you look down at Eddie lapping messily between your thighs. You want nothing more than to scream his name at the top of your lungs, but instead you had to settle for silence.

Just when you thought you had mastered the art of biting your tongue, you feel a prodding at your entrance and then a gaping stretch as Eddie pushes two of his fingers deep inside of you, eliciting a grumbly moan from your throat, “You’re so responsive, such a good girl for me.”

The feeling of his long fingers pumping in and out of your sopping wet pussy leaves your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your mouth hanging open when he curls his digits inside of you, massaging that sweet spongy spot.

Eddie has to pry his own lips away from your core, his addiction to you worsening with each passing second, “You’re gushing baby, think you could handle three?”

The noise of your own arousal hits your ears like a symphony and you swear you have never felt pleasure like this before. Even when masturbating, it didn’t compare, “Ed’s.. please..” your voice is a pathetic whine and Eddie smirks at the way your eyes have blown in total submission to him. You’re just as drunk on him as he is on you.

You’re a babbling mess for him and Eddie is contemplating whether or not this is reality or just a really fucking good dream that he’s having, “That’s it, baby, fuck my fingers.” Your hips buck upward to meet each thrust of Eddie’s fingers and you nearly cry out- seconds away from blowing your little operation but thankfully Eddie manages to clutch his hand harshly over your mouth, “Shhh!” He warns with a smile as your eyes glaze over with pure lust. A tightness brews in your lower stomach, a blissful burn that you chase and chase and the next thing you know you’re a shaking mess, your thighs pressed firmly together entrapping Eddie’s hand inside of you as you cum- hard, screaming into Eddie’s palm.

“Clever girl, taking my fingers so well, darling.” Eddie winks down at you, his lips punctured by his two front teeth as he forces his arousal dripping fingers into your mouth, the pads of his fingers exploring the length of your tongue, “You taste so good, don’t you baby?” You moan around his digits, still fleeting from your release.

“I would love to see those perfect lips of yours wrapped around my cock… you wanna do that, sweet girl?” He palms himself over his jeans, so rock solid that any touch to his cock nearly causes him to burst at the seams, “C’mere.” Eddie is gentle as he takes a hold of your elbows, pulling you in for a quick but heated kiss before he sits you propped up on your knees.

“Lookin’ all pretty, just for me.” You are so gone, your head is in the clouds- mind filled with Eddie, Eddie and more Eddie, “Open up, sweetheart.” Eddie’s fingers glide through your hair, clutching the delicate strands at the root in a domineering grip. You shouldn’t like the pain, but you do.

Obediently you listen to Eddie’s deep voice and you open your mouth nice and wide, sticking out your tongue flatly to allow Eddie’s length to sit comfortably on the muscle, “Shit, princess, have you done this before?” He blurts, the question being rhetorical as a rapacious smile appears on his face as he forces his cock further into your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat causing you to gag slightly.

“You can take it, right?” He punctuates his question with a thrust, tears swelling in your eyes as you struggle to breathe. Your nostrils flare, desperate for air as Eddie menacingly fucks your throat, “Just as I imagined.” He beams, balls deep in your mouth as you peer up at him, your nose tickled by his small snail trail leading to his belly button.

“Keep looking at me,” He asserted, his lips parted in astonishment at the image of you in front of him- so picture perfect, he wanted to carry it around in his wallet. You hollow your cheeks, drool pooling from your open mouth and dripping shamelessly down your chin. You can feel the wetness of your own saliva soaking the skin of your thighs, “That’s it, princess, eyes on me.”

“Shhh… I know it’s a lot, don’t cry.” His large thumb wipes your tear streaked cheeks, his eyes swirling with adoration and sin, “I’m so close baby, keep goin’ please.” And you do. Anything to have Eddie be pleased with you. To hear him call you a good girl. His good girl.

Your cheeks ache as your face bobs up and down his length, your chin pressing against his sack every time you meet his base. His hand is tangled messily in your hair now, fucking against your own movements.

A pleasure filled wail leaves Eddie’s mouth, his head thrown back in euphoria as his cum shoots far into your mouth, leaking down your oesophagus.

You both stay that way for a moment afterwards, Eddie’s hips rutting gently against your tongue as he allows his high to subside.

“You okay?” He muses, checking your features for any sort of discomfort or sadness.

“Yeah,” you reply, a happiness apparent in your cheerful voice, “Thank you.”

He starts himself up and pulling his jeans securely back around his waist, however it takes him mere seconds before he turns his attention to you. Dropping to his knees he grabs some napkins from your picnic basket, gliding the soft paper tissue over your swollen mouth, “You look so beautiful right now.” He chirps, landing a kiss to your forehead before continuing to clean you up. His touch is tender as he helps you shimmy your denim shorts back onto your hips, his lips littering kisses up your bare legs as he did which causes you to giggle. The moment feels light and airy and you can tell that this is the beginning of something really special.

Without a second to spare, the group approach shore. You are met with raised eyebrows and confusion at your flushed appearance and messy hair.

“So,” Steve interjects with a catty smirk, “What’d we miss?”

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch 3: The Wheels of Fate Started to Turn

Previous | Next | Ao3

MDNI

Vampire!Poly 141 x Fem!Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

You feel sick when you wake. Muscles weak and body shaky. It takes more effort than you would like to peel your eyes open. You haven’t sat under a UV lamp in a while and it’s starting to show. The cocoon of sheets feels so good you don’t want to get up, to peel yourself away from them.

You realize Johnny and Kyle are gone as you sit up, all alone in the center of the massive bed. The room feels darker without them, somehow. Emptier. You roll over to climb off the bed, interrupted by the sound of paper crinkling under you. You feel around the mattress only to find a thick envelope with ‘Fancy’ neatly written across the front. As you open it, your breath catches in your throat at the contents. It’s nearly double what they said they’d pay. More than you could have ever hoped for. It makes your hands shake to hold that much money all at once. Once the shock wears off, a folded up piece of paper catches your eye.

Hey lovie,

Sorry to take off without saying goodbye. Had some business to attend to. Figured we should let you sleep. Hope you won’t be too mad ;)

We left a little extra for spending the night. Nothing like cuddling up next to a soft, warm lady.

Let’s do it again soon.

Kyle + Johnny

The handwriting changes to a messy scrawl that you have to squint to make out.

P.S. You look bonnie in my shirt. Gonnae be thinking about that all day. Feel free to take it with you.

P.S.S. I want it back unwashed.

You can’t help but snicker to yourself. Damn dirty dog.

You have no reason to deny him, though. So you slip the t-shirt on over your dress as you get ready to leave. The dress feels far too constrictive for the early morning. This is why you don’t do nights - walking out looking like a mess in the itchy day old clothes. You give up looking for your panties which seem to have evaporated, not too keen on putting them back on anyway.

Before you can tip-toe your way out to the front door, you find yourself pausing. The kitchen light is on, illuminating a figure working over the stove. Curiosity gets the better of you and you circle around the counter to see John sorting ingredients in nothing but a loose pair of sweatpants. Strong, nicely hairy chest on full display.

And they call you and slut.

“Good morning.” He flashes you a bright smile. Of course he noticed you. He probably smelled you before he even heard you leave the bedroom.

“Sorry… I, uh, didn’t mean to intrude.” You mumble awkwardly.

“No, no. I was hoping you’d stop f’me. My boys treat you alright?” He eyes your shirt.

Being asked that a second time throws you off. Why the hell do they care so much? “They did.”

“Good. Good.” He smiles warmly. “I’ll make you some breakfast.”

You scoff. “You? No offense but I’d rather take my chances with the nearest dumpster.”

“Contrary to popular belief, some of us remember how to cook.”

You glance at the half-dozen cart of eggs and perfectly fresh vegetables neatly arranged across the counter. “And you just happened to have human food on hand?”

He pauses. “…I may have had some delivered.”

John turns back to the stove, muttering something under his breath about ‘too smart for her own damn good.’

You pad over beside him to look down at the food, staring at the spread. You point at some red thing you don’t recognize. “What is that?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “The tomato?”

“Tomatoes are purple.” You poke it. “And more squishy.”

You meet his eye and for a brief moment, you think you see pity. Something sad swirling in the blue of his irises. He schools his face back to neutral before you can be sure you saw anything at all.

“Well, hopefully you trust an old codger like me to make you a half-decent omelette.”

You snort, leaning back on the kitchen island. “I’ve got nothing to lose.”

You both lapse into silence. He does seem to know what he’s doing - carefully chopping the vegetables and carefully folding the omelette in the pan. Maybe he had a human wife at some point or something. Most likely. That’s not uncommon, especially back in the 21st century. Practically a trend. You tilt your head as you watch him move, brow furrowed. He’s so weird.

What could you have said to them to make them treat you like this? You’re almost afraid to know - that block of time so buried in the recesses of your mind there’s no hope of ever recovering it. That doesn’t mean you haven’t tried since that day, but you know we’ll enough that it never works. You don’t have a single guess as to what it could have been.

Maybe you didn’t say anything. Maybe they’re just weirdly tunnel visioned. Vamps do that often enough - hone in on a target of affection. For any reason from looking like a dead loved one or they just have an enticing scent. Except they’re not usually this… nice. Normally they’d just drain the object of their affection and be done with it. Not ask them to sleep over for the night and cook them breakfast in the morning.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when a plate is set in front of you. It looks… perfect. At least you assume that’s what a good omelette looks like. Nicely golden. It looks alien. Food from another world - another time. You glance up at John as he watches you expectantly. It won’t hurt to entertain him, you suppose. Even if it does end up being shit. You cut a small bite, tentatively bringing it to you your lips. You brace for something awful.

Except it’s incredible. Perfectly cooked and seasoned. You can’t help but let out a content little hum before practically scarfing it down. You haven’t had food like this in… ever, actually. Neither this fresh or well made.

“So you like it?” John smiles.

You nod happily with a mouth full of food before remembering where you are. Steeling yourself and slowing down, returning to the more reserved persona. “It’s good.”

John huffs out a laugh, turning his back to you to clean up. “I’ll drive you home when you’re finished.”

You pause mid bite. “Oh, no, I can take the train-“

“Do you really want t’walk all the way to the depot in those heels?” John cocks an brow, blue eyes dragging from your face, over your body and down your legs. There’s a slow burning intensity in the movement that sends a shiver down your spine.

You stare at him for a moment, uncertain of what to do. The last thing you need is to owe a vampire for anything. They’ll take your debts to the grave. It happened with your neighbor once - you learned early on to be wary of any offer made by one of them. Never make a deal with one of the devils.

“You won’t be indebted for it.” John chuckles as if he can read your damn mind. Maybe he can.

You chew your lip. It’s at least an hour walk to the metro station from here. You don’t want him to see where you live, though. It will ruin the illusion. Images flash through your mind of the craggily walls of your apartment building. The syringes that line the sidewalk. There’s that massive blood stain on the front steps they still haven’t cleaned up after five years.

But then you meet his eyes. They’re so sincere. So bright. Whatever that tug is in your chest that keeps giving into them pulls again. It’s unraveling you, making you insane. Surely that’s it, you’re finally going insane.

“Okay.” It comes out weaker than you’d like.

John grins a though you gave him the greatest gift in history. It makes your face hot - leaves you shifting awkwardly. You’re not used to that much emotion carved into their marble features. This coven is too expressive. It’s putting you on edge, leaving you with your guard up. Against what, though? What’s the point? Shouldn’t you be happy and play into their more excitable nature?

It’s too unfamiliar. Too otherworldly to see human emotion on their god like features.

A cool finger hooks under your chin, lifting your face to meet John’s gaze. “You think too much.”

You scoff and tear your face away from his hand. Thinking keeps you alive. The girls that don’t think don’t survive past their teens. You have to be smart to stay alive here. To even have a hope of keeping up with creatures who contain centuries of knowledge and experience. Who are so far ahead in the race the best you can do is limp along in the dust.

A valet pulls the car around. John changed into jeans and half zip sweater. You would die before admitting to the small bit of disappointment at him donning a shirt. You expect the black SUV from the night before to pull up. Instead, you’re met with a basic sedan. It’s still nice - obviously new. The seats are a soft, well cared for leather.

“So is this what you do? Invite prostitutes over for omlettes and tea and then drive them home?” You blurt as John starts the car. That itch to dissect their thought processes continues to plague the back of your mind.

“Tea?” He repeats, a brow raised.

“Simon made me tea last night.”

John laughs. “Kyle really did fuck your throat raw, then?”

You whirl on him, eyes wide.

“Don’t act so surprised. Johnny can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life. Said you took it beautifully.” John sighs. “Bit jealous I didn’t get to watch the show. A good cigar and whiskey in hand? The perfect night, I think. Might have to recreate it…”

That last bit sounds more for him than for you.

You shouldn’t blush. You’ve been doing this long enough that there’s no reason to blush anymore. You have no right to be flustered over something as simple as sex. It’s the way he says it, you think. The way desire drips from every syllable as though he’s never said anything more true in his immortal life.

You just hide behind a huff and look out the window. “You’re all very weird, you know that?”

“Are we, now?” John rests his elbow on the door and his head on his hand. He weaves through the chaotic city roads expertly.

“You’re too…” You wrinkle your nose, pausing. The word gets lost on your tongue.

“Human?”

“If you say so.”

John chuckles. “You’re just as weird, you know that?”

“I am not weird!” You snap indignantly.

“If you say so.”

You have to do a double take when he pulls up to your apartment. Is it really that fast by car? What was that, ten minutes? The train is a nearly twenty minute ride with two fifteen minute walks. The walk is nearly three hours - two if you take the back way.

“Everythin’ alright?” He asks, voice dropping to a low drawl. You shake your head to clear it, pulling your respirator out of your coat.

“Don’t you need a-“ You stop when you meet John’s deadpan expression. “Oh, right.”

“Appreciate the concern, love.” He chuckles. It’s a surprisingly warm sound.

You reach for the door, respirator in hand and at the ready. You pause when John lays a hand lightly on your shoulder. Turning back, your eyes meeting his. There’s that storm again. The one he looked at you with before. Something roiling underneath the surface.

“Fancy?”

“Yes?”

“Before you go.” John leans forward. “C’mere.”

You assume he wants a kiss. It wouldn’t surprise you - a little thank you for the ride. Frankly, you should have thought of it first. Instead, he ducks his head to the side at the last moment. His hand tangles gently but firmly in your hair to pull your head to the side, leaving your neck craned and exposed. You freeze. Fear takes over - your heart rate immediately spiking. Your hands fist his coat, pushing as hard as you can against the unmoving mountain that is his body.

“John-“ Your voice cracks. “Please don’t-“

“Need t’ make sure you’re safe…” He mumbles.

A fang catches your skin. You freeze.

It drags across your neck, down the arch of your artery. You suck in a hear breath, the skin not quite breaking under the touch. Before you can speak or begin pushing again or even try to get out of the car, he bites down. A yelp escapes you as his teeth slowly sink in - only through the top most layer of skin. Not enough to puncture the artery or even for his other teeth to bite into your skin.

Your whole body shakes. “What’re you-“

John shushes you as he pulls away, eyes locked on the cut he made on your neck. You can feel the wet blood beginning to drip down your neck. His hand stays in your hair, holding you in place. The blue of his irises seems somehow brighter, pupils so narrowed they don’t look to be more than pinpricks. After a few beats he seems satisfied, letting your hair go and sitting back in his seat.

“Just a precaution, love.”The vampire looks you over, eyes suddenly painfully soft again. “Take care of yourself.”

Your eyes flick between his. A cold, rushing fear pumps through your veins. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish before you finally come to your senses, taking the chance to dash out of the car and toward your apartment. Fight or flight pushing away any ability to ask what the fuck that was. By the time you turn around to check behind you, John is far down the street.

You rush to your bathroom mirror, tossing your respirator to the ground as soon as you’re in your front door. It’s not deep. He didn’t even lick up after himself - a thin trail of blood pooling around your clavicle before continuing down. It wasn’t about drinking. You hiss as your fingers lightly test the tender skin.

What the fuck?

He’s a vampire. At the end of the day that’s all he is. No facial expressions or ability to cook will undo that he’s a different creature entirely. Was that what this is about? Reminding you what they are? The power they have? You wouldn’t put it past one of them, the sick fucks. What kind of fool were you to think they’re at all different.

After a shower and finally changing into some pajamas (minus a certain vampire’s tshirt that he will not be getting back) you go to grab your lamp. It doesn’t take long to set up the UV light, just dragging it out of storage and setting up the shade above it so that the rays concentrate downward onto your skin. You slowly sink to the ground. Exhaustion clings to your bones. They feel brittle and heavy simultaneously.

You sigh, curling up under the warm light like a cat. You have to be smart about how long you stay under it - the damn thing runs up the electricity bill like nothing else. Plus, too long under it can cause serious skin damage. As much as you’d rather go without, you’ve seen what happens to those that do.

You half heartedly re-count out the envelope of money, still feeling overwhelmed at the sheer amount of it. At the whole situation at hand. You realize quickly enough that despite having the money to do almost anything you don’t actually… know what to do. Despite the plan being to save up and get out of the slums you never really planned for what to do once you were out of the slums.

The realization that you never truly believed you could do it, even unconsciously, is a little heartbreaking.

Do you keep working at the club? Hope that these clients like you enough to keep up with your new lifestyle? Pray that they enjoy fucking you for long enough to save up? Do you even want to see them after what John just did? Do you look for another job? There isn’t much you can get when the whole of your resume is stamped with WHORE in bright red letters.

With a low groan you slump back on the floor and throw your arm over your eyes. Everything is so fucked. You’re lost in it and it’s all fucked.

Normally, you would avoid information about the people that come in and out of your club. They’re looking for discretion, after all. A place to hide away from the dealings of life. A fantasy. If you were smart, you’d stick with that habit. Especially when it comes to the ones that literally compel you to forget their business.

John just lost the right to any discretion after that stunt in the car.

You open up your shitty laptop that requires five hail mary’s to start. It greets you with the top headlines of the day, all just as enjoyable as you’d expect.

UNKNOWN SUBSTANCE FOUND IN FOUR MORE JANE DOES

NEW DRUG CYTH TAKING THE UNDERGROUND MARKETS BY STORM

CORPSE FOUND WITH BLOOD LEAKING FROM PORES

You close them out, for your own sanity, and type John’s name into the search bar. A few things come up - some company called One-Four-One with the most nothing description about what kind of company they are. They “develop products and services” - aka they’re a shell for shady bullshit. They’re listed as the benefactor for some lower city charities and given responsibility for several mergers and buy-outs in the upper city. All the things you’d expect from a corporation.

It’s too clean, though. You’ve been living in the underbelly long enough to know what a front looks like. Not that you’re surprised. Every vampire corporation is a cover for a million other little inner workings you will never be privy to.

The only pictures of John are a few from press reports. His imposing figure standing behind some ugly podium with a logo hastily plastered across the front. He has a commanding air about him behind all those microphones - like a preacher or a politician. Fitting.

Johnny and Kyle have a far more risqué library. Images with models and other beautiful women. The kinds of things you’d expect from young, playboy vampires stretching over the past century at least, according to the archive dates. The boys aren’t the focus of the images - it’s all paparazzi for the women - but they’re in them nonetheless. How the hell did Johnny manage to squeeze into a pair of leather pants like that?

Simon doesn’t even seem to exist. A total ghost. No matter how deep you go you can’t find a trace of him. You manage to get all the way back to the 1990s in the archive and still come up with jack shit.

You’re left with more questions than answers and a distinct understanding that you shouldn’t ask any of them. You knew that already, though, and you have no plans to let John Price close enough to speak to you anytime soon.

You didn’t realize you fell asleep up until you wake, alarm blaring in your ear that it’s time to get up and go to work. It never ends. You still feel so fucking tired, body heavy and eyes stinging. A haze settles over your mind as you fall into your constant routine. Makeup, hair, dress, respirator on, walk, train, respirator off, walk.

Your locker in the back room fights you, forcing you to practically break it open. Just another thing to leave you feeling angry and useless.

“I heard they got Red.” The girl beside you whispers. She’s mousy, new. A gossiper. She even tried to talk to you, at least before she found out that you apparently steal clients.

The girl she’s speaking to side eyes her. “What do you mean got ‘er?”

“With that new drug - Cyth or whatever.”

“Cyth isn’t real. It’s just people making up shit to cover up what the vamps are doing. As if we don’t already know.”

“But what about-“ You don’t hear the rest of what she says, her voice drowning out as you leave the back room.

Time seems to crawl by at the club without the men. You hate it. Not just the slowness of the day but the fact that they’ve had that effect on you. That these creatures you barley know have invaded your thoughts. Wormed themselves into the nooks and crannies of your psyche. Marked you - however temporarily that may be.

The patrons avoid your eyes. You serve their drinks, and where they would normally make a salacious remark or grab onto you they just offer a huffy thanks and ignore you. The tips are garbage, even the other serving girls notice and begin to basically steal your tables. It has to be the bite.

Why, though? Plenty of serving girls have fresh bite marks and they aren’t getting reactions like that. You can count four on the main floor right now.

At least once the day is over, it’s over. You can go home and hide away. Be angry in peace. Maybe make a plan for what to do. Maybe you can leave the city you and your friends talked about as teens. Except they’re all dead now and you’re pretty sure there isn’t anything outside of the dome anymore. At least not anything you could get to.

The other girls don’t walk with you to the metro anymore. The streets are never truly empty in the main city. There’s no real day or night. It’s only the places humans inhabit that become abandoned during the “night.” As you exit the lower city station, the streets empty out. It’s just you, footsteps echoing off buildings. The smog in the air only makes it darker - even harder to navigate.

Until a second pair of footsteps appears, fast and growing louder by the second. Before you can even begin to run or check behind you a force slams into you, sending you tumbling down onto harsh concrete and into an alley.

You’re cornered. There’s nowhere to go. Before you can grapple for your garlic spray the vampire has your wrists in his hand, pulling you up to dangle in front of him. The backs of your hands and arms scrape against the rough brick of the building he’s pinned you too. It hurts, cutting deep into your skin under the pressure of his strength.

The thing hisses, ripping off the neck guard attached to your respirator. The whole thing goes clattering to the ground. You choke on the poison air, lungs immediately rejecting it.

You tip your eyes to the obstructed sky. Of course it would end this way. It’s the end for you all, isn’t it? Just another body in an alley. Another free apartment for people to fight over. Another headline for people to frown at on the train. You wonder if they would use your name or just leave you as another Jane Doe.

What do the real stars look like, anyway?

He takes a long inhale and freezes in place. You can barely make out wide, frenzied eyes. A hood blocks any of his other features. His breath hastens, chest heaving against yours. What the hell is he waiting for?

Suddenly he reels backward, hissing and spitting. Muttering words you don’t understand. It drops you so suddenly that you collapse to the ground. Unable to gain any footing, still coughing and choking.

“What-“ You’re not even sure why you want to ask it a question. Before you can at all the thing runs away down the alley. Your hand travels up to your neck.

The bite.

A coughing fit sends you doubling over and you blearing grope around the ground for your respirator. At least it didn’t get smashed, you sigh in relief - clipping it back around your face and neck.

Your hands shake and you turn, staring up at that massive skyscraper hanging above the city. It’s taunting you. You feel like you can almost see John staring down at you, toying with you. An anger flares in your body so hot you almost feel as thought you’ve caught fire. He wants to fuck with you? To make you feel weak? To try to lay some sort of claim?

Fine. You can play ball.

A/N: John “you don’t need to know what’s going on, love, just do what I say” Price and Miss “don’t fuck with my independence” Fancy

I don’t love this chapter but I gotta get plot moving and grooving.

[runawayolives]

So for baby daddy Nate, does reader go to school visibly pregnant? Or once she starts showing she does virtual school?

Thank you for the ask, anon!

So this is not that, but something I had in mind kind of in the same topic.

This belongs to the series Baby Daddy

Maddy took a deep breath while laying down in her backyard, running her hand over her face.

"How is college application going?"

"Nonexistent."

She turned around to face her slightly pregnant friend. "What do you mean nonexistent?"

She shrugged, replying with a dry tone. "It means I'm 17 and pregnant, and I don't want to be a college student and a mother at the same time."

"So? Your parents offered all the help to raise it, you can go to college and during the weekends be with it." Maddy tried to hide the distaste she felt towards the small thing currently existing in her friends abdomen, seeing it as the biggest impediment in both their lives.

"It isn't an it anymore it's a she."

"I don't give a fuck what it is, what I care about is that you're not going to college because of it." She turned her head around to face her friend, practically seeing smoke coming out of her ears and nose.

"Mads, she isn't the guilty one, you said it, my parents offered to raise her."

"Then why are you not going?"

"I don't want someone else raising my child, I don't want her to see her childhood as a period where I was too preoccupied studying to be her mother." This time she really looked at Maddy. She looked at her as if gazing into her eyes would connect with her soul. She wasn't just looking at her, she was trying to explain in a too deeply way her reasons that had already become a stable decision.

"She won't remember."

"She will know eventually."

"If you don't go now, you will never go."

"Lorelei Gilmore did it."

"Fuck her." Y/N broke off eye contact to laugh. She liked Maddy because her abrasiveness did just that, in high tension moments, it acted as a terminator, making it all disappear ear. "Don't laugh, I didn't say that for you to laugh."

"Why are you so mad about this, Mads?" Her friend scoffed, looking away, as if the racional answer was somehow in the clouds or the sky.

"What about me?" Y/N was too confused by the question to read her friends body language.

"I mean, you're like the number one not fan of the baby, but I guess you can be the godmother. Or you could learn how to cook and we could start an inn and raise a bratty and train-wreck kid." Maddy stood up, still not turning around to face her friend.

"What about me, Y/N?"

"Mads, I don't understand what you're asking." She finally turned around, facing her friend. Y/N could now see her face, red and with a few angry tears falling down her cheeks.

"What about me, Y/N? If you don't make it out, what does that mean about me? If this has happened to you, there's no hope for me."

"Maddy..."

"No, don't sugar coat it. I was rooting for you, I was. My mother was proud of me whenever she saw us together, she could see me actually doing something with my life. And now you're here, giving up, ruining your life for a baby you haven't planned and stuck to a guy that is set on ruining your life. If that's what you get, I don't want to know what's waiting for me." She took a deep breath and kneeled down beside her friend. "You've given up on yourself, but I won't. I won't because I refuse to believe this is all there's going to be to your life."

Y/N leaned forward to hug her friend, squishing her as if that would make all her worries evaporate. "I have not given up on you, Maddy Perez, and I'll never will."

They both stood there, for as long as they needed, crying and sometimes laughing, trying to find humor in their seemingly dooming predicament.

[ghostbustting]

So i’ve had this like thought in the back of my head for some odd reason but here it is:

Your best friends with James in the RTL era and you guys were just casually talking in the living room of the metali-mansion and somehow the conversation goes to celebrity’s you’d fuck. You answer first by saying Dave Mustaine as a joke and he ends up getting really annoyed with you and when you ask him about it he just fucks you🤤

i'm sososo sorry for being slow with requests, i just had a looooong roadtrip yesterday and currently working in an active organization, i promise i'm working on every req 😭

╰┈➤“𝑾𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑮 𝑨𝑵𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑹„ ๋࣭⭑

James Hetfield x Reader

Contains Smut

The peanut I threw flew through the air and landed into James’ mouth perfectly, causing a pack of laughter to erupt from both of us as we high five each other proudly, making us look like two idiots, here sitting on the couch in the living room of Metallica’s so called ‘Metallimansion’.

It was afternoon here at El Cerrito, California. His friends were all off somewhere else, so since he was alone, he decided to invite me here to hang out together, just the two of us alone in this house.

I never really mind when he wanted to do these hang outs, James was a great company and all, always have been for the rest of our friendship.

I sit back down with my legs on James’ lap, one of his hand resting lightly on one of my ankles while we snack on some peanuts and talk about stupid stuffs, something we’ve done not once, not twice, not even thrice, probably thousands times before.

That’s when he suddenly snapped his fingers and point to me, “Aha! I got a good one!” He smirked, I can already tell by his stupid smirk that he’ll clearly say something idiotic.

With an eye roll, I smile back at him and raise my eyebrows, my expression showing I was amused. “What is it, Het?” I ask, sighing as I prepare for whatever stupid words come out of his mouth next.

The way his lips curve up into that stupid smirk was something I’d see on a daily basis ever since we became friends, often finding it being built up before he say or do something only a complete buffoon would do.

And just as I expected, he say, “Name a celebrity you’d fuck.”

The living room once again became filled with our in sync stupid laughter, I grin and nudged him with my foot, “You first!”

He shook his head with a laugh, his long blond hair shaking along with his head while his eyes squinting slightly from how wide he was smiling, looking drunk while being as sober as he ever was.

He swatted my feet off his lap, crossing his arms like a bratty kid. “Nu-uh. I’m the one who came up with it, you answer.” He say with that same stupid cheeky smile.

My eyes rolls yet again, amused by his childish question, at the same time being used to his mostly immature behavior.

I look up at the ceiling and hum, thinking. My finger tapping on my bottom lip as my mind think of the perfect celebrity I would like to have a sinful fun with, a small grin staying on my face.

The grin only became wider when I found my answer, James was quick to catch onto the sign. “Who?!” He ask excitedly.

A small laugh leave my grinning lips when I see how excited he became before I took deep breaths and answer his question, “Dave Mustaine.”

I pursed my lips, trying not to let more giggles leave my lips as I watch the expression on his face closely. Well honestly, I didn’t really mean it completely when I said I’d fuck Dave Mustaine.

Sure, Mustaine’s good looking and charming and talented and all, but my main plan was just to play around with James, knowing the small grudge that was held between the two metal vocalists. And by the new look on the blond’s face, I can tell I succeeded.

His eyebrows furrow at my answer, his stupid smirk almost immediately evaporated into thin air, his lips scowling instead, showing genuine annoyance no matter how much he try to hide it. His position on the couch shifted, showing a slight tense in him as he shift.

“Really? Out of all the other celebrities?”

I shrug and chuckle, “He’s cute. Nice hair also.”

James rolled his eyes and cross his arms, sighing. “His hair literally just looks like shredded carrots, what’s so nice about that?” He look away, I can see his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek.

“No it doesn’t!” I laughed and shake my head, finding this situation and the way my simple answer that was meant to be a joke was making him act amusing. He had his arms crossed, huffing as he look away like a kid that’s about to throw a tantrum.

He scoff and finally looked at me again, “He’s a drunk.”

“Weren’t you all?”

James groaned and lean back on the couch, his head thrown back while he rub his face. “I bet he wouldn’t even be a good fuck!” He say a bit louder now, almost yelling. I didn’t even think he would be that annoyed to even start yelling.

A bit surprised by the sudden yell, I sigh and roll my eyes. “And you would?” I scoff playfully, almost as if mocking him in a way.

Suddenly, he sat up straight again and his head snapped to me, raising an eyebrow as a small smirk appear again on his face, while still having a hint of annoyance in his expression. He stood up, his footsteps slowly making his way closer to my side of the couch.

My smile slowly fade little by little as he lean down, his face right in front of mine, his blue eyes meeting mine, the annoyance in his gaze now also accompanied by a hint of playfulness.

Something in the way he looked at me made my thoughts stop, finding myself becoming nervous from the proximity between both of our faces which are now inches away from one another.

A chuckle leaves his lips as he speaks up, his voice low. “Is that a dare?”

I can feel my heart pounding now rather than beating, my breath hitching. My mind starts to wonder with endless thoughts of what he means by this, how close our faces are, and what would happen next between us, here on this couch, in this living room, in this empty ‘Metallimansion’.

Slowly, I start to gain control of myself again, finding my own smirk returning to my lips as I tilt my head, raising my eyebrows. “What if it is?”

At that moment, I didn’t realize how much of a turn my words would make.

At that moment, I didn’t realize what he was implying on.

That is until he pushed me back on the couch and his hands grabbed onto my face, his fingers gripping my cheeks tightly while his lips smashed onto mine, his eyes closing in an instant.

His lips were rubbing against mine, the sensation making my own eyes close as well, finding myself enjoying the way his lips felt on mine, the way his tongue tastes as it slips past my lips and meets mine.

My mind couldn’t even process how good a simple kiss with my own bestfriend feels. Everything that went on with our connected lips feels right, feels amazing, feels addicting. It makes me long for more of him.

His hands that were once on my face now trails down to my body, his fingers finding their way to grip onto the bottom of my shirt, pulling it off me in a millisecond.

Suddenly, his head buried into my chest, his hand pushed down the cups of my bra to release my breasts from the ‘boob-jail’, giving him easy access to grab and grope on them while his lips went to wrap around one of my nipples.

Moans were pulled out of my lips by the time he sucked and nipped on my nipple, my back arching into him, a silent beg for more of his touch and lips, a silent beg for him to continue, a silent beg for him to go even more further.

My silent begs seems to be granted when his other hand slowly trail down to the hem of my pants, slipping past it along with my panties with such ease.

A gasp left my throat when his fingers found their way to my dripping cunt, toying with my aching clit before he starts rubbing harsh circles on it, pulling out even louder moans, his name slipping out of my lips, voicing out my need for him.

“S-shit..” I whimper when he start inserting two digits of his fingers into my aching pussy, pumping them in and out of me with not a single mercy.

I can feel a smirk being formed on his lips that are still wrapped around my now erect nipple, slick with his saliva. But now my mind are too fixated on the way his fingers exit and enter my cunt in a loop, curling them up every now and then.

Shaking ever so slightly, my legs wraps around his arm as I start to grind my hips against his fingers, desperate for more of that feeling.

A chuckle leave his lips yet again as he pull back from my breasts, “Feel good, eh?” He smirked, his hands leaving my pussy right when it just started to feel even better per second.

“Hey—!” I was cut off short by him flipping me over with such ease that it caused me to land harshly on the couch by my stomach. I grunt, “Bitch..” I mutter, earning another breathy laugh from James before he grabbed onto my hips and lift them up.

Letting out a shaky breath, I place my hands on the back of the couch as he bend me over it, his other hand on his belt, unbuckling it while he whispers into my ear, “I’ll make you regret every single letter that left your mouth just a second ago and turn those words into filthy noises you won’t believe silly old James Hetfield would be able to pull out of you.”

The way he spoke, the way he worded out his sentence, the way he breathes into my ear, the way he held my hip. It was all too unreal to make me believe we’d stay as friends only after all of this ends.

“W-whatever..” I huffed as I hear his pants fall to the floor, making my hear thump with anticipation of what’s about to happen next.

That’s when I feel his tip brushing up and down my folds before pushing past them and entering my slick hole. I gasp at the feeling of his hard cock entering me, his hands gently massaging my hips and ass.

His hips meets my ass as he slowly starts to get a hang of his thrusts, getting faster and harder by the seconds, grunts leaving his lips, accompanying my loud moans.

I can feel the tip of his cock meeting that weak spot in me, making my back arch and the loudest moan escape my throat out of how much pleasure he is causing me. "Fuck.."

"Was your pussy always this tight? Goddamn..." He groaned, his hands now fixated on my hips, gripping them tightly while he lead me back and forth against his hips, our movement making loud skin slapping noises.

My fingers dug into the soft cushiong of the back of the couch, my knees weak by the second while he continue to thrust in and out of me.

"...Only for you.. Only for you.." I utter out while panting, my breathing loud and hard to control.

Another gasp escapes me when the palm of his big hand meets the skin of my ass, which later on created a big red mark of his hand, my skin aching from how hard he hit me.

James laugh came out breathy yet loud, muttering out. "Didn't knew my best friend would be such a slut for me.."

A whine leave my slightly parted lips, my legs shaking while trying to keep myself up from how much he makes me want to just crumble and fall by just fucking me so fast and good.

He was so rough, yet so careful at the same time. The way he fucked me was surreal. Never in my whole life have I ever though that the man that will make me want to cum so fast would be my own best friend. And never in my whole life would I ever admit it. Until now, perchance.

"Fuck.. oh fuck..! James!" My eyes widens to the point they look like they're about to pop out of their sockets, my lips parting even wider as I let out yet another loud moan, my knees almost giving up on me. But his hands stays on my hips and keeps me up straight, not even caring about my moment of weakness.

"You hear that— you hear yourself?" He leaned over and grunted in my ear, his arms wrapping around my stomach and holding me close to his body, still thrusting. "You hear that name? Does that sounds like 'Dave' to you?"

"N-no.."

"Then what is it?"

"James.."

"Say that again?"

"Ja—James..!!"

I gasped, my release coming out in a sudden without my consent, fluids of my cum gushing out of my cunt uncontrollably and dripping out through our connected sex.

James groaned behind me, his grip on my hips tightening a little as he fuck my now slick hole, "Fuck fuck fuck! Shit.."

Not long after, his came inside me, his seed filling up my hole, making me feel even more full while his groan fills my ear, the genuine pleasure visible in his voice.

Once we recover from our intense release, he grabbed onto me and flip us over, sitting on the couch and pulling me on his lap. His hands went to my cheeks before he starts kissing me again.

My eyes flutter close while my lips move against his, the palm of my hands resting gently on his heaving chest while his were in my hair, brushing some of the strands away from my face.

When we pull apart from each other, he smirk up at me, his hands moving down to rest on my thighs, rubbing up and down them soothingly while I lean down to rest my forehead on his own.

"Still think Mustaine would be better?"

I chuckle and shake my head, kissing the tip of his nose.

"Never."

[wosoamazing]

Injured

warnings: vomit, injury

A/N: just a kind of random short fic, I hope you like it.

The throbbing in your head continues to worsen, your head feels like it’s going to explode with every beat of your heart. You feel sick to your stomach. Each tiny little movement in your body makes your stomach roll. Your ankle hurts, it’s almost definitely broken,  the medics have given Sam and Steph the Green Whistle to hold for you hoping you would use it but you have flatly refused it so far. The sick feeling in your stomachs starts to worsen, you lean the rest of your body weight into Sam in hopes it will help somehow, but it doesn’t, your face changes, a face Sam doesn’t recognise but Steph does, she quickly jumps into action.

“Do you have a bowl or something?” Steph asks the medics “She’s going to be sick,” to those words the medics swiftly hand her an emesis bag, and place a few more beside her just encase. You start to gag, as Steph brings the bag up to your mouth, you clearly in no state to hold it yourself, Sam rubs your back as you gag a few more times but nothing comes up, you let out a little whimper as you collapse back into Sam’s body. Tears start to roll down your checks and Steph rubs your arm in an effort to reassure you. You see the bright orange stretcher being carried on and your universe breaks, you have made it your mission not to have to use one but today you have no choice, even you know you need it, and to make everything worse Leah’s not here, maybe you should’ve chosen the Lionesses, in this moment it would’ve meant that you had your sister next to you. Your body starts to shake from your sobs, you try to speak but it doesn’t work. “Hey, hey, it’s okay take some deep breaths.” Steph says, you take four depth breaths following Steph’s lead.

“Le-Leah, I want Leah” you cry out.

“I know bug, but she can’t come right now, what if we face time her once we are in the medical room” you nod slightly at Steph’s suggestion.

“Okay we’re going to move you onto the stretcher now” one of the medics inform you, with quite a lot of pain and not much ease you were taken through to the medical suite, the medics did some scans before they took you to your team medical room in the back of the locker room. Steph sits behind you on the bed as you lean your weight into her, a boot wraps around your foot, tears stream down your face, to put it lightly the x-rays were not a fun time at all, although Steph and Sam might’ve had it worse, they stood outside the room as they heard you sob in pain wanting nothing more than to be in there with you comforting you, but they weren’t allowed too.

“Here she is,” Sam says as she walks back in.

“Hey bug how are you?” a familiar voice warms your ears. You don’t reply just smile which is enough for her, the familiar sound of her voice relaxes you as you doze off, Sam and Steph talk to her for a while before saying their goodbyes. The peaceful feeling in the room quickly evaporates when you wake up, you gag and Steph and Sam react quickly, Steph helps you sit up more and Sam grabs the emesis bag, but it’s too late, the contents of you stomach are all over you, the bed and unfortunately some is even on Steph, you burst into tears, which doesn’t help the situation as somehow you’re sick again, this time though Sam managed to catch it. Once the pair are happy, you’re okay and not going to be sick again, Sam goes to get a medic, and Steph leans you back into her, helping you take of your now vomit covered shirt. “S-Sorry” you cry out feeling terrible for what just happened. “Hey, its okay, it’s not your fault, you got hurt, okay?” you nod, which wasn’t the best idea as it starts to make the room spin. “Do you want to have a shower now? We can help, we’ll keep you in your undies and crop top” you give Steph a thumbs up.

Sam returns with a medic, “sorry” she says as they enter.

“There is nothing to be sorry about, this is nothing, I’ve seen patients do way worse” the medic replies.

“Um we were thinking of maybe getting a shower, is that okay, we will go in with her” Steph asks the medic, who smiles at her “Of course darling, just take the boot off and carry her down will probably be easiest. As she is alert and orientated, so I’m no too concerned about the vomiting, as it could be from the pain she is in,”

“Okay thank you.” Sam says to the medic.

“Okay, I’m going to slide out from behind you and Sam is going to take your boot off and I’ll pick you up and take you to the showers, okay” Steph lets you know their every move. “Thank-you” you whisper in her ear as she carries you, getting you showered wasn’t the hard part but getting you dressed was, after your shower Sam took over so Steph could have a quick shower, as much as you adored Sam the loss of the constant and familiar reassurance made you whimper, you sat in your locker while Sam put your boot on. Sam was about to help you move over to the bench in the locker room so you could be comfier when Steph came out of her record fast shower.

“Hey Sam,” Sam looked up, “I’m all done, I’ve got her now, go get a shower quickly then we can get on the bus before the rest come in” Sam nods. Steph picks you up and cradles you in her lap, and you start to doze off, Steph is relieved as she knows if you’re asleep you can’t feel the pain, she shots a quick message to Tony updating him and not long after Sam comes out. Sam gets all three of your bags packed up and they start to head out, Steph carrying you, Sam carrying all your stuff, they’re walking along the corridor when Steph suddenly stops.

“Steph, what’s wrong?”

“Do you have sunnies?”

“Um yeah I think I actually do,” she rummages through her bag and manages to find a pair, she slips them onto your face, and they start walking again.

They manage to climb onto the bus and into a set of seats, Steph sitting with her back against the window of the bus with you in her lap, leaning back on her. They are a set of four from the front as they know when the rest of the girls get on the bus it will be loud, not because of the girls but because of the press.

This time Sam messages Tony letting him know you’re on the bus and asking if he can get the girls to stay silent while they enter.

Just as Tony messages to let the girls know the game is finished and that the others are just having quick showers and they will be there soon, you wake up to an all familiar feeling, however this time your captains are prepared and know the signs, so Steph notices you and quickly holds up the emesis bag for you, in which you are relieved that you do not have to relive the events of earlier, once you are finished you start to cry, you hate being sick, Steph wraps her free arm around you trying to comfort you, Sam hands Steph a new emesis bag and takes the old one, she leaves the bus in order to find a bin in which she does and returns at the same time the girls start to show up. Sam again asks them to be quiet as the enter which they are more than happy to do for their little teammate, as they get on the bus, they all smile softly at you, not wanting to speak just encase, Harper gave you a very gentle hug as she boarded the bus with her Mum, which warmed everyone’s hearts. You had fallen back asleep before the bus started to move and slept the whole trip.

[ramshacklerumble]

and the more that i am in pain, the more that you’ll gain (and to me, that seems like a pretty fair trade)

The boy was unconscious before he hit the floor.

Gia’s boot connected with his side.

Then his stomach.

His chest.

Face.

A blaze threatened to burn Gia to ash. Burning brighter and hotter and into a mounting roar— it would consume them to nothing. They could feel it in the trembling overtaking their body and so, in the only way they knew how, they’d take the source of it out with them. Gia would make kindling of this boy’s bones through stomps and swears and spit.

At least, they would have.

Hauled away before they sent the tip of steel toes smashing into the boy’s nose again, Gia fought against the pair of arms pinning their own to their side. They cursed at them and their owner. Struggled to grind their heels into his feet only for him to nimbly maneuver them away.

“Hey,” Floyd said as they tried— and failed— to rock their head back to catch him right on his teeth, “Hey. Knock it off, it’s over.”

It didn’t sound like this was taking much of an effort, which in turn only sent Gia into another round of thrashing and yelling. What this got them was a tighter squeeze around their diaphragm and a lift off the ground as their legs kicked at empty air.

They were screaming. And they kept screaming as there was a brief shift in balance…a stomach-drop instinct of falling back…followed by a pain shooting up their tailbone as they both dropped to the floor. This stopped the screaming.

“Ouch,” said Floyd flatly. He kept Gia sat between his outstretched legs. “You done?”

In a wheezing voice, Gia swore at him some more. They fought against his hold. When that got them nowhere, they thumped their back against him, weak and spent.

The fire puttered to smoke.

Gia slumped forward. The only reason they didn’t flop face-first into their knees was because Floyd still held onto them. So they stared at their lap, breath ragged, innards wanting to crawl up their throat. And there was something else. Something else was making its way out.

“Hm..?”

One long arm slipped out from around them, clamped a hand under their chin, and forced them to look up.

Gia shut their eyes in a final attempt at protest. Tears fell.

“Woah,” Floyd breathed.

Against their will, they blinked up at him. Floyd studied them, an expression settled prettily on his features. Curious… and something Gia was almost too scared to name. A merfolk trick, maybe, and idly Gia understood why sailors back in the day would risk finding out what it was.

“Aw, what’s the matter?” Floyd crooned, gently wiping his thumb under their eye. His skin felt cool on their cheek. It was terribly nice. “We got to the bottom of it, didn’t we, Shrimpy?”

Gia jerked away from him, the nickname a shock of ice water. Gia ground the heel of their palms into their eyes, pulled their knees to their chest, and curled into themself.

Floyd didn’t pin them again, but he continued, “C’mon. You knew going in you weren’t gonna get the money back.”

“I know.” Gia grit out. And they did know. The moment they realized the Ramshackle had been broken into they’d known. That’s not why they were here. What they wanted was payback.

But after the two weeks they’d spent tracking down the thief— somehow picking up one of the Leech brothers along the way— they hadn’t settled on what that would look like. Sure, the thought of getting in a jab or two crossed their mind, but when they’d cornered the culprit and Gia got a look at the mastermind who’d whisked away all their hard work…the thoughts evaporated.

It was just some Ignihyde kid. Small for a freshman. Gia actually felt bad. Floyd, on the other hand, was so bored with the reveal he circled into disgust. To top it off, Gia would still have to compensate for “dragging him along.” They didn’t even want his help in the first place.

But despite that blossoming headache, Gia couldn’t bring themself to raise hell. What was the point?

They’d been having dreams again. There was another shoe waiting to drop somewhere in Night Raven. And if that were the case, then they were going to have to focus their energy on keeping ahead of the curve. That was hard enough with the Corlux girls living in their dorm, but now with the boys bringing another wave of chaos under the guise of the “SDC Training Camp,” well…

In comparison, dealing with this kid didn’t feel worth the effort. So they thought.

Until Gia asked the sniveling snotball what he’d spent their money on. He’d barely gotten the word out when Gia’s fist slammed into his jaw with the force of a wrecking ball.

“Gacha...” They spat into their legs. “Gacha. Spent my money on stupid, 2D anime girls. Pictures he could look up for free.”

“Heard it’s a mega-popular title, too.” Floyd added unhelpfully. He played with their braid as he said so, Gia could feel him twist their hair between his fingers.

“But say…Shrimpy.” Floyd caught their eye from where he hovered over their shoulder. His chest was to their back again. “Here’s what I don’t get…”

He had that look on his face again. Interested. Intrigued.

“Why’re you so worked up about this?” He asked, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not lettin’ anyone get away with taking something from me and I’m chargin’ ten-fold for tryin’. But I’ve never seen you blow up like that. Not when Jade and I kicked you outta Ramshackle or when Sea Snake sent us flying across the desert. This…”

Floyd pointed over his shoulder where the boy from Ignihyde lay sprawled on the ground, “This is small fry. Might as well be plankton. It wasn’t even that much money—”

“It’s all I had.” Gia said, hating the unsteadiness in their voice. They twisted around to face him.

“What’s it for?”

“It's…” They couldn’t figure how to reply to that. The best they could give him was a limp shrug. A shiver hit their spine and it came to mind how warm Floyd was now that they’d leaned away. They rubbed their arms. “I…I don’t know what’s going to happen to me.”

“What?” Floyd laughed, “Don’t tell me you’ve been mixing it up with loan sharks.”

Gia shook their head. “When Grim and I graduate…we can’t stay here. We need somewhere to go.”

A twitch of confusion crossed Floyd’s face. “Sealie’s a direbeast. He’s teeny, kinda stupid, and you prolly pampered the feral out of him, but you never really lose your survival instinct.” He looked down at Gia, “And aren’t you going home?”

Gia let out a snort, short and sour. With it that…thing that had wanted to come out earlier clung itself to the back of their throat— their words thick and heavy with the ache in their jaw. The memories of a ranch full of distant eyes and rotting apathy. “Home?”

The word was an ugly, wet noise they tried to smother under their hand. Heat rose to their face again, but nothing like the scorching rage from earlier.

Shame overtook them. Gia could feel Floyd’s eyes on them as they tried in vain to scrub away the tears. They just kept coming, hot and damning, overflowing like a boiling pot.

It was stupid. They were stupid. Crying over something they couldn’t change. Crying over scraps. This wasn’t fixing anything. This wasn’t getting them anywhere. They hadn’t cried once when they were sent away to their aunt’s house. They didn’t bother begging their parents to take them back home because they’d known they didn’t have one to go back to.

The concept was lost far before ever stepping into Twisted Wonderland and the only thing they could do was keep moving. Gia knew this.

They told themself this after each and every misstep. Every time something went wrong…when everything inevitably went wrong….

Gia needed to get as far away from Floyd as they could— maybe they couldn’t stop themself from absolutely losing it, but he was the last person allowed to see them do so. Except before they’d pushed themself off the ground, his arm circled around their shoulders and pulled them towards him.

Gia gave a sound somewhere between a hiccup and a gasp. On instinct they started to shove him back, but a second arm wrapped around their back and locked them in place.

Floyd held them against his chest and…no. He was hugging them to his chest.

“I think…” He started in a slow, pensive voice, his hand moving to pet the back of their head. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself.”

Gia kept still, their forehead pressed against the spot beneath his collarbone. They were aware of many things at that moment.

A deep amber trace of cologne, tear stains gradually spreading through the fabric of Floyd’s shirt, the shakiness in their hands, and how his strong, steady heartbeat only made theirs beat a faster jig against their rib cage.

“Did you know lobsters never stop growing?” Floyd asked.

“…What…?”

“Lobsters.” He repeated, “They keep growing throughout their lifetime until eventually they get so old and tired, they can’t molt out of their shell. That’s what kills them, y’see. They get stuck in their shell because it gets too hard for them to break and it gets so diseased and spoiled they just die in there.”

From their spot under his chin, Gia chanced a look at him. Floyd was still stroking the back of their head. They were crying in the arms of a merman with a sudden interest in shellfish. Behind them still lay the unconscious Ignihyde boy they’d tried to beat to death not five minutes ago. It occurred to Gia that surreal couldn’t possibly begin to describe what was going on right now.

“…Am I the lobster or something..?”

Floyd shrugged as if admitting pep talks were painfully not his thing, “Lobsters, shrimps. Both decapods.” He pressed his hand down on their head, guiding them back to him. It made them feel small.

They didn’t fight as he shifted their legs over his thigh and closer to him.

“Point is…You’re a tough little shrimp and you like it that way, but this shell's too old for you now. You’ll smother yourself if you don’t break out sooner or later.”

Gia knew a thing or two about lobsters, too. Lobsters didn’t come out of their old shells with a new one intact. A recently molten lobster was soft, tender— and highly vulnerable to a watchful predator.

They were all but giving Floyd the go-ahead to sink his teeth when he already had them in his jaws. Whatever he was looking at them with, it wasn't concern. His eyes were not soft. His were sharp, hunting eyes.

“Why are you doing this, Floyd?” Gia heard themself ask. The answer wouldn’t matter. Their arms were already around his neck.

“It's your lucky day, Shrimpy. Think of it as grace from the benevolence of the Sea Witch.” He chuckled as he curled himself around him, resting his chin on their shoulder. “And I’m in the mood to carry it through.”

“Ha.” Gia guessed it meant to be a laugh, but it was brittle and fragile and cracked and soon— nothing more than a cascade of sobs.

—

Humming.

Somewhere along the line, between where Gia’s cries waned into a silent weeping, Floyd started humming. He cradled them, though accurately speaking it was more that he had them propped against him.

So Gia stared out into a place far beyond where they lay wilted in his arms as his melody moved through them. A comforting, lulling sweetness he carried achingly well. They’d never heard it before, but in its notes they caught a timbre of nostalgia.

It was only through sheer luck— or maybe the unfortunate fact that Gia’s body was too-well trained against the notion of sleep— that they caught themself nodding off with a jolt.

“Floyd.”

He replied with another hum. Low with an undercurrent of disappointment.

To call it a glare would’ve been giving it too much credit, but whatever it was Gia did their best to fix it on him, “What is that?”

Floyd dipped back into his song long enough for Gia to think he chose to ignore them before saying, “You don’t like it?” Gia hadn’t noticed he was gently rocking them until he stopped to return their gaze. He knew the answer and let it show, smug as ever.

“Mama used to sing it to me and Jade as kids when we got upset.” He said, “It sounds way better underwater. You should come listen to it. I’d be happy to sing it for you again…if I feel like it then, anyway.”

“Right.” Against every fiber in the shriveled husk of their being, Gia sat up. “You enjoyed this way too much.”

“Listening to you cry?” Floyd laughed, “No. Not really.”

Gia thought about lobsters again. Soft ones. They closed their eyes and took a deep breath. The air was cool coming in. Colder coming out. When Gia opened them, they set their sights directly into his eye. The golden right one. “I’m paying you back. How?”

What they got was a low whistle, “Back on it again, huh? You’re a regular ice maiden.” Floyd giggled as he swiped a knuckle over their cheek, “Even if you’re still a bit leaky.”

Gia didn’t look away from him. “Unless it’s for free,” they pressed.

“Eh-heh! You wish.” A pause. Then, “A month.”

He clamped his hand down on their head and roughly ruffled their hair, which did nothing to soothe the throbs assaulting Gia’s temples. Floyd looked hungry with the moonlight caught in his teeth, “You do as I say for a month and I say: You're workin’ at the Lounge.”

Gia expected an anemone to sprout from where Floyd removed his hand. It didn’t, but their headache morphed into a full-on migraine. A month at the Lounge.

They felt a twitch at the corner of their lip and huffed, dropping their focus towards the ground between their legs.

There it was. The puncture of teeth. They had to hand it to him— the guy knew an easy catch when he saw one. And this one did him the added favor of shucking itself for him. A soft little lobster, indeed.

Gia wanted to get angry. They couldn’t. Crying, as it turned out, was dangerously exhausting.

Had Floyd considered that, too?

“Got stuff going on with the SDC. Make room for me to deal with that first or take it up with Vil and Crowley.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Floyd sighed, stretching long and towards the sky. Satisfied with the pops he elicited, he leaned back on his elbows. His eyes fluttered closed, content to bask in the starlight. That was easy.

Gia guessed it made sense for a hunter to know their place on the food chain.

They reached into their pants pocket for their phone. It hadn’t rung, so it was safe to say no one noticed they’d snuck out of their own dorm yet. Grim probably still snoring away in bed. It was past two in the morning.

Gia turned to look at the Ignihyde boy. Blood poured down his nose, now pointing at a new angle. They watched for a few seconds until they were sure of the rise and fall of his chest. Something that should’ve been done earlier, but better late than never or whatever. They weren’t angry at him. Not anymore. Still, Gia wasn’t inclined to care much either.

You never learn.

Whether it was their own voice or their mother’s, they couldn’t tell. Regret didn’t sound all that different between them.

Gia stood, giving a few stretches of their own as they ran through what to do with the guy. Fights weren’t anything recent and though Gia knew Crowley turned a blind eye to them handling their problems in however way they saw fit, this…might be overstepping.

This wasn’t a fight for their life when someone hit overblot or a simple scuffle with some jackass. This was, plainly put, an outright murder attempt. They didn’t care about the boy, but this definitely would be grounds for expulsion, right?

You never learn.

They stared at the sack of bones, three-fourths considering turning one of the rooms at Ramshackle into a makeshift dungeon when Floyd interrupted the thought.

“Leave’im.”

Gia glanced at him, expecting Floyd to be looking at them, but his eyes were still closed. “There?”

He nodded lazily then said, “I’ll take him to Octavinelle, no problemo.”

A wave of throbbing around their skull. Oh, great. Another debt. “I’ll figure it out.”

At this, Floyd frowned and peeked up at them through a single eye. His green one. “We made a deal. I’m taking a month.”

Gia blinked. “That was…I thought that was for—” For what? Was he talking about finding the boy? Was body disposal included? They gestured at the general area of their meltdown.

“Noooo. That’s for the minnow over there.”

“…Then what about…?” Gia pointed at the wet stains on his shirt.

Methodically, Floyd made his way onto his feet. “I told you.” He said as he stood to full height, “I was in the mood. You’re not taking my kindness for granted, are ya?”

Gia felt wrung out, they were too tired to fight him on their sentence at the Lounge— but they couldn’t leave him with a loose end to tie their noose with. They’d messed up too much already. Gia stood their ground. “Running a charity now?”

Though he smiled, a shadow crossed over Floyd, his right eye glowing sharper.

“Alright,” He reached out to flick one of the stubborn strands of hair sticking out from the top of Gia’s head. “You’re too fun to let you go out all ‘woe is me.’ Doesn’t suit you. You still gotta looooong way to go before your time’s up.”

Blackmail. Gia thought. Blackmail for sure.

He breezed by them, stalking towards the not-corpse, “Don’t let me down, okay?”

Gia watched as he considered the boy on the ground for a moment. Then without a trace of effort, haul him up by his shirt before throwing him on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. For a beanpole, the dude was wickedly strong.

Gia’s arms rose to hug themself as if with a mind of their own. It wasn’t the same. They turned on their heel and returned to Ramshackle Dorm.

—

tag list: @cyanide-latte @inmateofthemind @simons-twsted-children @tixdixl @blithesharem @thehollowwriter

@jovieinramshackle @theleechyskrunkly @skriblee-ksk @boopshoops @the-trinket-witch (lmk if you wanna be added)

[chxrrydrxp]

𝒻ℴ𝓇𝒷𝒾𝒹𝒹ℯ𝓃 𝒻𝓇𝓊𝒾𝓉

(Jason x Dicks Ex! Reader)

blurb coming soon yall

word count: 1.3k

chapter 1

chapter 2

( reader is pissing me off like I know I made her but I'm really bouta rock her shit)

Jason shut the door behind him with a click. You sat back down on your couch, once again bringing your knees to your chest. “I'm fine Jason. You didn't have to come all the way here.”

He took a seat beside you, leaning comfortably on the soft cushions. You stared into your hands. A few minutes passed, and the silence between you began to make you fidgety. From the corner of your eye, you could see him mindlessly fumbling with your keys.

The silence burned a little longer until you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. “How long will it go on like this?” You questioned. Jason removed a keychain that had your initial and began prodding at it. “For as long as you let it,” he said with his eyes still on the letter.

You glanced over at him, trying to find something wrong with what he said. But you couldn't. He was right. He was so right and you hated it. “But I love him.” You felt him flinch for a second, but it must've been a shiver from the cold.

He finally turned to look at you, then slowly lifted a hand to wipe away a stray tear. He leaned further into the cushion and looked up at the ceiling. “Is love enough?” You sniffled and stood up from the couch. “I need some air, you wanna go for a walk?”

...

If there was one thing all Gothamites could agree on, it was that Gotham always looked better at night. At nights when you can't see the polluted air, and it's harder to see the trash flooding the sidewalks, or the occasional dead body that often gets mistaken for a hobo. Gotham had a beauty that few understood. Its beauty didn't come from the visible gap in the social hierarchy that kept the nightlife…relevant to say the least. Its beauty shines from the cracks. The little imperfections on the sidewalk allowed pretty flowers to bloom from within. The hidden alleys and caves are covered in spores and overgrown vines. Somehow you ended up stumbling past stubborn weeds in some wet alley that smelled of… never mind you didn't even wanna think about it. “Jason, what the hell is this?” You wiped your hands on your jacket.

“You'll see, just keep up. Oh, and watch your step or you might lose a leg. Potholes.” You blinked at him in disbelief. “What the fuck Jason? I said I wanted to go on a walk, not lose my leg.” He ignored you. “Found em.”

You made your way over to him, leaning over his shoulder. “What? mushrooms?” You glanced down at the far end of the stone alleyway. “All of this just to look at some mushrooms?”

“Not just any Mushrooms, they're luminous.” You turned his head over to look at you with your eyebrows furrowed. His oblivious expression instantly evaporated any frustration this trip brought you. “I can't with you…” You let out a soft laugh. “If this was your attempt to distract me from my recurring misery, it worked.” Jason grinned and kneeled to the family of mushrooms huddled in the moist corner. “Don't touch em’ they've got a sting that hurts like a bitch.” He pulled out a plastic bag and put on a leather glove. “What are you doing??” He broke the mushroom off from the stem. “Got a friend that's into this kinda stuff.”

“What..the..-" Your phone buzzed in your pocket. The name set in the contact made your heart drop. Jason must've sensed your hesitation, because he added, “Go ahead.” You answered the phone, backing up behind a wall for privacy. “Dick?” No answer. You heard shuffling in the background, along with laughter. A woman's laughter. You repeated his name to no avail. You realized you recognized the female voice to be Dick's coworker.

The one who just happens to be the topic of your argument with him. You hung up the phone and stared at the other side of the mossy stone walls. You heard shuffling, and Jason came to stand in front of you, bag in hand. “You good?” “He's with her right now.

Guess he accidentally butt-dialed me. Huh. Maybe he did it on purpose. Perhaps to knock some obvious sense into my head.” Jason signed, running his fingers through his hair. “Wanna go find out?” Your heart sank. “W-what?” You questioned as if this wasn't exactly what you were thinking. the second he asked, you'd already decided what your answer was. You needed this.

You know you did. Maybe if you witnessed the cheating first-hand it'd give you the answer you begged from him. "What if they're just working, I can't just assume-.” Jason now stood closer, gripping your arm sleeve. “What the hell is wrong with you?” “I don't know what you're-” He gripped your arm tighter, but not enough to hurt you.

“Don't gimme that. What, you're gonna just ignore this one as well? We could go there right now. You'll finally be able to see it with your own eyes, and you're not gonna go?”

He didn't notice the tears that began quickly streaming down your cheeks. You fought to keep your voice steady. “I know. I know damn it. I just…can't.” He stared into your eyes for a hard minute, then dropped your hand. “Fuck it. Don't go then.

But I'm not gonna sit here and watch you do this to yourself.”

You looked down at your feet, speechless. Jason sighed. “Come on, I'm taking you home.”

Silence. The entire walk back home was filled with silence, all the way up until you both reached your front door. Jason dug his hands in his pockets, avoiding your eyes as you searched for any sympathy. “Jason.” He looked up, maintaining his silence. Maybe for a second he'd hoped you'd invite him in. Instead, “Please don't say anything to Dick. Just leave it alone, alright? Please.” He hated the desperation in your quivering voice. It sounded like you were on the brink of shattering into nothing. He simply nodded, and turned away. “Be safe,” was all he said before walking away. You shut your door, dropping your things to the floor and sitting at the dining room table. You hesitantly opened your phone, and to your surprise, saw a text from Dick.

Dick: hey, you awake? i wanna talk.

Your heart hammered in your chest. You opened the message and saw that he was typing.

Dick: can you come over?

So that's exactly what you did. You picked up your things, and walked out the door, not noticing Jason in the distance, leaning against the rusted bars that fenced your apartment.

tag list: @12134z03 @xxsweetnlowxx @broadwayotakufairy @harleycao @johnnysilverhandeeznuts @calicocat45

[itneverendshere]

I've had thots about Toppers girlfriend with Rafe and his wandering hands and yall are so turned on you both can't stop touching one another you're practically dry humping in front of everyone (ya know the whole hiding in plain sight)

i did something bad - r.c (18+)

warnings: rafe cameron x kook!reader; cheating; boyfriend!topper (not really lmao poor thing); public sex?; dry humping; mentions of alcohol and drugs; possessive!rafe; almost having sex in the middle of a party I guess;

You don’t even know how the hell this happened.

How you ended up right here, right now, with him. You don’t know where to put your hands, your eyes, or your thoughts. You’re lost. Completely speechless.

Yet somehow, there's nowhere you’d rather be than sitting here, pressed against Rafe Cameron's thighs. And yeah, you're dating his best friend. And yeah, as if you’re not in the middle of a roaring party, filled to the brim, at Topper’s house.

He brushes his thumb over your hip, cautious, like he’s testing the waters. “You good?”

All you can manage is a weak, “Yeah.”

“Look at me.”

Oh god.

Of course, Rafe would catch every little thing you do. Probably been watching you the whole night. Your heart stutters when your eyes lock with his.

That hand on your hip grows bolder, fingers tracing your skin in slow, teasing circles. If you died right now, you’d die happy. And maybe, just maybe, your biggest turn-on is feeling understood. Feeling seen. Rafe does that for you. Topper? Not so much.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention all night,” he murmurs.

You exhale, trying to sound casual. “Really?”

This thing between you two — it’s like a storm you can't escape from. No matter how hard you try. But in moments like this, you can’t run. It pulls you in.

“’Been trying to get your attention all night, you know that?”

You are just about able to breathe out a quiet, “Really?

This attraction between you two is everything you’ve ever needed and wanted, and yet in moments like these, you panic all the same.

You know it’s safer to run from him than to run to him like you always seem to do, but the truth is, you can’t stop. Your steady composure evaporates around him.

Rafe nods, utter confidence in the gesture. Not that you’d expect any less from the kook king himself, he always knew what he thought and felt, and wasn’t afraid to let people know. He owns every single bit of himself.

Unlike you.

“Why are you surprised, flower?” he murmurs, “You know I only got eyes for you.”

You stare back at him, mouth dry and head empty. You want to call him out on his bullshit, put the truth on a silver platter, and hand it to him, but you’d be a hypocrite. How can you tell him you hate seeing him with other people when you’ve got a boyfriend yourself? His best friend. You’ve got no moral high ground here.

So you just nod. Close your eyes, block out the world, and pretend this is fine. Pretend you’re anywhere else but here.

“Is that so?”

He's now grasping both your hips, “Don’t look at me like that. You know I mean it.”

A thrill shoots through you. His touch is scorching your skin, “Not doing anything.”

But fuck, this feels like everything. Cheating on a relationship is a distraction, a self-delusional addiction. This will end in a breakup or breakdown... or worse. You haven’t crossed that line, not physically at least. Not yet. But you feel like you are about to.

“Trust me, you’re doing just enough.”

The way he says it, like it's the easiest thing in the world to want you this bad, makes your pulse quicken. You’re crazy. His lips are so pretty, just the thought of them has you dizzy. Of course, your blush is a dead giveaway.

“Where’s your date?”

“Don’t know,” one hand moves down, “Don’t care.”

“You should.”

His lips twitch, fingers skirting down, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His eyebrows rise, eyes flickering over the room curiously.

“Where’s your boyfriend, flower?” He all but purrs in your ear. Your face is most definitely on fire. 

He stares at you, and you simply stare back. The tension that clouds the air is almost too much. 

“Outside.”

“Now, what would he think if he walked in here and saw you in my lap?” Rafe’s voice is raspy, “Hmm?”

Every bit of confidence you had is nowhere to be found. He always knows how to play your strings. It’s twisted, but the thought only makes you want Rafe more.

“You think about that?” You ask breathlessly, and the hard outline of his cock through his jeans is confirmation enough. You should shove him away. You should feel guilty. But instead, you press yourself against him, his thigh between yours, your brain already melting at the feeling.

“You are really trying to make me fuck you right here, aren’t you?” His voice is lethal, he all but groans, leaning down and sinking his teeth into the side of your neck, just above your pulse, “I’m trying to be good, flower.”

“You’re not good, Rafe Cameron.”

The solid press of his body on yours is all too much. His lips on your neck are everything you’ve fantasized about and more.

“I could be,” Those blue eyes fill with mischief, “For you, I would.”

Your stomach drops and you shove him off, ignoring your flushed cheeks. But then he grins, that shit-eating, sarcastic grin of his, and your glare pierces through him, attempting to keep some space between you.

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“You think I can’t be good?”

“I don’t think,” Your reply is mockingly sweet, and for once he doesn’t smirk, in fact, his grin is half-hearted now, “I know for a fact, you can’t.”

“Right,” His hand works its way from your cleavage, down to your stomach where he lingers for some time, “Good thing you’re dating a good guy, yeah?”

The urge to touch, to be inside you is overwhelming. He’s never felt so desperate to feel someone. The laugh that escapes you is almost bitter, and he knows it. He knows he’s got you. And the worst part? You’re letting him.

“Yeah, good thing,” You breathe, body pressing into his.  Your heart thumps wildly between your ribs and you know you’re going straight to hell.

“Do you want me?” he whispers, arm snaking around your waist to bring you even closer. Again.

“Please.”

In one swift movement, he pulls you down to the couch he’s sitting on. He supports your body with one hand under your upper thigh, whilst his free hand cups the back of your head, fingers interlacing with your hair. The way you situate yourself on his thigh so quickly is too natural, and he does give a little condescending laugh.

There are people everywhere. The party rages on. But it’s like the world has shrunk to just you and him.

You stare into each other’s eyes, panting shakily – lips inching closer and closer together. Rafe lingers there, flushed lips parted, waiting patiently for your move. 

“Rafe?” Your voice is quiet, and yet he still hears you despite the music. You’re not sure how much longer you can stand so close without devouring him whole.

His eyes flicker to yours, “Yes?”

“Kiss me.”

Before you know it, his lips crash into yours roughly, almost bruising them. He’s so hungry for you. For your touch. He has wanted this for so, so, so long. And fuck, so have you.

The hard press of his cock pushing right against your center is torturous. As if his stupid muscular thigh wasn’t enough. You ground yourself down on him, breathing a moan against his lips. 

“My flower,” He pants into your mouth, tongue swiping against your bottom lip, “Gonna be good for me?”

“So good.” You rock against him, your teeth grazing his lips. His fingers untangle from your hair, and cup your cheek, pulling you in closer to deepen the kiss. You push yourself further against him, rocking your hips. He groans against your cheek, thrusting up. 

A large hand slides down your neck and grips it gently, earning him a sudden, breathy moan, “Want me that bad?” 

Your legs tighten around his waist, “Yes.”

“'Y'sure, flower?”

“Yes.”

“More than him?”

“Don’t tease,” you whine lengthily, frustration so pent up it leaves you breathless, “You know my answer.”

“Do I?” Rafe hums, fingers rubbing tight circles into your clothed clit.

“Rafe.”

“Keep talking.”

You try hard to focus on the budding feeling in your core, to chase it so you can finally know what a proper orgasm feels like. Can’t remember the last time you had one, delivered by a man. 

“I want you,” You mumble, grazing your teeth on his pulsing throat as you suckle on his skin, leaving behind a bruise-like mark, “Always want you more.”

“Fuck—” he gasps, hips giving an involuntary jerk, “I’m never letting you go back to him, you know that right?”

Your grip around his neck tightens, fingernails digging into his tanned skin, “All yours.”

You’re so, so wet and you haven’t discarded a single piece of clothing. All he wants to do is replace his thigh with his cock but, he can’t. Not here anyway, so he settles for this. He’d settle for anything you give him right now. Lost to the sensation his head falls back, his eyes screw shut, his breath coming out in short pants. 

“C-Can we–Oh!– Can we leave?”

“Easy,” He hums, eyes still squeezed shut, brows gathering, “Not yet.”

“Please,” you beg quietly, squeezing his waist with your legs as your body tries to shove him closer.

Your pussy swells with pleasure, moans becoming deeper and more strained. He knows you’re close. He’s not far behind and there’s something so primal about making you cum in a room full of people, who’ve yet to take a second look at you two. The alcohol and the drugs in their veins become your accomplices. 

He feels the tension in your body, the way it seizes up, trying to fight the unbearable heat pooling in your pelvis. The sound of his husky moans in your ear is about to send you over the edge – heated coil unraveling, stomach muscles relaxing.

He relishes in the way you’re staring into his eyes with your mouth open. It feels so good, so right. The way his body completely envelopes yours.

You can’t believe you’re about to cum from dry-humping Rafe Cameron.

“This what you want?” He mutters.

You nod as best you can with his palm on your throat.

“Couldn’t fuckin’ wait, huh?” His jaw ticks. “That desperate?”

You nod again. Fuck, you’ll tell him whatever he wants if he’ll just touch you.

Focusing on the budding feeling, your hands grip his veiny forearm. His sleeves are shoved up to the elbows, cuffed there and you can feel a muscle twitch in his forearm. 

It turns you on. You let go of any thoughts, allowing your body to take over. You moan into his shoulder, grinding erratically into his hand.

“Good girl,” His voice is thick with desire, shaky from the buck of his hips. He has your face in his hands before you can shrink away. He's gripping your jaw between desperate fingers and tilting to your chin up, “So fucking good, flower.”

When Rafe begins to bounce his leg up and down and you bite your lip to silence your moans.

“If you ever let him touch you again, I’ll break his fuckin’ arms.” 

A whine seems to be the only thing that your brain can come up with.

You can feel the fire pulsating through his lips; you can feel it radiate off his body. 

He leans in to brush his lips against yours—feverish and light. His tongue swirls through your mouth from desperation starting to lock inside his chest. You have made him feel all kinds of things over the years. He needs to feel you, needs to touch you, constantly. After the searing memory of Topper’s hand on your waist, lips dangerously close to yours, he needs to be close to you.

"M'gonna come—baby, please let me,” You cry out and dig your nails into his skin, chest heaving rapidly.

"Go ahead," He gulps, ready to take you home, he presses his forehead against yours and you wrap your arms around his neck, "'M right here."

Your stomach churns as the thin thread that is holding your composure together snaps. The tip of his nose drags over your jaw, a soft kiss pressed there as he nudges your head to fall back onto his shoulder.

And then he has you shaking, hurtling towards an orgasm that leaves your mind spinning. His lips move to your neck, tongue, and teeth stinging and soothing, mumbling praises and filthy promises.

“Oh, my fuckin'—God!”

He doesn't let up, not when your clit begins to throb, or walls pulse.

Not until you're shaking so hard through your orgasm that you are all but crawling up his lap, leaving you unable to breathe.

“C’mere,” he says, softly, although you haven’t moved. He lifts a hand to your face to brush the hair back from your eyes, lingering for a moment before his gaze slides up to yours.

“You’re mine.” 

[da-rulah]

Confessional - Cardinal Copia x F!Reader [Part 2]

Summary: Cardinal Copia is driven out of his mind when you disappear from the Ministry. He cannot find you anywhere, hasn't seen or heard a peep of you, and it's beginning to take its toll. But he's not the only one who's noticed your absence…

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Pathetic Copia, panty-sniffing kink (except it’s not panties...), masturbation (male), endless pining, a very scheming Terzo

A/N: I cannot believe the response I got to Part 1 of this fic... it was my first ever Ghost fic, and yet y'all blew it up! Thank you SO MUCH. 🥹 You wanted a part 2, so here's your part 2. And soon, part 3...

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

How much torture can one man endure before he breaks? How long does it take for a man to go insane?  

The Cardinal supposed it was six days worth. Six days of torture, and he was dangerously dangling over the edge of sanity... And if he was being honest with himself, the majority of it was self-inflicted. 

He didn’t mean to torture himself. He never meant to debase himself so, and somehow managed a full six days before he gave in the first time. And if you hadn’t disappeared off the face of the earth, perhaps the guilt that had made a permanent home in the pit of his stomach would have been enough to stop him – but just those first six days of not seeing nor hearing anything of you around the ministry were enough to drive him utterly demented. 

But the longer he went without seeing your pretty face in the halls, or hearing your sweet voice when you sang at Mass with your siblings, or being in any kind of proximity to you, the more confident he became that he would never be found out. You would never catch him in his filthy little secret... 

The first time had been a mistake – or so he told himself. Something he did in the heat of the moment, one he couldn’t control and felt utterly miserable over after.  

Those six days he had been on high alert, hoping to see you in the halls or in his seminars but nothing. He wanted so badly to apologise to you, his shame of what he felt was him corrupting your sweet nature in that damned booth but he’d not been given the chance. You’d simply evaporated...  

And so, after he had done a lap of the ministry in search of you one last time on the evening of the sixth day, he sulked back to his quarters trying with all his strength not to pull his greying hairs from his temples in frustration. He slammed the door behind him, frisbeeing his biretta from his head and to some distant corner of the room before he threw himself down on his bed with a huff. 

After a few deep breaths to calm his irritation, he stood and shook the coat of his cassock off, tossing that somewhere else in the room – frankly, he could care less where it landed, as well as the shoes he kicked off. He sat back down against the headboard of his bed, head laying back against the wall as he stared at the ceiling, closing his eyes for a moment of peace. 

But since confessional, he hadn’t been granted a moment of peace at all. No, his mind was occupied.  

Whether it was the guilt, the shame, the unprofessionalism... or on better days, the images you had planted in his mind of your sinful dream... even the sounds of your mewls and whines from beside him and the smacks to the wood as you’d met your end, kicking out involuntarily as you’d climaxed... His mind was always occupied. 

That evening had been no exception, his mind wandering over those pretty little noises you had made, the way you’d said his name almost breathlessly, the sounds of your fingers sliding through your slick as you practically cried for him.  

The Cardinal found himself once again struggling to control himself – he'd managed to for the last six days but by this point he was just exhausted by it all. How could he hold off anymore? How could he sit here and torture himself with vivid memories of you fucking yourself beside him without allowing himself to indulge in the privacy of his own quarters? 

His thick cock had already swelled in the confines of his pants, as it had many times since your encounter but this was the first time he would allow himself the depravity of actually touching himself to the thoughts of you. It had felt too filthy, too impolite to you to do such a thing and yet after six fucking days of no interaction at all, he was too frustrated to deny himself a moment longer. 

His gloved hands slid to his belt, skilfully unbuckling with one hand as the other palms himself through the material. Before long, he had freed himself, and the black leather of his glove was swallowing his cock over and over as his hand stroked languidly, a low hum emanating from deep within his chest. 

How he wished it was your far softer and more delicate hand, perhaps your mouth if he was lucky enough. But this was the best he could do, pathetically stroking himself behind closed doors to the mere memory of you. What he’d give to worship you, to feel you and to taste you, to smell you again.  

His eyes shot open, his mind cruelly reminding him of the unwitting gift you had left behind... He looked guiltily to the side of his bed, to his bedside cabinet where if he was not mistaken, the drawer knob was glowing at him. But hey, that could just be his descent into madness...  

And it was that madness that had made him do the unthinkable, right from the beginning. He had kept that glove of yours – the glove you had left in such haste, the glove you had baptised with your juices. It sat in his bedside cabinet, under a stack of old Beano comic books he hid from plain sight in case a member of the clergy came to his chambers and judged him for the one thing he kept with him from his childhood. 

He’d be lying if he said that it had sat there and been forgotten about; it certainly hadn’t. But tonight was the first time he had considered retrieving it at all... He couldn’t, could he? He certainly shouldn’t... But his mind had been swimming with could haves, should haves and would haves for six fucking days and frankly, he was done with it.  

To hell with it.  

He reached over to the drawer and yanked it open, shoving the old Beano comics to one side and rifling until he found that discarded piece of lace he’d stolen. He rolled it in his hand for a moment, the other resuming the slow strokes to his cock. He shut his eyes again, head lolling back as he stroked, over and over, moans rolling from his half-painted lips between gentle curses and whispers of your name. 

As if the Cardinal couldn’t become anymore unhinged in his blissful state, he brought your glove to his face, catching the lasting aroma, a delicate bouquet of sin. He growled to himself like an animal, fist pumping himself to the point of no return, his cock angry and red, profusely leaking over his own gloved hand. His abdomen tightened, a garbled groan muffled by his fist pushing the lace against his face, cock jumping in his hand. 

It was quite pathetic really, how quickly Copia came as soon as he pulled that glove from its’ hiding spot. He’d made a mess over his shirt, whimpering into the glove as spurts of his seed landed as far up as his chest. And yet, he continued to fuck his fist into overstimulation, cock pitifully attempting another orgasm as more cum simply dribbled over his glove this time around. Even then, he only stopped himself because the stimulation was becoming painful... Although he was sure he probably deserved that.  

As he sat limp on his bed, the haze of his release fading quickly as realisation of what he’d just done hit him. With tired limbs, he balled the glove back up and threw it back into the open drawer beside him, smacking the drawer shut in anger at himself. How could he be so debauched? So disrespectful? 

So perverted.  

It was bad enough he was thinking of you. It was bad enough that he was masturbating over the thought of you. But that... he wasn’t sure he could forgive himself for acting this way. It didn’t matter how he felt about you, didn’t matter that he was transfixed on you or infatuated with you. This should never have happened... 

And yet, there was a next time. And another time after that.  

In fact, as the days passed and turned into weeks – still without so much as a glimpse or a whisper of you around the ministry – he found himself going back to that drawer more and more. The last time was never the last time, no matter how much he promised to stop, to behave himself. 

There was always a next time...  

You’ve been hiding for almost four weeks. How you were getting away with it, you weren’t sure... Perhaps you had memorised your Cardinal’s movements a little too well in the time your fantasies had begun to take hold, and so now you were able to avoid every possible encounter that may have been.   

After all, how on earth could you face him? You were absolutely mortified at yourself and the thought of being anywhere near the Cardinal made your skin crawl... Not because you despised him, or held any animosity towards him at all – how could you, possibly? - but because you felt like a fool; an idiot who got too caught up in the moment, confessed something that overstepped every conceivable boundary a person can set, and had managed to make the poor Cardinal stoop to your pathetic level.  

You had utterly humiliated yourself. 

In your efforts to avoid Cardinal Copia, you had in turn ended up avoiding most of your duties as a Sister of Sin. No seminars, no services... You had skipped on your work duty more often than not for fear of bumping into him in the hallways, faking some terrible stomach flu for longer than could be believed.   

You had even skipped out on Black Mass – a big no-no in the Ministry. Unless you were on the reaper’s death bed, you were to be at Black Mass.  

As the service was held, Papa Emeritus III took to his pulpit and noticed immediately that one of his siblings was missing. How disappointed he had been to come to realise it was you who hadn’t showed. You were one of his favourites, so sweet and virtuous. Whilst he did enjoy corrupting his Sisters of Sin, somehow he always felt you had been off limits... Still, a harmless flirt to keep you on your toes had never hurt. His soft spot for you was nothing if not platonic and playful. 

The Cardinal had noticed your absence at Black Mass also, and frankly it concerned him. Had he driven you out? Had you left the Ministry altogether? He’d not seen you for three fucking weeks, and he couldn’t help but feel a panic rise in his chest, that ever-nagging guilt growing into a nauseating feeling of utter self-hatred. He’d never forgive himself if you had left...  

After Mass had ended, Terzo grabbed the Cardinal for a quiet chat in his office. He knew damn well that you never missed a Latin seminar, that Copia likely saw you more often than most.  

“Cardinale, forgive the intrusion on your plans for the day. I’m sure you have places to be,” he began as he sat behind his desk. Copia stood in front of him, wringing his hands nervously. Part of him wondered if he were to be chastised for his behaviours, as if somehow Terzo had known... Had you told him what had happened at confessional? Did you tell him you were leaving... because of him?  

“Non è un problema, fratello. (It’s no problem, brother.) My only plan was to prepare for the week’s seminars.” His voice wavered slightly, and yet Terzo never noticed as it wasn’t unusual. Copia tended to be a little nervous around Terzo. He looked up to him so much, always had... But to Terzo, Copia was the annoying little kid he would make eat the bugs as a ‘joke’ while he and his older brothers looked on and laughed. And all Copia had ever wanted was to be just like Terzo.  

“I merely wondered if you had seen Sister _____ in your seminars lately? I noticed she wasn’t at Black Mass and... well, that’s not like her, is it?” Terzo asked, leaning on the desk on his elbows, waiting for an answer.   

The Cardinal could feel a drop of sweat forming on his brow. This felt like a trick question, like Terzo was expecting something of him. 

“Uhhh, I... I haven’t. It’s not like her, hai ragione (you’re right) .” 

“Hmm,” he hummed, leaning back in his chair. “I wonder what the matter is? I’ll be sure to look out for her, make sure our piccolo topo (little mouse) is alright. Please let me know if you see her in the next few day, sì?”  

Copia let out a quiet breath of relief, the conversation seeming to end without suspicion. “Sì, fratello. I will update you. Would you...” he stopped himself, wondering if this might be overstepping, implicating himself somehow, but deciding to continue, “would you mind letting me know too? If you see her, I mean...” 

Terzo looked up at Copia with eyes narrowed and a smirk playing on his painted face.  

“Why would you like to hear, Cardinal? Hai una cotta, eh? (You have a crush?)” he teased. Copia’s eyes widened, panic clear on his face.     "N-no! No, I just... This is unlike her,” he panicked. 

 “I wouldn’t judge, Cardinal. She is a pretty young thing...” he mused, winding Copia up further just as he had since childhood. 

“No, fratello... I mean, well, sì, she is but... I don’t...” Copia stumbled, making himself to be more obvious.  

“He doth protest too much,” Terzo laughed, “I will tell you if I see our pretty little Sorella around. You can go back to planning your seminars, Cardinal.” Terzo waved his subordinate out of his office and gladly, Copia took the chance to leave with his head hanging low. 

Outside the halls had quietened after the end of Mass. Copia leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath and wiping the sweat from under his biretta on his sleeve. He felt so burdened, so absolutely horrified at the thought that now even Terzo had noticed your absence in the ministry. God, he hated that he called you pretty... He hated that Terzo called you ‘piccolo topo’. His reputation proceeded him, and Copia would be damned if he got to corrupt you... 

In the days after Black Mass, Copia tried desperately to find you around the Ministry – with no success. He would end up defeatedly walking back to his chambers late each night, having hoped that maybe he would find you in the kitchens or the library. If you had been trying to avoid him, perhaps you would be eating later, studying in the middle of the night... But nothing. 

But at least he could go back to his room, to his bed, to your glove.  

The knock at your dorm door remained ignored by you, forcing Sister Katia, your bunkie, to get the door with a roll of her eyes. She’s just about had enough of your shit, having to pull twice her weight lately to accommodate whatever this episode was. The only reason she hadn’t lost her cool at you was because she knew this wasn’t like you, and whatever was causing this – it had to be bad. 

“______, it’s for you. A ghoul,” she sounds exasperated... Perhaps you should make the effort to at least see what the Ghoul wanted, praying to Sathanas that it had not been Copia who sent him your way.  

You pulled yourself from your bunk, your depression-outfit of three-day old sweats and a faded old graphic t-shirt making even the Ghoul at the door look at you in vague disgust. He said nothing to you though, his eyes following an arm he stretched out, holding a note with a very telling red wax seal over the fold – a ‘III’ in roman numerals that screamed Terzo...  

“Oh, shit,” Katia was not one for subtlety, clearly seeing the same wax stamp and realising that it was, in fact, a summons to visit Papa in his office the next morning. Dread filled you, the colour draining from your features... Papa only summoned Sisters of Sin for two things, and in your current predicament, both options felt like an option you would rather avoid.  

He was either about to make a move on you, to have his way with you if you were to let him, or he was to chastise you and dish out punishment as he saw fit for your little disappearing act.  

“Thank you, Ghoul. I uh, apologise... for my state,” you smiled weakly. He bowed his head slightly with a flutter of his eyelashes, as if to say ‘no problem, Sister’ - a ghoul of few words, this one... - and he turned to leave, walking down the hallways as Katia closed the door.  

“Well, open it... You know Papa doesn’t mince his words. Are you in trouble, or about to get laid?” Katia smirked as she tried poorly to lighten the mood. You rolled your eyes and popped the wax off the paper, unfolding to read your summons. 

“Sorella _______,  

It has come to my attention that you have been missing from the ministry for quite some time now, your duties going abandoned.  

Should this note find you well, I expect you in my office at 8am sharp with a very good explanation as to why.  

I look forward to your company,  

Papa Emeritus III”  

Had you not thought of yourself as such a tiny little insignificant cog in the Ministry, maybe Terzo’s note wouldn’t have come as such a surprise to you – but knowing your Papa had noticed your absence and was, shall we say, less than impressed unnerved you.  

“Suppose you’ll have to shower now,” Katia bumped your shoulder with hers. “Oh and wear that short habit with the red stitching you’ve got! You’ll need to butter him up a bit, by the sounds of it...” she winked, climbing into her bunk and picking up her discarded magazine.  

Perhaps she was right... If nothing else, perhaps it may distract him just a little, to give you enough time to weasel your way into an excuse for your absence. Terzo could easily be swayed if you indulge him just a little, without having to compromise your own integrity. 

Your hands shook as you lifted a fist to lightly knock on the large double doors of Papa Emeritus III’s office, fear setting in that you were about to have to fight for your place at the Ministry. Terzo was known to be ever so slightly more diplomatic than his brother’s, but a blatant disregard for duties always riled him up the wrong way – and in your depressed and embarrassed stupor, that was exactly what you had done for four weeks. 

“Entra,” you heard from within, the deep timbre of his thick Italian accent sending a shiver down your spine. 

You did as asked, barely opening to door to slink in as if hiding – like any sudden movement would alert him and have him pounce. You waited at the door, practically backed up against the wood and waited for instruction. He was furiously typing at his typewriter, the keys echoing around the stone walls until a loud ping sounded, and he pushed down the carriage release that had it loudly creaking back to its place. He looked up at you then, papal paint freshly adorned over his masculine features. 

When he saw the fear on your face, the shame you already harboured, his features relaxed slightly – not that it gave you any relief to your anxiety.  

“Sorella ______, how I’ve missed that pretty face in the halls, eh?” he smiled at you, monochrome gaze sweeter than you had expected. Sister Katia’s words circled your mind... 

“You know Papa doesn’t mince his words. Are you in trouble, or about to get laid?”  

While you prayed for neither, at least one was inevitable. 

“Come, stand here for me, hm? Let me see you,” he beckoned you to stand before his desk, leaning on the wooden frame by his elbows. 

Cautiously, you stepped forward, standing on the ornate rug between the two chairs he had facing him. He hadn’t invited you to sit, and you knew better than to do something you had not been asked of right now.     “There, bellissima (beautiful)!” he leaned forward, outstretching a hand to pinch at the hem of your skirt, shorter than usual. He ran the material between his fingers, tracing along the red stitching, the hair of his knuckles tickling your upper thighs. It was only now you realised he wasn’t wearing his usual white gloves. You cursed Katia for this idea, hoping not to give the wrong impression. “I like this one, Sorella. The red stitching is....” he took a deep breath in, “quite something.”  

“Th-thank you, Papa...” you stuttered. Terzo looked you in the eye, and sat back in his chair again.  

“Do you know why I called for you, Sorella?” he asked, his fingertips meeting as he leaned back.   

“I-I... I think I’m in some trouble, Papa,” you admitted, looking down at your feet, twiddling your fingers for something to focus on.    “Sì, I’m afraid so. You see, I noticed that you were not at Black Mass on Sunday. It worried me, and so I spent a few days attempting to run into you, to perhaps see you in a seminar or the library but... poof, nowhere in sight,” he made a gesture with his hand, like a puff of smoke had left his palm. 

You remained silent, biting your lip.  

“Even Cardinale Copia has not seen you, so he tells me - his top student!” Your cheeks reddened at the mere mention of his name. “He seemed quite dismayed, actually...” 

You swallowed nothing, gulping down the guilt that threatened to rise. You had caused that, upset your precious Cardinal with your desperate lewd actions. Probably made him reconsider what little authority he had in the Ministry, what with the overshadowing of the Papas.  

“Do you wish to tell me what has forced you to become a mere figment of your poor Papas imagination, tesoro?” he pouted dramatically, a flirtatious glint in his pale white eye. His approach was somewhat light-hearted, and that unnerved you more than if he had been yelling at you. Was he not angry at you?  

“I... I’m sorry, Papa. I haven’t quite been... feeling myself,” you all but whispered, head hung low in shame.  

“Oh, tesoro...” he stood from his chair and rounded the desk quickly, a look of pity and worry etching deeper lines into his paint than usual, “are you sick?”  

He stood close to you – so close you could feel his warm breath grazing over your facial features – and placed the back of his bare hand to your forehead, testing your temperature. You stilled, not a single breath falling from past your lips as you couldn’t help but watch him closely. You could understand why many a sister before you had fallen for his wiles before you, but whilst he made you nervous, you simply could not fathom the idea of intimacy with Papa Terzo.     Not when Cardinal Copia still occupied your mind... 

“Hmm, you’re warm enough, sorella. Not a thing wrong with you physically, eh?” he winked and curled his finger under your chin, stepping back and sitting against the edge of his desk. 

“N-no, I’m quite alright physically.”   

“Then what is troubling you, mia cara?” 

Your palms felt clammy, the weight of the truth on your shoulders almost unbearable. There was no way you would ever tell Papa the truth, you’d burst into flames on the spot out of sheer humiliation. No, you were to keep that to yourself. 

But words failed you, and before you knew what you were doing, your eyes had filled to the brim with tears, silently spilling down your reddened cheeks.   

Terzo panicked... The only tears he was used to were that of the sister on her knees or in his bed for him, and entirely pleasure induced. But this was you, and you were neither of those things to him. He rushed to you, his hands hovering somewhere around your head as he contemplated what to do, how to help you. Hugging you felt unprofessional, awkward almost. He settled for wiping your tears from your cheeks with his thumbs as you began to sob. 

“Mi dispiace (I'm sorry), Papa...” your thoughtful use of Italian swelled his heart, “I... I’ve been in a dark place. I will do better, I promise. A-and I'll take whatever punishment is fitting.”  

Terzo contemplated for a moment. Sister Imperator had been quite insistent on some kind of penalty, especially for missing Black Mass. They had only a brief conversation on the matter when having their weekly meeting, in which Imperator suggested he decide on a fitting punishment himself, but that one should be given. 

But you looked so broken. Your behaviour was so unlike you, so out of character and whilst he didn’t know the cause of this low period, he was no stranger to the idea of depression taking hold for no reason whatsoever. He put it down to that – merely a chemical imbalance in your pretty little head. In good conscience, he could not punish you for the hole you had been in recently. At least, not without giving you a chance to bounce back. 

“Sorella, there is no punishment for you today. But I must ask you to return to your ministerial duties, sì?” You were stunned to silence – that you had not been expecting.  

“I’ll have to keep an eye on you, be sure you attend seminars and Black Mass again this coming Sunday. But you must find an outlet, sì? Something good for the soul. And if I find you have not been attending...” he drew in a deep breath, puffing his chest out, “...Sister Imperator will have my balls in a jar, no?” he laughed. “Don’t make me look like un debole idiota (a soft idiot), tesoro.” 

You nodded quickly, promising you would do your duties.  

“Brava ragazza (good girl),” he smirked, the flirtatious look back in his eyes. “You can start with today’s Latin seminar. The Cardinale will be pleased to see you!” His eyebrows pumped upwards twice suggestively, and rounded his desk once again, sitting back down and typing on his typewriter once more.  

“You are dismissed, Sister. Ready yourself for your Cardinale,” he smirked, eyes focussed on his paper. 

Your blood ran cold at his words, the only heat between your thighs as you were forced to picture yourself literally readying for him... You wondered if the innuendo had been intentional or not; for your own sanity’s sake, you had to choose not.  

You couldn’t bare to imagine the repercussions of Terzo, your Papa, knowing of your little... predicament. 

But you left as he dismissed you, dread filling in the pit of your stomach at the notion you had to not only face the ministry again, but you had to face him.  

Your Cardinale...  

A/N: Again, thank you guys SO MUCH for reading and loving part 1. I hope you love part 2 just as much, and look forward to part 3... (coming real soon, i promise!) In the meantime, you can submit drabble requests HERE

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[dfortrafalgar]

Gift of Belonging

Luffy x GN Reader

Life didn't have a purpose without Luffy.

Warnings: Fic from my 100 followers poll!!! can be read as either platonic or romantic, mentions of self deprecating thoughts but nothing too severe, just some short, feel good, reassuring hugs from our favorite straw hat-wearing captain <3

Taglist: @bokutosbiceps | @luffy0s | @surgeonoffish

You were at the end of your rope when you joined the straw hats, but who wasn’t?  You weren’t special in the grand scheme of the world’s most infamous pirate crew.  You couldn’t compare to the tumultuous lives of the rag-tag bunch that had quickly become your lifeline, you had nothing on being the child of an abusive royal family, or the last survivor of a decimated nation, or the unfortunate witness to the killing of a friend or parent, or a literal god.  You weren’t a cyborg or an animal or a reincarnated being hundreds of years old.  You were just… simple.

And yet, the Straw Hats made you feel accepted.

They made you feel wanted.

And no one had wanted you more than Monkey D. Luffy.

You still struggled to accept the boisterous boy’s words when he welcomed you aboard his grand ship.  You had put up an argument, insisting that you would only get in the way, that your strengths paled in comparison to the rest of the crew, that you had no business being a part of the inner circle of one of the Emperors.  But not a single eyelash was batted in the direction of your plight.  Simply endless stares of patience, waiting for you to finally bite the lure and climb up the gangway and officially join the Straw Hats.  And when you finally did, Luffy had said the words that had stuck with you since then.

“I don’t care who you are.  You’re special and you deserve a spot in my family.”

It was as if the world opened up around you for the first time.  Instead of seeing your surroundings in black and white, colors infiltrated your retinas in ways you had never experienced.  Suddenly, the sunshine that beat down on your skin felt like a pleasant hug from the world, rather than a punishing burn against your weary being.  Food you ate and drank every single day tasted extra good because it was always cooked with love and affection, the flirtatious cook not caring at all where you had come from.  Luffy and his crew made it known from the second they met you that you were deserving of love, respect, and friendship.

And you couldn’t lie… the first few days were overwhelming.

The Straw Hats were loving.  They were really loving, and their unique ways of showing they appreciated you were slowly building up in your veins like a disease until one night, when you were on watch, you cracked.

You broke down.

You sat on the stern of the Thousand Sunny, gazing out from the white-painted railings and over the vastness of the dark ocean and seamlessly blended in with the sky above you, the only light shining on you being from the twinkling stars millions of light years away.  Quiet, salty tears flowed down your cheeks, your shoulders clenched as you wrapped your arms around yourself, sniffling into the collar of your shirt.  You loved your crew, you really did.  You began to realize that you loved them more than you ever loved anyone else in your life, and that thought somehow scared you.  Like you were unprepared.  Like your heart had been so deprived of love for your whole life that the overabundance of it in such a short time caused your brain to short-circuit.  And you cried.  You weeped on the Sunny’s back deck, into the calmness of the night.

Until the sound of clopping flip-flops climbing the steps to where you sat alerted your attention, causing you to freeze up, holding your breath, wishing your tears could evaporate away.

“Hey, what are you doing up here alone?”  It was Luffy, his usually exuberant voice a rare form of calm as he approached you.  He wasted absolutely zero time in plopping himself onto the hard deck beside you, extending his legs and holding his arms out, hands behind his head.

You stayed hunched into yourself, trying to hide your shame in your hands.

“Hey… are you alright?” he asked, his voice somehow even softer.

A faint sniffle from you was all your captain needed to hear.  He sat up with a start and grabbed your shoulders with his calloused hands, yanking you around to face him.  Your eyes were wide with shock at his actions, but you stayed frozen.  It’s not like you could run anywhere, the man was made of rubber.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, his eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed, an intense stare that bored into your skin.  “Did someone say something to you?  Did someone hurt you?”

You shook your head, wiping your tears away on your arm.  You took a deep, shuddering inhale before finally forcing your shoulders to relax.  “No… no one said anything to me.”

“Then why are you crying?”

Luffy, despite not being overly emotional in normal circumstances, was scarily good at reading people.  It didn’t matter if you couldn’t outright say what was bothering you, he would eventually figure it out with that convoluted tunnel system of a brain.  His adorable lips curled into a pout as he analyzed your face, picking apart every twitch of your muscles.

You inhaled once more, turning your face away from him slightly.  “I’m just… not used to this.”

“Not used to what?”

His questions, and the feigned clueless tone of his voice almost made a smile crack onto your face.  Another talent of Monkey D. Luffy: he was like a wrecking ball for the walls you built up around yourself.

“I’m not used to… this.”  Your hands circled around you, gesturing to the ship, causing Luffy to finally drop his hands from your shoulders.  “Being a part of a crew.  You guys are… too nice to me.”

Luffy was ready with a response immediately.  “We could never be ‘too nice to you.’  That’s impossible.  We love you.”

Your lip quivered slightly.  “That’s what I’m not used to.”

“Being loved?”

There it was.  You feebly nodded.  “Yeah.  That.”

Your captain scooted across the deck closer to you, if that was even possible.  He was basically flush against you at this point.  He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm bear hug, his fluffy black hair tickling the skin of your cheek.  “We love you because you’re special to us, we don’t need a reason for that,” he described.  His voice faltered, as if he wanted to say something else, as if he was trying to add to his words.  Instead, he squeezed you into him, closing his eyes as he felt your muscles grow limp.  ‘We love you, but I love you more.’

“I just wish it was easier for me to accept that,” you whispered into his shoulder, struggling to hug him back.

Luffy’s embrace didn’t relent.  If anything, he tried to pull you in closer.  The force of his hug made you lose your balance on the floor, falling over on top of him, your chin hitting his shoulder.  But he still didn’t let up.  He held firm, squeezing you as if you would fade away into dust if he let go.

“Luffy–” you wheezed against his skin.

“What?”  He sounded completely oblivious.  “I’m going to keep hugging you until you don’t feel sad anymore.  No more crying,” he demanded.  “Captain’s orders.”  His last sentence held a hint of playfulness, the smile he surely wore on his face coming through the sound of his voice.

He must have been contagious, because your own grin slowly grew on your lips.  After what felt like hours, you finally reciprocated his hug, curling your arms under him and letting yourself finally relax in his embrace.  You knew Luffy had odd ways of showing he cared, but this was definitely unexpected.  Unexpected, but not necessarily unappreciated.  His presence emitted a warmth akin to summertime air, his existence like the calming breeze of the open ocean that wafted around you and circled you in comforting drafts.  Luffy never judged, never wavered, never ceased to let his crew, and now you, know how truly grateful he felt to be able to live his life with his favorite people.

You made a slight movement to stand up, but Luffy’s arms tightened their hold around your back.  “Not yet,” he grumbled.  “I don’t wanna stand up yet.”

“Is this how you comfort everyone on the crew?” you asked, your voice coming out muffled as you spoke into his neck.

“Hmm… not necessarily.  Everyone’s different.  Chopper really loves hugs, and Zoro lets me hug him, but sometimes Nami and Robin can take them or leave them.  Usopp likes hugs but doesn’t like to admit it.”  A smile crawled to your face as your captain rattled off the preferences of your fellow crewmates, the ways in which he perceived their unique and individual personalities bringing a comforting reassurance to your heart.  “I feel like you really like hugs, and you clearly needed one right now.”

You bit the inside of your lower lip, trying to bite back the tears that formed in the corners of your eyes.  The tension escaping your body dissipated in large waves, leaving you with nothing but warmth and comfort in the arms of the man who had surely saved your life.

And for the first time since officially joining the Straw Hats, you began to feel truly, unconditionally loved.  It was miraculous.  All it took was a single hug from the nicest, most selfless person you had ever met.

Someday, you’d be sure to return the favor for Luffy, even if he wouldn’t accept.

[biographydivider]

Urgent Brother Business

A little gift for @somerandomdudelmao in return for their delightful Future AU, and for blessing us with Tiny Tello. I couldn’t get the image of him bossing gigantic, adult Leo around out of my head!

“So the Krang dogs were last spotted here,” April was saying, tapping at a map she’d laid out across the War Room table. “If we come around the perimeter this way, we should be able to use these ruins as cover to...”

She looked up from the carefully plotted attack plans at the ten recruits she’d assembled to go over strategy; none of which were even looking at the map. “Seriously, guys?” April huffed. “I don’t even have to turn around to see what y’all are gawking at...”

Behind her in the hallway, the Leader of the Resistance, The Greatest Ninja of All Time and the turtle who was meant to be leading this damn meeting was crawling across the  floor, barely holding in a laugh as a tiny, furious green pancake led him about by the tails of his mask.

“Well,” April deadpanned, arms folded, “I’ve turned around, and I see. Master Leonardo, you wanna get involved, here?”

“Can’t, April,” Leo said, pointing down at the turtle tot, who was scowling through his custom, handmade glasses at the world around him. “I’m double-booked. Take it up with Donnie.”

Donnie - the recent victim of a severe bout of anti-aging that seemed to be going around the base of late - growled reedily and tugged on Leo’s mask tails.

“Oop, we’re off again. See you next time, Commander. Recruits.”

“The sooner Mikey works out how to change him back,” April sighed, turning back to her map, “the better. Okay, can we at least try to focus, please?”

Leo had been basically useless to the resistance since Donnie got babified; following him around and basically doing whatever his little brother (emphasis on little) wanted him to do. That or picking Donnie up and gently squeezing him around the middle, just to hear him squeak. It was so darn cute!

“Where are we going, bud?” Leo asked, as Donnie led him through the base, his face a mask of adorable determination. “You wanna go bath? S’at it? You wanna swim? Oh, we’re going to the kitchen? I can getcha a cookie, just don’t tell Raph...oh.”

They’d stopped just in front of the counter that held the battered, dinged but somehow miraculously still functional coffee machine. It was Donnie’s pride and joy - he’d rescued it from a decimated Starbucks a month or two back, painted a Genius Brand logo on it and had made it work on salvaged coffee beans, evaporated milk and a dream.

Tiny Donnie looked up at it expectantly.

“Uh, bud?” Leo said, getting to his feet and rubbing the back of his neck guiltily. “I don’t think I can get you a coffee right now. You’re just a little guy, and I don’t know what all that caffeine will do to your sensitive lil’ tum-tum.”

Donnie looked from the machine to Leo and, assuming he simply hadn’t made himself understood, jabbed a tiny finger in the direction of the machine.

“D. Coffee’s not a good idea right now.”

Donnie grumbled and pointed all the harder.

“Nuh-uh. No way.”

The turtle tot’s eyes widened in scandalised betrayal - then narrowed as he hissed out something that was obviously a very bad word in Baby-ese.

“Woah, woah, you watch your mouth, mister.” Leo bent down to scoop up his brother. “You need a time out, buddy. Away from all this --”

An entire arsenal of purple nimpo weaponry materialised around Donnie.

“...temptation,” Leo finished weakly. “Eeuough boy.”

“Okay,” April was saying back in the War Room, having finally - finally! - wrangled back the recruits’ attention. “So this next part’s important. Escape plan; this back alley is vital, everyone memorise the co-ordinates --”

BOOM BOOM BANG POW SCREECH POP BOOM BANG BANG BANG BANG

As one, the recruits snapped their attention to the doorway, just as Leo sprinted past, shrieking in terrified laughter as Donnie - somewhere in the haze of purple light and firepower that surrounded him - followed in hot pursuit.

“Donnie no, Donnie stop it I’m sorry, Donatello stand down I’m still your commanding officer--AAAAAGH!!!”

A soft, resonant boom, followed by a cloud of purple smoke. April deflated, finally admitting defeat and rolling up her map.

“Doesn’t matter. Just...don’t worry about it, guys.”

[thefrogdalorian]

Sanctuary

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: It's one of those days when your emotions threaten to overwhelm you. Despite the horrible day you're having, you try your best to keep it together. A feat you manage, until a certain Mandalorian arrives home and takes you into his arms. Word Count: 1.2k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: Descriptions of anxiety/panic attack ✯ Author's Note: Seeing these gifs the other day broke something in my brain and this little fic was the result. I hope this gets you through a day when you really need a hug from Din Djarin 💕 ✯ My Masterlist ✯

On the days when your stomach churned and you were too upset to vocalise the war that waged within yourself, you were grateful to have someone in your life who seemed to know exactly what you needed. There was no doubt that Din understood you better than you understood yourself. It was unsurprising, given how meticulous and attentive he was in everything he turned his hand to.

You had been in each other's lives for some time, yet you still found yourself pleasantly surprised each time he shared such care towards you. You never doubted Din's kind heart once you got to know him, but you were nonetheless astonished by the multitudes he contained. It was astounding how tender and caring the man, who had gained such a fearsome reputation throughout the galaxy as a ruthless bounty hunter, actually was beneath his cold, hard beskar. 

It was early in the morning when Din had left through the door and your stomach tied itself into knots as you heard his heavy footprints gradually fade into the distance. The sound indicated that you were now alone with your thoughts. Throughout the day, you had pushed your emotions to the deepest depths inside yourself. You had been trying to kid yourself, in his absence, that you could survive the day without breaking down. You told yourself over and over that if you could just make it until Din returned and then put on a brave face when he walked through the door, you would have survived the day without dissolving into pieces. The last thing you wanted was for Din to see how upset you were. The fear that you were weighing him down with your troubles or somehow holding him back from achieving greater things was omnipresent. Even though he had never given you a reason to fear such a thing, you were constantly terrified of being seen as a burden to him.

The familiar heavy footsteps grew louder; their rhythmic, even quality indicated they could belong to only one man. You took a deep breath and attempted to steady your racing heart, preparing yourself to keep it together upon Din's return.

The second you saw his figure in the doorway, you knew it was a lost cause. At the sight of the familiar outline of beskar shining in the entryway, you immediately knew that there was no way that you would be able to maintain your composure. You stood up immediately, rising off the chair you had been sitting on as you waited for him, to greet the man who owned your heart entirely. Instead of racing towards him as usual, you found yourself suddenly overcome with apprehension. Your steps faltered with uncertainty as you walked towards him on shaky legs, feeling your ability to stay strong evaporate just from laying eyes upon him. 

Din held his arms out to you without hesitation, beckoning you to come close to him.

“Come here, cyare,” Din whispered as you stepped into his orbit, his voice gravelly, “Let me hold you.”

As you closed the distance between you and Din to rest your head in the crook of his neck, you caught a glimpse of his mudhorn pauldron, glinting despite the low light of the cabin. Despite how terrible you felt, the ghost of a smile passed across your lips as you noticed the signet was so distinctively Din. Stepping into his arms felt like you were returning to safety. To your home.

You rested your head in the crook of his neck and nuzzled into his rough cowl, enjoying his familiar scent. It was musky and masculine, but not overbearing. You detected a faint hint of perspiration mixed with the floral scent you knew lingered on his skin thanks to the bottle of liquid he lathered across his tan skin in the 'fresher each morning. Din’s chestplate was firm against your body. Initially, you recoiled at the slight chill from the beskar, discernible even through your layers of clothing. Once you had adjusted to the temperature and new sensation, though, you felt nothing but warmth when you were in his arms.

As Din held you close and his hands rubbed comforting circles into your back with one strong arm holding you tightly around the waist, you appreciated the way your bodies fit together. It was as you were admiring how you seemed to be made for each other that you noticed how Din had wrapped his cape around your shoulders to further cocoon you into him. As though he was protecting you from all of the hurt that lingered outside of the sanctuary of his arms. From whatever was troubling you. There was no intense questioning, no expectations for answers. Only safety, love and understanding from a man who wanted to help you through your very worst days.

Something about nuzzling into Din’s neck and the care he had taken to raise your spirits rendered you speechless. You were overcome with emotion, powerless to stop the tears which started falling down your cheeks. At first, it was a solitary droplet, but then you couldn’t help yourself as more and more tears slipped from your eyes. 

At the first sound of your sniffles, Din pulled away from you. You felt your stomach drop in panic, momentarily afraid that you had upset him somehow. You looked up at him and felt the embarrassment settle somewhere low in your stomach, a physical symptom of the mortification you felt at your outburst. Then came the shame. You were dismayed that you had lost control of your emotions in such a way. Evidence of your loss of composure was evident in the reflection of your face in his helmet. You watched as your expression grew increasingly more distraught and felt your chest heaving as the panic rose within you, upset at your emotional state.

Fortunately, Din was nothing but understanding and caring. Before your thoughts could spiral anywhere darker, he began to use his soft leather gloves against your cheeks to dry the tears that were burning hot trails down your skin. It distracted you from your anguish, his tender touch providing instant comfort.

You relished the contact and melted into his embrace. Between his hand that lingered on your cheek, while the other rubbed your back and ensured his cape still swaddled you, your mood was instantly calmer. Din brought you back into his shoulder and returned his hands to your back, rubbing up and down as he held you close. You wrapped your arms around his waist, relishing the small contact you gained with the warmth of his flesh between the hard plates of his beskar. You stayed like that for a few more minutes, feeling your anguish dissipate with each second that Din held you.

Eventually, your breathing evened out and returned to a less frantic pace. Sensing that his embrace had had the intended effect on your fragile emotional state, Din pulled away once again and brought his hands to cup your jaw gently.

“How are you feeling now?” he rasped as he stroked your cheeks with his gloved thumbs. 

“Being in your arms always makes me feel better,” you smiled.

“I’d hold you for the rest of my days if you only asked me to, cyare,” Din vowed with a nod of his helmet. 

You smiled then, enjoying the way your face lit up with a smile and how your eyes had regained their sparkle thanks to the tight embrace of your attentive Mandalorian; your sanctuary.

[writememysticfalls]

Soaked | Klaus Mikaelson

Summary: You slip in the bathtub, and accidentally call your one night stand Klaus to rescue you. Things get steamy.

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x reader

Genre: Suggestive, friends with benefits, mean!Klaus

Word Count: <1k

You were dozing in the bath when you heard a knock on the door.

You were stranded in your bathtub with a twisted ankle, and you couldn't move. You had left a message begging Elena to come rescue you.

“Come get me, you idiot!” you yelled. You heard a click as the door opened. “Thank you so much. I’ll be your eternal slave!”

There were footsteps, then a very not-Elena voice said, “The eternal slave part sounds nice, love, if a bit extreme.”

You had a sinking feeling. Somehow, Klaus was here.

You wrapped your hands over your bare chest, even though the curtain was pulled and he couldn’t see you.

“Who is this?” you said, though you knew.

“Sadly, not Elena,” Klaus said. “You called me by accident. However, I did leave a message for Elena, so she'll be here soon."

You wished the fall in the bathtub had just killed you. Then you wouldn’t have to have this conversation. The last time you had talked to Klaus was when you had drunken sex in the bushes at the Founder's Ball. What did you say to a person after that?

“Um…thank you,” you forced out.

“It was my pleasure,” Klaus said stiffly. “Well, don't let me - interrupt.”

You heard him walk away. Surprisingly, you felt a stab of fear. If Klaus left, you would be all alone.

“Don't go!” you blurted out. “Stay with me? Till she comes?” you said.

Klaus paused. “Of course, Miss L/n.”

Your eyes widened. Miss L/n? Klaus’s politeness was even more weird than intimacy would have been. Apparently, Klaus could make your eyes roll back in your head in pleasure, but he couldn’t call you by your first name.

A very long time passed where you both said nothing.

You broke it, saying, “Um… could you please give me my phone? It fell, and… I’m bored.”

Klaus pushed your phone through the side of the curtain, without looking in. You tried to grab it, but it slipped out of your hand and fell to the bottom of the bath.

“No!” you cried.

“Y/n?” Klaus said in concern.

“It's nothing,” you said.

“It is something, little human. You dropped the mobile, didn't you?” he replied.

“Maybe,” you whispered.

“Just let me come in and get it, you fool,” he said. “Your pointless modesty achieves nothing.”

You were stunned by the way Klaus had suddenly stopped being polite. “Stop trying to look in here. Pervert,” you shot back.

“Oh please,” Klaus replied. “I know every contour of your little body by heart. And trust me, I've had better.”

You felt yourself blush, and were grateful for the curtain. “Oh really? Which of the… eight women who have slept with you in a thousand years are you thinking of?”

Klaus let out a sudden chuckle, and you found yourself smiling too.

“Oh, Y/n ,” he said. “There was a time when I would snap the neck of anyone who talked to me like that.”

You felt the tiny thrill of pleasure combined with fear that Klaus had always given you. “Please, kill me now,” you answered. “It's better than making chit chat with you.”

Klaus laughed again, not a small chuckle, but a laugh from the belly. You laughed too, until the pain in your ankle felt a little more bearable.

“Just get me out of here,” you groaned. “I want my bed.”

Slowly, Klaus pulled back the curtain. Despite his insults before, he did not look at your body like it was unremarkable. His solemn eyes lingered on every plain of your body. His lips were a hard line of carefully controlled emotion.

Suddenly, the jokey atmosphere evaporated. You had never just had a teasing friendship with Klaus. You had desired each other, so much that you had been willing to risk every relationship you had for one stupid, incredible leap of faith. The memory of that moment hung in the air.

You resisted the urge to cover your body up. Instead, you arched your back, your hair thrown behind your shoulders. You presented your naked body to Klaus like you had nothing to hide.

Klaus smiled slightly, like he could read your mind. Then, he bent over the tub and slowly lifted you into his arms.

Pain shot up your ankle, but with Klaus’s warm breath fanning your bare chest, it was the least of your concerns.

He laid you in bed, leaving your phone beside you, and you wrapped yourself in the covers.

Klaus placed one finger on your chin, and leaned in to your face. His mouth was inches from yours. His eyes flashed to your lips, and instinctively, you felt your whole body tighten in anticipation.

“We - can't do this again,” you blurted out, your heart racing.

Klaus smiled. He had just been reaching to twist a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Your face erupted in a painful blush. You couldn’t believe you had assumed he was going to kiss you.

“I wouldn't dream of it,” Klaus said with a smile.

Klaus got up, but just before he walked out of the door, he said, “You would have made a great queen, Y/n.”

And while you were still wondering what he meant, he disappeared.

​—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[rainee-da]

🍀 Lay Down in Their Lap [1]

CHARACTER ❥ Doom 🪞 / Famin 🃏 / Epidem 🍮 / Delisaster 🍾 / Domina Blowelive 💧 / Cell War 💎

W A R N I N G ⚠️ PG-13 and heavy on fluff / BIG SPOILER!!!! / might be too OOC for you.

D O O M 🪞

It was later in the afternoon. He just finished his training and was resting up on the nearby bench at the training grounds before you came and suddenly plopped down on his lap.

His whole body tensed up slightly at the sudden contact before relaxing back as he realized that it was just you.

"Tired, my dear? has your day been rough?" he said with a soothing voice as he ran his hand on your hair, a soft smile forming on his lips.

He learned his whole life to predict other people's movements using all his senses, but you never failed to surprise him with your antics.

And it never fails to lighten his day, to bring sunshine to his world that is devoid of pictures.

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon chatting with each other, with his hand brushing through your locks idly.

As you talk about your day, he listened quietly. Take note of your shift in tone and the quiet thumping of your heart.

He didn't mind doing this for eternity, with you.

F A M I N 🎪

He was in a bad mood as he sulked on the sofa, teeth gritting and eyes twitching. One more flick to his nerves and his place is going to be a bloodbath.

Knowing so, his aides understandably decided to keep their distance.

Not you tho, because you were somehow brave enough to stride to his place with a book in hand and plopped your head on his lap.

"... What do you think you're doing?" he said with a strained voice, punctuating every word. You simply answered him with a shrug as you started reading your book.

His aide is looking from the distance, mortified. One of them is making preparations for a quick mass funeral, just in case.

They instantly passed out in fear as their boss started to move, thinking the massacre was going to happen. They missed the fact that Famin had actually moved to hug you, not to massacre you. Or anybody.

His rage already evaporated into thin air, seeing you on his lap.

Get ready to be in his lap for hours lol. He won't let you go now.

E P I D E M 🍮

"... And the texture is all wrong! It's a blasphemy I assure you. Pudding is supposed to be a soft, silky cuisine and the shop can't even differentiate that with a freakin jelly! Honestly-"

You lay on his lap as you listen to him go on his tangent. Your hand slowly caresses his thighs to soothe him down.

Being his lover, you're used to this kind of temper tantrum it could be worse after all.

In fact, you prefer this to his scientific tangent. You can barely understand the other one after all.

But since he has been going on for more than an hour, you're understandably getting tired and you can feel yourself getting sleepy as your eyes fluttering and closing.

Noticing that you no longer saying anything, he stopped and looked down to check your face.

His face softens, seeing you sleeping on his lap. His body finally eases down and he caresses your cheek gently. His mind is in a state of tranquility.

Though you’re gonna wake up with a bite mark on your cheek lol. It’s just that soft after all.

D E L I S A S T E R 🍾

Everything about it is embarrassing. You're embarrassed, his aide pities you, and his family gives you a strange look, the only one who is not embarrassed is Delisaster.

How could you not be? It's a big, fancy banquet being held by Innocent Zero with so many nobles present. And here you are; laying on one of his son's lap.

And you can't escape either, because his hand is gripping your side tightly while his other hand is sipping some red wine, ready to tickle the hell out of you if you made any attempt to escape.

Too bad he's big into PDA too. More than once did he lowered his head to peck your nose or smooch with your lips. In front of everyone.

"Do you want some?" He offers you his glass of wine casually as if it didn't hit him yet that he's being cringy as hell embarrassing you.

He lets out a hearty laugh every time you pout and whine about being embarrassed, clearly finding it to be amusing.

"Why so shy? you're my bae! N' best bet I'll show it to everyone! Gotta show them to whom you belong, after all~"

Rest in peace, you poor soul...

D O M I N A B L O W E L I V E 💧

It's nearing curfew time. You opened the door of his dorm slowly, making the light from outside permeate through the dark room.

You can see the hunched shadow on the bed jolted in surprise and the light from outside highlighting his face shadow.

"Go away," Domina stated coldly as he lowered his head, and you managed to catch a glimpse of the tear stain on his cheeks.

You didn't say anything. But knowing him, you decided to go against his words and walked to his figure before locking the door.

You startled him as you plopped your head on his lap, burying your face in his stomach while your hand rubbed his lower back gently.

This simple action successfully breaking the dam in the pink-haired man's eye as he started sobbing his heart out.

He started blabbering out his thoughts while his shaky hands hugged your head tightly, sharing the insecurities and the fear he held inside that had been tormenting his soul.

"Please don't go..." he said with a broken voice, as he caressed your face, "I love you... You're all I have... please, promise me to never leave me... Please..."

Both of you ended up sleeping while cuddling together, content smile formed on his sleeping face.

C E L L W A R 💎

"Stop it, I have to go," he whines, trying his best to push you, who is currently nuzzling your face on his stomach, off of his lap, "I have to meet Master, he'll be furious if I'm late!"

You quipped to him that the appointed meeting is still an hour ahead, and he groans in frustration, unable to refute your words.

He knows that the meeting is still an hour away, and it only took him a quarter of an hour to reach the location. Meaning that he had plenty of hours for himself. 

But he just can't help to work hard. He wants to please his Master!

"You're such a brat..." he grumbled as his hand moved to pull off the thorn crown on his head, and he leaned back to relax on the bed.

Your sheepish smiles earned you a soft chuckle from him. He stares at you with eyes full of meaning as his hand strokes your hair gently.

He wants you to find someone better, but he can't think of a life without you by his side. For him, you're his oasis. Anything you did seems to bring his dead heart back to life.

'I guess it's okay to relax once in a while... for you.'

Work has been abusing wearing me out and I didn't have too much time to open social media lately so this one will be shorter than the previous one. Honestly can I just be reincarnated as a seal? please please please please-

I also wrote a similar prompt for Walkis Academy students. If you happen to like this one, you might also like the other one! Maybe, I mean, I dunno...

Anyway, thank you for reading! 🍀